CHAPTER XXXI.
Before the date of the commencement of this tale Bhramar had had a son born to her who died within a few days of its birth. To-day, going into that other room and closing the door, Bhramar sat down and wept for that infant of seven days. Throwing herself on the floor, rolling in the dust, with heaving breast, she wept for her son. "Where art thou, my darling? If thou wert still living he could not abandon me! He [i.e., Gobind Lâl] has ceased to love me, but who could have ceased to love thee? Hadst thou lived he must have stayed with me. I am ugly, ill-formed, but who could have called thee ugly? Who is more beautiful than thou? Show thyself for once, little one. Canst thou not, in this time of trouble, let me see thee even once? After death can you appear no more?"
Then Bhramar, with clasped hands, up-
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