still there, at the foot of the broken statue, still in that world of Bhramar, of Rohini. Three, half-past four, Gobind Lâl has not bathed, has eaten no food, is still in that Bhramar-Rohini-filled pit of fire (the fire of remorse). Evening comes, but Gobind Lâl does not rise, he is senseless. His household, not seeing him all day, thought he had gone to Calcutta, so they made no search. Evening had fallen, the garden had become dark, stars glittered in the sky, the earth was silent, Gobind Lâl still there.
Suddenly in that dark, hushed solitude a great change came over Gobind Lâl's maddened heart. He clearly heard Rohini's voice as though she were calling out—
"In this place!"
Gobind Lâl no longer remembered that Rohini was dead. He asked, "What—in this place?"
And it seemed as if Rohini answered—"At such an hour!"
Mechanically he repeated, "In this place, and at this time—what, Rohini?"
Under the influence of his mental malady, he heard Rohini say: "In this place, at such an hour, in this water, I plunged."
