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 fort, she should be sent for his pleasure. The day after the capture of Garmandaran, he went to the place and was engaged in disposing of the prisoners, in placing a garrison there and that sort of thing. On seeing Bimala and Tilottama among his captives, he forthwith sent them to enrich his harem. He was afterwards engrossed with other matters. He had heard that the Rajpoot army on hearing of the captivity of their leader, lay close, meditating an attack. He was therefore engaged in providing means for expelling them in case of an attack, and could not consequently find time to enjoy the company of his new slaves.

Bimala and Tilottama were kept in seperate chambers. Reader, no use of casting a look where the tender, youthful, fatherless girl is rolling in the dust, her person covered with dust. What is the good of doing that? Who will now cast a glance at Tilottama? When decked in bud and blossom, the fresh shrub waves a welcome to the Spring, who does not court it for its fragrance? And in a summer-storm, when down it goes with the tree round which it has entwined its embraces, who goes to it, leaving the up-rooted trees? The woodman takes away the wood only, the shrub he tramples under foot.

Come, reader, let's go elsewhere. Let's look in where with the flowing end of her cloth over her eyes sits the dusty, grave, mourning widow, instead of the active, clever, gay and sportive Bimala.

Is this Bimala?

Bimala! where is that dressing of your hair? Why is your head so full of dust? Where is your curiously embroidered sheet? Where is your kanchali sparkling with gems? What's this? Why is your cloth so dirty? Why with this short cloth on, pray? Where have gone those ornaments—those pendants that ever