and relations came to see us off. Just before the train started I pressed my face against my father's arm and had a good fit of sobbing. I knew I was really leaving my childhood's home that day. But when I found myself alone in the train with my husband a heavenly happiness came over me. We were alone together ! We two, who loved each other, and I shall never forget a Bengali song he sang to me that day : " He who has not undergone suffer- ing cannot know love."
At Burdwan we were received in state, and I was treated like a strict purdah lady. The railway station and its approaches were covered in like a huge tent so that no outsiders could catch a glimpse of me, and directly the train stopped a bevy of maidens escorted me to a state carriage. When I was safely on the way to the palace, the draperies were withdrawn and my husband exchanged greetings with the officials who had assembled to offer him their congratulations.
The palace at Burdwan is a splendid building, and our rooms were on a terrace which overlooked the lake. Everything was as romantic as a young girl's heart could desire. But early next morning I was awakened by a dull roar which seemed almost to issue from our rooms. I could hardly believe I was awake until the roar was repeated, and then in an agony of fear I called to my husband : " Oh, do see what is the matter. I believe a tiger is trying to get in." Another roar made me quiver. My husband
