The women set up a loud laugh, and one of them, approaching the widow, said with a gesticulation of vulgar ferocity, “Follow us quietly, or, by the chackra[9] of Vishnoo, you will be dragged like a refractory beast. Think a moment before you determine to resist.” The widow replied not, but by a movement of her hand signified her consent to follow. One of the women went before with the light, and the other behind. They passed through a long narrow passage, vaulted overhead, and evidently underground. There was no outlet on either side. It was terminated by a straight staircase, so narrow that only one person could ascend at a time. Upon reaching the top, there was a small square landing-place, with two doors at opposite sides. “Here you will enter,” said the foremost woman, pointing to one of the doors. “Whither does it lead?” “Into the bosom of the idol. There you will meet the god, there you will be advanced to endless honours, there one who adores you awaits your coming.” “I am not to be deluded by these profane pretensions. Here let our conference end. Open, if I am to enter, and let me know at once the worst that is to befall me.” A small silver bell was now rung by one of the women, when the door slid sideways through a groove and presented a narrow portal. The widow entered fearlessly and the door instantly closed behind her. She was at the bottom of a short flight of stone steps, at the top of which appeared a brilliant light. She ascended with desperate resolution, determined to ascertain at once the full extent of the mischief to which she was to become a victim. On gaining the top of the stairs, she entered a circular chamber, about six feet in diameter. The floor was covered with a beautiful Persian rug, and the light was so intense as for the moment to be extremely painful. It was reflected from an invisible source by means of reflectors composed of gems. The walls of the apartment were decorated with jewels of immense size and brilliancy, and gems were likewise strewed in heaps upon the floor. The treasure displayed was prodigious. It appeared like a scene of enchantment. The wealth of a universe seemed to be concentred in that one spot. The widow had not long gazed upon the vast wealth before her, when a small door which she had not hitherto perceived, slowly opened and the old Brahmin entered. There was an expression of triumphant malignity in his deep dull eye. He closed the door carefully behind him. “Now,” said he, approaching his victim, “for the consummation at once of my pleasure and of my vengeance. Here resistance will be vain. My ministers are at hand. Those women who conducted you from the vault are within call, therefore be advised. Consent to be the bride of Somnat’s idol, in the bosom of which you now stand, and the wealth which you behold is at your disposal; refuse, and the idol’s curse will follow you through the world to the place of everlasting retribution.”