evening of that day. In the morning I had bought a hundred oranges in Madhab Babu's bazaar. I said to Prabodh—'As there is a sick man here, would it be prudent to store the oranges in this room?' Prabodh said—'Oh, it doesn't matter at all, just place them on one side.' I placed the oranges there and went again to the bazaar. Prabodh, seing his brother-in-law somewhat better, went to his class after many days of absence. Returning to the lodgings in the evening I saw that destruction had come upon us. Alone in the chamber and unable to resist the temptation, Kedar had eaten voraciously of the oranges, and was now in a raging fever. I put away the thought of returning home, and stayed to nurse the patient. With the money intended for my daughter's marriage expenses, I called in the most experienced physicians to be found in Calcutta. Fasting and sleepless I nursed him through three days and nights, but in vain, we could not save him."—And the old man fell silent.
I had sat like a statue listening to this mournful story. Without, great darkness reigned; the train sped fast. The light in the lamp above was dying, the wick was cumbered with soot. In the dead of night we two living beings sat in the compartment.
