168 
SCENES IN INDIA. 
ever,, a gust of wind blew the fire from its victim, and 
discovered her for an instant with the same expression 
of lofty indignation marked in every lineament of her 
majestic countenance. The skin of her arms burst and 
curled up like a scroll of parchment ;* the sinews snapped, 
but she looked upon the havoc which the flames were 
making upon her beautiful body with a smile of bitter 
derision, as if she defied their power to inflict suffer- 
ing. At length her eyes appeared to start from their 
sockets ; she fell backward into the flames, and a 
period was put at once to her heroism and her agony. 
The miserable Rahtore watched beside the pile 
until her body was completely consumed, when he 
gathered the ashes together, and placing them in a 
jar, deposited it on the hearth of the apartment which 
had been the scene of the marriage revels. Then 
putting on the saffron robe,t he sallied forth to meet 
death and to accomplish his revenge. Not a tear 
moistened his eyes — they were dry and bloodshot. 
His heart was marble, and every muscle of his com- 
pact frame seemed stiffened into unison with the 
unbending purpose of his soul. The night was dark 
as the tone and aspect of his mind. The cry of the 
prowling jackall was a melody to his ears more mu- 
sical than the sweet serenade of the bulbul, J which 
he had listened to in the days of his joy. He crept 
stealthily through the jungle, like a tiger lurking for 
* I once witnessed a similar circumstance at a Suttee which 
took place in the neighbourhood of Poonah. 
t When a Rajpoot puts on the saffron robe, he devotes himself 
to death. 
$ The Indian nightingale. 
