e leave the spot.

In another, Prince Abhimaya, armed for battle, and, like the young
lion, eager for glory, is taking leave of Uttora that he may go to the
field. Uttora, saying that she will not let him go, is standing
against the closed door weeping, with her hands over her eyes.

It was past twelve when Nagendra entered the room. The night was
fearful. Late in the evening some rain had fallen; now the wind had
risen and was blowing fiercely, the rain continuing at intervals.
Wherever the shutters were not fastened they flapped to and fro with
the noise of thunder-claps, the sashes rattling continuously. When
Nagendra closed the door the noise was less noticeable. There was
another door near the bedstead, but as the wind did not blow in that
direction he left it open. Nagendra sat on the sofa, weeping bitterly.
How often had he sat there with Surja Mukhi; what pleasant talks they
had had! Again and again Nagendra embraced that senseless seat; then
raising his face he looked at the pictures so dear to Surja Mukhi. In
the fitful light of the lamp the figures in the pictures seemed to be
alive; in each picture Nagendra saw Surja Mukhi. He remembered that
one day she expressed a wish to be decked with flowers like Uma in the
picture. He had gone forth, brought in flowers from the garden, and
with them decked her person. What beauty decked with jewels had ever
felt the pleasure felt by Surja Mukhi at that moment? Another day she
had desired to drive Nagendra's carriage in imitation of Subhadra;
whereupon he had brought a small carriage drawn by ponies to the inner
garden. They both got in, Surja Mukhi taking the reins; like Subhadra,
she turned her face towards Nagendra, biting her lower lip and
laughing. The ponies, taking advantage of her inattention, went
through an open gate into the road. Then Surja Mukhi, afraid of being
seen by the people, drew her _sari_ over her face, and Nagendra,
seeing her distress, took the reins and brought the carriage back
into the garden. They went into the chamber laughing over the
adventure, and Surja Mukhi shook her fist at Subhadra in the picture,
saying, "You are the cause of this misfortune."

How bitterly Nagendra wept over this remembrance! Unable longer to
endure his suffering he walked about; but look where he would there
were signs of Surja Mukhi. On the wall where the artist had drawn
twining plants she had sketched a copy of one of them; the sketch
remained there still. On