well to the assembled villagers, went forth weeping to her palanquin; the villagers also wept. The lady got in, and the palanquin was borne forward.
Meantime Gobind Lâl, after saying good-bye to the rest, went to the bedroom to take leave of Bhramar, who was weeping bitterly. Finding her thus overwhelmed, he could not say what he had come to say, but only—
"Bhramar, I am going with my mother."
Wiping her eyes, the young wife said, "Mother will dwell there, but you will return?"
As she spoke Bhramar's tears dried up. The steadiness and gravity of her voice, the firmness of her lips, somewhat amazed Gobind Lâl, and he found himself unable to answer her. At her husband's continued silence Bhramar went on, "See, it is you who taught me that truth should be my sole religion, my only joy. Tell me now truly—me, your cherished one; deceive me not—when will you return?"
"Then hear the truth. I have no desire to return."
"But why do you not wish it? Will you not say before you go?"
