now I see, that before I go, there is other work to do,
on thy behalf. And now, then, I will guarantee, that it shall be done,
very soon, and very well. Then, and not sooner, will I die, when I have
shown the murderers of Aranyani that she has left behind her arms a
little longer, and hands a little harder, than her own. Aha! Atirupa,
wait for a little while! And then shalt thou discover that the ghost of
Aranyani has abandoned her body, only to enter mine: just on purpose to
caress thee, for the very last time.

And he stooped down, and laid his great arm beside hers, as if to
compare them, and he laughed. And then, very gently, he lifted her, in
those strong arms, and began to carry her away, rejoicing in his
burden, like one that carries in his arms his newly-wedded wife. So he
went on in the moonlit wood, till he came at last to her home. And there
he carried her in, and laid her down very gently on a bed of leaves. And
then, with hesitation, he kissed her softly on the brow, whispering as
he did so: Thou didst bid me kiss thee, in thy madness, and now, it
cannot hurt thee: though I would have gladly given many lives to kiss
thee, for the first time and the last, before. But thy kisses were for
others.

And all at once, he began to sob, as if something in his soul, that had
till then supported it, had suddenly given way. And he began to wail,
wringing his hands, and tearing his hair, and crying, Aranyani,
Aranyani: throwing himself to and fro, and striding wildly up and down,
as if his heart, appalled by the blank horror of its own loneliness,
were struggling to escape. And then, after a while, as if exhausted, and
as it were overcome by the sense of the futility of his lamentation, he
ceased, as suddenly as he began, and remained for a long time standing
absolutely still, looking out through the open door into the wood, that
lay silent, as if on purpose to sympathise with the other dead silence
there within.

And at last, he turned. And he looked for a moment at Aranyani, and he
stooped, and took the knife, which all the while remained buried in her
breast, and drew it suddenly away, and turned, and went out, and
fastened very carefully the door.

And he stood awhile in the moonlight, looking at his knife. And then, he
put it, just as it was, back into the sheath: saying to himself: Her
heart's red blood shall dry upon the blade, till I mix it with his own.

VIII

But in the meanwhile Atirupa, away in his