Amongst these Hira was the principal.  Many maid-servants are of the Kaystha caste.  Hira was a Kaystha.  Her grandmother had first been engaged as a servant, and Hira, being then a child, had come with her.  When Hira became capable the old woman gave up service, built herself a house out of her savings, and dwelt in Govindpur.  Hira entered the service of the Datta family.  She was then about twenty years of age, younger than most of the other servants, but in intelligence and in mental qualities their superior.  Hira had been known in Govindpur from childhood as a widow, but no one had ever heard anything of her husband, neither had any one heard of any stain upon her character.  She was something of a shrew.  She dressed and adorned herself as one whose husband is living.  She was beautiful, of brilliant complexion, lotus-eyed, short in stature, her face like the moon covered with clouds, her hair raised in front like a snake-hood.

Hira was sitting alone singing.  She made quarrels among the maids for her own amusement.  She would frighten the cook in the dark, incite the boys to tease their parents to give them in marriage; if she saw any one sleeping she would paint the face with lime and ink.  Truly she had many faults, as will appear by degrees.  At present I will only add that if she saw attar or rose-water she would steal it.

Surja Mukhi, calling Hira, said, “Do you know that Boisnavi?”

“No,” replied Hira.  “I was never out of the neighbourhood, how should I know a Boisnavi beggar-man.  Ask the women of the Thakur bari; Karuna or Sitala may know her.”

“This is not a Thakur bari Boisnavi.  I want to know who she is, where her home is, and why she talks so much with Kunda.  If you find all this out for me I will give you a new Benares sari, and send you to see the play.”

At this offer Hira became very zealous, and asked, “When may I go to make inquiry?”

“When you like; but if you do not follow her now you will not be able to trace her.  Be careful that neither the Boisnavi nor any one else suspects you.”

At this moment Kamal returned, and, approving of Surja Mukhi’s design, said to Hira, “And if you can, prick her with babla thorns.”

Hira said:  “I will do all, but only a Benares sari will not content me.”

“What do you want?” asked Surja.

“She wants a husband,” said Kamal.  “Give her in marriage.”

“Very well,” said Surja.  “Would you like to have the Thakur Jamai?[8] Say so, and Kamal will arrange it.”

[Footnote 8:  Thakur Jamai—­Kamal Mani’s husband.]

“Then I will see,” said Hira; “but there is already in the house a husband suited to my mind.”

“Who is it?” asked Surja.

“Death,” was Hira’s reply.

CHAPTER XIII.

NO!