"
He gave orders that she should be admitted. The woman appeared.
Debendra saw that she was reduced by want, but observed no sign of
madness; he thought her a wretched beggar-woman. She was young, and
retained the signs of former beauty, but now she was a sight indeed.
Her apparel soiled, ragged, patched, and so scanty that it barely
reached her knees, while her back and head remained uncovered; her
hair unkempt, dishevelled, covered with dust and matted together; her
body never oiled, withered-looking, covered with mud. As she
approached, she cast so wild a glance on Debendra that he saw the
servants were right--she was truly a mad-woman.
After gazing at him some time, she said, "Do you not know me? I am
Hira."
Recognizing her, Debendra asked in astonishment, "Who has brought you
to this condition?"
Hira, with a glance full of rage, biting her lip and clenching her
fist, approached to strike Debendra; but restraining herself she said,
"Ask again who has brought me to this condition: this is your doing.
You don't know me now, but once you took your pleasure of me. You
don't remember it, but one day you sang this song"--bursting forth
into a love-song.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224