History of Bengali Language and Literature c7.s6.97

c7.s6.97

Lakṣmindara died. The next moment the sun rose, shedding its golden hues over the mountain-forests and the birds began to sing blithely on the wild trees. Queen Sanakā with her maids of honour came to the house and saw a most heart-rending sight. Prince Lakṣmindara lay there dead, and the widowed girl was sobbing over him. With dishevelled hair, she was bending over the departed prince. Sanakā swooned, and the maids said—"Oh luckless wretch, it is to thine evil fortune we owe this crushing bereavement. The vermilion-marks on thy brow have not lost their lustre,—they have still a deep scarlet hue, the tint of *alakta* on thy feet is yet unsoiled by dust, thy marriage attire of silk is as fresh as new, and yet thou art already a widow! No snake could have done this, it is thy breath that has extinguished the life's fire in the prince, wretch that thou art." Behulā did not hear these reproaches; for her mind was working on far other themes. The prince had asked her to embrace him, he had asked her to prepare rice for him: the first and the last requests of one who was all in all to her! How unfortunate was she that she had not been able to fulfil these wishes! At this recollection the tears again flowed from her eyes unceasingly.