the light became a little brighter, and at the same time it began to smoke. Pulling my cloth over my shoulders, I spread a piece of newspaper over a packing-case, and sat down. Dokhin Babu began his story:
‘About four years ago 1 was attacked by a serious illness; just when I was on the point of death my disease took a better turn, until, after nearly a month, I recovered.
‘During my illness my wife did not rest for a moment, day or night. For those months that weak woman fought with all her might to drive Death’s messenger from the door. She went without food and sleep, and had no thought for anything else in this world,
‘Death, like a tiger cheated of its prey, threw me from its jaws, and went off, but in its retreat it dealt my wife a sharp blow with its paw.
‘Not long after my wife gave birth to a dead child. Then came my turn to nurse her. But she got quite troubled at this, and would say: ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t keep fussing in and out of my room like that.’
‘If I went to her room at night when she had fever, and, on the pretence of fanning myself, would try to fan her, she would get quite excited.
