21

Meanwhile, yet another letter arrived.--- "You did not answer my letter? You have done well. What is true cannot be set down in writing; whatever reply you might give, I have divined it in my own heart. When a devotee calls upon her god, does he answer in spoken words? The bel-leaf offered by a wretched supplicant has found its place, I trust, at his feet."

"But if Shiva's trance be broken by the very act of receiving his devotee's worship, do not be vexed, O lord of my heart! Whether you grant the boon, whether you open your eyes or not, whether you know it or not --- the devotee has no recourse but to worship. And so I write these few lines once more. O my stone-god, remain unmoved, as is your nature."--- Mahendra set himself again to write a reply.

But whenever he attempted to write to Asha, it was Binodini's answer that rose unbidden to the tip of his pen. He could not write with concealment and cunning. After tearing up many drafts and whiling away much of the night, he at last contrived a letter of sorts; but when he had sealed it in its envelope and was in the act of writing Asha's name upon it, it was as though someone had struck him sharply across the back --- as though a voice had said: "Wretch, is this how you deceive a trusting girl?" Mahendra tore the letter into a thousand pieces, and for the remainder of the night sat at his table with his face buried in his hands, as though seeking to hide himself from his own sight.

A third letter: "She who knows not how to feel pride --- does she truly love? If I cannot guard my own love from contempt and dishonour, how shall I lay it before you?"

"Perhaps I have not read your mind aright --- that is why I have dared so much. That is why, even when you withdrew, I was the first to write; even when you were silent, I spoke the thoughts of my heart. But if I have been mistaken in you, is that fault mine alone? Look back from beginning to end, and ask yourself whether what I understood was not what you yourself had led me to understand."

"Be that as it may --- mistaken or true --- what I have written cannot be unwritten, what I have given cannot be taken back, and that is my bitterness. Oh, what shame may befall a woman. But do not suppose that one who loves can forever suffer her love to be humiliated. If you do not want my letters, so be it; if you will not write in answer, then let this be the last---" After this, Mahendra could hold back no longer.

He told himself: "I am returning home in the highest dudgeon. Binodini imagines I have run from the house in order to forget her!" It was precisely to disprove that arrogant supposition, then and there, that Mahendra resolved to go home.

At that moment Bihari entered the room. The instant Mahendra saw him, the elation within him seemed to redouble. For some time past, various suspicions had been breeding a secret jealousy of Bihari in his breast, and their friendship had grown strained. But now, after reading those letters, he flung aside all the weight of jealousy and drew Bihari to him with excessive warmth --- springing from his chair, clapping him on the back, seizing his hand, and pulling him down into an armchair.

Yet Bihari's face was overcast that day. Mahendra thought to himself: no doubt the poor fellow had gone to see Binodini in the interim and had come away rebuffed.

"Bihari," Mahendra asked, "have you been to our house lately?" Bihari replied gravely, "I have come from there just this moment." Mahendra, imagining Bihari's suffering, felt a small amusement within himself.

He thought: "Poor Bihari --- utterly without fortune when it comes to a woman's love." And with that he pressed his hand once against the breast-pocket of his coat --- and the three letters inside rustled crisply.

Mahendra asked, "How did you find everyone?" Bihari, ignoring that question, said, "Why are you here and not at home?" Mahendra said, "Night duty falls frequently of late --- it grows inconvenient to go home." Bihari said, "Night duty fell before this too, and I never saw you leave the house on that account." Mahendra laughed and said, "Have you begun to harbour suspicions?" Bihari said, "No --- I am not jesting. Come home this instant." Mahendra had already been inclining toward returning home; but the moment he heard Bihari's appeal, he suddenly feigned indifference, as though he had not the least desire to go.

He said, "How can that be done, Bihari? I should lose the whole year." Bihari said, "See here, Mahinda --- I have known you since you were so high. Do not try to deceive me. You are doing wrong."

"Upon whom am I doing wrong, my lord judge?" Mahendra asked.

Bihari said in anger, "You who have always boasted of the tenderness of your heart --- where has that heart gone, Mahinda?"

"It is presently in the college hospital," said Mahendra.

"Enough, Mahinda, enough. You sit here laughing and jesting with me, while over there Asha wanders from the front rooms to the inner chambers, weeping as she goes," said Bihari.

Hearing of Asha's weeping, Mahendra's mind was struck, as though by a sudden counterblow. That anyone else in the world possessed joys and sorrows had found no place beside his new intoxication. Now a start of surprise ran through him, and he asked, "Why is Asha weeping?" Bihari replied with irritation, "You do not know, and I am to know?"

"If you must be angry that your Mahinda is not omniscient, then direct your anger at Mahinda's Maker," said Mahendra.

Thereupon Bihari related all that he had seen, from first to last. As he spoke, the image of Asha's tear-wet face pressed against Binodini's breast returned to him, and he found his voice nearly stopping in his throat. Mahendra was astonished to witness such violent emotion in Bihari. He had always believed Bihari to be free of such afflictions --- when had this symptom come upon him? Since the day he had gone to see young Asha as a prospective bride, it seemed. Poor Bihari. Mahendra called him poor in his own mind, but felt not sadness so much as a species of mild amusement.

He knew with certainty which direction Asha's heart was turned.

"What others long for but cannot attain has surrendered itself to me forever" --- at this thought Mahendra felt a swell of pride rise within his breast.

Mahendra said to Bihari, "Very well, let us go. But call a carriage."