eyes were full of bitter hatred, then she moved away and the window closed with a bang. I asked one of the bystanders, "What is happening here?"
"It is the feast of the first rice of the grand child of Raja Parbati Charan Roy. So he has invited all his friends. Look there, that is the eldest son of the Raja."—I looked and saw. A man who was already nearing middle age. He had a fair complexion, was fat and his head was shining and bald. And to such a man stood Surama as a mother. "And which is the Raja?" I asked.
"The Raja? Good Heavens, do you expect to see him here? Don't you know that he has been struck down with paralysis for two years or more. He can't move a step."
The fire which I had seen in Surama's eyes now seemed to light my heart. I pushed my way through somehow and reached my house. But all through the night the noise of the feast and the loud shouts of the drunken guests struck upon my ears like the shrieks of the damned.
Before this I used to think the red mansion uninhabited. Now that my interest was awakened, I began to notice that one of the windows did indeed open every now and again. Sometimes a maid servant would stand there or a little child. She, for a sight of whom my eyes remained for ever fixed on that window, appeared there but once. She stood there gazing intently at our house; and I wondered whether she knew.
But what if she did? She was now a Rani and I a poor hard-worked schoolmaster. But though I tried my hardest, I never could forget that it was I who was responsible for her accursed queenhood.
The days passed on, since Time waits for neither queen nor beggars. My mother was busy seeking a suitable bride for Probodh, now that he was a Master of
