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 desire. A lamp was burning there; before her stood the glass;—her dress looked as fresh as it did in the evening. For a moment, she looked at her image an the glass. The same happy entanglements of her braid, the same dark sheen of the kajjala on the underlid of her eyes, the same rosy betel stain on her nether lip, the same pendants ever and anon waving, touching her round cheeks. She was lying in a recumbent posture. Who that saw her manner then, could again pant for the love of a youthful woman? Bimala contemplated her own charms with a smile. Did it proceed from regret at having sent the peerless Jagat Singha to Tilottama, after having brought him with her own exertions? Oh no! Far from being pained at such a consummation, she was delighted by it beyond measure. She smiled at the thought that the erudite Diggaja did not consent to leave his home absolutely without reason!

Bimala was waiting for Jagat Singha, when suddenly the deep blast of a trumpet burst upon her ear from the adjoining mangoe wood. She started in alarm, for the trumpet used to sound only at the gate, and never at so late an hour. Anon the remembrance of all that she had seen and heard on her way to the temple and back flashed upon her mind. She immediately inferred that the sound was the harbinger of evil; and hurried to the window to look out; but could see nothing particular in the wood. Filled with apprehensions, she sallied out of the room. Next to it was the yard, beyond which was another suite of rooms containing a staircase for ascending to the roof. Bimala went to the roof and began to look around; but could see nothing on account of the deep darkness in the wood. With increased apprehension, she then came to the balustrade, and placing her breast upon it and