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 so long pierced my wretched heart with it? Why? Only because I lost myself in the fascination of my hopes. But now!" Forthwith, as she concluded, Shaibalini placed on her breast the fore-end of the knife. She kept it there in that position, and said within herself, "On another day I placed this knife in the very same way on the breast of sleeping Foster. On that day I could not stab him to death for want of courage, and this day too my heart fails to commit suicide. The dread of this knife subdued even wicked Foster—he had felt that if he would enter into my cabin, this knife would either end his life or mine. The fear of this knife brought under restraint the turbulent Englishman, but my unruly heart has not yielded to its influence. Should I commit suicide now? No, not to-day. If I must die, I shall court death when I go back to Bedagram. I shall not end my life till I meet Sundari and tell her that although I have lost my caste and have been excommunicated from society, I am not guilty of a particular crime. And he—who is my husband—what shall I say to him at the time of my death? Oh! I cannot think of it. The very thought of it gives me unbearable pain—it makes me feel, as if, countless scorpions