Nagendra, what if you should
discover the flower, Kunda, under the trees? What if, seeing you in
the window, the sound of her beating heart should make itself heard?
What if, hearing this sound, she should know that if you move and
become invisible her happiness will be gone? Nagendra, you are
standing out of the light; move it so that she can see you. Kunda is
very wretched; stand there that the clear water of the pool with the
stars reflected in it may not recur to her mind. Listen! the black owl
hoots! Should you move, Kunda will be terrified by the lightning. See
there! the black clouds, pressed by the wind, meet as though in
battle. There will be a rainstorm: who will shelter Kunda? See there!
you have opened the sash, swarms of insects are rushing into your
room. Kunda thinks, "If I am virtuous, shall I be born again as an
insect?" Kunda thinks she would like to share the fate of the insects.
"I have scorched myself, why do I not die?"
Nagendra, shutting the sash, moves away. Cruel! what harm you have done.
You have no business waking in the night; go to sleep. Kunda Nandini is
dying; let her die!--she would gladly do so to save you a headache. Now
the lightened window has become dark.
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