India -- History -- 1000-1526 -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Reincarnation -- Fiction
It was with a feeling of tremulous awe at his profound sensations that
Oman followed his guide into the north wing, down the broad hall,
and up the old, familiar passage, till they halted before what had
once been the apartments of Ragunáth. The doorway was still heavily
curtained. But within, all was changed. The room that had been an
antechamber, was now cut off from the others of the suite, and was
evidently where Oman was to lodge. The little place was richly
furnished. Around two sides ran a low, broad divan, many-cushioned.
Walls and floor alike were covered with heavy rugs. Round stands,
piles of pillows, a tall incense burner, a huqua, and a little shrine
containing an image of Vishnu, completed the furniture; and the whole
place, which was windowless, was lighted night and day by three
swinging lamps.
Once in this room, the slave demanded of Oman whether he had any
commands to give; and, receiving a negative, speedily retired. For some
moments Oman stood quite still, gazing around him, his mind filled with
wonder. He was back in the present now, realizing that never in his
life had he thought to see a room like this. He had always regarded his
childhood as the most comfortable and luxurious period of his life; and
now, to him coming out of the long years of hardship and privation when
he had looked for no better provision than a meal of parched grain and
a bed of grass in a cave, this luxury was scarcely to be believed.
After a little, Oman began to move slowly around the room, feasting
his eyes on every passing phase of richness. And finally, with a
hesitation born of timidity, he ventured to lie down on the divan,
resting his head and shoulders on cushions, and drawing up his knees,
after the universal custom of the Orient. Then, all at once, a feeling
of naturalness came. Luxury was no longer strange. The glowing lights,
the subdued color, the faint aroma of stale incense, induced ghostlike
dreams of what had been, of things to come. His eyes were half closed.
Languor and drowsiness stole on him. It was the most delicious hour he
had ever known.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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