him in the forest: and he came every now and then to see them, since her
father was pleased with him, for his good nature and simplicity,
resembling as it did the clearness of a stream. And he was as tall as a
_shala_ tree, and very strong, and very brown and hairy, and though his
name was Babhru,[29] yet her father always called him Bruin,[30] and
Aranyani knew him first only by the nickname: for when she was a child,
he used to play with her, as often as he came. And so as she grew up,
she looked upon him always with the eyes of a child, never even dreaming
that her own alteration might produce any alteration in himself: as it
did. For little by little, as her beauty grew, so did his affection;
till at last it turned into a passionate devotion, that remained
notwithstanding absolutely pure, and free from any taint of evil, like
the soil in which it grew. And finally, he could not keep away from her.
And he came oftener and oftener to see them, till her father was on the
very point of forbidding him to come. And then, suddenly, Babhru asked
him, to give Aranyani to him as a wife.

[Footnote 29: Tawny: reddish brown. Pronounce Bub-bhroo.]

[Footnote 30: _Achcha_, a corruption of _Riksha_, just as we say "Bruin"
instead of "Bear."]

And Bimba looked at him, as if struck by the very thunderbolt of
astonishment, for though he was fond of Babhru, yet the idea of such a
son-in-law was so outrageous that it had never even occurred to him at
all. And like a flash of lightning, he suddenly became aware of his
daughter's own attraction, and the danger of the proximity of butter to
the fire. And though utterly despising Babhru for a son-in-law, he could
not tell him why. Therefore he banished him altogether, and not only
would not give him Aranyani, but actually forbad him to see her any
more: as it were returning upon Babhru the thunderbolt that had fallen
on himself: so that that unhappy son-in-law came within a little of
abandoning the body, for grief and amazement, and remorse, at ever
having asked a question that had produced so terrible a consequence, the
very opposite of that at which it aimed. For even to forsake the society
of Bimba was a grief to him, since he loved him and looked up to him as
a dog does to his master. But the thought of losing that of Aranyani was
exactly like a sword driven through the very middle of his heart. And
leaving it behind him, as it were, together with his reason that
abandoned him, he we