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 wide and deep chasm, containing a mountain-high pile of blazing fire—its flames touched the blue vault of the sky overhead; Shaibalini was about to be burnt alive in it, when, all on a sudden Chandra Shekhar appeared there, and quenched that hellish fire by throwing on it a handful of water. Instantly a balmy breeze blew in that region, and a transparent sheet of water began to flow, in a luxurient and murmuring stream, through that once infernal chasm; flowers of all hues and sweet fragrance were seen to adorn the banks of that magic rivulet, and in its water bloomed lotuses of exuberant growth and beauty; Chandra Shekhar was seem [sic] to float away in that placid current, on one of those beautiful lilies. Then again, it seemed to Shaibalini that a huge tiger was carrying her in its mouth, on the top of the hills, when Chandra Shekhar came to her rescue and severed the head of the ferocious brute by the single stroke of a flower, which he had brought from his holy place of worship; the face of the tiger resembled that of wicked Foster.

At the close of the seventh night, it appeared to Shaibalini that her life was out, but consciousness had not left her. She saw that some hideous