Mahendra stared at a distant cocoanut-tree top through the window, lost in heavy thought. Binodini silently sewed on. One could have heard the falling of a needle. All of a sudden Mahendra broke the silence, so startling Binodini that she pricked herself.
"Will no entreaty of ours persuade you to remain?" he said.
"Why all these entreaties?" asked Binodini, sucking a drop of blood from her pricked finger. "What does it matter to you whether I go or stay?" Her voice dropped as she said this, and she bent lower and lower over her sewing. The short winter's day had already grown too dark for him to be sure whether or not there were tear-drops on the edge of her eye-lashes.
In a moment Mahendra had taken Binodini's hand in his, and was saying in a husky voice: "And if it does matter, will you stay?"
Binodini snatched away her hand, and moved further off. Mahendra suddenly came to himself. His last remark echoed and re-echoed in his ears like a terrible jest. He bit his offending tongue, and did not utter another word.
In the silence which ensued Asha entered the room. Binodini with a smile, as if at some previous remark of Mahendra's, said: "If you people will insist on making so much of me, I must repay you by respecting your wishes. So I'll remain till you turn me out!"
Asha, overjoyed at this triumph of her husband's advocacy, held her friend fast in a close embrace. "You've given your word" she cried. "Now pledge it three times[1]—I'll stay, I'll stay, I'll stay!"
Binodini repeated it three times after her.
"Oh, my Eyesore!" gushed Asha. "Since you would yield at last why did you make us beg so hard? It serves you right to have to surrender to my husband at last!"
"Well friend Mahendra," asked Binodini, smiling, "have I lost, or have I made you confess yourself beaten, which is it?"
Mahendra was dumbfounded. It had seemed to him that the whole room was reeking with his crime, that just opprobrium had enveloped him body and soul. To now turn with a smile to Asha, to cover his shameful lips with light frivolity, was a performance of which he was utterly incapable. "It is I who have lost," he said gravely as he left the room.
Shortly after Mahendra returned and said to Binodini, "I ask your pardon."
"What is it you've done, friend?" asked Binodini.
"We have no right to keep you here by force."
"Where was the force?" laughed Binodini. "You were quite affectionate about it, is there no difference?—What say you, my Eyesore, is love and force the same thing?"
Asha was at once on her side. "Of course not," she assented.
"It's my good fortune, friend Mahin," continued Binodini, "that you should want me to remain, that my absence should cause you pain.—How many such friends can we count in this world, my Eyesore? If I am lucky enough to find any who feel for me, is it likely that I should want to leave them?"
Asha, finding her husband looking shamefaced and at a loss for a reply, flew to his rescue with ready sympathy: "Oh my Eyesore! who can ever bandy words with you? My husband has already confessed defeat, now pray stop!"
Mahendra hurriedly left the room. Vihari had just finished a chat with Rajlakshmi and was coming to look for Mahendra. Meeting him just outside the door Mahendra broke out with: "Vihari, old fellow, there's not a greater scoundrel in the world than I am!" So excited was he that his words could be heard inside the room.
Immediately came the call: "Friend Vihari!"
"I am coming in a minute, sister Binod," replied Vihari.
"Oh do come in now for a second," urged Binodini.
Vihari threw a glance at Asha as he entered. He was somewhat mystified to find, so far as he could judge through her veil, that there was no sign of sorrow or depression on her face.
Asha wanted to get up and go, but Binodini held her down. "Are you and my Eyesore sworn enemies, friend Vihari," she said, "that she should want to leave the moment you come?"
Asha blushed and pinched Binodini.
"That's because I was not made to be attractive," suggested Vihari with a smile.
- ↑ A mild way of taking an oath.
