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 "We'll elope with you," said Ashmani.

The Brahmin was struck dumb, and for a time remained agape—Bimala suppressed her rising laughter with difficulty.

"Why are you silent?" asked Bimala.

"Nya-nya-nya-ta-ta-ta-ta,"—no articulation.

"Then you won't go?"

"Nya-nya-nya, ta-ta, let me first go and speak to the holy Swami."

"What will you speak to him for? Is it an occasion for the celebration of your mother's funeral obsequies; that you will go to the holy man for instructions?"

Diggaja. "No, then I needn't go; but pray, on what day are you going?"

Bimala. "On what day! When but at this very moment? Don't you see me furnished with my ornaments?"

Diggaja. "At this very moment?"

Bimala. "And why not so? If you refuse, tell it,—and we go in search of another. But know we leave our hearts with you."

Gajapati could bear it no longer.

"Very well, I am ready."

"Then take your sheet," said Bimala.

Diggaja put on a namabali. Bimala was about to set out, and the Brahmin about to follow, when he said,

"My fair one?"

Bimala. "What do you say?"

Diggaja. "When are we returning?"