little Atirupa comes, to spit, exactly like his father, in thy face? VI And as Babhru listened, all at once the words of Chamu as he went away rose up and stood before him, as if they had lain waiting, and as it were sleeping in his soul, till roused into recollection by her own. And suddenly, the veil, formed by his own devotion to Aranyani and his own self-annihilation, that hid from him the truth, was lifted from his eyes. And he saw himself suddenly as in a mirror, mocked, and scorned, and as it were a very target for the contempt and derision of Chamu, and his master, and even of herself. And his heart swelled suddenly with such a flood of shame, and anger, and the bitterness of his own inferiority, that it almost broke in two. And his face fell: and his eyes, that were fixed on Aranyani, grew darker and ever darker, as if night at a single stride had suddenly extinguished in his heart the hope that had dawned in it at her return. So he stood a long while, sinking, as he looked at her, deeper and deeper into the blackness of despair, and resembling one that waits in darkness for a light that still flickers to go out and disappear. And suddenly he said to himself: She is right. For fate in the form of Atirupa has destroyed her and her happiness, and mine. And he looked fixedly at Aranyani, who was standing watching him, and waiting, as it were, for his decision: and he said: Aranyani, I was wrong, and thou art right. And now there is no remedy but one, and it is better to be dead. And as he spoke, he took his knife, and drew it from its sheath, and waited, clutching it in his hand. And instantly, Aranyani uttered a cry of joy. And she came quickly and stood close to him, and she took hold with both hands of the _choli_ that covered her, and tore it violently asunder, dragging it down, till her breast was absolutely bare. And she said: See! I am ready. And so she remained, waiting, with her bosom turned up towards him in the moonlight, bared, and as it were eager, for the coming blow. And he stood still for yet a moment, looking down upon her with melancholy eyes, in which, strange! there was not a vestige even of the shadow of any anger. And he said to himself: There, in the very middle, between those two round marble breasts, the knife shall fall. And as he hesitated, a tear rose up into his eyes, as if to bid farewell to his own happiness. And he murmured to himself: They were for him and not for thee. And he passed his left hand over his eyes, as if to clear his sight, and suddenly he raised his knife, and buried it in her heart. VII