"Radha, I am not ill," he replied; "I need no tending. Was I ill yesterday, when I overcame the Brahmuns from Punderpoor in the discussion at night, and when I could have said the Ramayun by heart? Was I ill to-day when I strove with the Nassuk Brahmuns in logic? No, girl, I am not ill in body, only at heart. And when she comes to the temple, and goes round the shrine crowned with flowers, clashing the cymbals and singing hymns with the priests, then I see the charm on her bosom, and it sparkles; and I hear her ringing voice, and I grow mad, Radha--mad ... and this fever comes on me, and I burn as they do in hell--as I do now. Look!" he cried in a shrill cry of pain, "look, she is there, mocking me now, and pushing me in.... O Tara!" he continued in a plaintive voice, after a pause, stretching out his hands and shutting his eyes, as he turned away, "do not kill me, do not burn me; I kiss your feet, I worship you, beloved! do not harm me!" "What can I do? what can I do?" cried Radha, wringing her hands. "He will die. Ho, Chimna!" "Silence, Radha; for your life call no one. I will strike you if you do," he said, raising his arm. "Look, she is gone! she was there--there, even now. I turned away, for her eyes burned me; there was no love in them--none. She came and mocked me, and you are witness of it. Why did she come in the air? She is a spirit--a witch--and it is always thus. There--look----" Radha looked tremblingly where he pointed. It was impossible not to be infected with the terror and misery of his face and voice. The room had open arches of wood on one side, across which heavy curtains were drawn; but they were partially open, and, looking through them, all she saw was the terraces of the houses of the town gradually descending into the great ravine: the crags and precipices of its further side: with the trees, and gilded spires and pinnacles of the temple between. Beyond these, the rugged mountain and the plain below, hazy with quivering light, and melting into the sky. "You see nothing, sister?" he said. "No, she is gone now." "No, Moro, there is nothing there but the town and the temple. O Holy Mother!" continued Radha, stretching out her hands to it, "save him; save my brother! I vow to thee----" "Make no vows for me, Radha," he said to her, sharply catching her arm; "she is my enemy; I know it. She loves Tara better than me; she will not give her to me. I asked her for Tara long ago; see what has come of it. I have done all the secret rites that her worship enjoins, but she is not content; she mocks me, and when I look at her eyes they glitter with malice. To-day she seemed to glower at me from among the smoke, and Tara was there offering flowers. They both mocked me. Yes, they are devils; but I fear them no more, Radha. May her house be desolate, and her shrine desecrated."