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I have already told yon, Prince, that a certain poor woman living in Garmandaran conceived by my father. Her fate singularly resembled my mother's. She also gave birth to a daughter; and on becoming a widow soon after, began, like my mother, to maintain herself and child by bodily labor. It is not necessarily the case that the product should resemble its source; the tender flowering plant is found in the bosom of mountains; the dark mine produces the burning gem. An 'earth-treading star' rose at the cottage of the poor woman. The daughter of the widow came to be recognised as a paragon in Garmandaran. Time performs wonders; Time blotted out the stain of the widow; many forgot that her daughter owed her birth to an unchaste sheet. Some did not know;—few or none of the inmates of the castle knew it. What more shall I say? That beauty became the mother of Tilottama.

When Tilottama was yet in her mother's womb, took place the principal event in my life,—growing out of this marriage. One day, about that time, father brought in his son-in-law to the cottage. He gave him out as his disciple; I got the true information from my espoused saint.

As soon as my eyes fell on him, my heart ceased to be mine. He came every day to father, and stayed long;—he talked of various things; he told stories. My rapt ear took in the