The bells of the evening worship rang out from our temple. I
knew the Bara Rani was sitting there, with palms joined in silent
prayer. But I could not move a step from the window.
The roads, the village beyond, and the still more distant fringe
of trees, grew more and more vague. The lake in our grounds
looked up into the sky with a dull lustre, like a blind man's
eye. On the left the tower seemed to be craning its neck to
catch sight of something that was happening.
The sounds of night take on all manner of disguises. A twig
snaps, and one thinks that somebody is running for his life. A
door slams, and one feels it to be the sudden heart-thump of a
startled world.
Lights would suddenly flicker under the shade of the distant
trees, and then go out again. Horses' hoofs would clatter, now
and again, only to turn out to be riders leaving the palace
gates.
I continually had the feeling that, if only I could die, all this
turmoil would come to an end. So long as I was alive my sins
would remain rampant, scattering destruction on every side. I
remembered the pistol in my box.
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