The
grooms were never to be found in the stables. The cornice of the house
was broken in places, as were the sashes, the shutters, and the
railings. The matting was soaked with rain; there was dust on the
painted walls. Over the bookcases were the dwellings of insects;
straws from the sparrows' nests on the glass of the chandeliers. In
the house there was no mistress, and without a mistress paradise
itself would be a ruin.
As in an untended garden overgrown with grass a single rose or lily
will bloom, so in this house Kunda Nandini lived alone. Wherever a few
joined in a meal Kunda partook of it. If any one addressed her as
house-mistress, Kunda thought, "They are mocking me." If the _Dewan_
sent to ask her about anything her heart beat with fear. There was a
reason for this. As Nagendra did not write to Kunda, she had been
accustomed to send to the _Dewan_ for the letters received by him. She
did not return the letters, and she lived in fear that the _Dewan_
would claim them; and in fact the man no longer sent them to her, but
only suffered her to read them as he held them in his hand.
The suffering felt by Surja Mukhi was endured in equal measure by
Kunda Nandini.
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