“What am I?  Look upon your brother’s face, radiant with happiness, then you will know what joy is his.  If I have been able with my own eyes to see him so happy, has not my life answered its purpose?  What joy could I hope for in denying happiness to him?  He for whom I would die rather than see him unhappy for a single hour; him I saw day and night suffering anguish, ready to abandon all joys and become a wanderer—­what happiness would have remained to me?  I said to him, ’My lord, your joy is my joy!  Do you marry Kunda; I shall be happy.’  And so he married her.”

“And are you happy?” asked Kamal.

“Why do you still ask about me? what am I?  If I had ever seen my husband hurt his foot by walking on a stony path, I should have reproached myself that I had not laid my body down over the stones that he might have stepped upon me.”

Surja Mukhi remained some moments silent, her dress drenched with her tears.  Suddenly raising her face, she asked—­

“Kamal, in what country are females destroyed at birth?”

Kamal understanding her thought, replied—­

“What does it matter in what country it happens? it is according to destiny.”

“Whose destiny could be better than mine was?  Who so fortunate as myself?  Who ever had such a husband?  Beauty, wealth, these are small matters; but in virtues, whose husband equals mine?  Mine was a splendid destiny; how has it changed thus?”

“That also is destiny,” said Kamal.

“Then why do I suffer on this account?”

“But just now you said you were happy in the sight of your husband’s joyous face; yet you speak of suffering so much.  Can both be true?”

“Both are true.  I am happy in his joy.  But that he should thrust me away; that he has thrust me away, and yet is so glad—­”

Surja could say no more, she was choking.  But Kamal, understanding the meaning of her unfinished sentence, said—­

“Because of that your heart burns within you; then why do you say, ‘What am I?’ With half of your heart you still think of your own rights; else why, having sacrificed yourself, do you repent?”

“I do not repent,” replied Surja.  “That I have done right I do not doubt; but in dying there is suffering.  I felt that I must give way, and I did so voluntarily.  Still, may I not weep over that suffering with you?”

Kamal Mani drew Surja Mukhi’s head on to her breast; their thoughts were not expressed by words, but they conversed in their hearts.  Kamal Mani understood the wretchedness of Surja Mukhi; Surja Mukhi comprehended that Kamal appreciated her suffering.  They checked their sobs and ceased to weep.

Surja Mukhi, setting her own affairs on one side, spoke of others, desired that Satish Babu should be brought, and talked to him.  With Kamal she spoke long of Srish Chandra and of Satish, of the education of Satish and of his marriage.  Thus they talked until far in the night, when Surja Mukhi embraced Kamal with much affection, and taking Satish into her lap kissed him lovingly.