that unforgettable afternoon in the park for Vasitthi's ball—no other than he had set the hired murderers upon me. Beyond a doubt he had noticed that I remained behind in the town, after the departure of the embassy, and his suspicions having been thereby awakened, he had very soon spied out my nightly visits to the terrace.
Ah! that Terrace of the Sorrowless was, to our love, like a sunken island now. True, I would have joyfully flung my life into the breach, over and over again, to be able to embrace my sweet darling. But even if Vasitthi had had the heart to expose me every night to deadly danger, any such temptation was spared us. Satagira, in his baseness, must have informed the parents of my sweetheart of our secret meetings, for it was soon apparent that Vasitthi was carefully and jealously watched; besides which, staying out on the terrace after sundown was forbidden to her—ostensibly on account of the danger to her health.
Thus, then, was our love homeless. That which, most of all, feels itself at home in secret, might only be so now where the whole world looked on. In that public garden where I first beheld her divine form, and had sought for her several times in vain, we met once or twice, as if by chance. But what a meeting was that! How fleeting the stolen minutes! how hesitating and few the hasty words! how forced the movements which felt themselves exposed to curious or even spying glances! Vasitthi besought me at once to leave the town in which I was threatened with deadly danger because of her neighbourhood. She reproached herself bitterly for having by her obstinacy, on that first evening on the terrace, prevailed upon me to stay, and thereby all but driven me into the jaws of death already. Perhaps even at this very moment in which she
