her mouth to Hira.

Her heart could no longer endure not to see its lord. One morning,
about four o'clock, while Hira was still sleeping, Kunda Nandini
arose, and opening the door noiselessly, stepped out of the house. The
dark fortnight being ended, the slender moon floated in the sky like a
beautiful maiden on the ocean. Darkness lurked in masses amid the
trees. The air was so still that the lotus in the weed-covered pool
bordering the road did not shed its seed; the dogs were sleeping by
the wayside; nature was full of sweet pensiveness. Kunda, guessing the
road, went with doubtful steps to the front of the Datta house; she
had no design in going, except that she might by a happy chance see
Nagendra. Her return to his house might come about; let it occur when
it would, what harm was there in the meantime in trying to see him
secretly? While she remained shut up in Hira's house she had no chance
of doing so. Now, as she walked, she thought, "I will go round the
house; I may see him at the window, in the palace, in the garden, or
in the path." Nagendra was accustomed to rise early; it was possible
Kunda might obtain a glimpse of him, after which she meant to return
to Hira's dwelling. But when she arrived at the house she saw nothing
of Nagendra, neither in the path, nor on the roof, nor at the window.
Kunda thought, "He has not risen yet, it is not time; I will sit
down." She sat waiting amid the darkness under the trees; a fruit or a
twig might be heard, in the silence, loosening itself with a slight
cracking sound and falling to the earth. The birds in the boughs shook
their wings overhead, and occasionally the sound of the watchmen
knocking at the doors and giving their warning cry was to be heard. At
length the cool wind blew, forerunner of the dawn, and the _papiya_ (a
bird) filled the air with its musical voice. Presently the cuckoo
uttered his cry, and at length all the birds uniting raised a chorus
of song. Then Kunda's hope was extinguished; she could no longer sit
under the trees, for the dawn had come and she might be seen by any
one. She rose to return. One hope had been strong in her mind. There
was a flower-garden attached to the inner apartments, where sometimes
Nagendra took the air. He might be walking there now; Kunda could not
go away without seeing if it were so. But the garden was walled in,
and unless the inner door was open there was no entrance. Going
thither, Kunda found the door open, and, s