"The other day," continued Bimala "we were returning after worshipping Saileshwara,—when what should we see but a frightful shape under the banian tree at the road-side?"
From the pull at her dress, Bimala perceived that the Brahmin was shaking like an aspen leaf, and saw that if she went further, he would be deprived quite of his motion. She accordingly desisted, and said,
"Can you sing, gallant?"
"Yes, I can," replied Diggaja. For breathes there a gallant to whom the 'concord of sweet sounds' is a sealed book?
"Pray, then sing a song."
Diggaja began:—
Hearing the preternatural sound, a cow which was reposing at the road aide and chewing the cud, fled for life.
The song however went on,
"My race that day I stain'd, my love,
To follow Shyam alone—
That crested buck holding the reed:
I'm gone, my girl, I'm gone.
"He laughs and talks and laughs and talks;
'Milk-maid, my aunty dear,'
Says he, 'thy pitcher, lass, ha! ha!
In faith, I'll throw down here'."
