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 Sundari.  Oh, you surprise me! get up or I am off.

Shaibalini.  I won't, you better go.

Sundari, in anger, filled her pail and got up on the bank. Turning towards Shaibalini, she again said, "I say, do you really mean to keep here alone, at this late hour?" Shaibalini did not answer, she only pointed out something with her finger. Sundari turned her eyes in that direction—on the other side of the tank, under a palm tree, oh, horrible! Sundari, without uttering a single word, threw down her pail and ran away breathless. The brass pail rolled down the slope, vomiting forth the water within it with a gurgling sound, and entered into the waters of the tank. Sundari had seen a whiteman under the palm tree.

Shaibalini, however, stood firm—she did not get up—she only dipped herself into the water up to her breast, and covering with the wet cloth her braid and only a portion of her head, she remained there like a smiling lily floating on water. A constant flash of lightning smiled in the dark clouds—a golden lily bloomed in the dark ripples of the Bhima.

The Englishman now finding Shaibalini alone, stealthily came up very close to the ghat