the trodden snake lifts its crest, so stood the mad Mussulman girl, raising her head. She said, "Not in this life. You will be mine, and mine only."
Looking on the form of that angry snake, Nobokumar was frightened. He had never seen Lutufonissa's unspeakable charms as he now saw them. But that beauty was enchanting like the lightning that precedes the thunder-bolt; seeing it he feared. Nobokumar was moving away, when suddenly he remembered another brilliant form. One day Nobokumar, vexed with his first wife, Podmaboti, had been about to drive her out of the sleeping chamber. The girl of twelve years had then proudly turned on him and stood upright; even so had her eyes lighted up; just so had the lines stood out on her forehead; just so had her nostrils quivered; just so had her head shaken. For a long time he had not remembered that form, now he remembered it,—he at once perceived the likeness. Torn with doubts, and in a trembling voice, he softly said, "Who are you?"
