the ninth vibration-第1节
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The Ninth Vibration； et。 al。
by L。 Adams Beck
CONTENTS
THE NINTH VIBRATION
THE INTERPRETER
A ROMANCE OF THE EAST
THE INCOMPARABLE LADY
A STORY OF CHINA WITH A MORAL
THE HATRED OF THE QUEEN
A STORY OF BURMA
FIRE OF BEAUTY
THE BUILDING OF THE TAJ MAHAL
〃HOW GREAT IS THE GLORY OF KWANNON！〃
〃THE ROUND…FACED BEAUTY〃
THE NINTH VIBRATION
There is a place uplifted nine thousand feet in purest air where one of the most ancient tracks in the world runs from India into Tibet。 It leaves Simla of the Imperial councils by a stately road； it passes beyond； but now narrowing； climbing higher beside the khuds or steep drops to the precipitous valleys beneath； and the rumor of Simla grows distant and the way is quiet； for； owing to the danger of driving horses above the khuds； such baggage as you own must be carried by coolies； and you yourself must either ride on horseback or in the little horseless carriage of the Orient； here drawn and pushed by four men。 And presently the deodars darken the way with a solemn presence； for…
These are the Friars of the wood； The Brethren of the Solitude Hooded and grave…〃
…their breath most austerely pure in the gradually chilling air。 Their companies increase and now the way is through a great wood where it has become a trail and no more； and still it climbs for many miles and finally a rambling bungalow； small and low； is sighted in the deeps of the trees； a mountain stream from unknown heights falling beside it。 And this is known as the House in the Woods。 Very few people are permitted to go there； for the owner has no care for money and makes no provision for guests。 You must take your own servant and the khansamah will cook you such simple food as men expect in the wilds； and that is all。 You stay as long as you please and when you leave not even a gift to the khansamah is permitted。
I had been staying in Ranipur of the plains while I considered the question of getting to Upper Kashmir by the route from Simla along the old way to Chinese Tibet where I would touch Shipki in the Dalai Lama's territory and then pass on to Zanskar and so down to Kashmir … a tremendous route through the Himalaya and a crowning experience of the mightiest mountain scenery in the world。 I was at Ranipur for the purpose of consulting my old friend Olesen； now an irrigation official in the Rampur district … a man who had made this journey and nearly lost his life in doing it。 It is not now perhaps so dangerous as it was； and my life was of no particular value to any one but myself； and the plan interested me。
I pass over the long discussions of ways and means in the blinding heat of Ranipur。 Olesen put all his knowledge at my service and never uttered a word of the envy that must have filled him as he looked at the distant snows cool and luminous in blue air； and； shrugging good…natured shoulders； spoke of the work that lay before him on the burning plains until the terrible summer should drag itself to a close。 We had vanquished the details and were smoking in comparative silence one night on the veranda； when he said in his slow reflective way；
〃You don't like the average hotel； Ormond； and you'll like it still less up Simla way with all the Simla crowd of grass…widows and fellows out for as good a time as they can cram into the hot weather。 I wonder if I could get you a permit for The House in the Woods while you re waiting to fix up your men and route for Shipki。〃
He explained and of course I jumped at the chance。 It belonged； he said； to a man named Rup Singh； a pandit； or learned man of Ranipur。 He had always spent the summer there； but age and failing health made this impossible now； and under certain conditions he would occasionally allow people known to friends of his own to put up there。
〃And Rup Singh and I are very good friends；〃 Olesen said； 〃I won his heart by discovering the lost Sukh Mandir； or Hall of Pleasure； built many centuries ago by a Maharao of Ranipur for a summer retreat in the great woods far beyond Simla。 There are lots of legends about it here in Ranipur。 They call it The House of Beauty。 Rup Singh's ancestor had been a close friend of the Maharao and was with him to the end； and that's why he himself sets such store on the place。 You have a good chance if I ask for a permit。
He told me the story and since it is the heart of my own I give it briefly。 Many centuries ago the Ranipur Kingdom was ruled by the Maharao Rai Singh a prince of the great lunar house of the Rajputs。 Expecting a bride from some far away kingdom （the name of this is unrecorded） he built the Hall of Pleasure as a summer palace； a house of rare and costly beauty。 A certain great chamber he lined with carved figures of the Gods and their stories； almost unsurpassed for truth and life。 So； with the pine trees whispering about it the secret they sigh to tell； he hoped to create an earthly Paradise with this Queen in whom all loveliness was perfected。 And then some mysterious tragedy ended all his hopes。 It was rumoured that when the Princess came to his court； she was； by some terrible mistake； received with insult and offered the position only of one of his women。 After that nothing was known。 Certain only is it that he fled to the hills； to the home of his broken hope； and there ended his days in solitude； save for the attendance of two faithful friends who would not abandon him even in the ghostly quiet of the winter when the pine boughs were heavy with snow and a spectral moon stared at the panthers shuffling through the white wastes beneath。 Of these two Rup Singh's ancestor was one。 And in his thirty fifth year the Maharao died and his beauty and strength passed into legend and his kingdom was taken by another and the jungle crept silently over his Hall of Pleasure and the story ended。
〃There was not a memory of the place up there；〃 Olesen went on。 〃Certainly I never heard anything of it when I went up to the Shipki in 1904。 But I had been able to be useful to Rup Singh and he gave me a permit for The House in the Woods； and I stopped there for a few days' shooting。 I remember that day so well。 I was wandering in the dense woods while my men got their midday grub； and I missed the trail somehow and found myself in a part where the trees were dark and thick and the silence heavy as lead。 It was as if the trees were on guard … they stood shoulder to shoulder and stopped the way。 Well； I halted； and had a notion there was something beyond that made me doubt whether to go on。 I must have stood there five minutes hesitating。 Then I pushed on； bruising the thick ferns under my shooting boots and stooping under the knotted boughs。 Suddenly I tramped out of the jungle into a clearing； and lo and behold a ruined House； with blocks of marble lying all about it； and carved pillars and a great roof all being slowly smothered by the jungle。 The weirdest thing you ever saw。 I climbed some fallen columns to get a better look； and as I did I saw a face flash by at the arch of a broken window。 I sang out in Hindustani； but no answer： only the echo from the woods。 Somehow that dampened my ardour； and I didn't go in to what seemed like a great ruined hall for the place was so eerie and lonely； and looked mighty snaky into the bargain。 So I came ingloriously away and told Rup Singh。 And his whole face changed。 'That is The House of Beauty；' he said。 'All my life have I sought it and in vain。 For； friend of my soul； a man must lose himself that he may find himself and what lies beyond； and the trodden path has ever been my doom。 And you who have not sought have seen。 Most strange are the way of the Gods'。 Later on I knew this was why he had always gone up yearly； thinking and dreaming God knows what。 He and I tried for the place together； but in vain and the whole thing is like a dream。 Twice he has let friends of mine stay at The House in the Woods； and I think he won't refuse now。〃
〃Did he ever tell you the story？〃
〃Never。 I only know what I've picked up here。 Some horrible mistake about the Rani that drove the man almost mad with remorse。 I've heard bits here and there。 There's nothing so vital as tradition in India。〃
〃I wonder'。 what really happened。〃
〃That we shall never know。 I got a little old picture of the Maharao … said to be painted by a Pahari artist。 It's not likely to be authentic； but you never can tell。 A Brahman sold it to me that he might complete his daughter's dowry； and hated doing it。〃
〃May I see it？〃
〃Why certainly。 Not a very good light； but … can do； as the Chinks say。
He brought it out rolled in silk stuff and I carried it under the hanging lamp。 A beautiful young man indeed； with the air of race these people have beyond all others；… a cold haughty face； immovably dignified。 He sat with his hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair of State。 A crescent of rubies clasped the folds of the turban and from this sprang an aigrette scattering splendours。 The magnificent hilt of a sword was ready beside him。 The face was not only beautiful but arresting。
〃A strange picture；〃 I said。 〃The artist has captured the man himself。 I can see him trampling on any one who opposed him； and suffering in the same cold secret way。 It ought to h
