Kunda in her heart sympathized with these insects. Her infatuated eyes
dwelt upon the light; she could not bring herself to leave it. She sat
beneath some casuarina-trees near the window, every now and then
watching the fireflies dancing in the trees. In the sky black clouds
chased each other, only a star or two being visible at intervals. All
round the house rows of casuarina-trees raising their heads into the
clouds, stood like apparitions of the night. At the touch of the wind
these giant-faced apparitions whispered in their ghost language over
Kunda Nandini's head. The very ghosts, in their fear of the terrible
night, spoke in low voices. Occasionally the open shutters of the
window flapped against the walls. Black owls hooted as they sat upon
the house; sometimes a dog seeing another animal rushed after it;
sometimes a twig or a fruit fell to the ground. In the distance the
cocoanut palms waved their heads, the rustling of the leaves of the
fan palm reached the ear. Over all the light streamed, and the insect
troop came and went. Kunda sat there gazing.
A sash is gently opened; the figure of a man appears against the
light. Alas! it is Nagendra's figure.
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