Page:Nil Durpan.djvu/93



Nobin.  I am now obliged to go home. My mother will die as soon as she hears of this. What more shall I do now for you? See that our father does not suffer great sorrow, I have now determined on leaving our habitation. I shall sell off everything, and send the money. Whoever wants any sum you will give him that.

Bindu.  The Jailer does not want money; only, for fear of the Magistrate, he does not allow the cooking Brahmin to be taken there.

Nobin.  Give him money and also entreat him. Ah! His body is old; he had been without food for three days! I explained to him, and entreated him greatly. He says, "Nobin, let three days pass and then shall I think whether I shall take food or not; within these three days, I shall not take anything".

Bindu.  I do not find any means how I can be able to make my father take some boiled rice. The hand which he has placed on his eyes from the time when the Magistrate, the slave of the Indigo Planters, ordered him to be kept in the prison, that hand he has not yet removed. The hand is filled with the tears; and the place where he was made to sit down at first, is still that where he now is. Being entirely silent, and remaining weak in body and without power to move, he is become like a dead pigeon in this cagelike prison. This day is the fourth, and to-day I must make him take food. You had better go home, and I shall send a letter every day.

Nobin.  O God, what great sorrow art thou giving to our father! If they do allow you, my dear Bindu, to remain day and night in the prison; then can I quietly go to our house.