In the distance the cocoanut palms waved their heads, the rustling of the leaves of the fan palm reached the ear.

Over all the light streamed, and the insect troop came and went.

Kunda sat there gazing.
A sash is gently opened; the figure of a man appears against the light.

Alas! it is Nagendra's figure.

Nagendra, what if you should discover the flower, Kunda, under the trees?
What if, seeing you in the window, the sound of her beating heart should make itself heard?
What if, hearing this sound, she should know that if you move and become invisible her happiness will be gone?
Nagendra, you are standing out of the light; move it so that she can see you.