In the light of the sunset glow the scissors shone as the hand of the barber woman was raised to perform her share of the ceremony. The hair that reached far below Dorama's waist was gathered in none too gentle a grip and severed close against the head. Not content with this, custom demanded the use of the razor. As the sunlight faded behind the purple mountain, Dorama's head was disfigured beyond recognition. A fresh cry of grief rose from the assembled crowd, as they stared with growing repulsion at the sight. The only dry eyes were those of the temporary master of the house and his wife. One more ceremony remained to be performed. This was the severing of the marriage cord on which the badge corresponding with the European woman's wedding ring hung, Dorama felt the cord press against the back of her neck as her aunt drew it tight the better to divide it. As it parted the tension relaxed and the gold badge dropped into the hand extended by her uncle to receive it. With a despairing cry Dorama fell upon her knees, and leaning forward touched the ground with her forehead as if in resignation to the will of the gods. Round her lay the scattered jasmine blossoms that had dropped from her hair. In their death they exhaled their sweetness on the evening air. They were no longer the adornment of the bride but the offering to one who was to suffer a living death. Nevermore would the sight of the wax-white flowers remind her of a happy expectant bridegroom. Thenceforth they would speak only of death and misery. It is strange how the Hindu who is extravagant in his grief, piles up pain and sorrow for poor suffering humanity. As if the gods had not brought sufficient wretchedness on the unhappy wife by the loss of her husband, he devises in his inhuman ingenuity this barbarous method of enhancing the sorrow that is already almost too great for endurance. When the girl is dressed up for the last time and appears before the assembly she is greeted with profound pity. As the ceremonies proceed that pity gradually emerges into loathing and contempt. The woman herself with all her sweetness and gentleness is forgotten, and her widowhood only is remembered. She enters upon an existence that is absolutely without a relieving ray of hope. She is often the drudge of the house; she has no rights moral or otherwise; and she is at the mercy of the most tyrannical woman of the household and the most licentious man. Her only chance of escape is in death; but even death has no promise of greater happiness. Her rebirth on earth will, according to her faith, only plunge her in deeper misery and degradation.