"Nothing," said Kunda, sobbing with greater violence than before.
Hira's heart swam with joy at the sight of Kunda's distress. With a melancholy face she asked—
"Has the Babu had any talk with you since he came home? I am only a servant, you need not mind telling me."
"I have had no talk with him."
"How is that, Ma? After so many days' absence has he nothing to say to you?"
"He has not been near me," and with these words fresh tears burst forth.
Hira was delighted. She said, smiling, "Ma, why do you weep in this way? Many people are over head and ears in trouble, yet you cry incessantly over one sorrow. If you had as much to bear as I have, you would have destroyed yourself before this time."
Suicide! this disastrous word struck heavily on the ear of Kunda; shuddering, she sat down. During the night she had frequently contemplated this step, and these words from Hira's mouth seemed to confirm her purpose.
Hira continued: "Now hear what my troubles are. I also loved a man more than my own life. He was not my husband, but why should I hide my sin from my mistress? it is better to confess it plainly."
These shameless words did not enter Kunda's ear; in it the word "suicide" was repeating itself, as though a demon kept whispering, "Would it not be better for you to destroy yourself than to endure this misery?"