l."

Debendra had never known real love; but he was very learned in the
love language of the old poets. Hearing from Debendra songs in praise
of the inexpressible delights of love, Hira thought of giving herself
up to him. She became steeped in love from head to foot. Then again
Debendra sang with the voice of the first bird of spring. Hira,
inspired by love, joined in with her feminine voice. Debendra urged
her to sing. Hira, with sparkling eyes and smiling face, impelled by
her happy feelings, sang a love song, a petition for love. Then,
sitting in that evil room, with sinful hearts, the two, under the
influence of evil desires, bound themselves to live in sin.

Hira knew how to subdue her heart, but having no inclination to do so
she entered the flame as easily as an insect. Her belief that Debendra
did not love her had been her protection until now. When her love for
Debendra was but in the germ she smilingly confessed it to herself,
but turned away from him without hesitation. When the full-grown
passion pierced her heart she took service to distract her thoughts.
But when she imagined he loved her she had no desire to resist.
Therefore she now had to eat the fruit of the poison tree.

People say that you do not see sin punished in this world. Be that
true or not, you may be sure that those who do not rule their own
hearts will have to bear the consequences.

CHAPTER XXX.

NEWS OF SURJA MUKHI.

It is late autumn. The waters from the fields are drying up; the rice
crop is ripening; the lotus flowers have disappeared from the tanks.
At dawn, dew falls from the boughs of the trees; at evening, mist
rises over the plains. One day at dawn a palanquin was borne along the
Madhupur road. At this sight all the boys of the place assembled in a
row; all the daughters and wives, old and young, resting their
water-vessels on the hip, stood awhile to gaze. The husbandmen,
leaving the rice crop, sickle in hand and with turbaned heads, stood
staring at the palanquin. The influential men of the village sat in
committee. A booted foot was set down from the palanquin: the general
opinion was that an English gentleman had arrived; the children
thought it was Bogie.

When Nagendra Natha had descended from the palanquin, half a dozen
people saluted him because he wore pantaloons and a smoking-cap. Some
thought he was the police inspector; others that he was a constable.
Addressing an old man in the crowd, Nagendra inqui