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diff --git a/17455-8.txt b/17455-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d7d0d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/17455-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6304 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poison Tree, by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poison Tree + A Tale of Hindu Life in Bengal + +Author: Bankim Chandra Chatterjee + +Translator: Miriam S. Knight + +Release Date: January 4, 2006 [EBook #17455] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POISON TREE *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at Distributed +Proofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + THE POISON TREE + + A Tale of Hindu Life in Bengal + + + BY + + BANKIM CHANDRA CHATTERJEE + + + + TRANSLATED BY + + MIRIAM S. KNIGHT + + + + WITH A PREFACE BY + + EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I. + + + + + London + T. FISHER UNWIN + 26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE + 1884 + + + + +PREFACE + + +I had been asked by the accomplished lady who has translated the +subjoined story to introduce it with a few words of comment to the +English public. For that purpose I commenced the perusal of the proof +sheets; but soon found that what was begun as a literary task became a +real and singular pleasure, by reason of the author's vivid narrative, +his skill in delineating character, and, beyond all, the striking and +faithful pictures of Indian life with which his tale is filled. Nor do +these qualities suffer, beyond what is always inevitable, in the +transfer of the novel from its original Bengali to English. Five +years ago, Sir William Herschel, of the Bengal Civil Service, had the +intention of translating this _Bisha Briksha_; but surrendered the +task, with the author's full consent, to Mrs. Knight, who has here +performed it with very remarkable skill and success. To accomplish +that, more was wanted than a competent knowledge of the language of +the original and a fluent command of English: it was necessary to be +familiar with the details of native life and manners, and to have a +sufficient acquaintance with the religious, domestic, and social +customs of Bengali homes. Possessing these, Mrs. Knight has now +presented us with a modern Hindu novelette, smoothly readable +throughout, perfectly well transferred from its vernacular (with such +omissions as were necessary), and valuable, as I venture to affirm, to +English readers as well from its skill in construction and intrinsic +interest as for the light which it sheds upon the indoor existence of +well-to-do Hindus, and the excellent specimen which it furnishes of +the sort of indigenous literature happily growing popular in their +cities and towns. + +The author of "The Poison Tree" is Babu Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, a +native gentleman of Bengal, of superior intellectual acquisitions, +who ranks unquestionably as the first living writer of fiction in his +Presidency. His renown is widespread among native readers, who +recognize the truthfulness and power of his descriptions, and are +especially fond of "Krishna Kanta's Will," "Mrinalini," and this very +story of the _Bisha Briksha_, which belongs to modern days in India, +and to the new ideas which are spreading--not always quite +happily--among the families of the land. Allowance being made for the +loss which an original author cannot but sustain by the transfer of +his style and method into another language and system of thought, it +will be confessed, I think, that the reputation of "Bankim Babu" is +well deserved, and that Bengal has here produced a writer of true +genius, whose vivacious invention, dramatic force, and purity of aim, +promise well for the new age of Indian vernacular literature. + +It would be wrong to diminish the pleasure of the English reader by +analysing the narrative and forestalling its plot. That which appears +to me most striking and valuable in the book is the faithful view it +gives of the gentleness and devotion of the average Hindu wife. +Western people are wont to think that because marriages are arranged +at an early age in India, and without the betrothed pair having the +slightest share in the mutual choice, that wedded love of a sincere +sort must be out of the question, and conjugal happiness very rare. +The contrary is notably the case. Human nature is, somehow, so full of +accidental harmonies, that a majority among the households thus +constituted furnish examples of quiet felicity, established constancy, +and, above all, of a devotedness on the part of the Hindu women to +their husbands and children, which knows, so to speak, no limit. The +self-sacrifice of Surja Mukhi in this tale would be next to impossible +for any Western woman, but is positively common in the East, though +our author so well displays the undoubted fact that feminine hearts +are the same everywhere, and that custom cannot change the instincts +of love. In Debendra the Babu paints successfully the "young Bengalee" +of the present day, corrupted rather than elevated by his educational +enlightenment. Nagendra is a good type of the ordinary well-to-do +householder; Kunda Nandini, of the simple and graceful Hindu maiden; +and Hira, of those passionate natures often concealed under the dark +glances and regular features of the women of the Ganges Valley. In a +word, I am glad to recommend this translation to English readers, as +a work which, apart from its charm in incident and narrative, will +certainly give them just, if not complete, ideas of the ways of life +of their fellow-subjects in Bengal. + +EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I. + +LONDON, _September_ 10, 1884. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. +NAGENDRA'S JOURNEY BY BOAT + +CHAPTER II. +"COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE" + +CHAPTER III. +OF MANY SUBJECTS + +CHAPTER IV. +TARA CHARAN + +CHAPTER V. +OH! LOTUS-EYED, WHO ART THOU? + +CHAPTER VI. +THE READER HAS CAUSE FOR GREAT DISPLEASURE + +CHAPTER VII. +HARIDASI BOISNAVI + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE BABU + +CHAPTER IX. +SURJA MUKHI'S LETTER + +CHAPTER X. +THE SPROUT + +CHAPTER XI. +CAUGHT AT LAST + +CHAPTER XII. +HIRA + +CHAPTER XIII. +NO! + +CHAPTER XIV. +LIKE TO LIKE + +CHAPTER XV. +THE FORLORN ONE + +CHAPTER XVI. +HIRA'S ENVY + +CHAPTER XVII. +HIRA'S QUARREL. THE BUD OF THE POISON TREE + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE CAGED BIRD + +CHAPTER XIX. +DESCENT + +CHAPTER XX. +GOOD NEWS + +CHAPTER XXI. +SURJA MUKHI AND KAMAL MANI + +CHAPTER XXII. +WHAT IS THE POISON TREE? + +CHAPTER XXIII. +THE SEARCH + +CHAPTER XXIV. +EVERY SORT OF HAPPINESS IS FLEETING + +CHAPTER XXV. +THE FRUIT OF THE POISON TREE + +CHAPTER XXVI. +THE SIGNS OF LOVE + +CHAPTER XXVII. +BY THE ROADSIDE + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +IS THERE HOPE? + +CHAPTER XXIX. +HIRA'S POISON TREE HAS BLOSSOMED + +CHAPTER XXX. +NEWS OF SURJA MUKHI + +CHAPTER XXXI. +THOUGH ALL ELSE DIES, SUFFERING DIES NOT + +CHAPTER XXXII. +THE FRUIT OF HIRA'S POISON TREE + +CHAPTER XXXIII. +HIRA'S GRANDMOTHER + +CHAPTER XXXIV. +A DARK HOUSE: A DARK LIFE + +CHAPTER XXXV. +THE RETURN + +CHAPTER XXXVI. +EXPLANATION + +CHAPTER XXXVII. +THE SIMPLETON AND THE SERPENT + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +THE CATASTROPHE + +CHAPTER XXXIX. +KUNDA'S TONGUE IS LOOSENED + +CHAPTER XL. +THE END + +GLOSSARY OF HINDU WORDS + + + + +For the assistance of the reader, the names of the +principal characters in the tale are given-- + + +NAGENDRA NATHA DATTA _A wealthy Zemindar_. + +SURJA MUKHI _His wife_. + +DEBENDRA DATTA _Cousin to Nagendra_. + +SRISH CHANDRA MITTRA _Accountant in a Merchant's Office_ + +KAMAL MANI _His wife, sister to Nagendra_. + +SATISH _Their baby boy_. + +TARA CHARAN _Adopted brother of Surja Mukhi_. + +KUNDA NANDINI _An Orphan Girl_. + +HIRA _Servant in Nagendra's household_. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +NAGENDRA'S JOURNEY BY BOAT. + + +Nagendra Natha Datta is about to travel by boat. It is the month +_Joisto_ (May--June), the time of storms. His wife, Surja Mukhi, had +adjured him, saying, "Be careful; if a storm arises be sure you fasten +the boat to the shore. Do not remain in the boat." Nagendra had +consented to this, otherwise Surja Mukhi would not have permitted him +to leave home; and unless he went to Calcutta his suits in the Courts +would not prosper. + +Nagendra Natha was a young man, about thirty years of age, a wealthy +_zemindar_ (landholder) in Zillah Govindpur. He dwelt in a small +village which we shall call Haripur. He was travelling in his own +boat. The first day or two passed without obstacle. The river flowed +smoothly on--leaped, danced, cried out, restless, unending, playful. +On shore, herdsmen were grazing their oxen--one sitting under a tree +singing, another smoking, some fighting, others eating. Inland, +husbandmen were driving the plough, beating the oxen, lavishing abuse +upon them, in which the owner shared. The wives of the husbandmen, +bearing vessels of water, some carrying a torn quilt, or a dirty mat, +wearing a silver amulet round the neck, a ring in the nose, bracelets +of brass on the arm, with unwashed garments, their skins blacker than +ink, their hair unkempt, formed a chattering crowd. Among them one +beauty was rubbing her head with mud, another beating a child, a third +speaking with a neighbour in abuse of some nameless person, a fourth +beating clothes on a plank. Further on, ladies from respectable +villages adorned the _gháts_ (landing-steps) with their +appearance--the elders conversing, the middle-aged worshipping _Siva_, +the younger covering their faces and plunging into the water; the boys +and girls screaming, playing with mud, stealing the flowers offered in +worship, swimming, throwing water over every one, sometimes stepping +up to a lady, snatching away the image of _Siva_ from her, and running +off with it. The Brahmans, good tranquil men, recited the praises of +_Ganga_ (the sacred river Ganges) and performed their worship, +sometimes, as they wiped their streaming hair, casting glances at the +younger women. + +In the sky, the white clouds float in the heated air. Below them fly +the birds, like black dots. In the cocoanut trees, kites, like +ministers of state, look around to see on what they can pounce; the +cranes, being only small fry, stand raking in the mud; the _dahuk_ +(coloured herons), merry creatures, dive in the water; other birds of +a lighter kind merely fly about. Market-boats sail along at good speed +on their own behalf; ferry-boats creep along at elephantine pace to +serve the needs of others only: cargo boats make no progress at +all--that is the owners' concern. + +On the third day of Nagendra's journey clouds arose and gradually +covered the sky. The river became black, the tree-tops drooped, the +paddy birds flew aloft, the water became motionless. Nagendra ordered +the _manji_ (boatman) to run the boat in shore and make it fast. At +that moment the steersman, Rahamat Mullah, was saying his prayers, so +he made no answer. Rahamat knew nothing of his business. His mother's +father's sister was the daughter of a boatman; on that plea he had +become a hanger-on of boatmen, and accident favoured his wishes; but +he learned nothing, his work was done as fate willed. Rahamat was not +backward in speech, and when his prayers were ended he turned to the +Babu and said, "Do not be alarmed, sir, there is no cause for fear." +Rahamat was thus brave because the shore was close at hand, and could +be reached without delay, and in a few minutes the boat was secured. + +Surely the gods must have had a quarrel with Rahamat Mullah, for a +great storm came up quickly. First came the wind; then the wind, +having wrestled for some moments with the boughs of the trees, called +to its brother the rain, and the two began a fine game. Brother Rain, +mounting on brother Wind's shoulders, flew along. The two together, +seizing the tree-tops, bent them down, broke the boughs, tore off the +creepers, washed away the flowers, cast up the river in great waves, +and made a general tumult. One brother flew off with Rahamat Mullah's +head-gear; the other made a fountain of his beard. The boatmen lowered +the sail, the Babu closed the windows, and the servants put the +furniture under shelter. + +Nagendra was in a great strait. If, in fear of the storm, he should +leave the boat, the men would think him a coward; if he remained he +would break his word to Surja Mukhi. Some may ask, What harm if he +did? We know not, but Nagendra thought it harm. At this moment Rahamat +Mullah said, "Sir, the rope is old; I do not know what may happen. The +storm has much increased; it will be well to leave the boat." +Accordingly Nagendra got out. + +No one can stand on the river bank without shelter in a heavy storm of +rain. There was no sign of abatement; therefore Nagendra, thinking it +necessary to seek for shelter, set out to walk to the village, which +was at some distance from the river, through miry paths. Presently the +rain ceased, the wind abated slightly, but the sky was still thickly +covered with clouds; therefore both wind and rain might be expected at +night. Nagendra went on, not turning back. + +Though it was early in the evening, there was thick darkness, because +of the clouds. There was no sign of village, house, plain, road, or +river; but the trees, being surrounded by myriads of fireflies, +looked like artificial trees studded with diamonds. The lightning +goddess also still sent quick flashes through the now silent black and +white clouds. A woman's anger does not die away suddenly. The +assembled frogs, rejoicing in the newly fallen rain, held high +festival; and if you listened attentively the voice of the cricket +might be heard, like the undying crackle of Ravana's[1] funeral pyre. +Amid the sounds might be distinguished the fall of the rain-drops on +the leaves of the trees, and that of the leaves into the pools +beneath; the noise of jackals' feet on the wet paths, occasionally +that of the birds on the trees shaking the water from their drenched +feathers, and now and then the moaning of the almost subdued wind. +Presently Nagendra saw a light in the distance. Traversing the flooded +earth, drenched by the drippings from the trees, and frightening away +the jackals, he approached the light; and on nearing it with much +difficulty, saw that it proceeded from an old brick-built house, the +door of which was open. Leaving his servant outside, Nagendra entered +the house, which he found in a frightful condition. + +[Footnote 1: King of Lanka (Ceylon), whose remains were to burn +without ceasing.] + +It was not quite an ordinary house, but it had no sign of prosperity. +The door-frames were broken and dirty; there was no trace of human +occupation--only owls, mice, reptiles, and insects gathered there. +The light came only from one side. Nagendra saw some articles of +furniture for human use; but everything indicated poverty. One or two +cooking vessels, a broken oven, three or four brass dishes--these were +the sole ornaments of the place. The walls were black; spiders' webs +hung in the corners; cockroaches, spiders, lizards, and mice, +scampered about everywhere. On a dilapidated bedstead lay an old man +who seemed to be at death's door; his eyes were sunk, his breath +hurried, his lips trembling. By the side of his bed stood an earthen +lamp upon a fragment of brick taken from the ruins of the house. In it +the oil was deficient; so also was it in the body of the man. Another +lamp shone by the bedside--a girl of faultlessly fair face, of soft, +starry beauty. + +Whether because the light from the oil-less lamp was dim, or because +the two occupants of the house were absorbed in thinking of their +approaching separation, Nagendra's entrance was unseen. Standing in +the doorway, he heard the last sorrowful words that issued from the +mouth of the old man. These two, the old man and the young girl, were +friendless in this densely-peopled world. Once they had had wealth, +relatives, men and maid servants--abundance of all kinds; but by the +fickleness of fortune, one after another, all had gone. The mother of +the family, seeing the faces of her son and daughter daily fading like +the dew-drenched lotus from the pinch of poverty, had early sunk upon +the bed of death. All the other stars had been extinguished with that +moon. The support of the race, the jewel of his mother's eye, the hope +of his father's age, even he had been laid on the pyre before his +father's eyes. No one remained save the old man and this enchanting +girl. They dwelt in this ruined, deserted house in the midst of the +forest. Each was to the other the only helper. + +Kunda Nandini was of marriageable age; but she was the staff of her +father's blindness, his only bond to this world. While he lived he +could give her up to no one. "There are but a few more days; if I give +away Kunda where can I abide?" were the old man's thoughts when the +question of giving her in marriage arose in his mind. Had it never +occurred to him to ask himself what would become of Kunda when his +summons came? Now the messenger of death stood at his bedside; he was +about to leave the world; where would Kunda be on the morrow? + +The deep, indescribable suffering of this thought expressed itself in +every failing breath. Tears streamed from his eyes, ever restlessly +closing and opening, while at his head sat the thirteen-year-old girl, +like a stone figure, firmly looking into her father's face, covered +with the shadows of death. Forgetting herself, forgetting to think +where she would go on the morrow, she gazed only on the face of her +departing parent. Gradually the old man's utterance became obscure, +the breath left the throat, the eyes lost their light, the suffering +soul obtained release from pain. In that dark place, by that +glimmering lamp, the solitary Kunda Nandini, drawing her father's dead +body on to her lap, remained sitting. The night was extremely dark; +even now rain-drops fell, the leaves of the trees rustled, the wind +moaned, the windows of the ruined house flapped noisily. In the +house, the fitful light of the lamp flickered momentarily on the face +of the dead, and again left it in darkness. The lamp had long been +exhausted of oil; now, after two or three flashes, it went out. Then +Nagendra, with noiseless steps, went forth from the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE." + + +It was night. In the ruined house Kunda Nandini sat by her father's +corpse. She called "Father!" No one made reply. At one moment Kunda +thought her father slept, again that he was dead, but she could not +bring that thought clearly into her mind. At length she could no +longer call, no longer think. The fan still moved in her hand in the +direction where her father's once living body now lay dead. At length +she resolved that he slept, for if he were dead what would become of +her? + +After days and nights of watching amid such sorrow, sleep fell upon +her. In that exposed, bitterly cold house, the palm-leaf fan in her +hand, Kunda Nandini rested her head upon her arm, more beauteous than +the lotus-stalk, and slept; and in her sleep she saw a vision. It +seemed as if the night were bright and clear, the sky of a pure +blue--that glorious blue when the moon is encircled by a halo. Kunda +had never seen the halo so large as it seemed in her vision. The light +was splendid, and refreshing to the eyes. But in the midst of that +magnificent halo there was no moon; in its place Kunda saw the figure +of a goddess of unparalleled brilliance. It seemed as if this +brilliant goddess-ruled halo left the upper sky and descended +gradually lower, throwing out a thousand rays of light, until it stood +over Kunda's head. Then she saw that the central beauty, crowned with +golden hair, and decked with jewels, had the form of a woman. The +beautiful, compassionate face had a loving smile upon its lips. Kunda +recognized, with mingled joy and fear, in this compassionate being +the features of her long-dead mother. The shining, loving being, +raising Kunda from the earth, took her into her bosom, and the orphan +girl could for a long period do nought but utter the sweet word +"Mother!" + +Then the shining figure, kissing Kunda's face, said to her: "Child, +thou hast suffered much, and I know thou hast yet more to suffer; thou +so young, thy tender frame cannot endure such sorrow. Therefore abide +not here; leave the earth and come with me." + +Kunda seemed to reply: "Whither shall I go?" + +Then the mother, with uplifted finger indicating the shining +constellations, answered, "There!" + +Kunda seemed, in her dream, to gaze into the timeless, shoreless ocean +of stars, and to say, "I have no strength; I cannot go so far." + +Hearing this, the mother's kind and cheerful but somewhat grave face +saddened, her brows knitted a little, as she said in grave, sweet +tones: + +"Child, follow thy own will, but it would be well for thee to go with +me. The day will come when thou wilt gaze upon the stars, and long +bitterly to go thither. I will once more appear to thee; when, bowed +to the dust with affliction, thou rememberest me, and weepest to come +to me, I will return. Then do thou come. But now do thou, looking on +the horizon, follow the design of my finger. I will show thee two +human figures. These two beings are in this world the arbiters of thy +destiny. If possible, when thou meetest them turn away as from +venomous snakes. In their paths walk thou not." + +Then the shining figure pointed to the opposite sky. Kunda, following +the indication, saw traced on the blue vault the figure of a man more +beautiful than a god. Beholding his high, capacious forehead, his +sincere kindly glance, his swan-like neck a little bent, and other +traits of a fine man, no one would have believed that from him there +was anything to be feared. + +Then the figure dissolving as a cloud in the sky, the mother said-- + +"Forget not this god-like form. Though benevolent, he will be the +cause of thy misery; therefore avoid him as a snake." + +Again pointing to the heavens she continued-- + +"Look hither." + +Kunda, looking, saw a second figure sketched before her, not this time +that of a man, but a young woman of bright complexion and lotus-shaped +eyes. At this sight she felt no fear; but the mother said-- + +"This dark figure in a woman's dress is a _Rakshasi_.[2] When thou +seest her, flee from her." + +[Footnote 2: A female demon.] + +As she thus spoke the heavens suddenly became dark, the halo +disappeared from the sky, and with it the bright figure in its midst. + +Then Kunda awoke from her sleep. + +Nagendra went to the village, the name of which he heard was +Jhunjhunpur. At his recommendation and expense, some of the villagers +performed the necessary rites for the dead, one of the female +neighbours remaining with the bereaved girl. When Kunda saw that they +had taken her father away, she became convinced of his death, and +gave way to ceaseless weeping. + +In the morning the neighbour returned to her own house, but sent her +daughter Champa to comfort Kunda Nandini. + +Champa was of the same age as Kunda, and her friend. She strove to +divert her mind by talking of various matters, but she saw that Kunda +did not attend. She wept constantly, looking up every now and then +into the sky as though in expectation. + +Champa jestingly asked, "What do you see that you look into the sky a +hundred times?" + +Kunda replied, "My mother appeared to me yesterday, and bade me go +with her, but I feared to do so; now I mourn that I did not. If she +came again I would go: therefore I look constantly into the sky." + +Champa said, "How can the dead return?" + +To which Kunda replied by relating her vision. + +Greatly astonished, Champa asked, "Are you acquainted with the man and +woman whose forms you saw in the sky?" + +"No, I had never seen them. There cannot be anywhere a man so +handsome; I never saw such beauty." + +On rising in the morning, Nagendra inquired of the people in the +village what would become of the dead man's daughter, where she would +live, and whether she had any relatives. He was told that there was no +dwelling-place for her, and that she had no relatives. + +Then Nagendra said, "Will not some of you receive her and give her in +marriage? I will pay the expense, and so long as she remains amongst +you I will pay so much a month for her board and lodging." + +If he had offered ready money many would have consented to his +proposal; but after he had gone away Kunda would have been reduced to +servitude, or turned out of the house. Nagendra did not act in so +foolish a manner; therefore, money not being forthcoming, no one +consented to his suggestion. + +At length one, seeing him at the end of his resources, observed: "A +sister of her mother's lives at Sham Bazar; Binod Ghosh is the +husband's name. You are on you way to Calcutta; if you take her with +you and place her with her aunt, then this _Kaystha_ girl will be +cared for, and you will have done your duty to your caste." + +Seeing no other plan, Nagendra adopted this suggestion, and sent for +Kunda to acquaint her with the arrangement. + +Champa accompanied Kunda. As they were coming, Kunda, seeing Nagendra +from afar, suddenly stood still like one stunned. Her feet refused to +move; she stood looking at him with eyes full of astonishment. + +Champa asked, "Why do you stand thus?" + +Kunda, pointing with her finger, said, "It is he!" + +"He! Who?" said Champa. + +"He whom last night my mother pictured in the heavens." + +Then Champa also stood frightened and astonished. Seeing that the +girls shrank from approaching, Nagendra came near and explained +everything. Kunda was unable to reply; she could only gaze with eyes +full of surprise. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +OF MANY SUBJECTS. + + +Reluctantly did Nagendra Natha take Kunda with him to Calcutta. On +arriving there he made much search for her aunt's husband, but he +found no one in Sham Bazar named Binod Ghosh. He found a Binod Das, +who admitted no relationship. Thus Kunda remained as a burthen upon +Nagendra. + +Nagendra had one sister, younger than himself, named Kamal Mani, whose +father-in-law's house was in Calcutta. Her husband's name was Srish +Chandra Mittra. Srish Babu was accountant in the house of Plunder, +Fairly, and Co. It was a great house, and Srish Chandra was wealthy. +He was much attached to his brother-in-law. Nagendra took Kunda +Nandini thither, and imparted her story to Kamal Mani. + +Kamal was about eighteen years of age. In features she resembled +Nagendra; both brother and sister were very handsome. But, in addition +to her beauty, Kamal was famed for her learning. Nagendra's father, +engaging an English teacher, had had Kamal Mani and Surja Mukhi well +instructed. Kamal's mother-in-law was living, but she dwelt in Srish +Chandra's ancestral home. In Calcutta Kamal Mani was house-mistress. + +When he had finished the story of Kunda Nandini, Nagendra said, +"Unless you will keep her here, there is no place for her. Later, when +I return home, I will take her to Govindpur with me." + +Kamal was very mischievous. When Nagendra had turned away, she +snatched up Kunda in her arms and ran off with her. A tub of not very +hot water stood in an adjoining room, and suddenly Kamal threw Kunda +into it. Kunda was quite frightened. Then Kamal, laughing, took some +scented soap and proceeded to wash Kunda. An attendant, seeing Kamal +thus employed, bustled up, saying, "I will do it! I will do it!" but +Kamal, sprinkling some of the hot water over the woman, sent her +running away. Kamal having bathed and rubbed Kunda, she appeared like +a dew-washed lotus. Then Kamal, having robed her in a beautiful white +garment, dressed her hair with scented oil, and decorated her with +ornaments, said to her: "Now go and salute the _Dada Babu_ (elder +brother), and return, but mind you do not thus to the master of the +house: if he should see you he will want to marry you." + +Nagendra Natha wrote Kunda's history to Surja Mukhi. Also when writing +to an intimate friend of his living at a distance, named Hara Deb +Ghosal, he spoke of Kunda in the following terms: + +"Tell me what you consider to be the age of beauty in woman. You will +say after forty, because your Brahmini is a year or two more than +that. The girl Kunda, whose history I have given you, is thirteen. On +looking at her, it seems as if that were the age of beauty. The +sweetness and simplicity that precede the budding-time of youth are +never seen afterwards. This Kunda's simplicity is astonishing; she +understands nothing. To-day she even wished to run into the streets to +play with the boys. On being forbidden, she was much frightened, and +desisted. Kamal is teaching her, and says she shows much aptitude in +learning, but she does not understand other things. For instance, her +large blue eyes--eyes swimming ever like the autumn lotus in clear +water--these two eyes may be fixed upon my face, but they say nothing. +I lose my senses gazing on them; I cannot explain better. You will +laugh at this history of my mental stability; but if I could place you +in front of those eyes, I should see what your firmness is worth. Up +to this time I have been unable to determine what those eyes are like. +I have not seen them look twice the same; I think there are no other +such eyes in the world, they seem as if they scarcely saw the things +of earth, but were ever seeking something in space. It is not that +Kunda is faultlessly beautiful. Her features, if compared with those +of many others, would not be highly praised; yet I think I never saw +such rare beauty. It is as if there were in Kunda Nandini something +not of this world, as though she were not made of flesh and blood, but +of moonbeams and the scent of flowers. Nothing presents itself to my +mind at this moment to which to liken her. Incomparable being! her +whole person seems to breathe peace. If in some clear pool you have +observed the sheen produced by the rays of the autumn moon, you have +seen something resembling her. I can think of no other simile." + +Surja Mukhi's reply to Nagendra's letter came in a few days. It was +after this manner: + +"I know not what fault your servant has committed. If it is necessary +you should stay so long in Calcutta, why am I not with you to attend +upon you? This is my earnest wish; the moment I receive your consent, +I will set out. + +"In picking up a little girl, have you forgotten me? Many unripe +things are esteemed. People like green guavas, and green cucumbers; +green cocoa-nuts are cooling. This low-born female is also, I think, +very young, else in meeting with her why should you forget me? Joking +apart, have you given up all right over this girl? if not, I beg her +from you. It is my business to arrange for her. In whatever becomes +yours I have the right to share, but in this case I see your sister +has entire possession. Still, I shall not vex myself much if Kamal +usurps my rights. + +"Do you ask what do I want with the girl? I wish to give her in +marriage with Tara Charan. You know how much I have sought for a +suitable wife for him. If Providence has sent us a good girl, do not +disappoint me. If Kamal will give her up, bring Kunda Nandini with you +when you come. I have written to Kamal also recommending this. I am +having ornaments fashioned, and am making other preparations for the +marriage. Do not linger in Calcutta. Is it not true that if a man +stays six months in that city he becomes quite stupid? If you design +to marry Kunda, bring her with you, and I will give her to you. Only +say that you propose to marry her, and I will arrange the +marriage-basket." + +Who Tara Charan was will be explained later. Whoever he was, both +Nagendra and Kamal Mani consented to Surja Mukhi's proposal. Therefore +it was resolved that when Nagendra went home Kunda Nandini should +accompany him. Every one consented with delight, and Kamal also +prepared some ornaments. How blind is man to the future! Some years +later there came a day when Nagendra and Kamal Mani bowed to the dust, +and, striking their foreheads in grief, murmured: "In how evil a +moment did we find Kunda Nandini! in how evil an hour did we agree to +Surja Mukhi's letter!" Now Kamal Mani, Surja Mukhi, and Nagendra, +together have sowed the poison seed; later they will all repent it +with wailing. + +Causing his boat to be got ready, Nagendra returned to Govindpur with +Kunda Nandini. Kunda had almost forgotten her dream; while journeying +with Nagendra it recurred to her memory, but thinking of his +benevolent face and kindly character, Kunda could not believe that +any harm would come to her from him. In like manner there are many +insects who, seeing a destructive flame, enter therein. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +TARA CHARAN. + + +The Poet Kalidas was supplied with flowers by a _Malini_ (flower-girl). +He, being a poor Brahmin, could not pay for the flowers, but in place +of that he used to read some of his own verses to the _Malini_. One day +there bloomed in the _Malini's_ tank a lily of unparalleled beauty. +Plucking it, the _Malini_ offered it to Kalidas. As a reward the poet +read to her some verses from the _Megha Duta_ (Cloud Messenger). That +poem is an ocean of wit, but every one knows that its opening lines +are tasteless. The _Malini_ did not relish them, and being annoyed she +rose to go. + +The poet asked: "Oh! friend _Malini_, are you going?" + +"Your verses have no flavour," replied the _Malini_. + +"_Malini_! you will never reach heaven." + +"Why so?" + +"There is a staircase to heaven. By ascending millions of steps heaven +is reached. My poem has also a staircase; these tasteless verses are +the steps. If you can't climb these few steps, how will you ascend the +heavenly ladder?" + +The _Malini_ then, in fear of losing heaven through the Brahmin's +curse, listened to the _Megha Duta_ from beginning to end. She admired +the poem; and next day, binding a wreath of flowers in the name of +Cupid, she crowned the poet's temples therewith. + +This ordinary poem of mine is not heaven; neither has it a staircase +of a million steps. Its flavour is faint and the steps are few. These +few tasteless chapters are the staircase. If among my readers there is +one of the _Malini's_ disposition, I warn him that without climbing +these steps he will not arrive at the pith of the story. + +Surja Mukhi's father's house was in Konnagar. Her father was a +_Kaystha_ of good position. He was cashier in some house at Calcutta. +Surja Mukhi was his only child. In her infancy a _Kaystha_ widow named +Srimati lived in her father's house as a servant, and looked after +Surja Mukhi. Srimati had one child named Tara Charan, of the same age +as Surja Mukhi. With him Surja Mukhi had played, and on account of +this childish association she felt towards him the affection of a +sister. + +Srimati was a beautiful woman, and therefore soon fell into trouble. A +wealthy man of the village, of evil character, having cast his eyes +upon her, she forsook the house of Surja Mukhi's father. Whither she +went no one exactly knew, but she did not return. Tara Charan, +forsaken by his mother, remained in the house of Surja Mukhi's father, +who was a very kind-hearted man, and brought up this deserted boy as +his own child; not keeping him in slavery as an unpaid servant, but +having him taught to read and write. Tara Charan learned English at a +free mission-school. Afterwards Surja Mukhi was married, and some +years later her father died. By this time Tara Charan had learned +English after a clumsy fashion, but he was not qualified for any +business. Rendered homeless by the death of Surja Mukhi's father, he +went to her house. At her instigation Nagendra opened a school in the +village, and Tara Charan was appointed master. Nowadays, by means of +the grant-in-aid system in many villages, sleek-haired, song-singing, +harmless Master Babus appear; but at that time such a being as a +Master Babu was scarcely to be seen. Consequently, Tara Charan +appeared as one of the village gods; especially as it was known in the +bazaar that he had read the _Citizen of the World_, the _Spectator_, +and three books of _Euclid_. On account of these gifts he was received +into the _Brahmo Samaj_ of Debendra Babu, the zemindar of Debipur, and +reckoned as one of that Babu's retinue. + +Tara Charan wrote many essays on widow-marriage, on the education of +women, and against idol-worship; read them weekly in the _Samaj_, and +delivered many discourses beginning with "Oh, most merciful God!" +Some of these he took from the _Tattwa Bodhini_,[3] and some he caused +to be written for him by the school _pandit_. He was forever +preaching: "Abandon idol-worship, give choice in marriage, give women +education; why do you keep them shut up in a cage? let women come +out." There was a special cause for this liberality on the subject of +women, inasmuch as in his own house there was no woman. Up to this +time he had not married. Surja Mukhi had made great efforts to get him +married, but as his mother's story was known in Govindpur, no +respectable _Kaystha_ consented to give him his daughter. Many a +common, disreputable _Kaystha_ girl he might have had; but Surja +Mukhi, regarding Tara Charan as a brother, would not give her consent, +since she did not choose to call such a girl sister-in-law. While she +was seeking for a respectable _Kaystha_ girl, Nagendra's letter came, +describing Kunda Nandini's gifts and beauty. She resolved to give her +to Tara Charan in marriage. + +[Footnote 3: A religious periodical published in Calcutta.] + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +OH! LOTUS-EYED, WHO ART THOU? + + +Kunda arrived safely with Nagendra at Govindpur. At the sight of +Nagendra's dwelling she became speechless with wonder, for she had +never seen one so grand. There were three divisions without and three +within. Each division was a large city. The outer _mahal_ (division) +was entered by an iron gate, and was surrounded on all sides by a +handsome lofty iron railing. From the gate a broad, red, well-metalled +path extended, on each side of which were beds of fresh grass that +would have formed a paradise for cows. In the midst of each plat was +a circle of shrubs, all blooming with variously coloured flowers. In +front rose the lofty demi-upper-roomed _boita khana_ (reception-hall), +approached by a broad flight of steps, the verandah of which was +supported by massive fluted pillars. The floor of the lower part of +this house was of marble. Above the parapet, in its centre, an +enormous clay lion, with dependent mane, hung out its red tongue. This +was Nagendra's _boita khana_. To left and right of the grass plats +stood a row of one-storied buildings, containing on one side the +_daftar khana_ (accountant's office) and _kacheri_ (court-house); on +the other the storehouse, treasury, and servants' dwellings. On both +sides of the gate were the doorkeepers' lodges. This first _mahal_ was +named the _kacheri bari_ (house of business); the next to it was the +_puja mahal_ (division for worship). The large hall of worship formed +one side of the _puja mahal_; on the other three sides were +two-storied houses. No one lived in this _mahal_. At the festival of +Durga it was thronged; but now grass sprouted between the tiles of the +court, pigeons frequented the halls, the houses were full of +furniture, and the doors were kept locked. Beside this was the _thakur +bari_ (room assigned to the family deity): in it on one side was the +temple of the gods, the handsome stone-built dancing-hall; on the +remaining sides, the kitchen for the gods, the dwelling-rooms of the +priests, and a guest-house. In this _mahal_ there was no lack of +people. The tribe of priests, with garlands on their necks and +sandal-wood marks on their foreheads; a troop of cooks; people bearing +baskets of flowers for the altars; some bathing the gods, some ringing +bells, chattering, pounding sandal-wood, cooking; men and women +servants bearing water, cleaning floors, washing rice, quarrelling +with the cooks. In the guest-house an ascetic, with ash-smeared, loose +hair, is lying sleeping; one with upraised arm (stiffened thus through +years) is distributing drugs and charms to the servants of the house; +a white-bearded, red-robed _Brahmachari_, swinging his chaplet of +beads, is reading from a manuscript copy of the _Bhagavat-gita_ in the +_Nagari_ character; holy mendicants are quarrelling for their share of +_ghi_ and flour. Here a company of emaciated _Boiragis_, with wreaths +of _tulsi_ (a sacred plant) round their necks and the marks of their +religion painted on their foreheads, the bead fastened into the knot +of hair on their heads shaking with each movement, are beating the +drums as they sing: + + "I could not get the opportunity to speak, + The elder brother Dolai was with me." + +The wives of the _Boiragis_, their hair braided in a manner pleasing +to their husbands, are singing the tune of _Govinda Adhi Kari_ to the +accompaniment of the tambourine. Young _Boisnavis_ singing with elder +women of the same class, the middle-aged trying to bring their voices +into unison with those of the old. In the midst of the court-yard +idle boys fighting, and abusing each other's parents. + +These three were the outer _mahals_. Behind these came the three inner +ones. The inner _mahal_ behind the _kacheri bari_ was for Nagendra's +private use. In that only himself, his wife, and their personal +attendants were allowed; also the furniture for their use. This place +was new, built by Nagendra himself, and very well arranged. Next to +it, and behind the _puja bari_, came another _mahal_; this was old, +ill-built, the rooms low, small, and dirty. Here was a whole city-full +of female relations, mother's sister and mother's cousin, father's +sister and cousin; mother's widowed sister, mother's married sister; +father's sister's son's wife, mother's sister's son's daughter. All +these female relatives cawing day and night like a set of crows in a +banian tree; at every moment screams, laughter, quarrelling, bad +reasoning, gossip, reproach, the scuffling of boys, the crying of +girls. "Bring water!" "Give the clothes!" "Cook the rice!" "The child +does not eat!" "Where is the milk?" etc., is heard as an ocean of +confused sounds. Next to it, behind the _Thakur bari_, was the +cook-house. Here a woman, having placed the rice-pot on the fire, +gathering up her feet, sits gossiping with her neighbour on the +details of her son's marriage. Another, endeavouring to light a fire +with green wood, her eyes smarting with the smoke, is abusing the +_gomashta_ (factor), and producing abundant proof that he has +supplied this wet wood to pocket part of the price. Another beauty, +throwing fish into the hot oil, closes her eyes and twists her ten +fingers, making a grimace, for oil leaping forth has burnt her skin. +One having bathed her long hair, plentifully besmeared with oil, +braiding it in a curve on the temples and fastening it in a knot on +the top of her head, stirs the pulse cooking in an earthen pot, like +Krishna prodding the cows with a stick. Here Bami, Kaymi, Gopal's +mother, Nipal's mother, are shredding with a big knife vegetable +pumpkins, brinjals, the sound of the cutting steel mingling with abuse +of the neighbours, of the masters, of everybody: that Golapi has +become a widow very young; that Chandi's husband is a great drunkard; +that Koylash's husband has secured a fine appointment as writer to the +_Darogah_; that there could not be in the world such a flying journey +as that of Gopal, nor such a wicked child as Parvati's; how the +English must be of the race of _Ravan_ (the ten-headed king of +Ceylon); how _Bhagirati_ had brought _Ganga_; how Sham Biswas was the +lover of the daughter of the Bhattacharjyas; with many other +subjects. A dark, stout-bodied woman, placing a large _bonti_ (a +fish-cutter) on a heap of ashes in the court, is cutting fish; the +kites, frightened at her gigantic size and her quick-handedness, +keeping away, yet now and again darting forward to peck at the fish. +Here a white-haired woman is bringing water; there one with powerful +hand is grinding spices. Here, in the storehouse, a servant, a cook, +and the store-keeper are quarrelling together; the store-keeper +maintaining, "The _ghi_ (clarified butter) I have given is the right +quantity;" the cook disputing it; the servant saying, "We could manage +with the quantity you give if you left the storehouse unlocked." In +the hope of receiving doles of rice, many children and beggars with +their dogs are sitting waiting. The cats do not flatter any one; they +watch their opportunity, steal in, and help themselves. Here a cow +without an owner is feasting with closed eyes upon the husks of +pumpkins, other vegetables, and fruit. + +Behind these three inner _mahals_ is the flower-garden; and further +yet a broad tank, blue as the sky. This tank is walled in. The inner +house (the women's) has three divisions, and in the flower-garden is a +private path, and at each end of the path two doors; these doors are +private, they give entrance to the three _mahals_ of the inner house. +Outside the house are the stables, the elephant-house, the kennels, +the cow-house, the aviaries, etc. + +Kunda Nandini, full of astonishment at Nagendra's unbounded wealth, +was borne in a palanquin to the inner apartments, where she saluted +Surja Mukhi, who received her with a blessing. + +Having recognized in Nagendra the likeness of the man she had seen in +her dream, Kunda Nandini doubted whether his wife would not resemble +the female figure she had seen later; but the sight of Surja Mukhi +removed this doubt. Surja Mukhi was of a warm, golden colour, like the +full moon; the figure in the dream was dark. Surja Mukhi's eyes were +beautiful, but not like those in the dream. They were long deer-eyes, +extending to the side hair; the eye-brows joined in a beautiful curve +over the dilated, densely black pupils, full but steady. The eyes of +the dark woman in the dream were not so enchanting. Then Surja Mukhi's +features were not similar. The dream figure was dwarfish; Surja Mukhi +rather tall, her figure swaying with the beauty of the honeysuckle +creeper. The dream figure was beautiful, but Surja Mukhi was a +hundredfold more so. The dream figure was not more than twenty years +of age; Surja Mukhi was nearly twenty-six. Kunda saw clearly that +there was no resemblance between the two. Surja Mukhi conversed +pleasantly with Kunda, and summoned the attendants, to the chief among +whom she said, "This is Kunda with whom I shall give Tara Charan in +marriage; therefore see that you treat her as my brother's wife." + +The servant expressed her assent, and took Kunda aside with her to +another place. At sight of her Kunda's flesh crept; a cold moisture +came over her from head to foot. The female figure which Kunda in her +dream had seen her mother's fingers trace upon the heavens, this +servant was that lotus-eyed, dark-complexioned woman. + +Kunda, agitated with fear, breathing with difficulty, asked, "Who are +you?" + +The servant answered, "My name is Hira." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE READER HAS CAUSE FOR GREAT DISPLEASURE. + + +At this point the reader will be much annoyed. It is a custom with +novelists to conclude with a wedding, but we are about to begin with +the marriage of Kunda Nandini. By another custom that has existed from +ancient times, whoever shall marry the heroine must be extremely +handsome, adorned with all virtues, himself a hero, and devoted to his +mistress. Poor Tara Charan possessed no such advantages; his beauty +consisted in a copper-tinted complexion and a snub nose; his heroism +found exercise only in the schoolroom; and as for his love, I cannot +say how much he had for Kunda Nandini, but he had some for a pet +monkey. + +However that may be, soon after Kunda Nandini's arrival at the house +of Nagendra she was married to Tara Charan. Tara Charan took home his +beautiful wife; but in marrying a beautiful wife he brought himself +into a difficulty. + +The reader will remember that Tara Charan had delivered some essays in +the house of Debendra Babu on the subjects of women's education and +the opening of the zenana. In the discussions that ensued, the Master +Babu had said vauntingly: "Should the opportunity ever be given me, I +will be the first to set an example of reform in these matters. Should +I marry, I will bring my wife out into society." + +Now he was married, and the fame of Kunda's beauty had spread through +the district. All the neighbours now, quoting an old song, said, +"Where now is his pledge?" Debendra said, "What, are you now also in +the troop of old fools? Why do you not introduce us to your wife?" + +Tara Charan was covered with shame; he could not escape from +Debendra's banter and taunts. He consented to allow Debendra to make +the acquaintance of his wife. Then fear arose lest Surja Mukhi should +be displeased. A year passed in evasion and procrastination; when, +seeing that this could be carried on no longer, he made an excuse that +his house was in need of repair, and sent Kunda Nandini to Nagendra's +house. When the repairs of the house were completed, Kunda Nandini +returned home. A few days after, Debendra, with some of his friends, +called upon Tara Charan, and jeered him for his false boasting. Driven +thus, as it were, into a corner, Tara Charan persuaded Kunda Nandini +to dress in suitable style, and brought her forth to converse with +Debendra Babu. How could she do so? She remained standing veiled +before him for a few seconds, then fled weeping. But Debendra was +enchanted with her youthful grace and beauty. He never forgot it. + +Soon after that, some kind of festival was held in Debendra's house, +and a little girl was sent thence to Kunda to invite her attendance. +But Surja Mukhi hearing of this, forbade her to accept the invitation, +and she did not go. Later, Debendra again going to Tara Charan's +house, had an interview with Kunda. Surja Mukhi hearing of this +through others, gave to Tara Charan such a scolding, that from that +time Debendra's visits were stopped. + +In this manner three years passed after the marriage; then Kunda +Nandini became a widow. Tara Charan died of fever. Surja Mukhi took +Kunda to live with her, and selling the house she had given to Tara +Charan, gave the proceeds in Government paper to Kunda. + +The reader is no doubt much displeased, but in fact the tale is only +begun. Of the poison tree the seed only has thus far been sown. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HARIDASI BOISNAVI. + + +The widow Kunda Nandini passed some time in Nagendra's house. One +afternoon the whole household of ladies were sitting together in the +other division of the house, all occupied according to their tastes in +the simple employment of village women. All ages were there, from the +youngest girl to the grey-haired woman. One was binding another's hair, +the other suffering it to be bound; one submitting to have her white +hairs extracted, another extracting them by the aid of a grain of rice; +one beauty sewing together shreds of cloth into a quilt for her boy, +another suckling her child; one lovely being dressing the plaits of her +hair; another beating her child, who now cried aloud, now quietly +sobbed, by turns. Here one is sewing carpet-work, another leaning over +it in admiring examination. There one of artistic taste, thinking of +some one's marriage, is drawing a design on the wooden seats to be used +by the bridal pair. One learned lady is reading Dasu Rai's poetry. An +old woman is delighting the ears of her neighbours with complaints of +her son; a humorous young one, in a voice half bursting with laughter, +relates in the ears of her companions whose husbands are absent some +jocose story of her husband's, to beguile the pain of separation. Some +are reproaching the _Grihini_ (house-mistress), some the _Korta_ +(master), some the neighbours; some reciting their own praises. She who +may have received a gentle scolding in the morning from Surja Mukhi on +account of her stupidity, is bringing forward many examples of her +remarkable acuteness of understanding. She in whose cooking the flavours +can never be depended upon, is dilating at great length upon her +proficiency in the art. She whose husband is proverbial in the village +for his ignorance, is astounding her companions by her praises of his +superhuman learning. She whose children are dark and repulsive-looking, +is pluming herself on having given birth to jewels of beauty. Surja +Mukhi was not of the company. She was a little proud, and did not sit +much with these people; if she came amongst them her presence was a +restraint upon the enjoyment of the rest. All feared her somewhat, and +were reserved towards her. Kunda Nandini associated with them; she was +amongst them now, teaching a little boy his letters at his mother's +request. During the lesson the pupil's eyes were fixed upon the +sweetmeat in another child's hand, consequently his progress was not +great. At this moment there appeared amongst them a _Boisnavi_ (female +mendicant), exclaiming, "_Jai Radhika!_"[4] (Victory to Radhika). + +[Footnote 4: Wife of Krishna.] + +A constant stream of guests was served in Nagendra's _Thakur bari_, +and every Sunday quantities of rice were distributed in the same +place, but neither _Boisnavis_ nor others were allowed to come to the +women's apartments to beg; accordingly, on hearing the cry "_Jai +Radha!_" in these forbidden precincts, one of the inmates exclaimed: +"What, woman! do you venture to intrude here? go to the _Thakur +bari_." But even as she spoke, turning to look at the _Boisnavi_, she +could not finish her speech, but said instead: "Oh, ma, what +_Boisnavi_ are you?" + +Looking up, all saw with astonishment that the _Boisnavi_ was young +and of exceeding beauty; in that group of beautiful women there was +none, excepting Kunda Nandini, so beautiful as she. Her trembling +lips, well-formed nose, large lotus-eyes, pencilled brows, smooth, +well-shaped forehead, arms like the lotus-stalk, and complexion like +the _champak_ flower, were rare among women. But had there been +present any critic of loveliness, he would have said there was a want +of sweetness in her beauty, while in her walk and in her movements +there was a masculine character. + +The _sandal_ mark[5] on the _Boisnavi's_ nose was long and fine, her +hair was braided, she wore a _sari_ with a coloured border, and +carried a small tambourine in her hand. She wore brass bracelets, and +over them others made of black glass. + +[Footnote 5: The caste mark, made with sandal-wood powder.] + +One of the elder women addressed her saying, "Who are you?" + +The _Boisnavi_ replied, "My name is Haridasi. Will the ladies like a +song?" + +The cry, "Yes, yes! sing!" sounded on all sides from old and young. +Raising her tambourine, the _Boisnavi_ seated herself near the ladies, +where Kunda was teaching the little boy. Kunda was very fond of music; +on hearing that the _Boisnavi_ would sing she came nearer. Her pupil +seized the opportunity to snatch the sweetmeat from the other child's +hand, and eat it himself. + +The _Boisnavi_ asking what she should sing, the listeners gave a +number of different orders. One called for the strains of _Govinda +Adhikari_, another _Gopale Ure_. She who was reading Dasu Rai's poem +desired to have it sung. Two or three asked for the old stories about +Krishna; they were divided as to whether they would hear about the +companions or about the separation. Some wanted to hear of his herding +the cows in his youth. One shameless girl called out, "If you do not +sing such and such a passage I will not listen." One mere child, by +way of teaching the _Boisnavi_, sang some nonsensical syllables. The +_Boisnavi_, listening to the different demands, gave a momentary +glance at Kunda, saying: "Have you no commands to give?" + +Kunda, ashamed, bent her head smiling, but did not speak aloud; she +whispered in the ear of a companion, "Mention some hymn." + +The companion said, "Kunda desires that you will sing a hymn." The +_Boisnavi_ then began a hymn. Kunda, seeing that the _Boisnavi_ had +neglected all other commands to obey hers, was much abashed. Haridasi, +striking gently on her tambourine as if in sport, recited in a gentle +voice some few notes like the murmuring of a bee in early spring, or a +bashful bride's first loving speech to her husband. Then suddenly she +produced from that insignificant tambourine, as though with the +fingers of a powerful musician, sounds like the crashing of the clouds +in thunder, making the frames of her hearers shrink within them as she +sang in tones more melodious than those of the _Apsharas_ (celestial +singing women). + +The ladies, astonished and enchanted, heard the _Boisnavi's_ +unequalled voice filling the court with sound that ascended to the +skies. What could secluded women understand of the method of that +singing? An intelligent person would have comprehended that this +perfect singing was not due to natural gifts alone. The _Boisnavi_, +whoever she might be, had received a thorough scientific training in +music, and, though young, she was very proficient. + +The _Boisnavi_, having finished her song, was urged by the ladies to +sing again. Haridasi, looking with thirsty eyes at Kunda, sang the +following song from Krishna's address to Radhika: + +THE BOISNAVI'S SONG. + + "To see thy beauteous lily face + I come expectant to this place; + Let me, oh Rai! thy feet embrace. + To deprecate thy sullen ire, + Therefore I come in strange attire; + Revive me, Radha, kindness speak, + Clasping thy feet my home I'd seek. + Of thy fair form to catch a ray + From door to door with flute I stray; + When thy soft name it murmurs low + Mine eyes with sudden tears o'erflow. + If thou wilt not my pardon speak + The banks of Jumna's stream I'll seek, + Will break my flute and yield my life; + Oh! cease thy wrath, and end the strife. + The joys of Braj I've cast aside + A slave before thy feet t' abide; + Thine anklets round my neck I'll bind, + In Jumna's stream I'll refuge find." + +The song over, the _Boisnavi_, looking at Kunda, said, "Singing has +made me thirsty; give me some water." + +Kunda brought water in a vessel; but the _Boisnavi_ said, "I will not +touch your vessel; come near and pour some water into my hands. I was +not born a _Boisnavi_." By this she gave it to be understood that she +was formerly of some unholy caste, and had since become a _Boisnavi_. + +In reply to her words, Kunda went behind her so as to pour the water +into her hands. They were at such a distance from the rest that words +spoken gently could not be heard by any of them. Kunda poured the +water, and the _Boisnavi_ washed her hands and face. + +While thus engaged the latter murmured, "Are you not Kunda?" + +In astonishment Kunda replied, "Why do you ask?" + +"Have you ever seen your mother-in-law?" + +"No." + +Kunda had heard that her mother-in-law, having lost her good name, had +left the place. + +Then said the _Boisnavi_: "Your mother-in-law is here now. She is in +my house, and is crying bitterly to be allowed to see you for once. +She dare not show her face to the mistress of this house. Why should +you not go with me to see her? Notwithstanding her fault, she is still +your mother-in-law." + +Although Kunda was simple, she understood quite well that she should +not acknowledge any connection with such a relation. Therefore she +merely shook her head at the _Boisnavi_'s words and refused her +assent. But the _Boisnavi_ would not take a refusal; again she urged +the matter. + +Kunda replied, "I cannot go without the _Grihini_'s permission." + +This Haridasi forbade. "You must not speak to the house-mistress, she +will not let you go; it may be she will send for your _Sasuri_ +(mother-in-law). In that case your mother-in-law would flee the +country." + +The more the _Boisnavi_ insisted, the more Kunda refused to go without +the _Grihini's_ permission. + +Haridasi having no other resource, said: "Very well, put the thing +nicely to the _Grihini_; I will come another day and take you. Mind +you put it prudently, and shed some tears also, else she will not +consent." + +Even to this Kunda did not consent; she would not say either "yes" or +"no." + +Haridasi, having finished purifying her face and hands, turned to the +ladies and asked for contributions. At this moment Surja Mukhi came +amongst them, the desultory talk ceased, and the younger women, all +pretending some occupation, sat down. + +Surja Mukhi, examining the _Boisnavi_ from head to foot, inquired, +"Who are you?" + +An aunt of Nagendra's explained: "She is a _Boisnavi_ who came to +sing. I never heard such beautiful singing! Will you let her sing for +you? Sing something about the goddesses." + +Haridasi, having sung a beautiful piece about Sham, Surja Mukhi, +enchanted, dismissed her with a handsome present. The _Boisnavi_, +making a profound salute, cast one more glance at Kunda and went away. +Once out of the range of Surja Mukhi's eyes, she made a few gentle +taps on the tambourine, singing softly-- + + "Ah, my darling! + I'll give you honey to eat, golden robes to wear; + I'll fill your flask with _attar_, + And your jar with water of rose, + Your box with spice prepared by my own hand." + +The _Boisnavi_ being gone, the women could talk of nothing else for +some time. First they praised her highly, then began to point out her +defects. + +Biraj said, "She is beautiful, but her nose is somewhat flat." + +Bama remarked, "Her complexion is too pale." + +Chandra Mukhi added, "Her hair is like tow." + +Kapal said, "Her forehead is too high." + +Kamala said, "Her lips are thick." + +Harani observed, "Her figure is very wooden." + +Pramada added, "The woman's bust is like that of a play actor, it has +no grace." + +In this manner it soon appeared that the beautiful _Boisnavi_ was of +unparalleled ugliness. + +Then Lalita said, "Whatever her looks may be, she sings beautifully." + +But even this was not admitted. Chandra Mukhi said the singing was +coarse; Mukta Keshi confirmed this criticism. + +Ananga said, "The woman does not know any songs; she could not even +give us one of Dasu Rai's songs." + +Kanak said, "She does not understand time." + +Thus it appeared that Haridasi _Boisnavi_ was not only extremely ugly, +but that her singing was of the worst description. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE BABU. + + +Haridasi _Boisnavi_, having left the house of the Datta family, went +to Debipur. At this place there is a flower-garden surrounded by +painted iron railings. It is well stocked with fruit trees and +flowering shrubs. In the centre is a tank, upon the edge of which +stands a garden-house. Entering a private room in this house, Haridasi +threw off her dress. Suddenly that dense mass of hair fell from the +head; the locks were borrowed. The bust also fell away; it was made of +cloth. After putting on suitable apparel and removing the _Boisnavi_ +garments, there stood forth a strikingly handsome young man of about +five and twenty years of age. Having no hair on his face he looked +quite a youth; in feature he was very handsome. This young man was +Debendra Babu, of whom we have before had some slight knowledge. + +Debendra and Nagendra were sprung from the same family, but between +the two branches there had been feud for successive generations, so +that the members of the Debipur family were not on speaking terms with +those of Govindpur. From generation to generation there had been +lawsuits between the two houses. At length, in an important suit, the +grandfather of Nagendra had defeated the grandfather of Debendra, and +since that time the Debipur family had been powerless. All their money +was swallowed up in law expenses, and the Govindpur house had bought +up all their estates. From that time the position of the Debipur +family had declined, that of the other increased, the two branches no +longer united. + +Debendra's father had sought in one way to restore the fallen fortunes +of his house. Another zemindar, named Ganesh, dwelt in the Haripur +district; he had one unmarried daughter, Hembati, who was given to +Debendra in marriage. Hembati had many virtues; she was ugly, +ill-tempered, unamiable, selfish. Up to the time of his marriage with +her, Debendra's character had been without stain. He had been very +studious, and was by nature steady and truth-loving. But that marriage +had been fatal to him. When Debendra came to years of discretion he +perceived that on account of his wife's disposition there was no hope +of domestic happiness for him. With manhood there arose in him a love +for beauty, but in his own house this was denied to him; with manhood +there came a desire for conjugal affection, but the mere sight of the +unamiable Hembati quenched the desire. Putting happiness out of the +question, Debendra perceived that it would be difficult to stay in the +house to endure the venom of Hembati's tongue. One day Hembati poured +forth abuse on her husband; he had endured much, he could endure no +more, he dragged Hembati by the hair and kicked her. From that day, +deserting his home, he went to Calcutta, leaving orders that a small +house should be built for him in the garden. Before this occurred the +father of Debendra had died, therefore he was independent. In Calcutta +he plunged into vicious pursuits to allay his unsatisfied desires, and +then strove to wash away his heart's reproaches in wine; after that he +ceased to feel any remorse, he took delight in vice. When he had +learned what Calcutta could teach him in regard to luxury, Debendra +returned to his native place, and, taking up his abode in the +garden-house, gave himself up to the indulgence of his recently +acquired tastes. Debendra had learned many peculiar fashions in +Calcutta; on returning to Debipur he called himself a Reformer. First +he established a _Brahmo Samaj_; many such Brahmos as Tara Charan were +attracted to it, and to the speech-making there was no limit. He also +thought of opening a female school; but this required too much effort, +he could not do it. About widow marriage he was very zealous. One or +two such marriages had been arranged, the widows being of low caste; +but the credit of these was due, not to him, but to the contracting +parties. He had been of one mind with Tara Charan about breaking the +chains of the zenana; both had said, "Let women come out." In this +matter Debendra was very successful, but then this emancipation had in +his mind a special meaning. + +When Debendra, on his return from Govindpur, had thrown off his +disguise and resumed his natural appearance, he took his seat in the +next room. His servant, having prepared the pain-relieving _huka_, +placed the snake in front of him. Debendra spent some time in the +service of that fatigue-destroying goddess, Tobacco. He is not worthy +to be called a man who does not know the luxury of tobacco. Oh, +satisfier of the hearts of all! oh, world enchantress! may we ever be +devoted to thee! Your vehicles, the _huka_, the pipe, let them ever +remain before us. At the mere sight of them we shall obtain heavenly +delight. Oh, _huka_! thou that sendest forth volumes of curling smoke, +that hast a winding tube shaming the serpent! oh, bowl that beautifies +thy top! how graceful are the chains of thy turban; how great is the +beauty of thy curved mouthpiece; how sonorous the murmur of the +ice-cool water in thy depths! Oh, world enchantress! oh, soother of +the fatigues of man, employer of the idle, comforter of the henpecked +husband's heart, encourager of timid dependents, who can know thy +glory! Soother of the sorrowing! thou givest courage to the timid, +intellect to the stupid, peace to the angry! Oh, bestower of +blessings, giver of all happiness, appear in undiminished power in my +room! Let your sweet scent increase daily, let your cool waters +continue to rumble in your depths, let your mouthpiece ever be glued +to my lips! + +Pleasure-loving Debendra enjoyed the favour of this great goddess as +long as he would, but yet he was not satisfied; he proceeded to +worship another great power. In the hand of his servant was displayed +a number of straw-covered bottles. Then on that white, soft, spacious +bed, a gold-coloured mat being laid, a spirit-stand was placed +thereon, and the sunset-coloured liquid goddess poured into the +power-giving decanter. A cut-glass tumbler and plated jug served as +utensils for worship. From the kitchen a black, ugly priest came, +bearing hot dishes of roast mutton and cutlets to take the place of +the sacred flowers. Then Debendra, as a devoted worshipper, sat down +to perform the rites. + +Then came a troop of singers and musicians, and concluded the +ceremonies with their music and songs. + +At length a young man of about Debendra's age, of a placid +countenance, came and sat with him. This was his cousin, Surendra. +Surendra was in every respect the opposite of Debendra, yet the latter +was much attached to his cousin; he heeded no one in the world but +him. Every night Surendra came to see him, but, fearing the wine, he +would only sit a few minutes. + +When all were gone, Surendra asked Debendra, "How are you to-day?" + +"The body," replied Debendra, "is the temple of disease." + +"Yours is, especially," said his cousin, "Have you fever to-day?" + +"No." + +"Is your liver out of order?" + +"It is as before." + +"Would it not be better to refrain from these excesses?" + +"What, drinking? How often will you speak of that? Wine is my constant +companion," said Debendra. + +"But why should it be?" replied Surendra. "Wine was not born with you; +you can't take it away with you. Many give it up, why should not you +do so?" + +"What have I to gain by giving it up? Those who do so have some +happiness in prospect, and therefore give it up. For me there is no +happiness." + +"Then to save your life give it up." + +"Those to whom life brings happiness may give up wine; but what have I +to gain by living?" + +Surendra's eyes filled with tears. Full of love for his friend, he +urged: + +"Then for my sake give it up." + +Tears came into the eyes of Debendra as he said: "No one but yourself +urges me to walk in virtuous paths. If I ever do give it up it will be +for your sake, and--" + +"And what?" + +"If ever I hear that my wife is dead I will give up drink. Otherwise, +whether I live or die, I care not." + +Surendra, with moist eyes, mentally anathematising Hembati, took his +leave. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +SURJA MUKHI'S LETTER. + + +Dearest Srimati Kamal Mani Dasi, long may you live! + +"I am ashamed to address you any longer with a blessing. You have +become a woman, and the mistress of a house. Still I cannot think of +you otherwise than as my younger sister. I have brought you up to +womanhood, I taught you your letters; but now when I see your writing +I am ashamed to send this scrawl. But of what use to be ashamed? My +day is over; were it not so how should I be in this condition? What +condition?--it is a thing I cannot speak of to any one; should I do +so there will be sorrow and shame; yet if I do not tell some one of my +heart's trouble I cannot endure it. To whom can I speak? You are my +beloved sister; except you no one loves me. Also it concerns your +brother. I can speak of it to no one but you. + +"I have prepared my own funeral pyre. If I had not cared for Kunda +Nandini, and she had died, would that have been any loss to me? God +cares for so many others--would He not have cared for her? Why did I +bring her home to my own destruction! When you saw that unfortunate +being she was a child, now she is seventeen or eighteen. I admit she +is beautiful; her beauty is fatal to me. If I have any happiness on +earth it is in my husband; if I care about anything in this world it +is for my husband; if there is any wealth belonging to me it is my +husband: this husband Kunda Nandini is snatching from me. If I have a +desire on earth it is for my husband's love: of that love Kunda +Nandini is cheating me. Do not think evil of your brother; I am not +reproaching him. He is virtuous, not even his enemies can find a +fault in him. I can see daily that he tries to subdue his heart. +Wherever Kunda Nandini may happen to be, from that spot, if possible, +he averts his eyes; unless there is absolute necessity he does not +speak her name. He is even harsh towards her; I have heard him scold +her when she has committed no fault. Then why am I writing all this +trash? Should a man ask this question it would be difficult to make +him understand, but you being a woman will comprehend. If Kunda +Nandini is in his eyes but as other women, why is he so careful not to +look towards her? why take such pains to avoid speaking her name? He +is conscious of guilt towards Kunda Nandini, therefore he scolds her +without cause; that anger is not with her, but with himself; that +scolding is not for her, but for himself. This I can understand. I who +have been so long devoted to him, who within and without see only him, +if I but see his shadow I can tell his thoughts. What can he hide from +me? Occasionally when his mind is absent his eyes wander hither and +thither; do I not know what they are seeking? If he meets it, again +becoming troubled he withdraws his eyes; can I not understand that? +For whose voice is he listening at meal-times when he pauses in the +act of carrying food to his mouth? and when Kunda's tones reach his +ear, and he fastens to eat his meal, can one not understand that? My +beloved always had a gracious countenance; why is he now always so +absent-minded? If one speaks to him he does not hear, but gives an +absent answer. If, becoming angry, I say, 'May I die?' paying no +attention he answers, 'Yes.' If I ask where his thoughts are, he says +with his lawsuits; but I know they have no place in his mind; when he +speaks of his lawsuits he is always merry. Another point. One day the +old women of the neighbourhood were speaking of Kunda Nandini, pitying +her young widowhood, her unprotected condition. Your brother came up; +from within I saw his eyes fill with tears; he turned away and left +them quickly. The other day I engaged a new servant; her name is +Kumuda. Sometimes the Babu calls Kumuda; when so doing he often slips +out the name Kunda instead of Kumuda, then how confused he is--why +should he be confused? I cannot say he is neglectful of me, or +unaffectionate; rather he is more attentive than before, more +affectionate. The reason of this I fully understand: he is conscious +of fault towards me; but I know that I have no longer a place in his +heart. Attention is one thing, love quite another; the difference +between these two we women can easily understand. + +"There is another amusing matter. A learned _pandit_ in Calcutta, +named Iswara Chandra Bidya Sagar, has published a book on the marriage +of widows. If he who would establish the custom of marrying widows is +a _pandit_, then who can be called a dunce? Just now, the Brahman +Bhattacharjya bringing the book into the _boita khana_, there was a +great discussion. + +"After much talk in favour of widow-marriage, the Brahman, taking ten +rupees from the Babu for the repairs of the _Tote_,[6] went his way. +On the following day Sharbabhoum Thakur replied on the same subject. I +had some golden bracelets made for his daughter's wedding. No one else +was in favour of widow-marriage. + +[Footnote 6: The village school in which Sanscrit is taught.] + +"I have taken up much time in wearying you with my sorrows. Do I not +know how vexed you will be? but what can I do, sister? If I do not +tell you my sorrows, to whom shall I tell them? I have not said all +yet, but hoping for some relief from you has calmed me a little. Say +nothing of this to anyone; above all, I conjure you, show not this +letter to your husband. Will you not come and see me? if you will come +now your presence will heal many of my troubles. Send me quickly news +of your husband and of your child. + +"SURJA MUKHI. + +"P.S.--Another word. If I can get rid of this girl I may be happy once +more; but how to get rid of her? Can you take her? Would you not fear +to do so?" + +Kamal Mani replied-- + +"You have become quite foolish, else how can you doubt your husband's +heart? Do not lose faith in him; if you really cannot trust him you +had better drown yourself. I, Kamal Mani, tell you you had better +drown yourself. She who can no longer trust her husband had better +die." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE SPROUT. + + +On the course of a short time Nagendra's whole nature was changed. As +at eventime, in the hot season, the clear sky becomes suddenly veiled +in cloud, so Nagendra's mind became clouded. Surja Mukhi wept +secretly. + +She thought to herself, "I will take Kamal Mani's advice. Why should I +doubt my husband's heart? His heart is firm as the hills. I am under a +delusion. Perhaps he is suffering in health." Alas! Surja Mukhi was +building a bridge of sand. + +In the house there dwelt a sort of doctor. Surja Mukhi was the +house-mistress. Sitting behind the _purdah_ (a half-transparent +screen) she held converse with everyone, the person addressed +remaining in the verandah. Calling the doctor, Surja Mukhi said-- + +"The Babu is not well; why do you not give him medicine?" + +"Is he ill? I did not know of it; I have heard nothing." + +"Has not the Babu told you?" + +"No; what is the matter?" + +"What is the matter? Are you a doctor, and do you ask that? Do I +know?" + +The doctor was nonplussed, and saying, "I will go and inquire," he was +about to leave; but Surja Mukhi, calling him back, said, "Do not ask +the Babu about it; give him some medicine." + +The doctor thought this a peculiar sort of treatment; but there was no +lack of medicine in the house, and going to the dispensary, he +composed a draught of soda, port-wine, and some simple drugs, and, +filling a bottle, labelled it, "To be taken twice a day." + +Surja Mukhi took the physic to her husband, and requested him to drink +it. Nagendra, taking the bottle, read the inscription, and, hurling it +away, struck a cat with it. The cat fled, her tail drenched with the +physic. + +Surja Mukhi said: "If you will not take the medicine, at least tell me +what is your complaint." + +Nagendra, annoyed, said, "What complaint have I?" + +"Look at yourself," replied Surja Mukhi, "and see how thin you have +become," and she held a mirror before him. + +Nagendra, taking the mirror from her, threw it down and smashed it to +atoms. + +Surja Mukhi began to weep. With an angry look Nagendra went away. +Meeting a servant in the outer room, the Babu struck him for no fault. +Surja Mukhi felt as if _she_ had received the blow. Formerly Nagendra +had been of a very calm temper; now the least thing made him angry. + +Nor was this all. One night, the hour for the meal being already past, +Nagendra had not come in. Surja Mukhi sat expecting him. At length, +when he appeared, she was astonished at his looks. His face and eyes +were inflamed--he had been drinking, and as he had never been given to +drinking before his wife was shocked. From that time it became a daily +custom. + +One day Surja Mukhi, casting herself at his feet, choking down the +sobs in her throat, with much humility entreated, "For my sake give +this up." + +Nagendra asked angrily, "What is my fault?" + +Surja Mukhi said: "If you do not know what is the fault, how can I? I +only beg that for my sake you will give it up." + +Nagendra replied: "Surja Mukhi, I am a drunkard! If devotion should be +paid to a drunkard, pay it to me; otherwise it is not called for." + +Surja Mukhi left the room to conceal her tears, since her weeping +irritated her husband, and led him to strike the servants. + +Soon after, the _Dewan_ sent word to the mistress that the estate was +going to ruin. + +She asked, "Why?" + +"Because the Babu will not see to things. The people on the estates do +just as they please. Since the _Karta_ is so careless, no one heeds +what I say." + +Surja Mukhi answered: "If the owner looks after the estate, it will be +preserved; if not, let it go to ruin. I shall be thankful if I can +only save my own property" (meaning her husband). + +Formerly Nagendra had carefully looked after all his affairs. + +One day some hundreds of his _ryots_ came to the _kacheri_, and with +joined palms stood at the door. "Give us justice," they said, "O your +highness; we cannot survive the tyranny of the _naib_ (a law officer) +and the _gomashta_. We are being robbed of everything. If you do not +save us, to whom shall we go?" + +Nagendra gave orders to drive them away. + +Formerly, when one of his _gomashtas_ had beaten a _ryot_ and taken a +rupee from him, Nagendra had cut ten rupees from the _gomashta's_ pay +and given it to the _ryot_. + +Hara Deb Ghosal wrote to Nagendra: "What has happened to you? I +cannot imagine what you are doing. I receive no letters from you, or, +if I do, they contain but two or three lines without any meaning. Have +you taken offence with me? If so, why do you not tell me? Have you +lost your lawsuit? Then why not say so? If you do not tell me anything +else, at least give me news of your health." + +Nagendra replied: "Do not be angry with me. I am going to +destruction." + +Hara Deb was very wise. On reading this letter he thought to himself: +"What is this? Anxiety about money? A quarrel with some friend? +Debendra Datta? Nothing of the kind. Is this love?" + +Kamal Mani received another letter from Surja Mukhi. It concluded +thus: "Come, Kamal Mani, sister; except you I have no friend. Come to +me." + +Kamal Mani was agitated; she could contain herself no longer. She +felt that she must consult her husband. + +Srish Chandra, sitting in the inner apartments, was looking over the +office account-books. Beside him on the bed, Satish Chandra, a child +of a year old, was rejoicing in the possession of an English +newspaper. He had first tried to eat it; but, failing in that, had +spread it out and was now sitting upon it. Kamal Mani, approaching her +husband, brought the end of her _sari_ round her neck, threw herself +down, bending her forehead to the floor, and, folding her hands, said, +"I pay my devotions to you, O great king." Just before this time, a +play had been performed in the house, from whence she borrowed this +inflated speech. + +Srish said, laughing, "Have the cucumbers been stolen again?" + +"Neither cucumbers nor melons; this time a most valuable thing has +been stolen." + +"Where is the robbery?" asked Srish. + +"The robbery took place at Govindpur. My elder brother had a broken +shell in a golden box. Some one has stolen it." + +Srish, not understanding the metaphor, said "Your brother's golden +casket is Surja Mukhi. What is the broken shell?" + +"Surja Mukhi's wits," replied Kamal. + +"People say if one has a mind to play he can do so, though the shells +are broken" (referring to a game played with shells). "If Surja +Mukhi's understanding is defective, yet with it she gained your +brother's heart, and with all your wisdom, you could not bring him +over to your side. Who has stolen the broken shell?" + +"That I know not; but, from reading her letter, I perceive it is +gone--else how could a woman write such a letter?" + +"May I see the letter?" asked Srish. + +Kamal Mani placed the letter in her husband's hand, saying: "Surja +Mukhi forbade my telling you all this; but while I keep it from you I +am quite uneasy. I can neither sleep nor eat, and I fear I may lose my +senses." + +"If you have been forbidden to tell me of the matter I cannot read +this letter, nor do I wish to hear its contents. Tell me what has to +be done." + +"This is what must be done," replied Kamal. "Surja Mukhi's wits are +scattered, and must be restored. There is no one that can do this +except Satish Babu. His aunt has written requesting that he may be +sent to Govindpur." + +Satish Babu had in the meantime upset a vase of flowers, and was now +aiming at the inkstand. Watching him, Srish Chandra said: "Yes; he he +is well fitted to act as physician. I understand now. He is invited to +his aunt's house; if he goes, his mother must go also. Surja Mukhi's +wits must be lost, or she could not have sent such an invitation." + +"Not Satish Babu only; we are all invited." + +"Why am I invited?" asked Srish. + +"Can I go alone?" replied Kamal. "Who will look after the luggage?" + +"It is very unreasonable in Surja Mukhi if she wants her husband's +brother-in-law only that he may look after the luggage. I can find +some one else to perform that office for a couple of days." + +Kamal Mani was angry; she frowned, mocked at Srish Chandra, and, +snatching the paper on which he was writing out of his hand, tore it +to pieces. + +Srish Chandra, smiling, said, "It serves you right." + +Kamal, affecting anger, said, "I will speak in that way if I wish!" + +Srish, in the same tone, replied, "And I shall speak as I choose!" + +Then a playful scuffle ensued; Kamal pretended to strike her husband, +who in return pulled down her hair; whereupon she threw away his ink. +Then they exchanged angry kisses. Satish Babu was delighted at this +performance; he knew that kisses were his special property, so when he +saw them scattered in this lavish manner he stood up, supporting +himself by his mother's dress, to claim his royal share, crowing +joyously. How sweetly that laugh fell on the ears of Kamal Mani! She +took him in her lap, and showered kisses upon him. Srish Chandra +followed her example. Then Satish Babu, having received his dues, got +down and made for his father's brightly coloured pencil, which soon +found its way into his mouth. + +In the battle between the _Kurus_ and _Pandus_ there was a great +struggle between Bhagadatta and Arjuna. In this fight, Bhagadatta +being invincible, and Arjuna vulnerable, the latter called Krishna to +his aid, who, receiving the charge of Bhagadatta on his breast, +blunted the force of the weapons.[7] In like manner, Satish Chandra +having received these attacks on his face, peace was restored. But +their peace and war was like the dropping of clouds, fitful. + +[Footnote 7: An illustration drawn from the _Mahabharat_.] + +Then Srish asked, "Must you really go to Govindpur? What am I to do +alone?" + +"Do you think I can go alone?" answered his wife. "We must both go. +Arrange matters in the morning when you go to business, and come home +quickly. If you are long, Satish and I will sit crying for you." + +"I cannot go," replied Srish. "This is the season for buying linseed. +You must go without me." + +"Come, Satish," was Kamal's reply; "we two will go and weep." + +At the sound of his mother's voice Satish ceased to gnaw the pencil, +and raised another shout of joyous laughter. So Kamal's cry did not +come off this time; in place of it the kissing performance was gone +through as before. + +At its close Kamal said, "Now what are your orders?" + +Srish repeated that she must go without him, as he could not leave; +whereupon she sat down sulking. Srish went behind her and began to +mark her forehead with the ink from his pen. + +Then with a laugh she embraced him, saying, "Oh, dearer than life, how +I love you!" + +He was obliged to return the embrace, when the ink transferred itself +from her face to his. + +The quarrel thus ended, Kamal said, "If you really will not go, then +make arrangements for me." + +"When will you come back?" + +"Need you ask?" said Kamal; "if you don't go, can I stay there long?" + +Srish Chandra sent Kamal Mani to Govindpur, but it is certain that +Srish Chandra's employers did not do much in linseed at that time. +The other clerks have privately informed us that this was the fault of +Srish Chandra, who did not give his mind to it, but sat at home in +meditation. + +Srish hearing himself thus accused, remarked, "It may be so, my wife +was absent at that time." + +The hearers shook their heads, saying, "He is under petticoat +government!" which so delighted Srish Chandra that he called to his +servant, "Prepare dinner; these gentlemen will dine with me to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CAUGHT AT LAST. + + +It was as though a flower had bloomed in the family house at +Govindpur. The sight of Kamal Mani's smiling face dried the tears in +the eyes of Surja Mukhi. The moment she set foot in the house Kamal +took in hand the dressing of her sister-in-law's hair, for Surja Mukhi +had neglected herself lately. + +Kamal said, "Shall I put in a flower or two?" + +Surja Mukhi pinched her cheek, and forbade it. + +So Kamal Mani did it slily. When people came in she said, "Do you see +the old woman wearing flowers in her hair?" + +But even Kamal's bright face did not dispel the dark clouds from that +of Nagendra. When he met her he only said, "Where do you come from, +Kamal?" + +She bent before him, saying bashfully, "Baby has brought me." + +"Indeed! I'll beat the rascal," replied Nagendra, taking the child in +his arms, and spending an hour in play with him, in return for which +the grateful child made free with his moustache. + +Kamal Mani playfully accosted Kunda with the words, "Ha, Kundi, Kundi! +Nundi, Dundi! are you quite well, Kundi?" + +The girl was silent in astonishment, but presently she said, "I am +well." + +"Call me _Didi_ (elder sister); if you do not I will burn your hair +when you are asleep, or else I will give your body to the +cockroaches." + +Kunda obeyed. When she had been in Calcutta she had not addressed +Kamal by any name; indeed she had rarely spoken; but seeing that Kamal +was very loving-hearted, she had become fond of her. In the years that +had intervened without a meeting she had a little forgotten Kamal; +but now, both being amiable, their affection was born afresh, and +became very close. + +When Kamal Mani talked of returning home, Surja Mukhi said, "Nay, +sister, stay a little longer. I shall be wretched when you are gone. +It relieves me to talk to you of my trouble." + +"I shall not go without arranging your affairs." + +"What affairs?" said Surja Mukhi. + +"Your _Shradda_" (funeral ceremonies), replied Kamal; but mentally she +said, "Extracting the thorns from your path." + +When Kunda heard that Kamal talked of going, she went to her room and +wept. Kamal going quietly after her found her with her head on the +pillow, weeping. Kamal sat down to dress Kunda's hair, an occupation +of which she was very fond. When she had finished she drew Kunda's +head on to her lap, and wiped away the tears. Then she said, "Kunda, +why do you weep?" + +"Why do you go away?" was the reply. + +"Why should you weep for that?" + +"Because you love me." + +"Does no one else love you?" + +Kunda did not reply; and Kamal went on: "Does not the _Bou_ (Surja +Mukhi) love you? No? Don't hide it from me." (Still no answer.) "Does +not my brother love you?" (Still silence.) "Since I love you and you +love me, shall we not go together?" (Yet Kunda spoke not.) "Will you +go?" + +Kunda shook her head, saying, "I will not go." + +Kamal's joyous face became grave; she thought, "This does not sound +well. The girl has the same complaint as my brother, but he suffers +the more deeply. My husband is not here, with whom can I take +counsel?" Then Kamal Mani drew Kunda's head lovingly on her breast, +and taking hold of her face caressingly, said, "Kunda, will you tell +me the truth?" + +"About what?" said the girl. + +"About what I shall ask thee. I am thy elder, I love thee as a sister; +do not hide it from me, I will tell no one." In her mind she thought, +"If I tell any one it will be my husband and my baby." + +After a pause Kunda asked, "What shall I tell you?" + +"You love my brother dearly, don't you?" + +Kunda gave no answer. + +Kamal Mani wept in her heart; aloud she said: "I understand. It is so. +Well that does not hurt you, but many others suffer from it." + +Kunda Nandini, raising her head, fixed a steadfast look on the face of +Kamal Mani. + +Kamal, understanding the silent question, replied, "Ah, unhappy one! +dost thou not see that my brother loves thee?" + +Kunda's head again sank on Kamal's breast, which she watered with her +tears. Both wept silently for many minutes. + +What the passion of love is the golden Kamal Mani knew very well. In +her innermost heart she sympathized with Kunda, both in her joy and in +her sorrow. Wiping Kunda's eyes she said again, "Kunda, will you go +with me?" + +Kunda's eyes again tilled with tears. + +More earnestly, Kamal said: "If you are out of sight my brother will +forget you, and you will forget him; otherwise, you will be lost, my +brother will be lost and his wife--the house will go to ruin." + +Kunda continued weeping. + +Again Kamal asked, "Will you go? Only consider my brother's condition, +his wife's." + +Kunda, after a long interval, wiped her eyes, sat up, and said, "I +will go." + +Why this consent after so long an interval? Kamal understood that +Kunda had offered up her own life on the temple of the household +peace. Her own peace? Kamal felt that Kunda did not comprehend what +was for her own peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +HIRA. + + +On this occasion, Haridasi _Boisnavi_ entering, sang-- + + "I went into the thorny forest to pluck a soiled flower-- + Yes, my friend, a soiled flower; + I wore it twined about my head, I hung it in my ears-- + Friends, a soiled flower." + +This day Surja Mukhi was present. She sent to call Kamal to hear the +singing. Kamal came, bringing Kunda Nandini with her. The _Boisnavi_ +sang-- + + "I would die for this blooming thorn, + I will steal its honied sweets, + I go to seek where it doth bloom, + This fresh young bud." + +Kamal Mani frowned, and said: "_Boisnavi_ Didi, may ashes be thrown +on your face! Can you not sing something else?" + +Haridasi asked, "Why?" + +Kamal, more angrily, said: "Why? Bring a bough of the _babla_ tree, +and show her how pleasant it is to be pierced by thorns." + +Surja Mukhi said gently: "We do not like songs of that sort; sing +something suitable for the home circle." + +The _Boisnavi_, saying "Very well," began to sing-- + + "By clasping the Pandit's feet, I shall become learned in the Shastras; + Learning thus the holy Shastras, who will dare speak ill of me?" + +Kamal, frowning, said: "Listen to this singing if it pleases you, +sister. I shall go away." + +She went, and Surja Mukhi also left, with a displeased countenance. Of +the rest of the women, those who relished the song remained, the +others left; Kunda Nandini stayed. She did not understand the hidden +meaning of the songs, she scarcely even heard them. Her thoughts were +absent, so she remained where she was seated. Haridasi sang no more, +but talked on trivial subjects. Seeing that there would be no more +singing, all left except Kunda Nandini, whose feet seemed as though +they would not move. Thus, finding herself alone with Kunda, the +_Boisnavi_ talked much to her. Kunda heard something of her talk, but +not all. + +Surja Mukhi saw all this from a distance, and when the two showed +signs of being deep in conversation she called Kamal and pointed them +out to her. + +Kamal said: "What of that? they are only talking. She is a woman, not +a man." + +"Who knows?" said Surja. "I think it is a man in disguise; but I will +soon find out. How wicked Kunda must be!" + +"Stay a moment," said Kamal, "I will fetch a _babla_ branch, and let +her feel its thorns." + +Thus saying, Kamal went in search of a bough. On the way she saw +Satish, who had got possession of his aunt's vermilion, and was +seated, daubing neck, nose, chin, and breast with the red powder. At +this sight Kamal forgot the _Boisnavi,_ the bough, Kunda Nandini, and +everything else. + +Surja Mukhi sent for the servant Hira. + +Hira's name has been mentioned once; it is now needful to give a +particular account of her. Nagendra and his father always took special +care that the female servants of the household should be of good +character. With this design they offered good wages, and sought to +engage servants of a superior class. The women servants of the house +dwelt in happiness and esteem, therefore many respectable women of +small means took service with them. Amongst these Hira was the +principal. Many maid-servants are of the Kaystha caste. Hira was a +Kaystha. Her grandmother had first been engaged as a servant, and +Hira, being then a child, had come with her. When Hira became capable +the old woman gave up service, built herself a house out of her +savings, and dwelt in Govindpur. Hira entered the service of the Datta +family. She was then about twenty years of age, younger than most of +the other servants, but in intelligence and in mental qualities their +superior. Hira had been known in Govindpur from childhood as a widow, +but no one had ever heard anything of her husband, neither had any one +heard of any stain upon her character. She was something of a shrew. +She dressed and adorned herself as one whose husband is living. She +was beautiful, of brilliant complexion, lotus-eyed, short in stature, +her face like the moon covered with clouds, her hair raised in front +like a snake-hood. + +Hira was sitting alone singing. She made quarrels among the maids for +her own amusement. She would frighten the cook in the dark, incite the +boys to tease their parents to give them in marriage; if she saw any +one sleeping she would paint the face with lime and ink. Truly she had +many faults, as will appear by degrees. At present I will only add +that if she saw attar or rose-water she would steal it. + +Surja Mukhi, calling Hira, said, "Do you know that _Boisnavi_?" + +"No," replied Hira. "I was never out of the neighbourhood, how should +I know a _Boisnavi_ beggar-man. Ask the women of the _Thakur bari_; +Karuna or Sitala may know her." + +"This is not a _Thakur bari Boisnavi_. I want to know who she is, +where her home is, and why she talks so much with Kunda. If you find +all this out for me I will give you a new Benares _sari_, and send you +to see the play." + +At this offer Hira became very zealous, and asked, "When may I go to +make inquiry?" + +"When you like; but if you do not follow her now you will not be able +to trace her. Be careful that neither the _Boisnavi_ nor any one else +suspects you." + +At this moment Kamal returned, and, approving of Surja Mukhi's design, +said to Hira, "And if you can, prick her with _babla_ thorns." + +Hira said: "I will do all, but only a Benares _sari_ will not content +me." + +"What do you want?" asked Surja. + +"She wants a husband," said Kamal. "Give her in marriage." + +"Very well," said Surja. "Would you like to have the _Thakur +Jamai_?[8] Say so, and Kamal will arrange it." + +[Footnote 8: _Thakur Jamai_--Kamal Mani's husband.] + +"Then I will see," said Hira; "but there is already in the house a +husband suited to my mind." + +"Who is it?" asked Surja. + +"Death," was Hira's reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NO! + + +On the evening of that day, Kunda was sitting near the _talao_[9] in +the middle of the garden. The _talao_ was broad; its water pure and +always blue. The reader will remember that behind this _talao_ was a +flower-garden, in the midst of which stood a white marble house +covered with creepers. In front, a flight of steps led down to the +water. The steps were built of brick to resemble stone, very broad +and clean. On either side grew an aged _bakul_ tree. Beneath these +trees sat Kunda Nandini, alone in the darkening evening, gazing at the +reflection of the sky and stars in the clear water. Here and there +lotus flowers could be dimly seen. On the other three sides of the +_talao_, mango, jak, plum, orange, lichi, cocoanut, kul, bel, and +other fruit-trees grew thickly in rows, looking in the darkness like a +wall with an uneven top. Occasionally the harsh voice of a bird in the +branches broke the silence. The cool wind blowing over the _talao_ +caused the water slightly to wet the lotus flowers, gave the reflected +sky an appearance of trembling, and murmured in the leaves above Kunda +Nandini's head. The scent of the flowers of the _bakul_ tree pervaded +the air, mingled with that of jasmine and other blossoms. Everywhere +fireflies flew in the darkness over the clear water, dancing, +sparkling, becoming extinguished. Flying foxes talked to each other; +jackals howled to keep off other animals. A few clouds having lost +their way wandered over the sky; one or two stars fell as though +overwhelmed with grief. Kunda Nandini sat brooding over her troubles. +Thus ran her thoughts: "All my family is gone. My mother, my brother, +my father, all died. Why did I not die? If I could not die, why did I +come here? Does the good man become a star when he dies?" Kunda no +longer remembered the vision she had seen on the night of her father's +death. It did not recur to her mind even now. Only a faint memory of +the scene came to her with the idea that, since she had seen her +mother in vision, that mother must have become a star. So she asked +herself: "Do the good become stars after death? and if so, are all I +loved become stars? Then which are they among those hosts? how can I +determine? Can they see me--I who have wept so much? Let them go, I +will think of them no more. It makes me weep; what is the use of +weeping? Is it my fate to weep? If not, my mother--again these +thoughts! let them go. Would it not be well to die? How to do it? +Shall I drown myself? Should I become a star if I did that? Should I +see? Should I see every day--whom? Can I not say whom? why can I not +pronounce the name? there is no one here who could hear it. Shall I +please myself by uttering it for once? only in thought can I say +it--Nagendra, my Nagendra! Oh, what do I say? my Nagendra! What am I? +Surja Mukhi's Nagendra. How often have I uttered this name, and what +is the use? If he could have married me instead of Surja Mukhi! Let it +go! I shall drown myself. If I were to do that what would happen? +To-morrow I should float on the water; all would hear of it. +Nagendra--again I say it, Nagendra; if Nagendra heard of it what would +he say? It will not do to drown myself; my body would swell, I should +look ugly if he should see me! Can I take poison? What poison? Where +should I get it? Who would bring it for me? Could I take it? I could, +but not to-day. Let me please myself with the thought that he loves +me. Is it true? Kamal Didi said so; but how can she know it? my +conscience will not let me ask. Does he love me? How does he love me? +What does he love--my beauty or me? Beauty? let me see." She went to +examine the reflection of her face in the water, but, failing to see +anything, returned to her former place. "It cannot be; why do I think +of that? Surja Mukhi is more beautiful than I. Haro Mani, Bishu, +Mukta, Chandra, Prasunna, Bama, Pramada, are all more beautiful. Even +Hira is more beautiful; yes, notwithstanding her dark complexion, her +face is more beautiful. Then if it is not beauty, is it disposition? +Let me think. I can't find any attraction in myself. Kamal said it to +satisfy me. Why should he love me? Yet why should Kamal try to flatter +me? Who knows? But I will not die; I will think of that. Though it is +false I will ponder over it; I will think that true which is false. +But I cannot go to Calcutta; I should not see him. I cannot, cannot +go; yet if not, what shall I do? If Kamal's words are true, then those +who have done so much for me are being made to suffer through me. I +can see that there is something in Surja Mukhi's mind. True or false I +will have to go; but I cannot! Then I must drown myself. If I must die +I will die! Oh, my father! did you leave me here to such a fate?" +Then Kunda, putting her hands to her face, gave way to weeping. +Suddenly the vision flashed into her mind; she started as if at a +flash of lightning. "I had forgotten it all," she exclaimed. "Why had +I forgotten it? My mother showed me my destiny, and bade me evade it +by ascending to the stars. Why did I not go? Why did I not die? Why do +I delay now? I will delay no longer." So saying, she began slowly to +descend the steps. Kunda was but a woman, timid and cowardly; at each +step she feared, at each step she shivered. Nevertheless she proceeded +slowly with unshaken purpose to obey her mother's command. At this +moment some one from behind touched her very gently on the shoulder. +Some one said, "Kunda!" Kunda looked round. In the darkness she at +once recognized Nagendra. Kunda thought no more that day of dying. + +[Footnote 9: _Talao_--usually rendered "tank" in English; but the word +scarcely does justice to these reservoirs, which with their handsome +flights of steps are quite ornamental.] + +And Nagendra, is this the stainless character you have preserved so +long? Is this the return for your Surja Mukhi's devotion? Shame! +shame! you are a thief; you are worse than a thief. What could a +thief have done to Surja Mukhi? He might have stolen her ornaments, +her wealth, but you have come to destroy her heart. Surja Mukhi never +bestowed anything upon the thief, therefore if he stole, he was but a +thief. But to you Surja Mukhi gave her all; therefore you are +committing the worst of thefts. Nagendra, it were better for you to +die. If you have the courage, drown yourself. + +Shame! shame! Kunda Nandini; why do you tremble at the touch of a +thief? Why are the words of a thief as a thorn in the flesh? See, +Kunda Nandini! the water is pure, cool, pleasant; will you plunge into +it? will you not die? + +Kunda Nandini did not wish to die. + +The robber said: "Kunda, will you go to-morrow to Calcutta? Do you go +willingly?" + +Willingly--alas! alas! Kunda wiped her eyes, but did not speak. + +"Kunda, why do you weep? Listen. With much difficulty I have endured +so long; I cannot bear it longer. I cannot say how I have lived +through it. Though I have struggled so hard, yet see how degraded I +am. I have become a drunkard. I can struggle no longer; I cannot let +you go. Listen, Kunda. Now widow marriage is allowed I will marry you, +if you consent." + +This time Kunda spoke; she said "No." + +"Why, Kunda? do you think widow marriage unholy?" + +"No." + +"Then why not? Say, say, will you be my wife or not? will you love me +or no?" + +"No." + +Then Nagendra, as though he had a thousand tongues, entreated her with +heart-piercing words. Still Kunda said "No." + +Nagendra looked at the pure, cold water, and asked himself, "Can I lie +there?" + +To herself Kunda said: "No, widow marriage is allowed in the Shastras; +it is not on that account." + +Why, then, did she not seek the water? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +LIKE TO LIKE. + + +Haridasi _Boisnavi_, returning to the garden-house, suddenly became +Debendra Babu, and sat down and smoked his _huka_, drinking brandy +freely at intervals until he became intoxicated. + +Then Surendra entered, sat down by Debendra, and after inquiring after +his health, said, "Where have you been to-day again?" + +"Have you heard of this so soon?" said Debendra. + +"This is another mistake of yours. You imagine that what you do is +hidden, that no one can know anything about it; but it is known all +over the place." + +"I have no desire to hide anything," said Debendra. + +"It reflects no credit upon you. So long as you show the least shame +we have some hope of you. If you had any shame left, would you expose +yourself in the village as a _Boisnavi_?" + +Said Debendra, laughing, "What a jolly _Boisnavi_ I was! Were you not +charmed with my get-up?" + +"I did not see you in that base disguise," replied Surendra, "or I +would have given you a taste of the whip." Then snatching the glass +from Debendra's hand, he said, "Now do listen seriously while you are +in your senses; after that, drink if you will." + +"Speak, brother," said Debendra; "why are you angry to-day? I think +the atmosphere of Hembati has corrupted you." + +Surendra, lending no ear to his evil words, said, "Whose destruction +are you seeking to compass by assuming this disguise?" + +"Do you not know?" was the reply. "Don't you remember the +schoolmaster's marriage to a goddess? This goddess is now a widow, and +lives with the Datta family in that village. I went to see her." + +"Have you not gone far enough in vice? Are you not satisfied yet, that +you wish to ruin that unprotected girl? See, Debendra, you are so +sinful, so cruel, so destructive, that we can hardly associate with +you any longer." + +Surendra said this with so much firmness that Debendra was quite +stunned. Then he said, seriously: "Do not be angry with me; my heart +is not under my own control. I can give up everything else but the +hope of possessing this woman. Since the day I first saw her in Tara +Charan's house I have been under the power of her beauty. In my eyes +there is no such beauty anywhere. As in fever the patient is burned +with thirst, from that day my passion for her has burned within me. I +cannot relate the many attempts I have made to see her. Until now I +had not succeeded. By means of this _Boisnavi_ dress I have +accomplished my desire. There is no cause for you to fear. She is a +virtuous woman." + +"Then why do you go?" asked his friend. + +"Only to see her. I cannot describe what satisfaction I have found in +seeing her, talking with her, singing to her." + +"I am speaking seriously, not jesting. If you do not abandon this evil +purpose, then our intercourse must end. More than that, I shall become +your enemy." + +"You are my only friend," said Debendra; "I would lose half of what I +possess rather than lose you. Still, I confess I would rather lose you +than give up the hope of seeing Kunda Nandini." + +"Then it must be so. I can no longer associate with you." + +Thus saying, Surendra departed with a sorrowful heart. + +Debendra, greatly afflicted at losing his one friend, sat some time in +repentant thought. At length he said: "Let it go! in this world who +cares for any one? Each for himself!" + +Then filling his glass he drank, and under the influence of the +liquor his heart quickly became joyous. Closing his eyes, he began to +sing some doggerel beginning-- + + "My name is Hira, the flower girl." + +Presently a voice answered from without-- + + "My name is Hira Malini. + +He is talking in his cups; I can't bear to see it." + +Debendra, hearing the voice, called out noisily, "Who are you--a male +or female spirit?" + +Then, jingling her bangles, the spirit entered and sat down by +Debendra. The spirit was covered with a _sari_, bracelets on her arms, +on her neck a charm, ornaments in her ears, silver chain round her +waist, on her ankles rings. She was scented with attar. + +Debendra held a light near to the face of the spirit. He did not know +her. + +Gently he said, "Who are you? and from whence do you come?" Then +holding the light in another direction, he asked, "Whose spirit are +you?" At last, finding he could not steady himself, he said, "Go for +to-day; I will worship you with cakes and flesh of goat on the night +of the dark moon."[10] + +[Footnote 10: At the time of the dark moon the Hindus worship Kalee and +her attendant spirits.] + +Then the spirit, laughing, said, "Are you well, _Boisnavi Didi_?" + +"Good heavens!" said the tipsy one, "are you a spirit from the Datta +family?" Thus saying, he again held the lamp near her face; moving it +hither and thither all round, he gravely examined the woman. At last, +throwing down the lamp, he began to sing, "Who are you? Surely I know +you. Where have I seen you?" + +The woman replied, "I am Hira." + +"Hurrah! Three cheers for Hira!" Exclaiming thus, the drunken man +began to jump about. Then, falling flat on the floor, he saluted Hira, +and with glass in hand began to sing in her praise. + +Hira had discovered during the day that Haridasi _Boisnavi_ and +Debendra Babu were one and the same person. But with what design +Debendra had entered the house of the Dattas it was not so easy to +discover. To find this out, Hira had come to Debendra's house; only +Hira would have had courage for such a deed. She now said: + +"What is my purpose? To day a thief entered the Datta's house and +committed a robbery--I have come to seize the robber." + +Hearing this, the Babu said: "It is true I went to steal; but, Hira, I +went not to steal jewels or pearls, but to seek flowers and fruits." + +"What flower? Kunda?" + +"Hurrah! Yes, Kunda. Three cheers for Kunda Nandini! I adore her." + +"I have come from Kunda Nandini." + +"Hurrah! Speak! speak! What has she sent you to say? Yes, I remember; +why should it not be? For three years we have loved each other." + +Hira was astonished, but wishing to hear more, she said: "I did not +know you had loved so long. How did you first make love to her?" + +"There is no difficulty in that. From my friendship with Tara Charan, +I asked him to introduce me to his wife. He did so, and from that time +I have loved her." + +"After that what happened?" asked Hira. + +"After that, because of your mistress's anger, I did not see Kunda for +many days. Then I entered the house as a _Boisnavi_. The girl is very +timid, she will not speak; but the way in which I coaxed her to-day is +sure to take effect. Why should it not succeed? Am I not Debendra? +Learn well, oh lover! the art of winning hearts!" + +Then Hira said: "It has become very late; now good-bye," and smiling +gently she arose and departed. + +Debendra fell into a drunken sleep. + +Early the next morning Hira related to Surja Mukhi all that she had +heard from Debendra--his three years' passion, and his present attempt +to play the lover to Kunda Nandini in the disguise of a _Boisnavi_. + +Then Surja Mukhi's blue eyes grew inflamed with anger, the crimson +veins on her temples stood out. Kamal also heard it all. + +Surja Mukhi sent for Kunda Nandini, and when she came said to her-- + +"Kunda, we have learned who Haridasi _Boisnavi_ is. We know that he +is your paramour. I now know your true character. We give no place in +our house to such a woman. Take yourself away from here, otherwise +Hira shall drive you away with a broom." + +Kunda trembled. Kamal saw that she was about to fall, and led her away +to her own chamber. Remaining there, she comforted Kunda as well as +she could, saying, "Let the _Bou_ (wife) say what she will, I do not +believe a word of it." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE FORLORN ONE. + + +In the depth of night, when all were sleeping, Kunda Nandini opened +the door of her chamber and went forth. With but one dress, the +seventeen-year-old girl left the house of Surja Mukhi, and leaped +alone into the ocean of the world. Kunda had never set foot outside +the house; she could not tell in which direction to go. + +The dark body of the large house loomed against the sky. Kunda +wandered for some time in the dark; then she remembered that a light +was usually to be seen from Nagendra's room. She knew how to reach +the spot; and thinking that she would refresh her eyes by seeking that +light, she went to that side of the house. The shutters were open, the +sash closed. In the darkness three lights gleamed; insects were +hovering near trying to reach the light, but the glass repelled them. +Kunda in her heart sympathized with these insects. Her infatuated eyes +dwelt upon the light; she could not bring herself to leave it. She sat +beneath some casuarina-trees near the window, every now and then +watching the fireflies dancing in the trees. In the sky black clouds +chased each other, only a star or two being visible at intervals. All +round the house rows of casuarina-trees raising their heads into the +clouds, stood like apparitions of the night. At the touch of the wind +these giant-faced apparitions whispered in their ghost language over +Kunda Nandini's head. The very ghosts, in their fear of the terrible +night, spoke in low voices. Occasionally the open shutters of the +window flapped against the walls. Black owls hooted as they sat upon +the house; sometimes a dog seeing another animal rushed after it; +sometimes a twig or a fruit fell to the ground. In the distance the +cocoanut palms waved their heads, the rustling of the leaves of the +fan palm reached the ear. Over all the light streamed, and the insect +troop came and went. Kunda sat there gazing. + +A sash is gently opened; the figure of a man appears against the +light. Alas! it is Nagendra's figure. Nagendra, what if you should +discover the flower, Kunda, under the trees? What if, seeing you in +the window, the sound of her beating heart should make itself heard? +What if, hearing this sound, she should know that if you move and +become invisible her happiness will be gone? Nagendra, you are +standing out of the light; move it so that she can see you. Kunda is +very wretched; stand there that the clear water of the pool with the +stars reflected in it may not recur to her mind. Listen! the black owl +hoots! Should you move, Kunda will be terrified by the lightning. See +there! the black clouds, pressed by the wind, meet as though in +battle. There will be a rainstorm: who will shelter Kunda? See there! +you have opened the sash, swarms of insects are rushing into your +room. Kunda thinks, "If I am virtuous, shall I be born again as an +insect?" Kunda thinks she would like to share the fate of the insects. +"I have scorched myself, why do I not die?" + +Nagendra, shutting the sash, moves away. Cruel! what harm you have done. +You have no business waking in the night; go to sleep. Kunda Nandini is +dying; let her die!--she would gladly do so to save you a headache. Now +the lightened window has become dark. Looking--looking--wiping her eyes, +Kunda Nandini arose and took the path before her. The ghost-like shrubs, +murmuring, asked, "Whither goest thou?" the fan palms rustled, "Whither +dost thou go?" the owl's deep voice asked the same question. The window +said, "Let her go--no more will I show to her _Nagendra_." Then foolish +Kunda Nandini gazed once more in that direction. + +Oh, iron-hearted Surja Mukhi, arise! think what you have done. Make +the forlorn one return. + +Kunda went on, on, on; again the clouds clashed, the sky became as +night, the lightning flashed, the wind moaned, the clouds thundered. +Kunda! Kunda! whither goest thou? The storm came--first the sound, +then clouds of dust, then leaves torn from the trees borne by the +wind; at last, plash, plash, the rain. Kunda, with thy one garment, +whither goest thou? + +By the flashes of lightning Kunda saw a hut: its walls were of mud, +supporting a low roof. She sat down within the doorway, resting +against the door. In doing this she made some noise. The house owner +being awake heard the noise, but thought it was made by the storm; but +a dog, who slept within near the door, barking loudly, alarmed the +householder, who timidly opened the door, and seeing only a desolate +woman, asked, "Who is there?" No reply. "Who are you, woman?" + +Kunda said, "I am standing here because of the storm." + +"What? What? Speak again." + +Kunda repeated her words. + +The householder recognizing the voice, drew Kunda indoors, and, making +a fire, discovered herself to be Hira. She comforted Kunda, saying, +"I understand--you have run away from the scolding; have no fear, I +will tell no one. You shall stay with me for a couple of days." + +Hira's dwelling was surrounded by a wall. Inside were a couple of +clean mud-built huts. The walls of the rooms were decorated with +figures of flowers, birds, and gods. In the court-yard grew red-leaved +vegetables, and near them jasmine and roses. The gardener from the +Babu's house had planted them. If Hira had wished, he would have given +her anything from the Babu's garden. His profit in this was that Hira +with her own hand prepared his huka and handed it to him. + +In one of the huts Hira slept; in the other her grandmother. Hira made +up a bed for Kunda beside her own. Kunda lay there, but did not sleep. +Kunda desired to remain hidden, and therefore consented to be locked +in the room on the following day when Hira went to her work, so that +she should not be seen by the grandmother. At noon, when the +grandmother went to bathe, Hira, coming home, permitted Kunda to bathe +and eat. After this meal Kunda was again locked in, and Hira returned +to her work till night, when she again made up the beds as before. + +Creak, creak, creak--the sound of the chain of the outer door gently +shaken. Hira was astonished. One person only, the gatekeeper, +sometimes shook the chain to give warning at night. But in his hand +the chain did not speak so sweetly; it spoke threateningly, as though +to say, "If you do not open, I will break the door." Now it seemed to +say, "How are you, my Hira? Arise, my jewel of a Hira!" Hira arose, +and opening the outer door saw a woman. At first she was puzzled, but +in a moment, recognizing the visitor, she exclaimed, "Oh, _Ganga +jal_![11] how fortunate I am!" + +[Footnote 11: _Ganga jal_--Ganges water; a pet name given by Hira to +Malati. To receive this at the moment of death it essential to +salvation; therefore Hira expresses the hope to meet Malati in the +hour of death.] + +Hira's _Ganga jal_ was Malati the milk-woman, whose home was at +Debipur, near Debendra Babu's house. She was a merry woman, from +thirty to thirty-two years of age, dressed in a _sari_ and wearing +shell bracelets, her lips red from the spices she ate; her complexion +was almost fair, with red spots on her cheeks; her nose flat, her +temples tattooed, a quid of tobacco in her cheek. Malati was not a +servant of Debendra's, not even a dependent, but yet a follower; the +services that others refused to perform, he obtained from her. + +At sight of this woman the cunning Hira said: "Sister _Ganga jal_! may +I meet you at my last moment; but why have you come now?" + +Malati whispered, "Debendra Babu wants you." + +Hira, with a laugh: "Are you not to get anything?" + +Malati answered, "You best know what you mean. Come at once." + +As Hira desired to go, she told Kunda that she was called to her +master's house, and must go to see what was wanted. Then extinguishing +the light, she put on her dress and ornaments, and accompanied _Ganga +jal_, the two singing as they went some love song. + +Hira went alone into Debendra's _boita khana_. He had been drinking, +but not heavily; he was quite sensible. His manner to Hira was +altogether changed; he paid her no compliments, but said: "I had taken +so much that evening that I did not understand what you said. Why did +you come that night? it is to know this that I have sent for you. You +told me Kunda Nandini sent you, but you did not give her message. I +suppose that was because you found me so much overcome; but you can +tell me now." + +"Kunda Nandini did not send me to say anything." + +"Then why did you come?" replied Debendra. + +"I only came to see you." + +Debendra laughed. "You are very intelligent. Nagendra Babu is +fortunate in possessing such a servant. I thought the talk about Kunda +Nandini was a mere pretence. You came to inquire after Haridasi +_Boisnavi_. You came to know my design in wearing the _Boisnavi_ garb; +why I went to the Datta house: this you came to learn, and in part you +accomplished your purpose. I do not seek to hide the matter. You did +your master's work, and have received your reward from him, no doubt. +I have a commission for you; do it, and I also will reward you." + +It would be an unpleasant task to relate in detail the speech of a man +so deeply sunk in vice. Debendra, promising Hira an abundant reward, +proposed to buy Kunda Nandini. + +At his words Hira's eyes reddened, her ears became like fire. When he +had finished she rose and said-- + +"Sir, addressing me as a servant, you have said this to me. It is not +for me to reply. I will tell my master, and he will give you a +suitable answer." Then she went quickly out. + +For some moments Debendra sat puzzled and cowed. Then to revive +himself he returned to the brandy, and the songs in which he usually +indulged. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +HIRA'S ENVY + + +Rising in the morning, Hira went to her work. For the past two days +there had been a great tumult in the Datta house, because Kunda +Nandini was not to be found. It was known to all the household that +she had gone away in anger. It was also known to some of the +neighbours. Nagendra heard that Kunda had gone, but no one told him +the reason. He thought to himself, "Kunda has left because she does +not think it right to remain in the house after what I said to her. If +so, why does she not go with Kamal?" Nagendra's brow was clouded. No +one ventured to come near him. He knew not what fault Surja Mukhi had +committed, yet he held no intercourse with her, but sent a female spy +into the neighbourhood to make search for Kunda Nandini. + +Surja Mukhi was much distressed on hearing of Kunda's flight, +especially as Kamal Mani had assured her that what Debendra had said +was not worthy of credit: for if she had had any bond with Debendra +during three years, it could not have remained unknown; and Kunda's +disposition gave no reason for suspicion of such a thing. Debendra was +a drunkard, and in his cups he spoke falsely. Thinking over this, +Surja Mukhi's distress increased. In addition to that, her husband's +displeasure hurt her severely. A hundred times she abused Kunda--a +thousand times she blamed herself. She also sent people in search of +Kunda. + +Kamal's postponed her departure for Calcutta. She abused no one. She +did not use a word of scolding to Surja Mukhi. Loosening her necklace +from her throat, she showed it to all the household, saying, "I will +give this to whomsoever will bring Kunda back." + +The guilty Hira heard and saw all this, but said nothing. Seeing the +necklace she coveted it, but repressed her desire. On the second day, +arranging her work, she went at noon, at which hour her grandmother +would be bathing, to give Kunda her meal. At night the two made their +bed, and laid down together. Neither Hira nor Kunda slept: Kunda was +kept awake by her sorrow; Hira by the mingled happiness and trouble of +her thoughts. But whatever her thoughts were she did not give them +words--they remained hidden. + +Oh, Hira! Hira! you have not an evil countenance, you too are young; +why this vice in your heart? Why did the Creator betray her? Because +the Creator betrayed her, does she therefore wish to betray others? If +Hira were in Surja Mukhi's place, would she be so deceitful? Hira says +"No!" But sitting in Hira's place she speaks as Hira. People say all +evil that occurs is brought about by the wicked. Wicked people say, "I +should have been virtuous, but through the faults of others have +become evil." Some say, "Why has not five become seven?" Five says, "I +would have been seven, but two and five make seven. If the Creator or +the Creator's creatures had given me two more, I should have been +seven." So thought Hira. + +Hira said to herself: "Now what shall I do? Since the Creator has +given me the opportunity, why should I lose it through my own fault? +On the one side, if I take Kunda home to the Dattas, Kamal will give +me the necklace, and the _Grihini_ also will give me something. Shall +I spare the Babu? On the other hand, if I give Kunda to Debendra Babu, +I shall get a large sum of money at once. But I can't do that. Why +does Debendra think Kunda so beautiful? If I had good food, dressed +well, took my ease like a fine lady in a picture, I could be the same. +So simple a creature as Kunda can never understand the merits of +Debendra Babu. If there were no mud there would be no lotus, and Kunda +is the only woman who can excite love in Debendra Babu. Every one to +their destiny! But why am I angry? Why should I trouble myself? I +used to jest at love--I used to say it is mere talk, a mere story. Now +I laugh no longer. I used to say, 'If anyone loves let him love; I +shall never love any one.' Fate said, 'Wait, you will see by and by.' +In trying to seize the robber of other's wealth, I have lost my own +heart. What a face! what a neck! what a figure! is there another man +like him? That the fellow should tell _me_ to bring Kunda to him! +Could he set no one else this task? I could have struck him in the +face! I have come to love him so dearly, I could even find pleasure in +striking him. But let that pass. In that path there is danger; I must +not think of it. I have long ceased to look for joy or sorrow in this +life. Nevertheless, I cannot give Kunda into Debendra's hand; the +thought of it torments me. Rather I will so manage that she shall not +fall in his way. How shall I effect that? I will place Kunda where she +was before, thus she will escape him. Whether he dress as _Boisnavi_ +or _Vasudeva_,[12] he will not obtain admission into that house; +therefore it will be well to take Kunda back there. But she will not +go! Her face is set against the house. But if all coax her she must +go. Another design I have in my mind; will God permit me to carry it +out? Why am I so angry with Surja Mukhi? She never did me any harm; on +the contrary, she loves me and is kind to me. Why, then, am I angry? +Because Surja Mukhi is happy, and I am miserable; she is great, I am +mean; she is mistress, I am servant; therefore my anger against her is +strong. If, you say, God made her great, how is that her fault? Why +should I hurt her? I reply, God has done me harm. Is that my fault? I +do not wish to hurt her, but if hurting her benefits me, why should I +not do it? Who does not seek his own advantage? Now I want money; I +can't endure servitude any longer. Where will money come from? From +the Datta house--where else? To get the Datta money, then, must be my +object. Every one knows that Nagendra Babu's eyes have fallen on +Kunda; the Babu worships her. What great people wish, they can +accomplish. The only obstacle is Surja Mukhi. If the two should +quarrel, then the great Surja Mukhi's wish will no longer be regarded. +Now, let me see if I cannot bring about a quarrel. If that is done, +the Babu will be free to worship Kunda. At present Kunda is but an +innocent, but I will make her wise; I will soon bring her into +subjection. She can be of much assistance to me. If I give my mind to +it, I can make her do what I will. If the Babu devotes himself to +Kunda, he will do what she bids him; and she shall do what I bid her. +So shall I receive the fruits of his devotion. If I am not to serve +longer, this is the way it must be brought about. I will give Kunda +Nandini to Nagendra, but not suddenly. I will hide her for a few days +and see what happens. Love is deepened by separation. If I keep them +apart the Babu's love will ripen. Then I will bring out Kunda and give +her to him. Then if Surja Mukhi's fate is not broken, it must be a +very strong fate. In the meantime I will mould Kunda to my will. But, +first, I must send my grandmother to Kamarghat, else I cannot keep +Kunda hidden." + +[Footnote 12: _Vasudeva_--the father of Krishna.] + +With this design, Hira set about her arrangements. On some pretext she +induced her grandmother to go to the house of a relative in the +village of Kamarghat, and kept Kunda closely concealed in her own +house. Kunda, seeing all her zeal and care, thought to herself, "There +is no one living so good as Hira. Even Kamal does not love me so +much." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HIRA'S QUARREL. THE BUD OF THE POISON TREE. + + +"Yes, that will do. Kunda shall submit. But if we do not make Surja +Mukhi appear as poison in the eyes of Nagendra, nothing can be +accomplished." + +So Hira set herself to divide the hearts hitherto undivided. + +One morning early, the wicked Hira came into her mistress's house +ready for work. There was a servant in the Datta household named +Kousalya, who hated Hira because she was head servant and enjoyed the +favour of the mistress. Hira said to her: "Sister Kushi, I feel very +strange to-day; will you do my work for me?" + +Kousalya feared Hira, therefore she said: "Of course I will do it; we +are all subject to illness, and all the subjects of one mistress." + +It had been Hira's wish that Kousalya should give no reply, and she +would make that a pretext for a quarrel. So, shaking her head, she +said: "You presume so far as to abuse me?" + +Astonished, Kousalya said: "When did I abuse any one?" + +"What!" said Hira, angrily, "you deny it? Why did you speak of my +illness? Do you think I am going to die? You hope that I am ill that +you may show people how good you are to me. May you be ill yourself." + +"Be it so! Why are you angry, sister? You must die some day; Death +will not forget you, nor will he forget me." + +"May Death never forget you! You envy me! May you die of envy! May +your life be short! Go to destruction! May blindness seize upon you!" + +Kousalya could bear no more. She began to return these good wishes in +similar terms. In the act of quarrelling Kousalya was the superior. +Therefore Hira got her deserts. + +Then Hira went to complain to her mistress. If any one could have +looked at her as she went, they would have seen no signs of anger on +her face, but rather a smile on her lips. But when she reached her +mistress, her face expressed great anger, and she began by using the +weapon given by God to woman--that is to say, she shed a flood of +tears. + +Surja Mukhi inquired into the cause. On hearing the complaint, she +judged that Hira was in fault. Nevertheless, for her sake, she scolded +Kousalya slightly. + +Not being satisfied with that, Hira said: "You must dismiss that +woman, or I will not remain." + +Then Surja Mukhi was much vexed with Hira, and said: "You are very +encroaching, Hira; you began the quarrel, the fault was entirely +yours, and now you want me to dismiss the woman. I will do nothing so +unjust. Go, if you will. I will not bid you stay." + +This was just what Hira wanted. Saying "Very well, I go," her eyes +streaming with tears, she presented herself before the Babu in the +outer apartments. + +The Babu was alone in the _boita khana_--he was usually alone now. +Seeing Hira weeping, he asked, "Why do you weep, Hira?" + +"I have been told to come for my wages." + +Nagendra, astonished, asked: "What has happened?" + +"I am dismissed. _Ma Thakurani_ (the mistress) has dismissed me." + +"What have you done?" asked Nagendra. + +"Kushi abused me; I complained: the mistress believes her account and +dismisses me." + +Nagendra, shaking his head and laughing, said: "That is not a likely +story, Hira; tell the truth." + +Hira then, speaking plainly, said: "The truth is I will not stay." + +"Why?" + +"The mistress has become quite altered. One never knows what to expect +from her." + +Nagendra, frowning, said in a sharp voice: "What does that mean?" + +Hira now brought in the fact she had wished to report. + +"What did she not say that day to Kunda Nandini Thakurani? On hearing +it, Kunda left the house. Our fear is that some day something of the +same kind should be said to us. We could not endure that, therefore I +chose to anticipate it." + +"What are you talking about?" asked Nagendra. + +"I cannot tell you for shame." + +Nagendra's brow became dark. He said: "Go home for to-day; I will call +you to-morrow." + +Hira's desire was accomplished. With this design she had quarrelled +with Kousalya. + +Nagendra rose and went to Surja Mukhi. Stepping lightly, Hira followed +him. + +Taking Surja Mukhi aside, he asked, "Have you dismissed Hira?" + +Surja Mukhi replied, "Yes," and then related the particulars. + +On hearing them, Nagendra said: "Let her go. What did you say to Kunda +Nandini?" + +Nagendra saw that Surja Mukhi turned pale. + +"What did I say to her?" she stammered. + +"Yes; what evil words did you use to her?" + +Surja Mukhi remained silent some moments. Then she said-- + +"You are my all, my present and my future; why should I hide anything +from you? I did speak harshly to Kunda; then, fearing you would be +angry, I said nothing to you about it. Forgive me that offence; I am +telling you all." + +Then she related the whole matter frankly, from the discovery of the +_Boisnavi_ Haridasi to the reproof she had given to Kunda. At the end +she said-- + +"I am deeply sorrowful that I have driven Kunda Nandini away. I have +sent everywhere in search of her. If I had found her, I would have +brought her back." + +Nagendra said-- + +"Your fault is not great. Could any respectable man's wife, hearing of +such a stain, give refuge to the guilty person? But would it not have +been well to think a little whether the charge was true? Did you not +know of the talk about Tara Charan's house? Had you not heard that +Debendra had been introduced to Kunda three years before? Why did you +believe a drunkard's words?" + +"I did not think of that at the time. Now I do. My mind was +wandering." As she spoke the faithful wife sank at Nagendra's feet, +and clasping them with her hands, wetted them with her tears. Then +raising her face, she said: "Oh, dearer than life, I will conceal +nothing that is in my mind." + +Nagendra said: "You need not speak; I know that you suspect me of +feeling love for Kunda Nandini." + +Surja Mukhi, hiding her face at the feet of her husband, wept. Again +raising her face, sad and tearful as the dew-drenched lily, and +looking into the face of him who could remove all her sorrows, she +said: "What can I say? Can I tell you what I have suffered? Only lest +my death might increase your sorrow, I do not die. Otherwise, when I +knew that another shared your heart, I wished to die. But people +cannot die by wishing to do so." + +Nagendra remained long silent; then, with a heavy sigh, he said-- + +"Surja Mukhi, the fault is entirely mine, not yours at all. I have +indeed been unfaithful to you; in truth, forgetting you, my heart has +gone out towards Kunda Nandini. What I have suffered, what I do +suffer, how can I tell you? You think I have not tried to conquer it; +but you must not think so. You could never reproach me so bitterly as +I have reproached myself. I am sinful; I cannot rule my own heart." + +Surja Mukhi could endure no more. With clasped hands, she entreated +bitterly-- + +"Tell me no more; keep it to yourself. Every word you say pierces my +breast like a dart. What was written in my destiny has befallen me. I +wish to hear no more; it is not fit for me to hear." + +"Not so, Surja Mukhi," replied Nagendra; "you must listen. Let me +speak what I have long striven to say. I will leave this house; I will +not die, but I will go elsewhere. Home and family no longer give me +happiness. I have no pleasure with you. I am not fit to be your +husband. I will trouble you no longer. I will find Kunda Nandini, and +will go with her to another place. Do you remain mistress of this +house. Regard yourself as a widow--since your husband is so base, are +you not a widow? But, base as I am, I will not deceive you. Now I go: +if I am able to forget Kunda, I will come again; if not, this is my +last hour with you." + +What could Surja Mukhi say to these heart-piercing words? For some +moments she stood like a statue, gazing on the ground. Then she cast +herself down, hid her face, and wept. + +As the murderous tiger gazes at the dying agonies of his prey, +Nagendra stood calmly looking on. He was thinking, "She will die +to-day or to-morrow, as God may will. What can I do? If I willed it, +could I die instead of her? I might die; but would that save Surja +Mukhi?" + +No, Nagendra, your dying would not save Surja Mukhi; but it would be +well for you to die. + +After a time Surja Mukhi sat up; again clasping her husband's feet, +she said: "Grant me one boon." + +"What is it?" + +"Remain one month longer at home. If in that time we do not find Kunda +Nandini, then go; I will not keep you." + +Nagendra went out without reply. Mentally he consented to remain for a +month; Surja Mukhi understood that. She stood looking after his +departing figure, thinking within herself: "My darling, I would give +my life to extract the thorns from your feet. You would leave your +home on account of this wretched Surja Mukhi. Are you or I the +greater?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE CAGED BIRD. + + +Hira had lost her place, but her relation with the Datta family was +not ended. Ever greedy for news from that house, whenever she met any +one belonging to it Hira entered into a gossip. In this way she +endeavoured to ascertain the disposition of Nagendra towards Surja +Mukhi. If she met no one she found some pretext for going to the +house, where, in the servants' quarters, while talking of all sorts of +matters, she would learn what she wished and depart. Thus some time +passed; but one day an unpleasant event occurred. After Hira's +interview with Debendra, Malati the milk-woman became a constant +visitor at Hira's dwelling. Malati perceived that Hira was not pleased +at this; also that one room remained constantly closed. The door was +secured by a chain and padlock on the outside; but Malati coming in +unexpectedly, perceived that the padlock was absent. Malati removed +the chain and pushed the door, but it was fastened inside, and she +guessed that some one must be in the room. She asked herself who it +could be? At first she thought of a lover; but then, whose lover? +Malati knew everything that went on, so she dismissed this idea. Then +the thought flashed across her that it might be Kunda, of whose +expulsion from the house of Nagendra she had heard. She speedily +determined upon a means of resolving her doubt. + +Hira had brought from Nagendra's house a young deer, which, because of +its restlessness, she kept tied up. Malati, pretending to feed the +creature, loosened the fastening, and it instantly bounded away. Hira +ran after it. + +Seizing the opportunity of Hira's absence, Malati began to call out in +a voice of distress: "Hira! Hira! What has happened to my Hira?" Then +rapping at Kunda's door, she exclaimed: "Kunda Thakurun, come out +quickly; something has happened to Hira!" + +In alarm Kunda opened the door; whereupon Malati, with a laugh of +triumph, ran away. Kunda again shut herself in. She did not say +anything of the circumstance to Hira, lest she should be scolded. + +Malati went with her news to Debendra, who resolved to visit Hira's +house on the following day, and bring the matter to a conclusion. + +Kunda was now a caged bird, ever restless. Two currents uniting become +a powerful stream. So it was in Kunda's heart. On one side shame, +insult, expulsion by Surja Mukhi; on the other, passion for Nagendra. +By the union of these two streams that of passion was increased, the +smaller was swallowed up in the larger. The pain of the taunts and the +insults began to fade; Surja Mukhi no longer found place in Kunda's +mind, Nagendra occupied it entirely. She began to think, "Why was I +so hasty in leaving the house? What harm did a few words do to me? I +used to see Nagendra, now I never see him. Could I go back there? if +she would not drive me away I would go." Day and night Kunda revolved +these thoughts; she soon determined that she must return to the Datta +house or she would die; that even if Surja Mukhi should again drive +her away, she must make the attempt. Yet on what pretext could she +present herself in the court-yard of the house? She would be ashamed to +go thither alone. If Hira would accompany her she might venture; but +she was ashamed to open her mouth to Hira. + +Her heart could no longer endure not to see its lord. One morning, +about four o'clock, while Hira was still sleeping, Kunda Nandini +arose, and opening the door noiselessly, stepped out of the house. The +dark fortnight being ended, the slender moon floated in the sky like a +beautiful maiden on the ocean. Darkness lurked in masses amid the +trees. The air was so still that the lotus in the weed-covered pool +bordering the road did not shed its seed; the dogs were sleeping by +the wayside; nature was full of sweet pensiveness. Kunda, guessing the +road, went with doubtful steps to the front of the Datta house; she +had no design in going, except that she might by a happy chance see +Nagendra. Her return to his house might come about; let it occur when +it would, what harm was there in the meantime in trying to see him +secretly? While she remained shut up in Hira's house she had no chance +of doing so. Now, as she walked, she thought, "I will go round the +house; I may see him at the window, in the palace, in the garden, or +in the path." Nagendra was accustomed to rise early; it was possible +Kunda might obtain a glimpse of him, after which she meant to return +to Hira's dwelling. But when she arrived at the house she saw nothing +of Nagendra, neither in the path, nor on the roof, nor at the window. +Kunda thought, "He has not risen yet, it is not time; I will sit +down." She sat waiting amid the darkness under the trees; a fruit or a +twig might be heard, in the silence, loosening itself with a slight +cracking sound and falling to the earth. The birds in the boughs shook +their wings overhead, and occasionally the sound of the watchmen +knocking at the doors and giving their warning cry was to be heard. At +length the cool wind blew, forerunner of the dawn, and the _papiya_ (a +bird) filled the air with its musical voice. Presently the cuckoo +uttered his cry, and at length all the birds uniting raised a chorus +of song. Then Kunda's hope was extinguished; she could no longer sit +under the trees, for the dawn had come and she might be seen by any +one. She rose to return. One hope had been strong in her mind. There +was a flower-garden attached to the inner apartments, where sometimes +Nagendra took the air. He might be walking there now; Kunda could not +go away without seeing if it were so. But the garden was walled in, +and unless the inner door was open there was no entrance. Going +thither, Kunda found the door open, and, stepping boldly in, hid +herself within the boughs of a _bakul_ tree growing in the midst. +Thickly-planted rows of creeper-covered trees decked the garden, +between which were fine stone-made paths, and here and there flowering +shrubs of various hues--red, white, blue, and yellow. Above them +hovered troops of insects, coveting the morning honey, now poising, +now flying, humming as they went; and, following the example of man, +settling in flocks on some specially attractive flower. Many-coloured +birds of small size, flower-like themselves, hovered over the +blossoms, sipping the sweet juices and pouring forth a flood of +melody. The flower-weighted branches swayed in the gentle breeze, the +flowerless boughs remaining still, having nothing to weigh them down. +The cuckoo, proud bird, concealing his dark colour in the tufts of the +_bakul_ tree, triumphed over every one with his song. + +In the middle of the garden stood a creeper-covered arbour of white +stone, surrounded by flowering shrubs. Kunda Nandini, looking forth +from the _bakul_ tree, saw not Nagendra's tall and god-like form. She +saw some one lying on the floor of the arbour, and concluded that it +was he. She went forward to obtain a better new. Unfortunately the +person arose and came out, and poor Kunda saw that it was not +Nagendra, but Surja Mukhi. Frightened, Kunda stood still, she could +neither advance nor recede. She saw that Surja Mukhi was walking about +gathering flowers. Gradually Nagendra's wife approaching the _bakul_ +tree, saw some one lurking within its branches. Not recognizing Kunda, +Surja Mukhi said, "Who are you?" + +Kunda could not speak for fear; her feet refused to move. + +At length Surja Mukhi saw who it was, and exclaimed, "Is it not +Kunda?" + +Kunda could not answer; but Surja Mukhi, seizing her hand, said, +"Come, sister, I will not say anything more to you!" and took her +indoors. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +DESCENT. + + +On the night of that day, Debendra Datta, alone, in disguise, excited +by wine, went to Hira's house in search of Kunda Nandini. He looked in +the two huts, but Kunda was not there. Hira, covering her face with +her _sari_, laughed at his discomfiture. Annoyed, Debendra said, "Why +do you laugh?" + +"At your disappointment. The bird has fled; should you search my +premises you will not find it." + +Then, in reply to Debendra's questions, Hira told all she knew, +concluding with the words, "When I missed her in the morning I sought +her everywhere, and at last found her in the Babu's house receiving +much kindness." + +Debendra's hopes thus destroyed, he had nothing to detain him; but the +doubt in his mind was not dispelled, he wished to sit a little and +obtain further information. Noting a cloud or two in the sky he moved +restlessly, saying, "I think it is going to rain." + +It was Hira's wish that he should sit awhile; but she was a woman, +living alone; it was night, she could not bid him stay, if she did she +would be taking another step in the downward course. Yet that was in +her destiny. + +Debendra said, "Have you an umbrella?" There was no such thing in +Hira's house. Then he asked, "Will it cause remark if I sit here until +the rain is past?" + +"People will remark upon it, certainly; but the mischief has been done +already in your coming to my house at night." + +"Then I may sit down?" + +Hira did not answer, but made a comfortable seat for him on the bench, +took a silver-mounted _huka_ from a chest, prepared it for use and +handed it to him. + +Debendra drew a flask of brandy from his pocket, and drank some of it +undiluted. Under the influence of this spirit he perceived that Hira's +eyes were beautiful. In truth they were so--large, dark, brilliant, +and seductive. He said, "Your eyes are heavenly!" Hira smiled. +Debendra saw in a corner a broken violin. Humming a tune, he took the +violin and touched it with the bow. "Where did you get this +instrument?" he asked. + +"I bought it of a beggar." + +Debendra made it perform a sort of accompaniment to his voice, as he +sang some song in accordance with his mood. + +Hira's eyes shone yet more brilliantly. For a few moments she forgot +self, forgot Debendra's position and her own. She thought, "He is the +husband, I am the wife; the Creator, making us for each other, +designed long ago to bring us together, that we might both enjoy +happiness." The thoughts of the infatuated Hira found expression in +speech. Debendra discovered from her half-spoken words that she had +given her heart to him. The words were hardly uttered when Hira +recovered consciousness. Then, with the wild look of a frantic +creature, she exclaimed, "Go from my house!" + +Astonished, Debendra said, "What is the matter, Hira?" + +"You must go at once, or I shall." + +"Why do you drive me away?" said Debendra. + +"Go, go, else I will call some one. Why should you destroy me?" + +"Is this woman's nature?" asked Debendra. + +Hira, enraged, answered: "The nature of woman is not evil. The nature +of such a man as you is very evil. You have no religion, you care +nothing for the fate of others; you go about seeking only your own +delight, thinking only what woman you can destroy. Otherwise, why are +you sitting in my house? Was it not your design to compass my +destruction? You thought me to be a courtezan, else you would not +have had the boldness to sit down here. But I am not a courtezan; I am +a poor woman, and live by my labour. I have no leisure for such evil +doings. If I had been a rich man's wife, I can't say how it would have +been." + +Debendra frowned. + +Then Hira softened; she looked full at Debendra and said: "The sight +of your beauty and your gifts has made me foolish, but you are not to +think of me as a courtezan. The sight of you makes me happy, and on +that account I wished you to stay. I could not forbid you; but I am a +woman. If I were too weak to forbid you, ought you to have sat down? +You are very wicked; you entered my house in order to destroy me. Now +leave the place!" + +Debendra, taking another draught of brandy, said: "Well done, Hira! +you have made a capital speech. Will you give a lecture in our Brahmo +Samaj?" + +Stung to the quick by this mockery, Hira said, bitterly: "I am not to +be made a jest of by you. Even if I loved so base a man as you, such +love would be no fit subject for a jest. I am not virtuous; I don't +understand virtue; my mind is not turned in that direction. The reason +I told you I was not a courtezan is because I am resolved not to bring +a stain upon my character in the hope of winning your love. If you had +a spark of love for me, I would have made no such pledge to myself. I +am not speaking of virtue; I should think nothing of infamy compared +with the treasure of your love; but you do not love me. For what +reward should I incur ill-fame? For what gain should I give up my +independence? If a young woman falls into your hands, you will not let +her go. If I were to give you my worship, you would accept it; but +to-morrow you would forget me, or, if you remembered, it would be to +jest over my words with your companions. Why, then, should I become +subject to you? Should the day come when you can love me, I will be +your devoted servant." + +In this manner Debendra discovered Hira's affection for himself. He +thought: "Now I know you, I can make you dance to my measure, and +whenever I please effect my designs through you." + +With these thoughts in his mind, he departed. But Debendra did not yet +know Hira. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +GOOD NEWS. + + +It is mid-day. Srish Babu is at office. The people in his house are +all taking the noon siesta after their meal. The _boita khana_ is +locked. A mongrel terrier is sleeping on the door-mat outside, his +head between his paws. A couple of servants are seizing the +opportunity to chat together in whispers. + +Kamal Mani is sitting in her sleeping chamber at her ease, needle in +hand, sewing at some canvas work, her hair all loose; no one about but +Satish Babu, indulging in many noises. Satish Babu at first tried to +snatch away his mother's wool; but finding it securely guarded, he +gave his mind to sucking the head of a clay tiger. In the distance a +cat with outstretched paws sits watching them both. Her disposition +was grave, her face indicated much wisdom and a heart void of +fickleness. She is thinking: "The condition of human creatures is +frightful; their minds are ever given to sewing canvas, playing with +dolls, or some such silly employment. Their thoughts are not turned to +good works, nor to providing suitable food for cats. What will become +of them hereafter?" Elsewhere, a lizard on the wall with upraised face +is watching a fly. No doubt he is pondering the evil disposition of +flies. A butterfly is flying about. In the spot where Satish Babu sits +eating sweets, the flies collect in swarms; the ants also do their +share towards removing the sweet food. In a few moments the lizard, +not being able to catch the fly, moves elsewhere. The cat also, seeing +no means by which she could improve the disposition of mankind, +heaving a sigh, slowly departs. The butterfly wings its way out of +the room. Kamal Mani, tired of her work, puts it down, and turns to +talk with Satish Babu. + +"Oh, Satu Babu, can you tell me why men go to office?" + +"Sli--li--bli," was the child's only answer. + +"Satu Babu," said his mother, "mind you never go to office." + +"Hama," said Satu. + +"What do you mean by Hama? You must not go to office to do hama. Do +not go at all. If you do, the _Bou_ will sit crying at home before the +day is half done." + +Satish Babu understood the word _Bou_, because Kamal Mani kept him in +order by saying that the _Bou_ would come and beat him; so he said, +"_Bou_ will beat." + +"Remember that, then; if you go to office, the _Bou_ will beat you." + +How long this sort of conversation would have continued does not +appear, for at that moment a maid-servant entered, rubbing her sleepy +eyes, and gave a letter to Kamal Mani. Kamal saw it was from Surja +Mukhi; she read it twice through, then sat silent and dejected. This +was the letter: + +"Dearest,--Since you returned to Calcutta you have forgotten me; else +why have I had only one letter from you? Do you not know that I always +long for news of you? You ask for news of Kunda. You will be delighted +to hear that she is found. Besides that, I have another piece of good +news for you. My husband is about to be married to Kunda. I have +arranged this marriage. Widow-marriage is allowed in the Shastras, so +what fault can be found with it? The wedding will take place in a +couple of days; but you will not be able to attend, otherwise I would +have invited you. Come, if you can, in time for the ceremony of _Phul +Saja_.[13] I have a great desire to see you." + +[Footnote 13: _Phul Saja_. On the day following the wedding, the +bride's father sends flowers and sweetmeats to the friends.] + +Kamal could not understand the meaning of this letter. She proceeded +to take counsel with Satish Babu, who sat in front of her nibbling at +the corners of a book. Kamal read the letter to him and said-- + +"Now, Satish Babu, tell me the meaning of this." + +Satish understood the joke; he stood up ready to cover his mother with +kisses. + +Then for some moments Kamal forgot Surja Mukhi; but presently she +returned to the letter, reflecting-- + +"This work is beyond Satish Babu, it needs the help of my minister; +will he never come in? Come, baby, we are very angry." + +In due time Srish Chandra returned from office and changed his dress. +Kamal Mani attended to his wants and then threw herself on the couch +in a fume, the baby by her side. Srish Chandra, seeing the state of +things, smiled, and seated himself, with his huka, on a distant couch. +Invoking the _huka_ as a witness he said-- + +"O _huka_! thou hast cool water in thy belly but a fire in thy head, +be thou a witness. Let her who is angry with me talk to me, else I +will sit smoking for hours." + +At this Kamal Mani sat up, and in gentle anger turning to him her blue +lotus eyes, said-- + +"It is no use speaking to you while you smoke; you will not attend." + +Then she rose from the couch and took away the _huka_. + +Kamal Mani's fit of sulking thus broken through, she gave Surja +Mukhi's letter to be read, by way of explanation saying-- + +"Tell me the meaning of this, or I shall cut your pay." + +"Rather give me next month's pay in advance, then I will explain." + +Kamal Mani brought her mouth close to that of Srish Chandra, who took +the coin he wished. After reading the letter he said-- + +"This is a joke!" + +"What is? your words, or the letter?" + +"The letter." + +"I shall discharge you to-day. Have you not a spark of understanding? +Is this a matter a woman could jest about?" + +"It is impossible it can be meant in earnest." + +"I fear it is true." + +"Nonsense! How can it be true?" + +"I fear my brother is forcing on this marriage." + +Srish Chandra mused a while; then said, "I cannot understand this at +all. What do you say? Shall I write to Nagendra?" + +Kamal Mani assented. Srish made a grimace, but he wrote the letter. + +Nagendra's reply was as follows:-- + +"Do not despise me, brother. Yet what is the use of such a petition; +the despicable must be despised. I must effect this marriage. Should +all the world abandon me I must do it, otherwise I shall go mad: I am +not far short of it now. After this there seems nothing more to be +said. You will perceive it is useless to try to turn me from it; but +if you have anything to say I am ready to argue with you. If any one +says that widow-marriage is contrary to religion, I will give him +Vidya Sagar's essay to read. When so learned a teacher affirms that +widow-marriage is approved by the Shastras, who can contradict? And +if you say that though allowed by the Shastras it is not countenanced +by society, that if I carry out this marriage I shall be excluded from +society, the answer is, 'Who in Govindpur can exclude me from society? +In a place where I constitute society, who is there to banish me?' +Nevertheless, for your sakes I will effect the marriage secretly; no +one shall know anything about it. You will not make the foregoing +objections; you will say a double marriage is contrary to morals. +Brother, how do you know that it is opposed to morality? You have +learned this from the English; it was not held so in India formerly. +Are the English infallible? They have taken this idea from the law of +Moses;[14] but we do not hold Moses' law to be the word of God, +therefore why should we say that for a man to marry two wives is +immoral? You will say if a man may marry two wives why should not a +woman have two husbands? The answer is, if a woman had two husbands +certain evils would follow which would not result from a man's having +two wives. If a woman has two husbands the children have no protector; +should there be uncertainty about the father, society would be much +disordered; but no such uncertainty arises when a man has two wives. +Many other such objections might be pointed out. Whatever is injurious +to the many is contrary to morals. If you think a man's having two +wives opposed to morality, point out in what way it is injurious to +the majority. You will instance to me discord in the family. I will +give you a reason: I am childless. If I die my family name will become +extinct; if I marry I may expect children: is this unreasonable? The +final objection--Surja Mukhi: Why do I distress a loving wife with a +rival? The answer is, Surja Mukhi is not troubled by this marriage: +she herself suggested it; she prepared me for it; she is zealous for +it. What objection then remains? and why should I be blamed?" + +[Footnote 14: The writer is mistaken in supposing that the Christian +doctrine of monogamy is derived from the Mosaic law.] + +Kamal Mani having read the letter, said-- + +"In what respect he is to blame God knows; but what delusions he +cherishes! I think men understand nothing. Be that as it may, arrange +your affairs, husband; we must go to Govindpur." + +"But," replied Srish, "can you stop the marriage?" + +"If not, I will die at my brother's feet." + +"Nay, you can't do that; but we may bring the new wife away. Let us +try." + +Then both prepared for the journey to Govindpur. Early the next day +they started by boat, and arrived there in due time. Before entering +the house they met the women-servants and some neighbours, who had +come to bring Kamal Mani from the _ghat_. Both she and her husband +were extremely anxious to know if the marriage had taken place, but +neither could put a single question. How could they speak to strangers +of such a shameful subject? + +Hurriedly Kamal Mani entered the women's apartments; she even forgot +Satish Babu, who remained lingering behind. Indistinctly, and dreading +the answer, she asked the servants-- + +"Where is Surja Mukhi?" + +She feared lest they should say the marriage was accomplished, or +that Surja Mukhi was dead. The women replied that their mistress was +in her bed-room. Kamal Mani darted thither. For a minute or two she +searched hither and thither, finding no one. At last she saw a woman +sitting near a window, her head bowed down. Kamal Mani could not see +her face, but she knew it was Surja Mukhi, who, now hearing footsteps, +arose and came forward. Not even yet could Kamal ask if the marriage +had taken place. Surja Mukhi had lost flesh; her figure, formerly +straight as a pine, had become bent like a bow; her laughing eyes were +sunk; her lily face had lost its roundness. + +Kamal Mani comprehended that the marriage was accomplished. She +inquired, "When was it?" + +Surja Mukhi answered, "Yesterday." + +Then the two sat down together, neither speaking. Surja Mukhi hid her +face in the other's lap, and wept. Kamal Mani's tears fell on Surja +Mukhi's unbound hair. + +Of what was Nagendra thinking at that time as he sat in the _boita +khana_? His thoughts said: "Kunda Nandini! Kunda is mine; Kunda is my +wife! Kunda! Kunda! she is mine!" + +Srish Chandra sat down beside him, but Nagendra could say little; he +could think only, "Surja Mukhi herself hastened to give Kunda to me in +marriage; who then can object to my enjoying this happiness?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SURJA MUKHI AND KAMAL MANI. + + +When, in the evening, the two gained self-control to talk together, +Surja Mukhi related the affair of the marriage from beginning to end. + +Astonished, Kamal Mani said-- + +"This marriage has been brought about by your exertions! Why have you +thus sacrificed yourself?" + +Surja Mukhi smiled, a faint smile indeed, like the pale flashes of +lightning after rain; then answered-- + +"What am I? Look upon your brother's face, radiant with happiness, +then you will know what joy is his. If I have been able with my own +eyes to see him so happy, has not my life answered its purpose? What +joy could I hope for in denying happiness to him? He for whom I would +die rather than see him unhappy for a single hour; him I saw day and +night suffering anguish, ready to abandon all joys and become a +wanderer--what happiness would have remained to me? I said to him, 'My +lord, your joy is my joy! Do you marry Kunda; I shall be happy.' And +so he married her." + +"And are you happy?" asked Kamal. + +"Why do you still ask about me? what am I? If I had ever seen my +husband hurt his foot by walking on a stony path, I should have +reproached myself that I had not laid my body down over the stones +that he might have stepped upon me." + +Surja Mukhi remained some moments silent, her dress drenched with her +tears. Suddenly raising her face, she asked-- + +"Kamal, in what country are females destroyed at birth?" + +Kamal understanding her thought, replied-- + +"What does it matter in what country it happens? it is according to +destiny." + +"Whose destiny could be better than mine was? Who so fortunate as +myself? Who ever had such a husband? Beauty, wealth, these are small +matters; but in virtues, whose husband equals mine? Mine was a +splendid destiny; how has it changed thus?" + +"That also is destiny," said Kamal. + +"Then why do I suffer on this account?" + +"But just now you said you were happy in the sight of your husband's +joyous face; yet you speak of suffering so much. Can both be true?" + +"Both are true. I am happy in his joy. But that he should thrust me +away; that he has thrust me away, and yet is so glad--" + +Surja could say no more, she was choking. But Kamal, understanding the +meaning of her unfinished sentence, said-- + +"Because of that your heart burns within you; then why do you say, +'What am I?' With half of your heart you still think of your own +rights; else why, having sacrificed yourself, do you repent?" + +"I do not repent," replied Surja. "That I have done right I do not +doubt; but in dying there is suffering. I felt that I must give way, +and I did so voluntarily. Still, may I not weep over that suffering +with you?" + +Kamal Mani drew Surja Mukhi's head on to her breast; their thoughts +were not expressed by words, but they conversed in their hearts. Kamal +Mani understood the wretchedness of Surja Mukhi; Surja Mukhi +comprehended that Kamal appreciated her suffering. They checked their +sobs and ceased to weep. + +Surja Mukhi, setting her own affairs on one side, spoke of others, +desired that Satish Babu should be brought, and talked to him. With +Kamal she spoke long of Srish Chandra and of Satish, of the education +of Satish and of his marriage. Thus they talked until far in the +night, when Surja Mukhi embraced Kamal with much affection, and taking +Satish into her lap kissed him lovingly. + +When they came to part, Surja Mukhi was again drowned in tears. She +blessed Satish, saying-- + +"I wish that thou mayst be rich in the imperishable virtues of thy +mother's brother; I know no greater blessing than this." + +Surja Mukhi spoke in her natural, gentle voice; nevertheless Kamal was +astonished at its broken accents. "_Bon!_!" she exclaimed, "what is in +your mind? tell me." + +"Nothing," replied Surja. + +"Do not hide it from me," said Kamal. + +"I have nothing to conceal," said Surja. + +Pacified, Kamal went to her room. But Surja Mukhi had a purpose to +conceal. This Kamal learned in the morning. At dawn she went to Surja +Mukhi's room in search of her; Surja Mukhi was not there, but upon the +undisturbed bed there lay a letter. At the sight of it Kamal became +dizzy; she could not read it. Without doing so she understood all, +understood that Surja Mukhi had fled. She had no desire to read the +letter, but crushed it in her hand. Striking her forehead, she sat +down upon the bed, exclaiming: "I am a fool! how could I allow myself +to be put off last night when parting from her?" + +Satish Babu, standing near, joined his tears with his mother's. + +The first passion of grief having spent itself, Kamal Mani opened and +read the letter. It was addressed to herself, and ran as follows: + +"On the day on which I heard from my husband's mouth that he no longer +had any pleasure in me, that for Kunda Nandini he was losing his +senses or must die--on that day I resolved, if I could find Kunda +Nandini, to give her to my husband and to make him happy; and that +when I had done so I would leave my home, for I am not able to endure +to see my husband become Kunda Nandini's. Now I have done these +things. + +"I wished to have gone on the night of the wedding-day, but I had a +desire to see my husband's happiness, to give him which I had +sacrificed myself; also, I desired to see you once more. Now these +desires are fulfilled, and I have left. + +"When you receive this letter I shall be far distant. My reason for +not telling you beforehand is that you would not have allowed me to +go. Now I beg this boon from you, that you will make no search for me. +I have no hope that I shall ever see you again. While Kunda Nandini +remains I shall not return to this place, and should I be sought for I +shall not be found. I am now a poor wanderer. In the garb of a beggar +I shall go from place to place. In begging I shall pass my life; who +wilt know me? I might have brought some money with me, but I was not +willing. I have left my husband--would I take his money? + +"Do one thing for me. Make a million salutations in my name at my +husband's feet. I strove to write to him, but I could not; I could not +see to write for tears, the paper was spoilt. Tearing it up, I wrote +again and again, but in vain; what I have to say I could not write in +any letter. Break the intelligence to him in any manner you think +proper. Make him understand that I have not left him in anger; I am +not angry, am never angry, shall never be angry with him. Could I be +angry with him whom it is my joy to think upon? To him whom I love so +devotedly, I remain constant so long as I remain on earth. Why not? +since I cannot forget his thousand graces. No one has so many graces +as he. If I could forget his numerous virtues on account of one fault, +I should not be worthy to be his wife. I have taken a last farewell of +him. In doing this I have given up all I possess. + +"From you also I have taken a last farewell, wishing you the blessing +that your husband and son may live long. May you long be happy! +Another blessing I wish you--that on the day you lose your husband's +love your life may end. No one has conferred this blessing on me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +WHAT IS THE POISON TREE? + + +The poison tree, the narrative of whose growth we have given from the +sowing of the seed to the production of its fruit, is to be found in +every house. Its seed is sown in every field. There is no human being, +however wise, whose heart is not touched by the passions of anger, +envy, and desire. Some are able to subdue their passions as they +arise; these are great men. Others have not this power, and here the +poison tree springs up. The want of self-control is the germ of the +poison tree, and also the cause of its growth. This tree is very +vigorous; once nourished it cannot be destroyed. Its appearance is +very pleasant to the eye; from a distance its variegated leaves and +opening buds charm the sight. But its fruit is poisonous; who eats it +dies. + +In different soils the poison tree bears different fruits. In some +natures it bears sickness, in some sorrow, and other fruits. To keep +the passions in subjection will is needed, and also power. The power +must be natural, the will must be educated. Nature also is influenced +by education; therefore education is the root of self-control. I speak +not of such education as the schoolmaster can give. The most effectual +teacher of the heart is suffering. + +Nagendra had never had this education. The Creator sent him into the +world the possessor of every kind of happiness. Beauty of form, +unlimited wealth, physical health, great learning, an amiable +disposition, a devoted wife--all these seldom fall to the lot of one +person; all had been bestowed on Nagendra. Most important of all, +Nagendra was of a happy disposition: he was truthful and candid, yet +agreeable: benevolent, yet just; generous, yet prudent; loving, yet +firm in his duty. During the lifetime of his parents he was devoted to +them. Attached to his wife, kind to his friends, considerate to his +servants, a protector of his dependants, and peaceable towards his +enemies, wise in counsel, trustworthy in act, gentle in conversation, +ready at a jest. The natural reward of such a nature was unalloyed +happiness. Since Nagendra's infancy it had been so: honour at home, +fame abroad, devoted servants, an attached tenantry; from Surja Mukhi, +unwavering, unbounded, unstained love. If so much happiness had not +been allotted to him he could not have suffered so keenly. Had he not +suffered he had not given way to his passion. Before he had cast the +eyes of desire upon Kunda Nandini he had never fallen into this snare, +because he had never known the want of love. Therefore he had never +felt the necessity of putting a rein upon his inclinations. +Accordingly, when the need of self-control arose he had not the power +to exercise it. Unqualified happiness is often the source of +suffering; and unless there has been suffering, permanent happiness +cannot exist. + +It cannot be said that Nagendra was faultless. His fault was very +heavy. A severe expiation had begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SEARCH. + + +It is needless to say that when the news of Surja Mukhi's flight had +spread through the house, people were sent in great haste in search of +her. Nagendra sent people in all directions, Srish Chandra sent, and +Kamal Mani sent. The upper servants among the women threw down their +water-jars and started off; the Hindustani _Durwans_ of the North-West +Provinces, carrying bamboo staves, wearing cotton-quilted chintz +coats, clattered along in shoes of undressed leather; the +_khansamahs_, with towel on the shoulder and silver chain round the +waist, went in search of the mistress. Some relatives drove in +carriages along the public roads. The villagers searched the fields +and _gháts_; some sat smoking in council under a tree; some went to +the _barowari puja_ house, to the verandah of Siva's temple, and to +the schools of the professors of logic, and in other similar places +sat and discussed the matter. Old and young women formed a small cause +court on the _gháts_; to the boys of the place it was cause of great +excitement; many of them hoped to escape going to school. + +At first Srish Chandra and Kamal Mani comforted Nagendra, saying, "She +has never been accustomed to walk; how far can she go? Half a mile, or +a mile at the most; hence she must be sitting somewhere near at hand, +we shall find her immediately." + +But when two or three hours had passed without bringing news of Surja +Mukhi, Nagendra himself went forth. After some stay in the broiling +sun he said to himself, "I am looking here, when no doubt she has been +found by this time;" and he returned home. Then finding no news of +her he went out again, again to return, and again to go forth. So the +day passed. + +In fact, Srish Chandra's words were true--Surja Mukhi had never +walked; how far could she go? About a mile from the house she was +lying in a mango garden at the edge of a tank. A _khansamah_ who was +accustomed to serve in the women's apartment came to that place in his +search, and recognizing her, said, "Will you not please to come home?" + +Surja Mukhi made no answer. + +Again he said, "Pray come home, the whole household is anxious." + +Then, in an angry voice, Surja Mukhi said, "Who are you to take me +back?" + +The _khansamah_ was frightened; nevertheless he remained standing. + +Then Surja Mukhi said, "If you stay there I shall drown myself in the +tank." + +The _khansamah_, finding he was unable to do anything, ran swiftly +with the news to Nagendra. Nagendra came with a palanquin for her; +but Surja Mukhi was no longer there. He searched all about, but found +no trace. + +Surja Mukhi had wandered thence into a wood. There she met an old +woman who had come to gather sticks. She had heard of a reward being +offered for finding Surja Mukhi, therefore on seeing her she asked-- + +"Are you not our mistress?" + +"No, mother," replied Surja Mukhi. + +"Yes, you must be our mistress." + +"Who is your mistress?" + +"The lady of the Babu's house." + +"Am I wearing any gold ornaments that I should be the lady of the +Babu's house?" + +The old woman thought, "That is true," and went further into the wood +gathering sticks. + +Thus the day passed vainly; the night brought no more success. The two +following days brought no tidings, though nothing was neglected in the +search. Of the male searchers, scarcely any one knew Surja Mukhi by +sight; so they seized many poor women and brought them before +Nagendra. At length the daughters of respectable people feared to +walk along the roads or on the _gháts_. If one was seen alone, the +devoted Hindustani _Durwans_ followed, calling out "_Ma Thakurani_," +and, preventing them from bathing, brought a palki. Many of those who +were not accustomed to travel in a palki seized the opportunity of +doing so free of expense. + +Srish Chandra could not remain longer. Returning to Calcutta, he began +a search there. Kamal Mani, remaining in Govindpur, continued to look +for the lost one. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +EVERY SORT OF HAPPINESS IS FLEETING. + + +The happiness for which Kunda Nandini had never ventured to hope was +now hers; she had become the wife of Nagendra. On the marriage day she +thought, "This joy is boundless; it can never end!" + +But after the flight of Surja Mukhi, repentance came to Kunda Nandini. +She thought: "Surja Mukhi rescued me in my time of distress, when but +for her I should have been lost; now on my account she is an outcast. +If I am not to be happy, it were better I had died." She perceived +that happiness has limits. + +It is evening. Nagendra is lying on the couch; Kunda Nandini sits at +his head fanning him. Both are silent. This is not a good sign. No one +else is present, yet they do not speak. This was not like perfect +happiness; but since the flight of Surja Mukhi, where had there been +perfect happiness? Kunda's thoughts were constantly seeking some means +by which things could be restored to their former state, and she now +ventured to ask Nagendra what could be done. + +Nagendra, somewhat disturbed, replied: "Do you wish things to be as +they were before? do you repent having married me?" + +Kunda Nandini felt hurt. She said: "I never hoped that you would make +me happy by marrying me. I am not saying I repent it. I am asking what +can be done to induce Surja Mukhi to return." + +"Never speak of that. To hear the name of Surja Mukhi from your lips +gives me pain; on your account Surja Mukhi has abandoned me." + +This was known to Kunda, yet to hear Nagendra say it hurt her. She +asked herself: "Is this censure? How evil is my fate, yet I have +committed no fault; Surja Mukhi brought about the marriage." She did +not utter these thoughts aloud, but continued fanning. + +Noticing her silence, Nagendra said: "Why do you not talk? Are you +angry?" + +"No," she replied. + +"Is a bare 'no' all you can say? Do you not longer love me?" + +"Do I not love you!" + +"'Do I not love you!' Words to soothe a boy. Kunda, I believe you +never loved me." + +"I have always loved you," said Kunda, earnestly. + +Wise as Nagendra was, he did not comprehend the difference between +Surja Mukhi and Kunda Nandini. It was not that Kunda did not feel the +love for him that Surja Mukhi felt, but that she knew not how to +express it. She was a girl of a timid nature; she had not the gift of +words. What more could she say? But Nagendra, not understanding this, +said: "Surja Mukhi always loved me. Why hang pearls on a monkey's +neck? an iron chain were better." + +At this Kunda Nandini could not restrain her tears. Slowly rising, she +went out of the room. There was no one now to whom she could look for +sympathy. Kunda had not sought Kamal Mani since her arrival. Imagining +herself the one chiefly to blame in the marriage, Kunda had not dared +to show herself to Kamal Mani; but now, wounded to the quick, she +longed to go to her compassionate, loving friend, who on a former +occasion had soothed and shared her grief and wiped away her tears. +But now things were altered. When Kamal saw Kunda Nandini approaching +she was displeased, but she made no remark. Kunda, sitting down, began +to weep; but Kamal did not inquire into the cause of her grief, so +Kunda remained silent. Presently, Kamal Mani, saying "I am busy," went +away. Kunda Nandini perceived that all joy is fleeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE FRUIT OF THE POISON TREE. + + +Nagendra's letter to Hara Deb Ghosal: + +"You wrote that of all the acts I have done in my life, my marriage +with Kunda Nandini is the most erroneous. I admit it. By doing this I +have lost Surja Mukhi. I was very fortunate in obtaining Surja Mukhi +for a wife. Every one digs for jewels, but only one finds the +Koh-i-nur. Surja Mukhi is the Koh-i-nur. In no respect can Kunda +Nandini fill her place. Why, then, did I instal Kunda Nandini in her +seat? Delusion, delusion; now I am sensible of it. I have waked up +from my dream to realize my loss. Now where shall I find Surja Mukhi? +Why did I marry Kunda Nandini? Did I love her? Certainly I loved her; +I lost my senses for her; my life was leaving me. But now I know this +was but the love of the eye; or else, when I have been only fifteen +days married, why do I say, 'Did I love her?' I love her still; but +where is my Surja Mukhi? + +"I meant to have written much more to-day; but I cannot, it is very +difficult." + +Hara Deb Ghosal's reply: + +"I understand your state of mind. It is not that you do not love Kunda +Nandini; you do love her, but when you said it was the love of the eye +only, you spoke the truth. Towards Surja Mukhi your love is deep, but +for a couple of days it has been covered by the shadow of Kunda +Nandini. Now you understand that you have lost Surja Mukhi. So long as +the sun remains unclouded, we are warmed by his beams and we love the +clouds; but when the sun is gone we know that he was the eye of the +world. Not understanding your own heart, you have committed this great +error. I will not reproach you more, because you fell into it under a +delusion which it was very difficult to resist. + +"The mind has many different affections; men call them all love, but +only that condition of heart which is ready to sacrifice its own +happiness to secure that of another is true love. The passion for +beauty is not love. The unstable lust for beauty is no more love than +the desire of the hungry for rice. True love is the offspring of +reason. When the qualities of a lovable person are perceived by the +understanding, the heart being charmed by these qualities is drawn +towards the possessor; it desires union with that treasury of virtues +and becomes devoted to it. The fruits of this love are expansion of +the heart, self-forgetfulness, self-denial. This is true love. +Shakespeare, Valmiki, Madame de Staël, are its poets; as Kalidas, +Byron, Jayadeva are of the other species of love. The effect on the +heart produced by the sight of beauty is dulled by repetition. But +love caused by the good qualities of a person does not lose its charm, +because beauty has but one appearance, because virtues display +themselves anew in every fresh act. If beauty and virtues are found +together, love is quickly generated; but if once the intelligence be +the cause for love, it is of no importance whether beauty exists or +not. Towards an ugly husband or an ugly wife love of this kind holds a +firm place. The love produced by virtue as virtue is lasting +certainly, but it takes time to know these virtues; therefore this +love never becomes suddenly strong, it is of gradual growth. The +infatuation for beauty springs into full force at first sight; its +first strength is so uncontrollable that all other faculties are +destroyed by it. Whether it be a lasting love there is no means of +knowing. It thinks itself undying. So you have thought. In the first +strength of this infatuation your enduring love for Surja Mukhi became +invisible to your eyes. This delusion is inherent in man's nature; +therefore I do not censure you, rather I counsel you to strive to be +happy in this state. + +"Do not despair; Surja Mukhi will certainly return. How long can she +exist without seeing you? So long as she remains absent, do you +cherish Kunda Nandini. So far as I understand your letters she is not +without attractive qualities. When the infatuation for her beauty is +lessened, there may remain something to create a lasting love; if that +is so, you will be able to make yourself happy with her; and should +you not again see your elder wife you may forget her, especially as +the younger one loves you. Be not careless about love; for in love is +man's only spotless and imperishable joy, the final means by which his +nature can be elevated. Without love man could not dwell in this world +that he has made so evil." + +Nagendra Natha's reply: + +"I have not answered your letter until now because of the trouble of +my mind. I understand all you have written, and I know your counsel is +good. But I cannot resolve to stay at home. A month ago my Surja Mukhi +left me, and I have had no news of her. I design to follow her; I +will wander from place to place in search of her. If I find her I +will bring her home, otherwise I shall not return. I cannot remain +with Kunda Nandini; she has become a pain to my eyes. It is not her +fault, it is mine, but I cannot endure to see her face. Formerly I +said nothing to her, but now I am perpetually finding fault with her. +She weeps--what can I do? I shall soon be with you." + +As Nagendra wrote so he acted. Placing the care of everything in the +hands of the _Dewan_ during his temporary absence, he set forth on his +wanderings. Kamal Mani had previously gone to Calcutta; therefore of +the people mentioned in this narrative, Kunda Nandini alone was left +in the Datta mansion, and the servant Hira remained in attendance upon +her. + +Darkness fell on the large household. As a brilliantly-lighted, +densely-crowded dancing-hall, resounding with song and music, becomes +dark, silent, and empty when the performance is over, so that immense +household became when abandoned by Surja Mukhi and Nagendra Natha. + +As a child, having played for a day with a gaily painted doll, breaks +and throws it away, and by degrees, earth accumulating, grass springs +over it, so Kunda Nandini, abandoned by Nagendra Natha, remained +untended and alone amid the crowd of people in that vast house. + +As when the forest is on fire the nests of young birds are consumed in +the flames, and the mother-bird bringing food, and seeing neither +tree, nor nest, nor young ones, with cries of anguish whirls in +circles round the fire seeking her nest, so did Nagendra wander from +place to place in search of Surja Mukhi. + +As in the fathomless depths of the boundless ocean, a jewel having +fallen cannot again be seen, so Surja Mukhi was lost to sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE SIGNS OF LOVE. + + +As a cotton rag placed near fire becomes burnt, so the heart of Hira +became ever more inflamed by the remarkable beauty of Debendra. Many a +time Hira's virtue and good name would have been endangered by +passion, but that Debendra's character for sensuality without love +came to her mind and proved a safeguard. Hira had great power of +self-control, and it was through this power that she, though not very +virtuous, had hitherto easily preserved her chastity. The more +certainly to rule her heart, Hira determined to go again to service. +She felt that in daily work her mind would be distracted, and she +would be able to forget this unfortunate passion which stung like the +bite of a scorpion. Thus when Nagendra, leaving Kunda Nandini at +Govindpur, was about to set forth, Hira, on the strength of past +service, begged to be re-engaged, and Nagendra consented. There was +another cause for Hira's resolve to resume service. In her greed for +money, anticipating that Kunda would become the favourite of Nagendra, +she had taken pains to bring her under her own sway. "Nagendra's +wealth," she had reflected, "will fall into Kunda's hands, and when it +is Kunda's it will be Hira's." Now Kunda had become the mistress of +Nagendra's house, but she had not obtained possession of any special +wealth. But at this time Hira's mind was not dwelling on this matter. +Hira was not thinking of wealth; even had she done so, money obtained +from Kunda would have been as poison to her. + +Hira was able to endure the pain of her own unsatisfied passion, but +she could not bear Debendra's passion for Kunda. When Hira heard that +Nagendra was journeying abroad, and that Kunda would remain as +_grihini_ (house-mistress), then, remembering Haridasi _Boisnavi_, she +became much alarmed, and stationed herself as a sentinel to place +obstacles in the path of Debendra. It was not from a desire to secure +the welfare of Kunda Nandini that Hira conceived this design. Under +the influence of jealousy Hira had become so enraged with Kunda, that +far from wishing her well she would gladly have seen her go to +destruction. But in jealous fear lest Debendra should gain access to +Kunda, Hira constituted herself the guardian of Nagendra's wife. + +Thus the servant Hira became the cause of suffering to Kunda, who saw +that Hira's zeal and attention did not arise from affection. She +perceived that Hira, though a servant, showed want of trust in her, +and continually scolded and insulted her. Kunda was of a very peaceful +disposition; though rendered ill by Hira's conduct she said nothing to +her. Kunda's nature was calm, Hira's passionate. Thus Kunda, though +the master's wife, submitted as if she were a dependant; Hira lorded +it over her as if she were the mistress. Sometimes the other ladies of +the house, seeing Kunda suffer, scolded Hira, but they could not stand +before Hira's eloquence. + +The _Dewan_ hearing of her doings, said to Hira: "Go away; I dismiss +you." + +Hira replied, with flaming eyes: "Who are you to dismiss me? I was +placed here by the master, and except at his command I will not go. I +have as much power to dismiss you as you have to dismiss me." + +The _Dewan_, fearing further insult, said not another word. Except +Surja Mukhi, no one could rule Hira. + +One day, after the departure of Nagendra, Hira was lying alone in the +creeper-covered summer-house in the flower-garden near to the women's +apartments. Since it had been abandoned by Surja Mukhi and Nagendra, +Hira had taken possession of this summer-house. It was evening, an +almost full moon shone in the heavens. Her rays shining through the +branches of the trees fell on the white marble, and danced upon the +wind-moved waters of the _talao_ close by. The air was filled with the +intoxicating perfume of the scented shrubs. There is nothing in nature +so intoxicating as flower-perfumed air. Hira suddenly perceived the +figure of a man in a grove of trees; a second glance showed it to be +Debendra. He was not disguised, but wore his own apparel. + +Hira exclaimed in astonishment: "You are very bold, sir; should you be +discovered you will be beaten!" + +"Where Hira is, what cause have I for fear?" Thus saying, Debendra sat +down by Hira, who, after a little silent enjoyment this pleasure, +said-- + +"Why have you come here? You will not be able to see her whom you +hoped to see." + +"I have already attained my hope. I came to see you." + +Hira, not deceived by the sweet, flattering words she coveted, said +with a laugh: "I did not know I was destined to such pleasure; still, +since it has befallen me, let us go where I can satisfy myself by +beholding you without interruption. Here there are many obstacles." + +"Where shall we go?" said Debendra. + +"Into that summer-house; there we need fear nothing." + +"Do not fear for me." + +"If there is nothing to fear for you, there is for me. If I am seen +with you what will be my position?" + +Shrinking at this, Debendra said: "Let us go. Would it not be well +that I should renew acquaintance with your new _grihini_?" + +The burning glance of hate cast on him by Hira at these words, +Debendra failed to see in the uncertain light. + +Hira said: "How will you get to see her?" + +"By your kindness it will be accomplished," said Debendra. + +"Then do you remain here on the watch; I will bring her to you." + +With these words Hira went out of the summer-house. Proceeding some +distance, she stopped beneath the shelter of a tree and gave way to a +burst of sobbing: then went on into the house--not to Kunda Nandini, +but to the _darwans_ (gatekeepers), to whom she said-- + +"Come quickly; there is a thief in the garden." + +Then Dobe, Chobe, Paure, and Teowari, taking thick bamboo sticks in +their hands, started off for the flower-garden. Debendra, hearing from +afar the sound of their clumsy, clattering shoes, and seeing their +black, napkin-swathed chins, leaped from the summer-house and fled in +haste. Teowari and Co. ran some distance, but they could not catch +him; yet he did not get off scot-free. We cannot certainly say whether +he tasted the bamboo, but we have heard that he was pursued by some +very abusive terms from the mouths of the _darwans_; and that his +servant, having had a little of his brandy, in gossip the next day +with a female friend remarked-- + +"To-day, when I was rubbing the Babu with oil, I saw a bruise on his +back." + +Returning home, Debendra made two resolutions: the first, that while +Hira remained he would never again enter the Datta house; the second, +that he would retaliate upon Hira. In the end he had a frightful +revenge upon her. Hira's venial fault received a heavy punishment, so +heavy that at sight of it even Debendra's stony heart was lacerated. +We will relate it briefly later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +BY THE ROADSIDE. + + +It is one of the worst days of the rainy season; not once had the sun +appeared, only a continuous downpour of rain. The well metalled road +to Benares was a mass of slush. But one traveller was to be seen, his +dress was that of a _Brahmachari_ (an ascetic): yellow garments, a +bead chaplet on his neck, the mark on the forehead, the bald crown +surrounded by only a few white hairs, a palm leaf umbrella in one +hand, in the other a brass drinking-vessel. Thus the _Brahmachari_ +travelled in the soaking rain through the dark day, followed by a +night as black as though the earth were full of ink. He could not +distinguish between road and no road; nevertheless he continued his +way, for he had renounced the world, he was a _Brahmachari_. To those +who have given up worldly pleasures, light and darkness, a good and a +bad road, are all one. It was now far on in the night; now and then it +lightened; the darkness itself was preferable, was less frightful than +those flashes of light. + +"Friend!" + +Plodding along in the darkness the _Brahmachari_ heard suddenly in the +pathway some such sound, followed by a long sigh. The sound was +muffled, nevertheless it seemed to come from a human throat, from some +one in pain. The _Brahmachari_ stood waiting, the lightning flashed +brightly; he saw something lying at the side of the road--was it a +human being? Still he waited; the next flash convinced him that his +conjecture was correct. He called out, "Who are you lying by the +roadside?" No one made reply. Again he asked. This time an indistinct +sound of distress caught his ear. Then the _Brahmachari_ laid his +umbrella and drinking-vessel on the ground, and extending his hands +began to feel about. Ere long he touched a soft body; then as his hand +came in contact with a knot of hair he exclaimed, "Oh, _Durga_, it is +a woman!" + +Leaving umbrella and drinking-vessel, he raised the dying or senseless +woman in his arms, and, leaving the road, crossed the plain towards a +village; he was familiar with the neighbourhood, and could make his +way through the darkness. His frame was not powerful, yet he carried +this dying creature like a child through this difficult path. Those +who are strong in goodwill to others are not sensible of bodily +weakness. + +Bearing the unconscious woman in his arms, the _Brahmachari_ stopped +at the door of a leaf-thatched hut at the entrance of the village, and +called to one within, "Haro, child, are you at home?" + +A woman replied, "Do I hear the _Thakur's_ voice? When did the +_Thakur_ come?" + +"But now. Open the door quickly; I am in a great difficulty." + +Haro Mani opened the door. The _Brahmachari_, bidding her light a +lamp, laid his burden on the floor of the hut. Haro lit the lamp, and +bringing it near the dying woman, they both examined her carefully. +They saw that she was not old, but in the condition of her body it was +difficult to guess her age. She was extremely emaciated, and seemed +struck with mortal illness. At one time she certainly must have had +beauty, but she had none now. Her wet garments were greatly soiled, +and torn in a hundred places; her wet, unbound hair was much tangled; +her closed eyes deeply sunk. She breathed, but was not conscious; she +seemed near death. + +Haro Mani asked: "Who is this? where did you find her?" + +The _Brahmachari_ explained, and added, "I see she is near death, yet +if we could but renew the warmth of her body she might live; do as I +tell you and let us see." + +Then Haro Mani, following the _Brahmachari's_ directions, changed the +woman's wet clothes for dry garments, and dried her wet hair. Then +lighting a fire, they endeavoured to warm her. + +The _Brahmachari_ said: "Probably she has been long without food; if +there is milk in the house, give her a little at a time." + +Haro Mani possessed a cow, and had milk at hand; warming some, she +administered it slowly. After a while the woman opened her eyes; when +Haro Mani said, "Where have you come from, mother?" + +Reviving, the woman asked, "Where am I?" + +The _Brahmachari_ answered, "Finding you dying by the roadside, I +brought you hither. Where are you going?" + +"Very far." + +Haro Mani said: "You still wear your bracelet; is your husband +living?" + +The sick woman's brow darkened. Haro Mani was perplexed. + +The _Brahmachari_ asked "What shall we call you? what is your name?" + +The desolate creature, moving a little restlessly, replied, "My name +is Surja Mukhi." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +IS THERE HOPE? + + +There was apparently no hope of Surja Mukhi's life. The _Brahmachari_, +not understanding her symptoms, next morning called in the village +doctor. Ram Krishna Rai was very learned, particularly in medicine. He +was renowned in the village for his skill. On seeing the symptoms, he +said-- + +"This is consumption, and on this fever has set in. It is, I fear, a +mortal sickness; still she may live." + +These words were not said in the presence of Surja Mukhi. + +The doctor administered physic, and seeing the destitute condition of +the woman he said nothing about fees. He was not an avaricious man. + +Dismissing the physician, the _Brahmachari_ sent Haro Mani about other +work, and entered into conversation with Surja Mukhi, who said-- + +"Thakur, why have you taken so much trouble about me? There is no need +to do so on my account." + +"What trouble have I taken?" replied the _Brahmachari_; "this is my +work. To assist others is my vocation; if I had not been occupied with +you, some one else in similar circumstances would have required my +services." + +"Then leave me, and attend to others. You can assist others, you +cannot help me." + +"Wherefore?" asked the _Brahmachari_. + +"To restore me to health will not help me. Death alone will give me +peace. Last night, when I fell down by the roadside, I hoped that I +should die. Why did you save me?" + +"I knew not that you were in such deep trouble. But however deep it +is, self-destruction is a great sin. Never be guilty of such an act. +To kill one's self is as sinful as to kill another." + +"I have not tried to kill myself; death has approached voluntarily, +therefore I hoped; but even in dying I have no joy." Saying these +words, Surja Mukhi's voice broke, and she began to weep. + +The _Brahmachari_ said: "Whenever you speak of dying I see you weep; +you wish to die. Mother, I am like a son to you; look upon me as such, +and tell me your wish. If there is any remedy for your trouble, tell +me, and I will bring it about. Wishing to say this, I have sent Haro +Mani away, and am sitting alone with you. From your speech I infer +that you belong to a very respectable family. That you are in a state +of very great anxiety, I perceive. Why should you not tell me what it +is? Consider me as your son, and speak." + +Surja Mukhi, with wet eyes, said: "I am dying; why should I feel shame +at such a time? I have no other trouble than this, that I am dying +without seeing my husband's face. If I could but see him once I should +die happy." + +The _Brahmachari_ wiped his eyes also, and said: + +"Where is your husband? It is impossible for you to go to him now; but +if he, on receiving the news, could come here, I would let him know by +letter." + +Surja Mukhi's wan face expanded into a smile; then again becoming +dejected, she said: "He could come, but I cannot tell if he would. I +am guilty of a great offence against him, but he is full of kindness +to me; he might forgive me, but he is far from here. Can I live till +he comes?" + +Finding, on further inquiry, that the Babu lived at Haripur Zillah, +the _Brahmachari_ brought pen and paper, and, taking Surja Mukhi's +instructions, wrote as follows: + +"SIR,--I am a stranger to you. I am a Brahman, leading the +life of a _Brahmachari_. I do not even know who you are; this only I +know, that Srimati Surja Mukhi Dasi is your wife. She is lying in a +dangerous state of illness in the house of the _Boisnavi_ Haro Mani, +in the village of Madhupur. She is under medical treatment, but it +appears uncertain whether she will recover. Her last desire is to see +you once more and die. If you are able to pardon her offence, whatever +it may be, then pray come hither quickly. I address her as 'Mother.' +As a son I write this letter by her direction. She has no strength to +write herself. If you come, do so by way of Ranigunj. Inquire in +Ranigunj for Sriman Madhab Chandra, and on mentioning my name he will +send some one with you. In this way you will not have to search +Madhupur for the house. If you come, come quickly, or it may be too +late. Receive my blessing. + +"(Signed) SIVA PRASAD." + +The letter ended, the _Brahmachari_ asked, "What address shall I +write?" + +Surja Mukhi replied, "When Haro Mani comes I will tell you."[15] + +[Footnote 15: The wife does not utter the name of her husband except +under stress of necessity.] + +Haro Mani, having arrived, addressed the letter to Nagendra Natha +Datta, and took it to the post-office. When the _Brahmachari_ had +gone, Surja Mukhi, with tearful eyes, joined hands, and upturned +face, put up her petition to the Creator, saying, "Oh, supreme God, if +you are faithful, then, as I am a true wife, may this letter +accomplish its end. I knew nothing during my life save the feet of my +husband. I do not desire heaven as the reward of my devotion; this +only I desire, that I may see my husband ere I die." + +But the letter did not reach Nagendra. He had left Govindpur long +before it arrived there. The messenger gave the letter to the _Dewan,_ +and went away. Nagendra had said to the _Dewan_, "When I stay at any +place I shall write thence to you. When you receive my instructions, +forward any letters that may have arrived for me." + +In due time Nagendra reached Benares, whence he wrote to the _Dewan_, +who sent Siva Prasad's epistle with the rest of the letters. On +receiving this letter Nagendra was struck to the heart, and, pressing +his forehead, exclaimed in distress, "Lord of all the world, preserve +my senses for one moment!" + +This prayer reached the ear of God, and for a time his senses were +preserved. Calling his head servant, he said, "I must go to-night to +Ranigunj; make all arrangements." + +The man went to do his bidding; then Nagendra fell senseless on the +floor. + +That night Nagendra left Benares behind him. Oh, world-enchanting +Benares! what happy man could have quitted thee on such an autumn +night with satiated eyes? It is a moonless night. From the Ganges +stream, in whatever direction you look you will see the sky studded +with stars--from endless ages ever-burning stars, resting never. +Below, a second sky reflected in the deep blue water; on shore, +flights of steps, and tall houses showing a thousand lights; these +again reflected in the river. Seeing this, Nagendra closed his eyes. +To-night he could not endure the beauty of earth. He knew that Siva +Prasad's letter had been delayed many days. Where was Surja Mukhi +now? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +HIRA'S POISON TREE HAS BLOSSOMED. + + +On the day when the _durwans_ had driven out Debendra Babu with +bamboos, Hira had laughed heartily within herself. But later she had +felt much remorse. She thought, "I have not done well to disgrace him; +I know not how much I have angered him. Now I shall have no place in +his thoughts; all my hopes are destroyed." + +Debendra also was occupied in devising a plan of vengeance upon Hira +for the punishment she had caused to be inflicted on him. At last he +sent for Hira, and after one or two days of doubt she came. Debendra +showed no displeasure, and made no allusion to what had occurred. +Avoiding that, he entered into pleasant conversation with her. As the +spider spreads his net for the fly, so Debendra spread his net for +Hira. + +In the hope of obtaining her desire, Hira easily fell into the snare. +Intoxicated with Debendra's sweet words, she was imposed upon by his +crafty speech. She thought, "Surely this is love! Debendra loves me." + +Hira was cunning, but now her cunning did not serve her. The power +which the ancient poets describe as having been used to disturb the +meditations of Siva, who had renounced passion--by that power Hira had +lost her cunning. + +Then Debendra took his guitar, and, stimulated by wine, began to sing. +His rich and cultivated voice gave forth such honied waves of song, +that Hira was as one enchanted. Her heart became restless, and melted +with love of Debendra. Then in her eyes Debendra seemed the perfection +of beauty, the essence of all that was adorable to a woman. Her eyes +overflowed with tears springing from love. + +Putting down his guitar, Debendra wiped away her tears. Hira shivered. +Then Debendra began such pleasant jesting, mingled with loving +speeches, and adorned his conversation with such ambiguous phrases, +that Hira, entranced, thought, "This is heavenly joy!" Never had she +heard such words. If her senses had not been bewildered she would have +thought, "This is hell." + +Debendra had never known real love; but he was very learned in the +love language of the old poets. Hearing from Debendra songs in praise +of the inexpressible delights of love, Hira thought of giving herself +up to him. She became steeped in love from head to foot. Then again +Debendra sang with the voice of the first bird of spring. Hira, +inspired by love, joined in with her feminine voice. Debendra urged +her to sing. Hira, with sparkling eyes and smiling face, impelled by +her happy feelings, sang a love song, a petition for love. Then, +sitting in that evil room, with sinful hearts, the two, under the +influence of evil desires, bound themselves to live in sin. + +Hira knew how to subdue her heart, but having no inclination to do so +she entered the flame as easily as an insect. Her belief that Debendra +did not love her had been her protection until now. When her love for +Debendra was but in the germ she smilingly confessed it to herself, +but turned away from him without hesitation. When the full-grown +passion pierced her heart she took service to distract her thoughts. +But when she imagined he loved her she had no desire to resist. +Therefore she now had to eat the fruit of the poison tree. + +People say that you do not see sin punished in this world. Be that +true or not, you may be sure that those who do not rule their own +hearts will have to bear the consequences. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +NEWS OF SURJA MUKHI. + + +It is late autumn. The waters from the fields are drying up; the rice +crop is ripening; the lotus flowers have disappeared from the tanks. +At dawn, dew falls from the boughs of the trees; at evening, mist +rises over the plains. One day at dawn a palanquin was borne along the +Madhupur road. At this sight all the boys of the place assembled in a +row; all the daughters and wives, old and young, resting their +water-vessels on the hip, stood awhile to gaze. The husbandmen, +leaving the rice crop, sickle in hand and with turbaned heads, stood +staring at the palanquin. The influential men of the village sat in +committee. A booted foot was set down from the palanquin: the general +opinion was that an English gentleman had arrived; the children +thought it was Bogie. + +When Nagendra Natha had descended from the palanquin, half a dozen +people saluted him because he wore pantaloons and a smoking-cap. Some +thought he was the police inspector; others that he was a constable. +Addressing an old man in the crowd, Nagendra inquired for Siva Prasad +_Brahmachari_. + +The person addressed felt certain that this must be a case of +investigation into a murder, and that therefore it would not be well +to give a truthful answer. He replied, "Sir, I am but a child; I do +not know as much as that." + +Nagendra perceived that unless he could meet with an educated man he +would learn nothing. There were many in the village, therefore +Nagendra went to a house of superior class. It proved to be that of +Ram Kristo Rai, who, noticing the arrival of a strange gentleman, +requested him to sit down. Nagendra, inquiring for Siva Prasad +_Brahmachari_, was informed that he had left the place. + +Much dejected, Nagendra asked, "Where is he gone?" + +"That I do not know; he never remains long in one place." + +"Does any one know when he will return?" asked Nagendra. + +"I have some business with him, therefore I also made that inquiry, +but no one can tell me." + +"How long is it since he left?" + +"About a month." + +"Could any one show me the house of Haro Mani _Boisnavi_, of this +village?" + +"Haro Mani's house stood by the roadside; but it exists no longer, it +has been destroyed by fire." + +Nagendra pressed his forehead. In a weak voice he asked, "Where is +Haro Mani?" + +"No one can say. Since the night her house was burned she has fled +somewhere. Some even say that she herself set fire to it." + +In a broken voice Nagendra asked, "Did any other woman live in her +house?" + +"No. In the month _Sraban_ a stranger, falling sick, stayed in her +house. She was placed there by the _Brahmachari_. I heard her name was +Surja Mukhi. She was ill of consumption; I attended her, had almost +cured her. Now--" + +Breathing hard, Nagendra repeated, "Now?" + +"In the destruction of Haro Mani's house the woman was burnt." + +Nagendra fell from his chair, striking his head severely. The blow +stunned him. The doctor attended to his needs. + +Who would live in a world so full of sorrow? The poison tree grows in +every one's court. Who would love? to have one's heart torn in pieces. +Oh, Creator! why hast Thou not made this a happy world? Thou hadst the +power if Thou hadst wished to make it a world of joy! Why is there so +much sorrow in it? + +When, at evening, Nagendra Natha left Madhupur in his palanquin, he +said to himself-- + +"Now I have lost all. What is lost--happiness? that was lost on the +day when Surja Mukhi left home. Then what is lost now--hope? So long +as hope remains to man all is not lost; when hope dies, all dies." + +Now, therefore, he resolved to go to Govindpur, not with the purpose +of remaining, but to arrange all his affairs and bid farewell to the +house. The zemindari, the family house, and the rest of his landed +property of his own acquiring, he would make over by deed to his +nephew, Satish Chandra. The deed would need to be drawn up by a +lawyer, or it would not stand. The movable wealth he would send to +Kamal Mani in Calcutta, sending Kunda Nandini there also. A certain +amount of money he would reserve for his own support in Government +securities. The account-books of the estate he would place in the +hands of Srish Chandra. + +He would not give Surja Mukhi's ornaments to his sister, but would +keep them beside him wherever he went, and when his time came would +die looking at them. After completing the needful arrangements he +would leave home, revisit the spot where Surja Mukhi had died, and +then resume his wandering life. So long as he should live he would +hide in some corner of the earth. + +Such were Nagendra's thoughts as he was borne on in his palanquin; its +doors were open, the night was lightened by the October moon, stars +shone in the sky. The telegraph-wires by the wayside hummed in the +wind; but on that night not even a star could seem beautiful in the +eyes of Nagendra, even the moonlight seemed harsh. All things seemed +to give pain. The earth was cruel. Why should everything that seemed +beautiful in days of happiness seem to-day so ugly? Those long slender +moonbeams by which the heart was wont to be refreshed, why did they +now seem so glaring? The sky is to-day as blue, the clouds as white, +the stars as bright, the wind as playful; the animal creation, as +ever, rove at will. Man is as smiling and joyous, the earth pursues +its endless course, family affairs follow their daily round. The +world's hardness is unendurable. Why did not the earth open and +swallow up Nagendra in his palanquin? + +Thus thinking, Nagendra perceived that he was himself to blame for +all. He had reached his thirty-third year only, yet he had lost all. +God had given him everything that makes the happiness of man. Riches, +greatness, prosperity, honour--all these he had received from the +beginning in unwonted measure. Without intelligence these had been +nothing, but God had given that also without stint. His education had +not been neglected by his parents; who was so well instructed as +himself? Beauty, strength, health, lovableness--these also nature had +given to him with liberal hand. That gift which is priceless in the +world, a loving, faithful wife, even this had been granted to him; who +on this earth had possessed more of the elements of happiness? who was +there on earth to-day more wretched? If by giving up everything, +riches, honour, beauty, youth, learning, intelligence, he could have +changed conditions with one of his palanquin-bearers, he would have +considered it a heavenly happiness. "Yet why a bearer?" thought he; +"is there a prisoner in the gaols of this country who is not more +happy than I? not more holy than I? They have slain others; I have +slain Surja Mukhi. If I had ruled my passions, would she have been +brought to die such a death in a strange place? I am her murderer. +What slayer of father, mother, or son, is a greater sinner than I? Was +Surja Mukhi my wife only? She was my all. In relation a wife, in +friendship a brother, in care a sister, abounding in hospitality, in +love a mother, in devotion a daughter, in pleasure a friend, in +counsel a teacher, in attendance a servant! My Surja Mukhi! who else +possesses such a wife? A helper in domestic affairs, a fortune in the +house, a religion in the heart, an ornament round the neck, the pupil +of my eyes, the blood of my heart, the life of my body, the smile of +my happiness, my comfort in dejection, the enlightener of my mind, my +spur in work, the light of my eyes, the music of my ears, the breath +of my life, the world to my touch! My present delight, the memory of +my past, the hope of my future, my salvation in the next world! I am a +swine--how should I recognize a pearl?" + +Suddenly it occurred to him that he was being borne in a palanquin at +his ease, while Surja Mukhi had worn herself out by travelling on +foot. At this thought Nagendra leaped from the palanquin and proceeded +on foot, his bearers carrying the empty vehicle in the rear. When he +reached the bazaar where he had arrived in the morning he dismissed +the men with their palanquin, resolving to finish his journey on foot. + +"I will devote my life to expiating the death of Surja Mukhi. What +expiation? All the joys of which Surja Mukhi was deprived in leaving +her home, I will henceforth give up. Wealth, servants, friends, none +of these will I retain. I will subject myself to all the sufferings +she endured. From the day I leave Govindpur I will go on foot, live +upon rice, sleep beneath a tree or in a hut. What further expiation? +Whenever I see a helpless woman I will serve her to the utmost of my +power. Of the wealth I reserve to myself I will take only enough to +sustain life; the rest I will devote to the service of helpless women. +Even of that portion of my wealth that I give to Satish, I will +direct that half of it shall be devoted during my life to the support +of destitute women. Expiation! Sin may be expiated, sorrow cannot be. +The only expiation for sorrow is death. In dying, sorrow leaves you: +why do I not seek that expiation?" + +Then covering his face with his hands, and remembering his Creator, +Nagendra Natha put from him the desire to seek death. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THOUGH ALL ELSE DIES, SUFFERING DIES NOT. + + +Srish Chandra was sitting alone in his _boita khana_ one evening, when +Nagendra entered, carpet-bag in hand, and throwing the bag to a +distance, silently took a seat. Srish Chandra, seeing his distressed +and wearied condition, was alarmed, but knew not how to ask an +explanation. He knew that Nagendra had received the _Brahmachari's_ +letter at Benares, and had gone thence to Madhupur. As he saw that +Nagendra would not begin to speak, Srish Chandra took his hand and +said-- + +"Brother Nagendra, I am distressed to see you thus silent. Did you not +go to Madhupur?" + +Nagendra only said, "I went." + +"Did you not meet the _Brahmachari_?" + +"No." + +"Did you find Surja Mukhi? Where is she?" + +Pointing upwards with his finger, Nagendra said, "In heaven." + +Both sat silent for some moments; then Nagendra, looking up, said, +"You do not believe in heaven. I do." + +Srish Chandra knew that formerly Nagendra had not believed in a +heaven, and understood why he now did so--understood that this heaven +was the creation of love. + +Not being able to endure the thought that Surja Mukhi no longer +existed, he said to himself, "She is in heaven," and in this thought +found comfort. + +Still they remained silent, for Srish Chandra felt that this was not +the time to offer consolation; that words from others would be as +poison, their society also. So he went away to prepare a chamber for +Nagendra. He did not venture to ask him to eat; he would leave that +task to Kamal. + +But when Kamal Mani heard that Surja Mukhi was no more, she would +undertake no duty. Leaving Satish Chandra, for that night she became +invisible. The servants, seeing Kamal Mani bowed to the ground with +hair unbound, left Satish and hurried to her. But Satish would not be +left; he at first stood in silence by his weeping mother, and then, +with his little finger under her chin, he tried to raise her face. +Kamal looked up, but did not speak. Satish, wishing to comfort his +mother, kissed her. Kamal caressed, but did not kiss him, nor did she +speak. Satish put his hand on his mother's throat, crept into her lap, +and began to cry. Except the Creator, who could enter into that +child's heart and discern the cause of his crying? + +The unfortunate Srish Chandra, left to his own resources, took some +food to Nagendra, who said: "I do not want food. Sit down, I have much +to say to you; for that I came hither." He then related all that he +had heard from Ram Kristo Rai, and detailed his designs for the +future. + +After listening to the narration, Srish Chandra said: "It is +surprising that you should not have met the _Brahmachari_, as it is +only yesterday he left Calcutta for Madhupur in search of you." + +"What?" said Nagendra; "how did you meet with the _Brahmachari_?" + +"He is a very noble person," answered Srish. "Not receiving a reply to +his letter to you, he went to Govindpur in search of you. There he +learned that his letter would be sent on to Benares. This satisfied +him, and without remark to any one he went on his business to +Purushuttam. Returning thence, he again went to Govindpur. Still +hearing nothing of you, he was informed that I might have news. He +came to me the next day, and I showed him your letter. Yesterday he +started for Govindpur, expecting to meet you last night at Ranigunj." + +"I was not at Ranigunj last night," said Nagendra. "Did he tell you +anything of Surja Mukhi?" + +"I will tell you all that to-morrow," said Srish. + +"You think my suffering will be increased by hearing it. Tell me all," +entreated Nagendra. + +Then Srish Chandra repeated what the _Brahmachari_ had told him of his +meeting Surja Mukhi by the roadside, her illness, medical treatment, +and improvement in health. Omitting many painful details, he concluded +with the words: "Ram Kristo Kai did not relate all that Surja Mukhi +had suffered." + +On hearing this, Nagendra rushed out of the house. Srish Chandra would +have gone with him, but Nagendra would not allow it. The wretched man +wandered up and down the road like a madman for hours. He wished to +forget himself in the crowd, but at that time there was no crowd; and +who can forget himself? Then he returned to the house, and sat down +with Srish Chandra, to whom he said: "The _Brahmachari_ must have +learned from her where she went, and what she did. Tell me all he said +to you." + +"Why talk of it now?" said Srish; "take some rest." + +Nagendra frowned, and commanded Srish Chandra to speak. + +Srish perceived that Nagendra had become like a madman. His face was +dark as a thunder-cloud. Afraid to oppose him, he consented to speak, +and Nagendra's face relaxed. He began-- + +"Walking slowly from Govindpur, Surja Mukhi came first in this +direction." + +"What distance did she walk daily?" interrupted Nagendra. + +"Two or three miles." + +"She did not take a farthing from home; how did she live?" + +"Some days fasting, some days begging--are you mad?" with these +words Srish Chandra threatened Nagendra, who had clutched at his own +throat as though to strangle himself, saying-- + +"If I die, shall I meet Surja Mukhi?" + +Srish Chandra held the hands of Nagendra, who then desired him to +continue his narrative. + +"If you will not listen calmly, I will tell you no more," said Srish. + +But Nagendra heard no more; he had lost consciousness. With closed +eyes he sought the form of the heaven-ascended Surja Mukhi; he saw her +seated as a queen upon a jewelled throne. The perfumed wind played in +her hair, all around flower-like birds sang with the voice of the +lute; at her feet bloomed hundreds of red water-lilies; in the canopy +of her throne a hundred moons were shining, surrounded by hundreds of +stars. He saw himself in a place full of darkness, pain in all his +limbs, demons inflicting blows upon him, Surja Mukhi forbidding them +with her outstretched finger. + +With much difficulty Srish Chandra restored Nagendra to consciousness; +whereupon Nagendra cried loudly-- + +"Surja Mukhi, dearer to me than life, where art thou?" + +At this cry, Srish Chandra, stupefied and frightened, sat down in +silence. + +At length, recovering his natural state, Nagendra said, "Speak." + +"What can I say?" asked Srish. + +"Speak!" said Nagendra. "If you do not I shall die before your eyes." + +Then Srish said: "Surja Mukhi did not endure this suffering many days. +A wealthy Brahman, travelling with his family, had to come as far as +Calcutta by boat, on his way to Benares. One day as Surja Mukhi was +lying under a tree on the river's bank, the Brahman family came there +to cook. The _grihini_ entered into conversation with Surja Mukhi, +and, pitying her condition, took her into the boat, as she had said +that she also was going to Benares." + +"What is the name of that Brahman? where does he live?" asked +Nagendra, thinking that by some means he would find out the man and +reward him. He then bade Srish Chandra continue. + +"Surja Mukhi," continued Srish, "travelled as one of the family as far +as Barhi; to Calcutta by boat, to Raniganj by rail, from Raniganj by +bullock train--so far Surja Mukhi proceeded in comfort." + +"After that did the Brahman dismiss her?" asked Nagendra. + +"No," replied Srish; "Surja Mukhi herself took leave. She went no +further than Benares. How many days could she go on without seeing +you? With that purpose she returned from Barhi on foot." + +As Srish Chandra spoke tears came into his eyes, the sight of which +was an infinite comfort to Nagendra, who rested his head on the +shoulder of Srish and wept. Since entering the house Nagendra had not +wept, his grief had been beyond tears; but now the stream of sorrow +found free vent. He cried like a boy, and his suffering was much +lessened thereby. The grief that cannot weep is the messenger of +death! + +As Nagendra became calmer, Srish Chandra said, "We will speak no more +of this to-day." + +"What more is there to say?" said Nagendra. "The rest that happened I +have seen with my own eyes. From Barhi she walked alone to Madhupur. +From fatigue, fasting, sun, rain, despair, and grief, Surja Mukhi, +seized by illness, fell to the ground ready to die." + +Srish Chandra was silent for a time; at length he said: "Brother, why +dwell upon this an longer? You are not in fault; you did nothing to +oppose or vex her. There is no cause to repent of that which has come +about without fault of our own." + +Nagendra did not understand. He knew himself to blame for all. Why had +he not torn up the seed of the poison tree from his heart? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +THE FRUIT OF HIRA'S POISON TREE. + + +Hira has sold her precious jewel in exchange for a cowrie. Virtue may +be preserved with much pains for a long time; yet a day's carelessness +may lose it. So it was with Hira. The wealth to gain which she had +sold her precious jewel was but a broken shell; for such love as +Debendra's is like the bore in the river, as muddy as transient. In +three days the flood subsided, and Hira was left in the mud. As the +miser, or the man greedy of fame, having long preserved his treasure, +at the marriage of a son, or some other festival, spends all in one +day's enjoyment, Hira, who had so long preserved her chastity, had now +lost it for a day's delight, and like the ruined miser was left +standing in the path of endless regret. + +Abandoned by Debendra, as a boy throws away an unripe mango not to his +taste, Hira at first suffered frightfully. It was not only that she +had been cast adrift by Debendra, but that, having been degraded and +wounded by him, she had sunk to so low a position among women. It was +this she found so unendurable. When, in her last interview, embracing +Debendra's feet, she had said, "Do not cast me off!" he had replied, +"It has only been in the hope of obtaining Kunda Nandini that I have +honoured you so long. If you can secure me her society I will continue +to live with you; otherwise not. I have given you the fitting reward +of your pride; now, with the ink of this stain upon you, you may go +home." + +Everything seemed dark around Hira in her anger. When her head ceased +to swim she stood in front of Debendra, her brows knitted, her eyes +inflamed, and as with a hundred tongues she gave vent to her temper. +Abuse such as the foulest women use she poured upon him, till he, +losing patience, kicked her out of the pleasure-garden. Hira was a +sinner; Debendra a sinner and a brute. + +Thus ended the promise of eternal love. + +Hira, thus abused, did not go home. In Govindpur there was a low-caste +doctor who attended only low-caste people. He had no knowledge of +treatment or of drugs; he knew only the poisonous pills by which life +is destroyed. Hira knew that for the preparation of these pills he +kept vegetable, mineral, snake, and other life-destroying poisons. +That night she went to his house, and calling him aside said-- + +"I am troubled every day by a jackal who eats from my cooking-vessels. +Unless I can kill this jackal I cannot remain here. If I mix some +poison with the rice to-day he will eat it and die. You keep many +poisons; can you sell me one that will instantly destroy life?" + +The _Chandal_ (outcast) did not believe the jackal story. He said-- + +"I have what you want, but I cannot sell it. Should I be known to sell +poison the police would seize me." + +"Be not anxious about that," said Hira; "no one shall know that you +have sold it. I will swear to you by my patron deity, and by the +Ganges, if you wish. Give me enough to kill two jackals, and I will +pay you fifty rupees." + +The _Chandal_ felt certain that a murder was intended, but he could +not resist the fifty rupees, and consented to sell the poison. + +Hira fetched the money from her house and gave it to him. The +_Chandal_ twisted up a pungent life-destroying poison in paper, and +gave it to her. + +In departing, Hira said, "Mind you betray this to no one, else we +shall both suffer." + +The _Chandal_ answered, "I do not even know you, mother." + +Thus freed from fear, Hira went home. When there she held the poison +in her hand, weeping bitterly; then, wiping her eyes, she said-- + +"What fault have I committed that I should die? Why should I die +without killing him who has struck me? I will not take this poison. +He who has reduced me to this condition shall eat it, or, if not, I +will give it to his beloved Kunda Nandini. After one of these two are +dead, if necessary I also will take it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +HIRA'S GRANDMOTHER. + + + "Hira's old grandmother + Walks about picking up + A basket of cowdung. + With her teeth cracking pebbles. + Eating _jak_ fruit by the hundred." + +Hira's grandmother hobbled along with the help of a stick, followed by +boys reciting the above unrivalled verses, clapping their hands and +dancing as they went. Whether any special taunt was meant by these +verses is doubtful, but the old woman became furious, and desired the +boys to go to destruction, wishing that their fathers might eat +refuse (a common form of abuse). This was a daily occurrence. + +Arriving at the door of Nagendra's house, the grandmother escaped from +her enemies, who at sight of the fierce black moustaches of the +_durwans_ fled from the battlefield, one crying-- + + "Bama Charn Dobé + Goes to bed early, + And when the thief comes he runs away." + +Another-- + + "Ram Sing Paré + With a stick marches boldly, + But at sight of a thief he flies to the tank." + +A third-- + + "Lal Chand Sing + Doth briskly dance and sing, + Is death on the food, + But at work is no good." + +The boys fled, attacked by the _durwans_ with a shower of words not to +be found in any dictionary. + +Hira's grandmother, plodding along, arrived at the dispensary attached +to Nagendra's dwelling. Perceiving the doctor, she said, "Oh, father, +where is the doctor, father?" + +"I am he." + +"Oh, father, I am getting blind. I am twenty-eight or eighty years +old; how shall I speak of my troubles? I had a son; he is dead. I had +a granddaughter; she also--" Here the old woman broke down, and +began to whine like a cat. + +The doctor asked, "What has happened to you?" + +Without answering this question, the woman began to relate the history +of her life; and when, amid much crying, she had finished, the doctor +again asked, "What do you want now? What has happened to you?" Again +she began the unequalled story of her life; but the doctor showing +much impatience, she changed it for that of Hira, of Hira's mother, +and Hira's husband. + +With much difficulty the doctor at last arrived at her meaning, to +which all this talking and crying was quite irrelevant. The old woman +desired some medicine for Hira. Her complaint, she said, was a species +of lunacy. Before Hira's birth, her mother had been mad, had +continued so for some time, and had died in that condition. Hira had +not hitherto shown any sign of her mother's disorder; but now the old +woman felt some doubts about her. Hira would now laugh, now weep, now, +closing the door, she would dance. Sometimes she screamed, and +sometimes became unconscious. Therefore her grandmother wanted +medicine for her. After some reflection the doctor said, "Your +daughter has hysteria." + +"Well, doctor, is there no medicine for that disease?" + +"Certainly there is: keep her very warm; take this dose of castor-oil, +give it to her early to-morrow morning. Later I will come and give her +another medicine." + +With the bottle of castor-oil in her hand, the old woman hobbled +forth. On the road she was met by a neighbour, who said, "Oh, Hira's +grandmother, what have you in your hand?" + +The old woman answered, "Hira has become hysterical; the doctor has +given me some castor-oil for her; do you think that will be good for +hysterics?" + +"It may be; castor-oil is the god of all. But what has made your +granddaughter so jolly lately?" + +After much reflection the old woman said, "It is the fault of her +age;" whereupon the neighbour prescribed a remedy, and they parted. + +On arriving at home, the old woman remembered that the doctor had said +Hira must be kept warm; therefore she placed a pan of fire before her +granddaughter. + +"Fire!" exclaimed Hira. "What is this for?" + +"The doctor told me to keep you warm," replied the old woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +A DARK HOUSE: A DARK LIFE. + + +In the absence of Nagendra and Surja Mukhi from their spacious home, +all was darkness therein. The clerks sat in the office, and Kunda +Nandini dwelt in the inner apartments with the poor relations. But how +can stars dispel the darkness of a moonless night? + +In the corners hung spiders' webs; in the rooms stood dust in heaps; +pigeons built their nests in the cornices and sparrows in the beams. +Heaps of withered leaves lay rotting in the garden; weeds grew over +the tanks; the flower-beds were hidden by jungle. There were jackals +in the court-yard, and rats in the granary; mould and fungus were +everywhere to be seen; musk-rats and centipedes swarmed in the rooms; +bats flew about night and day. Nearly all Surja Mukhi's pet birds had +been eaten by cats; their soiled feathers lay scattered around. The +ducks had been killed by the jackals, the peacocks had flown into the +woods; the cows had become emaciated, and no longer gave milk. +Nagendra's dogs had no spirit left in them, they neither played nor +barked; they were never let loose; some had died, some had gone mad, +some had escaped. The horses were diseased, or had become ill from +want of work; the stables were littered with stubble, grass, and +feathers. The horses were sometimes fed, sometimes neglected. The +grooms were never to be found in the stables. The cornice of the house +was broken in places, as were the sashes, the shutters, and the +railings. The matting was soaked with rain; there was dust on the +painted walls. Over the bookcases were the dwellings of insects; +straws from the sparrows' nests on the glass of the chandeliers. In +the house there was no mistress, and without a mistress paradise +itself would be a ruin. + +As in an untended garden overgrown with grass a single rose or lily +will bloom, so in this house Kunda Nandini lived alone. Wherever a few +joined in a meal Kunda partook of it. If any one addressed her as +house-mistress, Kunda thought, "They are mocking me." If the _Dewan_ +sent to ask her about anything her heart beat with fear. There was a +reason for this. As Nagendra did not write to Kunda, she had been +accustomed to send to the _Dewan_ for the letters received by him. She +did not return the letters, and she lived in fear that the _Dewan_ +would claim them; and in fact the man no longer sent them to her, but +only suffered her to read them as he held them in his hand. + +The suffering felt by Surja Mukhi was endured in equal measure by +Kunda Nandini. Surja Mukhi loved her husband; did not Kunda love him? +In that little heart there was inexhaustible love, and because it +could find no expression, like obstructed breathing it wounded her +heart. From childhood, before her first marriage, Kunda had loved +Nagendra; she had told no one, no one knew it. She had had no desire +to obtain Nagendra, no hope of doing so; her despair she had borne in +silence. To have striven for it would have been like striving to reach +the moon in the sky. Now where was that moon? For what fault had +Nagendra thrust her from him? Kunda revolved these thoughts in her +mind night and day; night and day she wept. Well! let Nagendra not +love her. It was her good fortune to love him. Why might she not even +see him? Nor that only: he regarded Kunda as the root of his troubles; +every one considered her so. Kunda thought, "Why should I be blamed +for all this?" + +In an evil moment Nagendra had married Kunda. As every one who sits +under the upas-tree must die, so every one who had been touched by the +shadow of this marriage was ruined. + +Then again Kunda thought, "Surja Mukhi has come to this condition +through me. Surja Mukhi protected me, loved me as a sister; I have +made her a beggar by the roadside. Who is there more unfortunate than +I? Why did I not die by the roadside? Why do I not die now? I will +not die now; let him come, let me see him again. Will he not come?" +Kunda had not received the news of Surja Mukhi's death, therefore she +thought, "What is the use of dying now? Should Surja Mukhi return, then +I will die; I will no longer be a thorn in her path." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE RETURN. + + +The work required to be done in Calcutta was finished. The deed of +gift was drawn up. In it special rewards were indicated for the +_Brahmachari_ and the unknown Brahman. The deed would have to be +registered at Haripur, therefore Nagendra went to Govindpur, taking it +with him. He had instructed his brother-in-law to follow. Srish +Chandra had striven to prevent his executing this deed, also to +restrain him from making the journey on foot, but in vain. His efforts +thus defeated, he followed by boat; and as Kamal Mani could not +endure to be parted from her husband, she and Satish simply +accompanied him without asking any questions. + +When Kunda saw Kamal Mani she thought that once more a star had risen +in the sky. Since the flight of Surja Mukhi, Kamal's anger against +Kunda had been inflexible; she had always refused to see her. But now, +at the sight of Kunda's emaciated figure, Kamal's anger departed. She +endeavoured to cheer her with the news that Nagendra was coming, which +brought a smile to the girl's face; but at the news of Surja Mukhi's +death Kunda Nandini wept. + +Many fair readers will smile at this, thinking, "The cat weeps over +the death of the fish." But Kunda was very stupid; that she had cause +to rejoice never entered her head: this silly woman actually cried +over her rival's death. + +Kamal Mani not only cheered Kunda, she herself felt comforted. She had +already wept much, and now she began to think, "What is the use of +weeping? If I do, Srish Chandra will be miserable and Satish will cry. +Weeping will not bring back Surja Mukhi." So she gave up weeping, and +became her natural self. + +Kamal Mani said to Srish Chandra, "The goddess of this paradise has +abandoned it; when my brother comes he will have only a bed of straw +to lie upon." They resolved to put the place in order; so the coolies, +the lamp cleaners, and the gardeners were set to work. Under Kamal +Mani's vigorous treatment the musk-rats, bats, and mice, departed +squeaking; the pigeons flew from cornice to cornice; the sparrows fled +in distress. Where the windows were closed, the sparrows, taking them +for open doorways, pecked at them with their beaks till they were +ready to drop. The women-servants, broom in hand, were victorious +everywhere. Before long the place again wore a smiling appearance, and +at length Nagendra arrived. + +It was evening. As a river courses swiftly when at flood, but at ebb +the deep water is calm, so Nagendra's violent grief was now changed +into a quiet gravity. His sorrow was not lessened, but he was no +longer restless. In a quiet manner he conversed with the household, +making inquiries from each one. In the presence of none of them did +he mention the name of Surja Mukhi, but all were grieved at the sorrow +expressed by his grave countenance. The old servants, saluting him, +went aside and wept. One person only did Nagendra wound. With the +long-sorrowing Kunda he did not speak. + +By the orders of Nagendra the servants prepared his bed in Surja +Mukhi's room. At this order Kamal Mani shook her head. At midnight, +when all the household had retired, Nagendra went to Surja Mukhi's +chamber, not to lie down, but to weep. Surja Mukhi's room was spacious +and beautiful; it was the temple of all Nagendra's joys, therefore he +had adorned it with care. The room was wide and lofty, the floor +inlaid with white and black marble, the walls painted in floral +designs, blue, yellow, and red. Above the flowers hovered various +birds. On one side stood a costly bedstead, beautifully carved and +inlaid with ivory; elsewhere, seats in variously coloured coverings, a +large mirror, and other suitable furniture. Some pictures, not +English, hung upon the walls. Surja Mukhi and Nagendra together had +chosen the subjects, and caused them to be painted by a native artist, +who had been taught by an Englishman, and could draw well. Nagendra +had framed the pictures handsomely, and hung them on the walls. One +picture was taken from the Birth of Kartika: Siva, sunk in meditation, +on the summit of the hill; Nandi at the door of the arbour. On the +left Hembatra, finger on lip, is hushing the sounds of the garden. All +is still, the bees hid among the leaves, the deer reposing. At this +moment Madan (Cupid) enters to interrupt the meditation of Siva; with +him comes Spring. In advance, Parvati, wreathed with flowers, has come +to salute Siva. Uma's joyous face is bent in salutation, one knee +resting on the earth. This is the position depicted in the painting. +As she bends her head, one or two flowers escape from the wreaths +fastened in her hair. In the distance Cupid, half hidden by the woods, +one knee touching earth, his beauteous bow bent, is fitting to it the +flower-wreathed arrow. + +In another picture, Ram, returning from Lanka with Janaki, both +sitting in a jewelled chariot, is coursing through the sky. Ram has +one hand on the shoulders of Janaki, with the other is pointing out +the beauties of the earth below. Around the chariot many-coloured +clouds, blue, red, and white, sail past in purple waves. Below, the +broad blue ocean heaves its billows, shining like heaps of diamonds in +the sun's rays. In the distance, opal-crowned Lanka, its rows of +palaces like golden peaks in the sun's light; the opposite shore +beautiful with tamal and palm trees. In the mid distance flocks of +swans are flying. + +Another picture represents Subhadra with Arjuna in the chariot. +Countless Yadav soldiers, their flags streaming out against the gloomy +sky, are running after the chariot. Subhadra herself is driving, the +horses grinding the clouds with their hoofs. Subhadra, proud of her +skill, is looking round towards Arjuna, biting her lower lip with her +ivory teeth, her hair streaming in the chariot-created wind; two or +three braids moistened with perspiration lie in a curve on her +temples. + +In another, Sakuntala, with the desire of seeing Dushmanta, is +pretending to take a thorn from her foot. Anasuya and Priamboda are +smiling. Sakuntala, between anger and shame will not raise her face. +She cannot look at Dushmanta, nor yet can she leave the spot. + +In another, Prince Abhimaya, armed for battle, and, like the young +lion, eager for glory, is taking leave of Uttora that he may go to the +field. Uttora, saying that she will not let him go, is standing +against the closed door weeping, with her hands over her eyes. + +It was past twelve when Nagendra entered the room. The night was +fearful. Late in the evening some rain had fallen; now the wind had +risen and was blowing fiercely, the rain continuing at intervals. +Wherever the shutters were not fastened they flapped to and fro with +the noise of thunder-claps, the sashes rattling continuously. When +Nagendra closed the door the noise was less noticeable. There was +another door near the bedstead, but as the wind did not blow in that +direction he left it open. Nagendra sat on the sofa, weeping bitterly. +How often had he sat there with Surja Mukhi; what pleasant talks they +had had! Again and again Nagendra embraced that senseless seat; then +raising his face he looked at the pictures so dear to Surja Mukhi. In +the fitful light of the lamp the figures in the pictures seemed to be +alive; in each picture Nagendra saw Surja Mukhi. He remembered that +one day she expressed a wish to be decked with flowers like Uma in the +picture. He had gone forth, brought in flowers from the garden, and +with them decked her person. What beauty decked with jewels had ever +felt the pleasure felt by Surja Mukhi at that moment? Another day she +had desired to drive Nagendra's carriage in imitation of Subhadra; +whereupon he had brought a small carriage drawn by ponies to the inner +garden. They both got in, Surja Mukhi taking the reins; like Subhadra, +she turned her face towards Nagendra, biting her lower lip and +laughing. The ponies, taking advantage of her inattention, went +through an open gate into the road. Then Surja Mukhi, afraid of being +seen by the people, drew her _sari_ over her face, and Nagendra, +seeing her distress, took the reins and brought the carriage back +into the garden. They went into the chamber laughing over the +adventure, and Surja Mukhi shook her fist at Subhadra in the picture, +saying, "You are the cause of this misfortune." + +How bitterly Nagendra wept over this remembrance! Unable longer to +endure his suffering he walked about; but look where he would there +were signs of Surja Mukhi. On the wall where the artist had drawn +twining plants she had sketched a copy of one of them; the sketch +remained there still. One day during the Dol festival she had thrown a +ball of red powder at her husband; she had missed her aim and struck +the wall, where still the stain was visible. When the room was +finished, Surja Mukhi had written in one spot-- + +"In the year 1910 of Vikramaditya + This room was prepared +For my Guardian Deity, my husband, + By his servant + SURJA MUKHI." + +Nagendra read this inscription repeatedly. He could not satisfy his +desire to read it. Though the tears filled his eyes so that he could +not see, he would not desist. As he read he perceived the light +becoming dim, and found the lamp ready to expire. With a sigh he laid +down; but scarcely had he done so ere the wind began to rage +furiously. The lamp, void of oil, was on the point of extinction, only +a faint spark like that of a firefly remained. In that dim light a +remarkable circumstance occurred. Astonished by the noise of the +shutters, Nagendra looked towards the door near the bed. In that open +doorway, shown by the dim light, a shadowy form appeared. The shape +was that of a woman; but what he saw further made his hair stand on +end, he trembled from head to foot. The woman's face had the features +of Surja Mukhi! Nagendra started to his feet and hastened to the +figure. But the light went out, the form became invisible; with a loud +cry Nagendra fell senseless to the ground. + +When Nagendra recovered consciousness thick darkness filled the room. +By degrees he collected his senses. As he remembered what had caused +the swoon, surprise was added to surprise. He had fallen senseless on +the floor, then whence came the pillow on which his head was resting? +Was it a pillow? or was it the lap of some one--of Kunda Nandini? + +To solve his doubt he said, "Who are you?" But the supporter of his +head made no reply. Only a hot drop or two fell on his forehead, by +which he understood that the person was weeping. He tried to identify +the person by touch. Suddenly he became quite bewildered; he remained +motionless for some moments, then with labouring breath raised his +head and sat up. The rain had ceased, the clouds had disappeared, +light began to peep into the room. Nagendra rose and seated himself. +He perceived that the woman had also risen, and was slowly making +towards the door. Then Nagendra guessed that it was not Kunda Nandini. +There was not light enough to recognize any one, but something might +be guessed from form and gait. Nagendra studied these for a moment, +then falling at the feet of the standing figure, in troubled tones he +said-- + +"Whether thou art a god or a human being, I am at thy feet; speak to +me, or I shall die!" + +What the woman said he could not understand, but no sooner had the +sound of her voice entered his ear than he sprang to his feet and +tried to grasp the form. But mind and body again became benumbed, and, +like the creeper from the tree, he sank at the feet of the +enchantress; he could not speak. Again the woman, sitting down, took +his head upon her lap. When Nagendra once more recovered from stupor +it was day. The birds were singing in the adjacent garden. The rays of +the newly risen sun were shining into the room. Without raising his +eyes Nagendra said-- + +"Kunda, when did you come? This whole night I have been dreaming of +Surja Mukhi. In my dream I saw myself with my head on Surja Mukhi's +lap. If you could be Surja Mukhi, how joyful it would be!" + +The woman answered, "If it would delight you so much to see that +unhappy being, then I am she." + +Nagendra started up, wiped his eyes, sat holding his temples, again +rubbed his eyes and gazed; then bowing his head, he said in a low +voice-- + +"Am I demented, or is Surja Mukhi living? Is this the end of my +destiny, that I should go mad?" + +Then the woman, clasping his feet, wept over them, saying, "Arise, +arise, my all! I have suffered so much. To-day all my sorrow is ended. +I am not dead. Again I have come to serve you." + +Could delusion last longer? Nagendra embraced Surja Mukhi, and laid +his head upon her breast. Together they wept; but how joyous was that +weeping! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +EXPLANATION. + + +In due time Surja Mukhi satisfied Nagendra's inquiries, saying-- + +"I did not die. What the _Kabiraj_ said of my dying was not true. He +did not know. When I had become strong through his treatment, I was +extremely anxious to come to Govindpur to see you. I teased the +_Brahmachari_ till he consented to take me. On arriving here, we +learned you were not in the place. The _Brahmachari_ took me to a spot +six miles from here, placed me in the house of a Brahmin to attend on +his daughter, and then went in search of you: first to Calcutta, +where he had an interview with Srish Chandra, from whom he heard that +you were gone to Madhupur. At that place he learned that on the day we +left Haro Mani's house it was burned, and Haro Mani in it. In the +morning people could not recognize the body. They reasoned that as of +the two people in the house one was sick and one was well, that the +former could not have escaped from want of strength; therefore that +Haro Mani must have escaped and the dead person must be myself. What +was at first a supposition became established by report. Ram Krishna +heard the report, and repeated it to you. The _Brahmachari_ heard all +this, and also that you had been there, had heard of my death, and had +come hither. He came after you, arriving last night at Protappur. I +also heard that in a day or two you were expected home. In that belief +I came here the day before yesterday. It does not trouble me now to +walk a few miles. As you had not come I went back, saw the +_Brahmachari_, and returned yesterday, arriving at one this morning. +The window being open, I entered the house and hid under the stairs +without being seen. When all slept I ascended; I thought you would +certainly sleep in this room. I peeped in, and saw you sitting with +your head in your hands. I longed to throw myself at your feet, but I +feared you would not forgive my sin against you, so I refrained. From +within the window I looked, thinking, 'Now I will let him see me.' I +came in, but you fell senseless, and since then I have sat with your +head on my lap. I knew not that such joy was in my destiny. But, fie! +you love me not; when you put your hand upon me you did not recognize +me! I should have known you by your breath." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +THE SIMPLETON AND THE SERPENT. + + +While in the sleeping--chamber, bathed in a sea of joy, Nagendra and +Surja Mukhi held loving converse, in another apartment of that same +house a fatal dialogue was being held. Before relating it, it is +necessary to record what occurred on the previous night. As we know, +Nagendra had held no converse with Kunda Nandini on his return. In her +own room, with her head on the pillow, Kunda had wept the whole night, +not the easy tears of girlhood, but from a mortal wound. Whosoever in +childhood has in all sincerity delivered the priceless treasure of +her heart to any one, and has in exchange received only neglect, can +imagine the piercing pain of that weeping. "Why have I preserved my +life," she asked herself, "with the desire to see my husband? Now what +happiness remains to be hoped for?" With the dawn sleep came, and in +that sleep, for the second time, a frightful vision. The bright figure +assuming the form of her mother, which she had seen four years before +by her dead father's bedside, now appeared above Kunda's head; but +this time it was not surrounded by a shining halo, it descended upon a +dense cloud ready to fall in rain. From the midst of the thick cloud +another face smiled, while every now and then flashes of lightning +broke forth. Kunda perceived with alarm that the incessantly smiling +face resembled that of Hira, while her mother's compassionate +countenance was very grave. The mother said: "Kunda, when I came +before you did not listen, you did not come with me; now you see what +trouble has befallen you." Kunda wept. The mother continued: "I told +you I would come once more, and here I am. If now you are satisfied +with the joy that the world can give, come with me." + +"Take me with you, mother; I do not desire to stay here longer." + +The mother, much pleased, repeated, "Come, then!" and vanished from +sight. + +Kunda woke, and, remembering her vision, desired of the gods that this +time her dream might be fulfilled. + +At dawn, when Hira entered the room to wait upon Kunda, she perceived +that the girl was crying. Since the arrival of Kamal Mani, Hira had +resumed a respectful demeanour towards Kunda, because she heard that +Nagendra was returning. As though in atonement for her past behaviour, +Hira became even more obedient and affectionate than formerly. Any one +else would have easily penetrated this craftiness, but Kunda was +unusually simple, and easily appeased. She felt no suspicion of this +new affection; she imagined Hira to be sour-tempered, but not +unfaithful. The woman said-- + +"Why do you weep, _Ma Thakurani?_" + +Kunda did not speak, but only looked at Hira, who saw that her eyes +were swollen and the pillow soaked. + +"What is this? you have been crying all night. Has the Babu said +anything to you?" + +"Nothing," said Kunda, sobbing with greater violence than before. + +Hira's heart swam with joy at the sight of Kunda's distress. With a +melancholy face she asked-- + +"Has the Babu had any talk with you since he came home? I am only a +servant, you need not mind telling me." + +"I have had no talk with him." + +"How is that, Ma? After so many days' absence has he nothing to say to +you?" + +"He has not been near me," and with these words fresh tears burst +forth. + +Hira was delighted. She said, smiling, "Ma, why do you weep in this +way? Many people are over head and ears in trouble, yet you cry +incessantly over one sorrow. If you had as much to bear as I have, +you would have destroyed yourself before this time." + +Suicide! this disastrous word struck heavily on the ear of Kunda; +shuddering, she sat down. During the night she had frequently +contemplated this step, and these words from Hira's mouth seemed to +confirm her purpose. + +Hira continued: "Now hear what my troubles are. I also loved a man +more than my own life. He was not my husband, but why should I hide my +sin from my mistress? it is better to confess it plainly." + +These shameless words did not enter Kunda's ear; in it the word +"suicide" was repeating itself, as though a demon kept whispering, +"Would it not be better for you to destroy yourself than to endure +this misery?" + +Hira continued: "He was not my husband, but I loved him better than +the best husband. I knew he did not love me; he loved another sinner, +a hundred times less attractive than I." At this point, Hira cast a +sharp, angry glance from under her eyelids at Kunda, then went on: +"Knowing this, I did not run after him, but one day we were both +wicked." + +Beginning thus, Hira briefly related the terrible history. She +mentioned no name, neither that of Debendra nor that of Kunda. She +said nothing from which it could be inferred whom she had loved, or +who was beloved by him. At length, after speaking of the abuse she had +received, she said-- + +"Now what do you suppose I did?" + +"What did you do?" + +"I went to a _Kabiraj_. He has all sorts of poisons by which life can +be destroyed." + +In low tones Kunda said, "After that?" + +"I intended to kill myself. I bought some poison, but afterwards I +thought, 'Why should I die for another?' so I have kept the poison in +a box." + +Hira brought from the corner of the room a box in which she kept the +treasures received as rewards from her employers, and also what she +got by less fair means. Opening it, she showed the poison to Kunda, +who eyed it as a cat does cream. Then Hira, leaving the box open as +though from absence of mind, began to console Kunda. At this moment, +suddenly, in the early dawn, sounds of happiness and rejoicing were +heard in the household. Hira darted forth in astonishment. The +ill-fated Kunda Nandini seized the opportunity to steal the poison +from the box. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE CATASTROPHE. + + +Hira could not at first understand the cause of the joyous sounds she +heard. She saw in one of the large rooms all the women of the house, +the boys and the girls surrounding some one and making a great noise. +Of the person surrounded, Hira could see nothing but the hair, which +Kousalya and the other attendants were dressing with scented oil and +arranging becomingly. Of the by-standers encircling them some were +laughing, some weeping, some talking, some uttering blessings. The +girls and boys were dancing, singing, and clapping their hands. Kamal +Mani was going round directing that shells should be blown and other +joyous demonstrations, laughing, crying, and even dancing. + +Hira was astonished. Stepping into the throng, she stretched her neck +and peeped about. What were her feelings on beholding Surja Mukhi +seated on the floor, a loving smile upon her lips; submitting to be +decked with all her ornaments, so long laid aside, speaking kindly to +all, a little shamefaced. + +Hira could not all at once believe that Surja Mukhi who had died was +now amongst them smiling so pleasantly. Stammeringly she asked one of +the throng of women, "Who is that?" + +Kousalya heard the question, and answered, "Don't you know? The +goddess of our house, and your executioner." + +Kousalya had lived all this time in fear of Hira. Now in her day of +triumph she vented her spleen. + +The dressing being completed and all kindly greetings exchanged, +Surja Mukhi said in a low voice to Kamal Mani, "Let us go and see +Kunda. She is not guilty of any fault towards me. I am not angry with +her; she is now my younger sister." + +Only they two went. They were long away. At last Kamal Mani came out +of Kunda's room with a countenance full of fear and distress, and in +great haste sent for Nagendra. + +On his arrival the ladies told him he was wanted in Kunda's room. At +the door he met Surja Mukhi weeping. + +"What has happened?" he asked. + +"Destruction! I have long known I was destined not to have a single +day of happiness, else how is it that in the first moment of joy this +calamity comes upon me?" + +"What has happened?" + +"I brought up Kunda to womanhood, and now that I have come hither with +the desire to cherish her as my little sister, my desire has turned to +ashes: Kunda has taken poison!" + +"What do you say?" "Do you remain with her. I will go for a doctor." + +Surja Mukhi went on her errand, and Nagendra to Kunda's room alone. He +found Kunda's face darkened, her eyes lustreless, her body relaxed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +KUNDA'S TONGUE IS LOOSENED. + + +Kunda Nandini was seated on the floor, her head resting against the +the bed-post. At sight of Nagendra the tears came into her eyes. As he +stood beside her, Kunda, like a severed branch of a twining plant, +laid her head at his feet. In a stifled voice he said-- + +"What is this, Kunda? for what fault are you leaving me?" + +Kunda had not been used to answer her husband, but now, at her last +hour, her tongue was loosened. She said, "For what fault did you leave +me?" + +Silenced, Nagendra sat beside Kunda with bent head. + +She went on: "If on coming home yesterday you had called for me, if +you had once come and sat by me in this way, I had not died. I have +had you but a short time, even to day my desire to see you is not +satisfied. I would not have died." + +At these loving, heart-piercing words, Nagendra let his head fall upon +his knees, and remained speechless. + +Then Kunda spoke again. To day she was eloquent, for it was her last +day with her husband. She said, "Fie! do not sit thus silent; if I see +not your face smiling as I die, I shall not die happy." + +Surja Mukhi also had thus spoken. In death all are equal. + +Struck to the heart, Nagendra said in troubled tones, "Why have you +done this? Why did you not send for me?" + +Kunda, with many a smile transient as a flash of lightning, said, +"Think not of that; what I said, I said in the hurry of my mind. +Before you came I had determined that after I had seen you I would +die. I had resolved that if the _Didi_ (Surja Mukhi) returned, I would +leave you with her and die. I would no longer be a thorn in her path +of happiness. I had determined to die, but on seeing you I was not +willing." + +Nagendra made no answer. To-day he was without reply to the formerly +speechless Kunda Nandini. Kunda remained silent for some time; she was +losing the power of speech, death was taking possession. Then Nagendra +saw the death-shadowed face full of love. Its gentle light shining in +her troubled face, remained stamped on Nagendra's heart to his latest +day. After a rest, she said, with great difficulty-- + +"My thirst for speech has not been satisfied. I knew you to be a god; +I never had the courage to speak, my desire was not extinguished. +Death is approaching, my mouth is dry, my tongue falters, I have no +more time." + +She rested her head upon Nagendra, closed her eyes, and remained +speechless. The doctor came but he gave her no medicine. Seeing that +there was no hope, he withdrew with a sad countenance. Feeling that +the last hour was come, Kunda wished to see Surja Mukhi and Kamal +Mani. Both came; Kunda took the dust from their feet, they weeping +loudly. Then Kunda hid her face between her husband's feet. She spoke +no more, consciousness gradually departed. Her face lying on her +husband's feet, the youthful Kunda Nandini's spirit departed, the +blooming flower died. + +Surja Mukhi, checking her sobs, looked at her dead companion-wife, and +said, "May thy happy fate be mine; may I die thus, my head on my +husband's feet." Then taking her weeping husband's hand, she led him +away. + +Afterwards, Nagendra, recovering his firmness, took Kunda to the +riverside, performed the last rites, and bade farewell to the lovely +form. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE END. + + +After Kunda Nandini's death, people asked where she obtained the +poison, and all began to suspect that it was Hira's work. + +Nagendra directed that Hira should be called, but she was not to be +found; since Kunda's death she had disappeared. From that time no one +ever saw Hira in that part of the country; her name was no longer +heard in Govindpur. + +Once only, a year later, she showed herself to Debendra. The poison +tree planted by Debendra had by that time borne fruit; he was seized +with a malignant disease, and as he did not cease drinking, the +disease became incurable. During the first year after Kunda's death, +Debendra's summons came. Two or three days before his death, as he lay +on his bed without power to rise, there suddenly arose a great noise +at the door. + +In answer to Debendra's inquiries, the servant said, "A mad woman +wants to see you, sir; she will not be forbidden." + +He gave orders that she should be admitted. The woman appeared. +Debendra saw that she was reduced by want, but observed no sign of +madness; he thought her a wretched beggar-woman. She was young, and +retained the signs of former beauty, but now she was a sight indeed. +Her apparel soiled, ragged, patched, and so scanty that it barely +reached her knees, while her back and head remained uncovered; her +hair unkempt, dishevelled, covered with dust and matted together; her +body never oiled, withered-looking, covered with mud. As she +approached, she cast so wild a glance on Debendra that he saw the +servants were right--she was truly a mad-woman. + +After gazing at him some time, she said, "Do you not know me? I am +Hira." + +Recognizing her, Debendra asked in astonishment, "Who has brought you +to this condition?" + +Hira, with a glance full of rage, biting her lip and clenching her +fist, approached to strike Debendra; but restraining herself she said, +"Ask again who has brought me to this condition: this is your doing. +You don't know me now, but once you took your pleasure of me. You +don't remember it, but one day you sang this song"--bursting forth +into a love-song. + +In this manner reminding him of many things, she said: "On the day you +drove me out I became mad. I went to take poison. Then a thought of +delight came to me; instead of taking it myself, I would cause either +you or Kunda Nandini to do so. In that hope I hid my illness for a +time; it comes and goes; when it was on me I stayed at home, when well +I worked. Finally, having poisoned your Kunda, my trouble was soothed; +but after seeing her death my illness increased. Finding that I could +not hide it any longer, I left the place. Now I have no food. Who +gives food to a mad woman? Since then I have begged. When well I beg; +when the disease presses I stay under a tree. Hearing of your +approaching death, I have come to delight myself in seeing you. I give +you my blessing, that even hell may find no place for you." + +Thus saying, the mad-woman uttered a loud laugh. Alarmed, Debendra +moved to the other side of the bed; then Hira danced out of the house, +singing the old love-song. + +From that time Debendra's bed of death was full of thorns. He died +delirious, uttering words of the love-song. + +After his death the night-watch heard with a beating heart the +familiar strain from the mad-woman in the garden. + +The "Poison Tree" is finished. We trust it will yield nectar in many a +house. + + * * * * * + + +GLOSSARY OF HINDU WORDS. + + +_Attar_. Commonly called in England _Otto_ of Roses. + + +_Bari_. The Hindu home. + +_Bhagirati_. A river, branch of the Ganges. + +_Boiragi_. A religious devotee. + +_Boisnavi_. A female mendicant; a votary of Vishnu. + +_Boroari_. A Hindu festival. + +_Boita khana_. The sitting-room of the male members + of the household, and their guests. + +_Bonti_. A fish knife. + +_Bou_. The wife. + +_Brahmachari_. A student of the Vedas. + +_Brahman_. An officiating Hindu priest + +_Brahmo Somaj_. The church of the Theistic sect or Brahmos. + + +_Dada Babu_. Elder brother. + +_Dahuk_. A bird of the Crane species. + +_Didi_. Elder sister. + +_Duftur Khana_. Accountant's office. + +_Durga_. A Hindu goddess. + +_Darwan_. A doorkeeper. + + +_Ghat_. Landing steps to a river or tank. + +_Ghi_. Clarified butter. + +_Gomashta_. Factor or agent; a rent-collector. + +_Grihini_. The house-mistress. + +_Ganga_. The river Ganges. + + +_Joisto_. The Hindu month corresponding to May--June. + + +_Kabiraj_. A Hindu physician. + +_Kacheri_. Courthouse, or Revenue-office. + +_Kayasta_. The writer caste. + +_Khansamah_. A Mahommedan butler. + +_Korta_. The master of the house. + + +_Ma Thakurani_. A title of respect to the mistress. + +_Mahal_. A division of a house. + +_Malini_. A flower girl. + +_Manji_. A boatman. + + +_Naib_. A deputy, representing the Zemindar. + + +_Pandit_. A learned Brahman. + +_Papiya_. A bird. + +_Puja_. Hindu worship. + +_Puja Mahal_. The division of the house devoted to worship. + +_Pardah_. A screen or curtain. + + +_Ryot_. A tiller of the soil. + + +_Sari_. A woman's garment. + +_Shastras_. Hindu sacred books. + +_Shradda_. An obsequial ceremony, in which food and + water are offered to deceased ancestors. + +_Siva_. A Hindu Cod. + +_Sraban_. The Hindu months corresponding to July--August. + + +_Talao_. A tank or enclosed pond + +_Thakur_. The Deity; sometimes applied as a title of + honour to the master of the house. + +_Thakur Ban_. The chamber occupied by the family deity. + +_Tulsi_. A plant held sacred by the Hindus. + + +_Zemindar_. A landholder. + +_Zillah_. A district or local division. + + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poison Tree, by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POISON TREE *** + +***** This file should be named 17455-8.txt or 17455-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/4/5/17455/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at Distributed +Proofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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