At last the bulky document was thrust into his hands.  He unfolded it with trembling fingers and glanced downwards through an interminable list of newly-made Maharajas, Nawab Bahadurs, Raja Bahadurs, and Rajas—­in the hope of finding his own name.  Alas, it was conspicuous by its absence.  Oh, the pangs of hope deferred and wounded pride!  Death seemed to Samarendra preferable to a life of poverty and despair.  He returned home crestfallen and nursed his disappointment until it landed him in a severe attack of brain fever.  As soon as he felt strong enough to leave the house, he drove to the magistrate’s house for explanation and comfort.  He was courteously received, but the Chief hinted that there might be a hitch about the title, as he himself had enemies in the Secretariat, who would be glad of an opportunity of placing him in a false position.  He counselled patience and expressed a conviction that the birthday Gazette would contain the notification so ardently desired.

This was comforting, but Samarendra resolved to push his own interests.  He remembered the promises made by Mr. Bernardson and took the next train to Calcutta in order to secure his influence.  On reaching the Secretariat he learnt, with deep annoyance, that Mr. Bernardson had taken sick leave to England and was not likely to return.  So the only course open was to wait for 24th May.  Again he was disappointed, the list of birthday honours ignoring him completely.  Samarendra had not even the resource of consulting the official who had lured him into extravagant expenditure.  The District Magistrate was transferred to a distant and unhealthy part of the province, and his successor disclaimed all knowledge of the bargain.

Samarendra’s long suspense and repeated disappointments told severely on his health.  He neglected business, leaving everything in the hands of Bipin, who was more anxious to feather his own nest than extricate his master from difficulties; so the interest in mortgages fell into arrears.  One creditor bolder than the rest sued him and foreclosed; then others were encouraged to attack the ruined man.  In less than a year, Samarendra was stripped of every bigha (one-third of an acre) of land he once possessed, and attachments galore were issued against his moveable property.  Too late did he see the depths of folly into which he had fallen.

Grief and despair brought on a second attack of brain fever, which exhausted his failing strength.  After tossing for several weeks in delirium he regained sense only to feel assured that the end of all worldly ambition was fast approaching.  Then he remembered the Brahman’s curse, and knowing that it was the cause of all his misfortunes he endeavoured to make some reparation; but the holy man was not to be found.  One evening he fell into a deep slumber from which he never awoke, leaving a wife and several helpless children in comparative penury.  Then a hush fell on the land, and people whispered that Brahmateja (the power of Brahmans) was by no means extinct.