To Norendra Nath also sleep came not that night. Something which Prithwi Raj had spoken to him, or which he had spoken to Prithwi Raj, lingered in his mind and gave rise to a train of thoughts. The image of Jelekha with her untutored impulses and wild fancies recurred to him again and again. And as he listened to Jamshid's rude harp, or hummed some old songs of Bengal, his mind travelled to past scenes and past events.

"Thou poor child," he said at last, "hast commenced a wandering life too early. Hast thou no home?"

"A minstrel-boy has no home, Master."

"No parents to look after thee?"

"My parents died when I was an infant."

"Where and how hast thou lived then, my boy?"

"Near the Agra palace, Master, where so many like me wander about to pick up a living as best they can."

"'Tis a sad life, child."

"Not so sad either, Master, for Omrahs and Mansabdars sometimes deigned to listen to my harp, and Prince Prithwi Raj has been kind and generous."

"Hath the Prince taken thee to his service, dear child?"

"Service suits me not, and wages I would not take, for I wish to come and to go at my will. I have