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 Tilottama was seated on the couch; Jagat Singha stood by, holding the lily hands of the beauteous damsel. Jagat Singha was also wiping his eyes.

"This is perhaps the watery passage of Farewell," thought Bimala. "Whatever it may be, certain it is that these two have not yet dreamt the impending disaster. O! Love alone is mighty in this world! In this universal hubbub, he has rendered this couple stone deaf, although they possess the sense of hearing."

When Bimala entered and informed Jagat Singha of the impending calamity, he could not at first believe her. But the noise and din just then bursting upon their ears, at once dispelled his doubts.

"Pray, Sir, devise some instant means of escape, or we perish here!"

For a moment Jagat Singha was plunged in thought.

"What's Virendra Singha doing?" asked he.

"He's a captive in the hands of the enemy," answered Bimala.

Tilottama uttered a faint shriek and sank down senseless on the couch.

Jagat Singha turned pale. "Help, help! ho!" he exclaimed; "look to Tilottama."

Instantly Bimala took a vessel containing rose-water, and began to sprinkle it over Tilottama's mouth, neck and forehead;—