Just then, one of the ordinary processions round the temple formed opposite the shrine. Priests, bearing offerings of flowers and lighted lamps, holy water and incense, preceded by musicians, and chanting a hymn, passed out into the court. Several of the temple girls were dancing before it; and Tara, led on by an excitement she could not control, had seized a pair of cymbals, and began to clash them in the cadence of the hymn as the procession moved. Three times round and round did the priests pass, and at the second Gunga joined it, dancing wildly and tossing her arms on high as she circled with the rest. Tara, however, remained among the priests, singing with them; yet, in the elastic grace of her step, as well as in the expression of her face, it was evident that she shared the fervour of the scene, and could not control herself, while her clear ringing voice mingled sweetly with the deeper-toned chant of the men. Maloosray saw Tara, and watched the eyes of Moro Trimmul wandering from one girl to the other with an intense expression of passion. "Ah, my poor friend!" he said to himself, "that is the devil sitting at thy heart, and looking out of thine eyes! Alas! alas! who is she--that girl?" he asked of Jeswunt Rao, who sat by him. "She is our new Moorlee," replied the man; "is she not beautiful?--But listen to Moro Trimmul." CHAPTER XLVIII. Never had the Brahmun's art been so effectively exercised by him before. In the recitation of passages from the Ramayun his voice, high and sonorous, pervading every portion of the court, delivered the appeals to war, the description of the demigod's forces, and portions of the battles, with a power which was listened to with breathless interest; while the pleadings of Seeta, the beloved wife, and her passionate confessions of love, were accompanied by tender actions, and tones as low and sweet as a woman's. Now rolled forth the majestic Sanscrit verse in its measured numbers, and again it was changed to the sweet Mahratta vernacular, that all could understand. At every interval the applause of the whole assembly arose in hoarse murmurs and loud clapping of hands, while many wept passionately. No one would have moved till morning, but there was yet much to do; and, as Moro Trimmul sat down, Vyas Shastree ordered the distribution of wreaths of flowers to the chief guests, which announced the close of recitation for the night. Now, therefore, the main body of the people got up and began to separate, and in a short time only those were left who had been specially requested to stay. Now, too, the cressets, no longer fed with oil, went out one by one; and the deep gloom of night was fast spreading over the courts and buildings around. "Will you not remain, Shastree," said Moro Trimmul, "to speak with these people?" "No," he said; "no; there is no one to go home with the women. I thought you would accompany them." "It will be late," he replied, gloomily; "no, I cannot come to-night."