gratitude, O woodman: for see, I have brought her back to
thee, all across the sand, where many in my place would have left her in
the middle of the way, for it was a thankless task, and she was a
cross-grained burden, that was very loath to come at all. So as thou
seest, thou wert very wrong, to call even Atirupa robber: for here she
is again. And the women are silly creatures, who only have themselves to
blame, since they flock to him, like flies to honey, all of their own
accord. But this young beauty grew so peevish, when she found she was
only one of a thousand others, that the Maharaja could not keep her any
longer. And now she will make thee the very best of wives, woodman:
since she has had some lessons, and a little practice in the art, and
come back richer than she went away: none the worse, but all the better,
for having tasted a King's kisses, and learned her trade in the best of
schools. Thy eldest son will be a beauty, even if all the others are as
ugly as thyself. And if his mother calls him Atirupa, just as a
reminiscence, never mind: for when she has once stopped weeping, she
will love thee just as well as him.

And as he spoke, Babhru stared at him with eyes that hardly saw him, and
ears that hardly heard him, and a soul that hardly understood, filled as
it was to the very brim with such a flood of pity, and horror, and
amazement, and yet delight at her return, no matter how, that there was
absolutely no room at all for even a single drop of wrath. And while he
looked from her to Chamu, and from Chamu back again to her, Chamu got
back upon his horse, and all those riders rode away.

II

But Babhru stood exactly where he was, like a picture painted on a wall,
hardly heeding their departure, gazing at Aranyani. And as he watched
her, tears rose up suddenly and stood, as if to blind him, in his eyes,
springing from the well of the very ecstasy of compassion within his
heart. For she lay half crouching, half fallen on the ground, exactly as
they had set her down, never moving, and resembling a body that is all
but dead. And her face, that was turned towards him, looked absolutely
strange to him, so marvellously had it altered since he saw it last.
For, as it seemed, youth and joy had fled from it, leaving it to be as
it were a very battle-ground for grief and age, and passion and shame,
and humiliation, and weariness, and despair. And instead of her forest
garments, she was magnificently dressed, and