The _Boisnavi_ asking what she should sing, the listeners gave a number of different orders. One called for the strains of _Govinda Adhikari_, another _Gopale Ure_. She who was reading Dasu Rai's poem desired to have it sung. Two or three asked for the old stories about Krishna; they were divided as to whether they would hear about the companions or about the separation. Some wanted to hear of his herding the cows in his youth. One shameless girl called out, "If you do not sing such and such a pa.s.sage I will not listen." One mere child, by way of teaching the _Boisnavi_, sang some nonsensical syllables. The _Boisnavi_, listening to the different demands, gave a momentary glance at Kunda, saying: "Have you no commands to give?"

Kunda, ashamed, bent her head smiling, but did not speak aloud; she whispered in the ear of a companion, "Mention some hymn."

The companion said, "Kunda desires that you will sing a hymn." The _Boisnavi_ then began a hymn. Kunda, seeing that the _Boisnavi_ had neglected all other commands to obey hers, was much abashed. Haridasi, striking gently on her tambourine as if in sport, recited in a gentle voice some few notes like the murmuring of a bee in early spring, or a bashful bride's first loving speech to her husband. Then suddenly she produced from that insignificant tambourine, as though with the fingers of a powerful musician, sounds like the crashing of the clouds in thunder, making the frames of her hearers shrink within them as she sang in tones more melodious than those of the _Apsharas_ (celestial singing women).

The ladies, astonished and enchanted, heard the _Boisnavi's_ unequalled voice filling the court with sound that ascended to the skies. What could secluded women understand of the method of that singing? An intelligent person would have comprehended that this perfect singing was not due to natural gifts alone. The _Boisnavi_, whoever she might be, had received a thorough scientific training in music, and, though young, she was very proficient.

The _Boisnavi_, having finished her song, was urged by the ladies to sing again. Haridasi, looking with thirsty eyes at Kunda, sang the following song from Krishna's address to Radhika:

THE BOISNAVI'S SONG.

"To see thy beauteous lily face I come expectant to this place; Let me, oh Rai! thy feet embrace.

To deprecate thy sullen ire, Therefore I come in strange attire; Revive me, Radha, kindness speak, Clasping thy feet my home I'd seek.

Of thy fair form to catch a ray From door to door with flute I stray; When thy soft name it murmurs low Mine eyes with sudden tears o'erflow.

If thou wilt not my pardon speak The banks of Jumna's stream I'll seek, Will break my flute and yield my life; Oh! cease thy wrath, and end the strife.

The joys of Braj I've cast aside A slave before thy feet t' abide; Thine anklets round my neck I'll bind, In Jumna's stream I'll refuge find."

The song over, the _Boisnavi_, looking at Kunda, said, "Singing has made me thirsty; give me some water."

Kunda brought water in a vessel; but the _Boisnavi_ said, "I will not touch your vessel; come near and pour some water into my hands. I was not born a _Boisnavi_." By this she gave it to be understood that she was formerly of some unholy caste, and had since become a _Boisnavi_.

In reply to her words, Kunda went behind her so as to pour the water into her hands. They were at such a distance from the rest that words spoken gently could not be heard by any of them. Kunda poured the water, and the _Boisnavi_ washed her hands and face.

While thus engaged the latter murmured, "Are you not Kunda?"

In astonishment Kunda replied, "Why do you ask?"

"Have you ever seen your mother-in-law?"

"No."

Kunda had heard that her mother-in-law, having lost her good name, had left the place.

Then said the _Boisnavi_: "Your mother-in-law is here now. She is in my house, and is crying bitterly to be allowed to see you for once.

She dare not show her face to the mistress of this house. Why should you not go with me to see her? Notwithstanding her fault, she is still your mother-in-law."

Although Kunda was simple, she understood quite well that she should not acknowledge any connection with such a relation. Therefore she merely shook her head at the _Boisnavi_'s words and refused her a.s.sent. But the _Boisnavi_ would not take a refusal; again she urged the matter.

Kunda replied, "I cannot go without the _Grihini_'s permission."

This Haridasi forbade. "You must not speak to the house-mistress, she will not let you go; it may be she will send for your _Sasuri_ (mother-in-law). In that case your mother-in-law would flee the country."

The more the _Boisnavi_ insisted, the more Kunda refused to go without the _Grihini's_ permission.

Haridasi having no other resource, said: "Very well, put the thing nicely to the _Grihini_; I will come another day and take you. Mind you put it prudently, and shed some tears also, else she will not consent."

Even to this Kunda did not consent; she would not say either "yes" or "no."

Haridasi, having finished purifying her face and hands, turned to the ladies and asked for contributions. At this moment Surja Mukhi came amongst them, the desultory talk ceased, and the younger women, all pretending some occupation, sat down.

Surja Mukhi, examining the _Boisnavi_ from head to foot, inquired, "Who are you?"

An aunt of Nagendra's explained: "She is a _Boisnavi_ who came to sing. I never heard such beautiful singing! Will you let her sing for you? Sing something about the G.o.ddesses."

Haridasi, having sung a beautiful piece about Sham, Surja Mukhi, enchanted, dismissed her with a handsome present. The _Boisnavi_, making a profound salute, cast one more glance at Kunda and went away.

Once out of the range of Surja Mukhi's eyes, she made a few gentle taps on the tambourine, singing softly--

"Ah, my darling!

I'll give you honey to eat, golden robes to wear; I'll fill your flask with _attar_, And your jar with water of rose, Your box with spice prepared by my own hand."

The _Boisnavi_ being gone, the women could talk of nothing else for some time. First they praised her highly, then began to point out her defects.

Biraj said, "She is beautiful, but her nose is somewhat flat."

Bama remarked, "Her complexion is too pale."

Chandra Mukhi added, "Her hair is like tow."

Kapal said, "Her forehead is too high."

Kamala said, "Her lips are thick."

Harani observed, "Her figure is very wooden."

Pramada added, "The woman's bust is like that of a play actor, it has no grace."

In this manner it soon appeared that the beautiful _Boisnavi_ was of unparalleled ugliness.

Then Lalita said, "Whatever her looks may be, she sings beautifully."

But even this was not admitted. Chandra Mukhi said the singing was coa.r.s.e; Mukta Keshi confirmed this criticism.

Ananga said, "The woman does not know any songs; she could not even give us one of Dasu Rai's songs."

Kanak said, "She does not understand time."

Thus it appeared that Haridasi _Boisnavi_ was not only extremely ugly, but that her singing was of the worst description.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BABU.

Haridasi _Boisnavi_, having left the house of the Datta family, went to Debipur. At this place there is a flower-garden surrounded by painted iron railings. It is well stocked with fruit trees and flowering shrubs. In the centre is a tank, upon the edge of which stands a garden-house. Entering a private room in this house, Haridasi threw off her dress. Suddenly that dense ma.s.s of hair fell from the head; the locks were borrowed. The bust also fell away; it was made of cloth. After putting on suitable apparel and removing the _Boisnavi_ garments, there stood forth a strikingly handsome young man of about five and twenty years of age. Having no hair on his face he looked quite a youth; in feature he was very handsome. This young man was Debendra Babu, of whom we have before had some slight knowledge.