Ahalya still stood in the doorway, clinging to the curtains on either side of her, her face expressing a mixture of repulsion and disappointment. As Ragunáth would have clasped her feet, she drew back, sharply: “Away from me, dishonorable one!” she said, in a low, angry voice. “If you would not have me expose this treachery to Rai-Khizar-Pál,—begone!” Ragunáth did not rise. Rather, he lay writhing at her feet, like one possessed of a frenzy—as indeed he was. But it was a resolving frenzy. After the period of madness, he was coming to himself again. Pride returned to him, and, with it, something of his usual cunning, as he remembered how willing Ahalya had been to come before him. It was then that he got to his feet; then that he turned on the woman, asking, softly, through shame of the display he had made: “O, Ranee, it was not I, then, that you came to greet? It was not for Ragunáth that you are decked out in crimson and gold? And for whom? for whom? Not Rai-Khizar. He waits not in antechambers for thy greeting. Ah, will it be wise, Ranee, to ‘expose’ me to thy lord? There are things—” “Be still! thou shameless, treacherous, hateful one! I hate you! Know that. I hate—I hate—I hate you!” And, her voice on the last word rising to a shrill cry, the young woman, white faced and burning eyed, turned from him and fled into the inaccessible rooms beyond. There, panting, sobbing, angry, and, in her heart of hearts, greatly terrified, she flung herself upon a couch and gave herself up unreservedly to acknowledgment of her hidden love and woe. Now, during the few moments of this interview, Neila, astonished and frightened at what she, like Ahalya, believed to be Fidá’s appearance at this hour, had, as soon as her mistress left her, run to seek out Churi, whom she brought back more disturbed than she, just as the Ranee returned to her rooms. Churi did not enter there, but proceeded at once to the antechamber. Parting the curtains that hung before the door, he started, and stood stock-still to find himself face to face with the one man he had had no thought of. Ragunáth was still standing where Ahalya had left him, and, at this new appearance, he was too much taken aback to note the newcomer’s discomposure. “Churi!” he muttered, half in alarm, half angrily. “Even so, Lord Ragunáth.” At once Churi was himself again. “Dog! who sent thee here?” “The Puissant One speaks the same words that had lain on my humble lips.” “Strangely indeed is the King’s zenana conducted! I pass the antechamber and see no guard therein. I enter the antechamber that I may see if the guard be perhaps concealed from view; and, as I look, there appears a pariah, who sees fit to insult me. By Indra, thou doctor of dogs, thou shalt be whipped for it!”