When Kunda saw Kamal Mani she thought that once more a star had risen in the sky.  Since the flight of Surja Mukhi, Kamal’s anger against Kunda had been inflexible; she had always refused to see her.  But now, at the sight of Kunda’s emaciated figure, Kamal’s anger departed.  She endeavoured to cheer her with the news that Nagendra was coming, which brought a smile to the girl’s face; but at the news of Surja Mukhi’s death Kunda Nandini wept.

Many fair readers will smile at this, thinking, “The cat weeps over the death of the fish.”  But Kunda was very stupid; that she had cause to rejoice never entered her head:  this silly woman actually cried over her rival’s death.

Kamal Mani not only cheered Kunda, she herself felt comforted.  She had already wept much, and now she began to think, “What is the use of weeping?  If I do, Srish Chandra will be miserable and Satish will cry.  Weeping will not bring back Surja Mukhi.”  So she gave up weeping, and became her natural self.

Kamal Mani said to Srish Chandra, “The goddess of this paradise has abandoned it; when my brother comes he will have only a bed of straw to lie upon.”  They resolved to put the place in order; so the coolies, the lamp cleaners, and the gardeners were set to work.  Under Kamal Mani’s vigorous treatment the musk-rats, bats, and mice, departed squeaking; the pigeons flew from cornice to cornice; the sparrows fled in distress.  Where the windows were closed, the sparrows, taking them for open doorways, pecked at them with their beaks till they were ready to drop.  The women-servants, broom in hand, were victorious everywhere.  Before long the place again wore a smiling appearance, and at length Nagendra arrived.

It was evening.  As a river courses swiftly when at flood, but at ebb the deep water is calm, so Nagendra’s violent grief was now changed into a quiet gravity.  His sorrow was not lessened, but he was no longer restless.  In a quiet manner he conversed with the household, making inquiries from each one.  In the presence of none of them did he mention the name of Surja Mukhi, but all were grieved at the sorrow expressed by his grave countenance.  The old servants, saluting him, went aside and wept.  One person only did Nagendra wound.  With the long-sorrowing Kunda he did not speak.

By the orders of Nagendra the servants prepared his bed in Surja Mukhi’s room.  At this order Kamal Mani shook her head.  At midnight, when all the household had retired, Nagendra went to Surja Mukhi’s chamber, not to lie down, but to weep.  Surja Mukhi’s room was spacious and beautiful; it was the temple of all Nagendra’s joys, therefore he had adorned it with care.  The room was wide and lofty, the floor inlaid with white and black marble, the walls painted in floral designs, blue, yellow, and red.  Above the flowers hovered various birds.  On one side stood a costly bedstead, beautifully carved and inlaid with ivory; elsewhere, seats in variously