Osman. "You do not know Katlu Khan. But come, I will take you to the execution-ground." When they came to the spot, Virendra, who was conversing with a Brahmin disguised as a beggar, did not mark her. The woman looked from within her veil and recognised the Brahmin to be Abhiramswami.
"Sire," said Virendra, "here then I make my last obeisance to you. What more shall I say? Whom have I in this world on whose behalf I should offer up my prayers to Heaven? For whom shall I pray?"
Abhiramswami pointed with his finger to the veiled lady behind. Virendra turned round; anon she threw back her veil and cast herself at the chained feet of Virendra.
"Bimala!" cried he in a choked voice.
"Husband! My life! My all!" she exclaimed in a frenzy, "this day I will proclaim it to the four winds. None shall prevent me. Husband! Life of life! Where are you going—where are you going, leaving us?"
The flood-gate was opened in Virendra's eyes.
"Bimala! Beloved," exclaimed he, lifting her by his arm, "O! why should you make me weep at such a moment! my enemies will think me afraid to die."
Bimala was mute.
"Bimala!" he went on; "Farewell!—Do you follow me straight way."
"No;—after a little delay." Here she proceeded in an inaudible tone. "First I will avenge my wrong."
Virendra's countenance brightened up like an expiring flame.
"By your own hands?" enquired he.
