Nobokumar said, "I am a poor Brahman, and shall be nothing else in this birth. I cannot take your money and goods and become a Mussulmani's paramour."
A Mussulmani's paramour! Nobokumar had not yet found out that this woman was his wife. Lutufonissa remained with her head bent down. Nobokumar loosed his cloth from her grasp, but she again seized it. "Well, let that pass. If such is the will of God, I will drown my desires in bottomless waters. I wish nothing else but that you should now and again come this way; look on me as your slave, and now and again show yourself,—I will only satisfy my eyes."
Nob. You are a Mussulman—another's wife—there is sin even in such acquaintance with you. I shall never see you again. There was silence for a moment; a storm was raging in Lutufonissa's heart; she retained motionless as a stone image. She let go Nobokumar's cloth, and said, "Go."
Nobokumar moved to go. He had not gone a step or two, when suddenly, like a tree up-
