In the middle of the garden stood a creeper-covered arbour of white stone, surrounded by flowering shrubs.  Kunda Nandini, looking forth from the bakul tree, saw not Nagendra’s tall and god-like form.  She saw some one lying on the floor of the arbour, and concluded that it was he.  She went forward to obtain a better new.  Unfortunately the person arose and came out, and poor Kunda saw that it was not Nagendra, but Surja Mukhi.  Frightened, Kunda stood still, she could neither advance nor recede.  She saw that Surja Mukhi was walking about gathering flowers.  Gradually Nagendra’s wife approaching the bakul tree, saw some one lurking within its branches.  Not recognizing Kunda, Surja Mukhi said, “Who are you?”

Kunda could not speak for fear; her feet refused to move.

At length Surja Mukhi saw who it was, and exclaimed, “Is it not Kunda?”

Kunda could not answer; but Surja Mukhi, seizing her hand, said, “Come, sister, I will not say anything more to you!” and took her indoors.

CHAPTER XIX.

DESCENT.

On the night of that day, Debendra Datta, alone, in disguise, excited by wine, went to Hira’s house in search of Kunda Nandini.  He looked in the two huts, but Kunda was not there.  Hira, covering her face with her sari, laughed at his discomfiture.  Annoyed, Debendra said, “Why do you laugh?”

“At your disappointment.  The bird has fled; should you search my premises you will not find it.”

Then, in reply to Debendra’s questions, Hira told all she knew, concluding with the words, “When I missed her in the morning I sought her everywhere, and at last found her in the Babu’s house receiving much kindness.”

Debendra’s hopes thus destroyed, he had nothing to detain him; but the doubt in his mind was not dispelled, he wished to sit a little and obtain further information.  Noting a cloud or two in the sky he moved restlessly, saying, “I think it is going to rain.”

It was Hira’s wish that he should sit awhile; but she was a woman, living alone; it was night, she could not bid him stay, if she did she would be taking another step in the downward course.  Yet that was in her destiny.

Debendra said, “Have you an umbrella?” There was no such thing in Hira’s house.  Then he asked, “Will it cause remark if I sit here until the rain is past?”

“People will remark upon it, certainly; but the mischief has been done already in your coming to my house at night.”

“Then I may sit down?”

Hira did not answer, but made a comfortable seat for him on the bench, took a silver-mounted huka from a chest, prepared it for use and handed it to him.

Debendra drew a flask of brandy from his pocket, and drank some of it undiluted.  Under the influence of this spirit he perceived that Hira’s eyes were beautiful.  In truth they were so—­large, dark, brilliant, and seductive.  He said, “Your eyes are heavenly!” Hira smiled.  Debendra saw in a corner a broken violin.  Humming a tune, he took the violin and touched it with the bow.  “Where did you get this instrument?” he asked.