Page:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu/35

Rh laughter?" As the sunshine breaks through the dark clouds of July, so Sunanda used to smile and answer, "What have I to grieve over? I have no home, no family, there is none to cause me sorrow with death or to make me weep with the pangs of love unrequited. To me, the world is full of strangers. Tears are never wasted over strangers. So why should I not laugh?"

What to another would have been the greatest of sorrows, was to this girl a never-ending source of laughter, or at least so she said. "Are you made of stone?" asked a friend once. "No, my dear, I am flesh and blood, like the rest of you," answered this strange girl.

But the smile vanished as soon as she was alone. It was like a costly ornament, put on in public for the sake of appearance. And one does not need adornment when there is none to see.

The temple of the god Shiva stood by the side of the river. As regularly as the sun rose every morning gilding the spire of the temple with its golden light, and as often as it went down setting the western sky on fire with its dying breath, even so could Sunanda be seen every evening standing before the image of the god in a dress all white and gold, with her palms joined in the attitude of prayer. In the soft light of the temple lamp her white face looked still more colourless. She seemed like a statue of veneration, modelled in wax, so still and white.

But after the evening worship as she used to prostrate herself in obeisance before the god, she resembled a flower-laden jasmine plant in the moonlight. It seemed impossible then that so fair a thing could have taken its birth on this earth; she called to mind a garland of celestial flowers blown off from its heavenly home by a mad stormy wind.

In fair weather or foul, in rain, storm and darkness, she never failed in her attendance. In the same place she Rh