Chapter Twenty Two

Passing into the inner chamber, Lutfunnisa shut the door. For two days she came not forth from that chamber. In those two days she resolved within herself what she should do and what she should not do. Having resolved, she became fixed in her purpose. The sun was sinking toward the western mountains. Then Lutfunnisa, with the help of Peshman, was setting about her attire. A wondrous attire indeed! Of woman's garb there remained not the smallest trace. Beholding in the mirror the dress she had put on, she said to Peshman, "Well, Peshman, can any yet know me?"

Peshman said, "Who hath the power?"

Lutf: Then I go. Let no maid attend me.

Peshman, with a somewhat troubled heart, said, "If thou wilt pardon thy handmaid's offence, I would ask one thing."

Lutfunnisa said, "What?" Peshman said, "What is thy purpose?"

Lutfunnisa said, "For the present, an everlasting parting betwixt Kapalkundala and her husband. Thereafter, he shall be mine."

Pesh: Consider well; that is a thick forest, the night is at hand, and thou art alone.

Without making any answer to this, Lutfunnisa went forth from the house. Toward that lonely and forest-grown skirt of the suburbs of Saptagram where Nabakumar dwelt, she set her course. Ere she reached those parts, night had fallen. Not far from the house of Nabakumar lieth a dense wood, as the kind reader may remember. Coming to the edge of that wood, she sat down beneath a tree. Sitting for some time, she fell to pondering upon the desperate enterprise she had undertaken. By chance an unlooked-for aid presented itself to her.

From where Lutfunnisa was seated, she heard a sound, as of a human voice continuously uttering the selfsame note. Rising and looking about her on all sides, she perceived a light shining within the wood. Lutfunnisa was bolder than many a man; she went to the spot where the light burned. First, from behind a tree, she watched to see what was afoot. She beheld that the light which burned was the light of a homa sacrifice; the sound she had heard was the chanting of mantras. Listening to a certain word within the mantra, she came to understand that it was a name. The moment she heard the name, Lutfunnisa went and seated herself beside the worshipper.

For the present let her sit there; the kind reader hath had no tidings of Kapalkundala for long, and tidings of Kapalkundala are now needful.