trees—in short, the field becomes one huge tree.
In such a way had Lutufonissa's love grown. At first, when one day she suddenly met the object of her love, she did not particularly notice any feeling of love; but it was then that the seed germinated. After that there was no further meeting, but again and again she thought of that absent face, and experienced a certain pleasure in painting it on the canvas of her memory. The seed had sprouted; love for the object had sprung up. The peculiarity of the heart is this, that the more some mental work is mastered, the greater is the liking for such work. Lutufonissa every moment thought of that form, and a fierce desire to see it sprung up within her; at the same time the stream of her natural affection became uncontrollable. Even her desire for the throne of Delhi seemed a matter of no moment to her. The throne appeared to her to be surrounded by heaps of fire caused by the arrows of Cupid. Kingdom, capital, throne—she abandoned all, and hastened to
