"By this very hand"—said she, painting her right hand with a finger of the left. "Here I cast away gold from my arms.[1] What further the need of it?" She thereupon flung away her bracelets and other ornaments at a distance and proceeded, "No more shall these arms of mine bear any ornaments;—but sharp steel must now supply their place."
"You will certainly succeed," said Virendra joyfully. "May Heaven help you."
"I can't wait any longer," cried the executioner.
"Well then, you may go now,"—said Virendra.
"Not so;" replied Bimala. "I will with my own eyes witness the fell stroke that makes me a widow. I will drown all scruples in your blood."
Bimala's voice was awfully calm.
"Be it so," said Virendra. He then made a sign to the executioner. Bimala saw the raised axe flash in the sun; for a moment her eyes closed of themselves; when they opened again, the severed head of Virendra Singha was rolling before her in the bloody dust.
Bimala stood like a statue; not a hair of her head waving in the wind; not a tear standing in her eye. Without shrinking, she fixed her gaze steadily upon the severed head.
- ↑ Hindu widows do not wear ornaments.
