ver her, like the ripple that comes
and goes upon the bosom of a lake, stirred by a play of wind.

So as she sat, it happened, that Babhru came slowly through the wood,
looking for her, and knowing her customary haunts. And suddenly catching
sight of her sitting, he hesitated for a moment, and then came quietly
and stood behind her, a little way off: half-pleased that she did not
see him, and a little bit afraid of the moment when she should. And
there he remained silent, yet with a heart beating so violently that it
shook him till he trembled, gazing with ecstasy and adoration at the
outline of her throat and her chin, and the corner of her lips, which he
could only just see, round the curve of her cheek. And after a little
while, longing to see more of those lips, he leaned eagerly forward,
and put out one foot without looking where it fell; and stepping on a
dry twig, it broke with a snap.

And at the sound, instantly she started up, and looked round, as if in
terror. And strange! when she saw him, there came into her face surprise
and displeasure, that were mingled with relief, and even disappointment,
as if she had expected, and hoped, and yet even feared, to see someone
else. And while she gazed silently at him in confusion, Babhru said
sadly: Aranyani, of what or of whom didst thou think, so intently, as to
be unaware of my approach? For thy lips seemed to me to be smiling, as
if with anticipation, and very sure I am that it was not at the thought
of me or my coming that they smiled.

And Aranyani blushed, and instantly frowned, at her own involuntary
blush. And she said, as if haughtily: O Babhru, what are my thoughts to
thee? And are they thy servants? And what right hast thou to be jealous
of my thoughts, who hast not even the title or permission to be here at
all? Didst thou not promise not to come again? and yet here thou art for
all that, watching to surprise my very thoughts, while all the while I
do not think of thee at all. Yet even so, here there is certainly no
rival to thyself. And Babhru said bitterly: Rivals could not make the
matter worse, since by thy own confession thou dost not think of me at
all. Even without rivals, I am utterly rejected and despised, by thee
and by thy father. Then she said kindly: Nay, Babhru, not by me. Thou
art for me, just what thou always wert, before. And Babhru said: Alas!
that is my very grief. For I would have thee not the same, but something
more. Then said Aranya