over the shock in a moment, and entering with a smile prostrated himself before Rajlakshmi, seated fresh from her bath, and took the dust of her feet. Vihari used not to be so formal when he was in the habit of coming every day. But he somehow felt as if returning home after a long exile.
Rajlakshmi laid her hand on his head as he rose, with an affectionate blessing. She felt specially sympathetic to-day, and was correspondingly effusive. "Why haven't you been coming to see us all this time, Vihari," she said. "I've been expecting you every day, but we've not had a sight of you."
"I wouldn't have been so much in your thoughts, mother, if I'd been coming everyday," said Vihari cheerfully. "Where's Dada?"
Rajlakshmi's face fell as she replied: "Mahin's got an engagement somewhere so he couldn't stay to lunch."
Vihari's wounds opened up afresh. Was this then to be the end of their life-long friendship? With a sigh he brushed aside this thought for the moment, as he turned to Rajlakshmi and asked, "And what have you been cooking for me to-day?"
Vihari used to take great pains to make himself out to be thoroughly greedy whenever he was invited to taste Rajlakshmi's cooking. Gratified at his curiosity in regard to her culinary efforts, she proceeded to reassure him in detail as to the good things in store.
At this moment Mahendra strolled in and asked in a cold formal way, "Ah, Vihari, how are you?"
"Why Mahin, weren't you going out to lunch!" exclaimed Rajlakshmi.
Mahendra tried not to show how ashamed he felt, as he replied: "No, I've managed to put that off."
When Binodini_ made her appearance after her bath, Vihari could not find a word to say to her. The last scene in which she had played a part with Mahendra had remained imprinted on his memory.
Binodini edged near him and said in a low voice, "Well friend, do you no longer know me?"
"Is it really possible to know any one?" muttered Vihari.
"Yes, if you have the sense," returned Binodini. And then she announced louder, "Pishima, lunch is served."
Mahendra and Vihari sat down to their meal. Rajlakshmi took her seat on a cushion placed near them, while Binodini assisted in the serving. Mahendra had no attention to spare for the viands. He was absorbed in watching for signs of Binodini's partiality. It seemed to him she was taking a particular delight in attending to Vihari, and all the tit-bits appeared to be finding their way to his platter.
When they had finished and come out of the dining-room, Binodini hurriedly came up and said: "Friend Vihari, don't be running away just now. Come up-stairs and sit down a bit."
"Won't you have your lunch?" asked Vihari.
"No, to-day's the eleventh.[1]"
A cruel ironical smile flickered for a moment on Vihari's lips—"So you fancy a bit of asceticism too!" he seemed to be saying to himself.
This smile did not escape Binodini, but she bore it as she had borne the wound on her elbow. "Do stay a while, for my sake," she pleaded humbly.
Mahendra suddenly flared up with an uncalled for excitement. "How inconsiderate you are! A man may have other places to go to, or other things to do,—he may like it or he may not,—yet he must stay! This is a sort of petting the meaning of which I fail to understand!"
Binodini broke out into a laugh. "Just hear him, friend Vihari," said she. "He pretends not to understand!" Then turning to Mahendra: "Who else, I wonder, has ever had such opportunities of learning the meaning of all sorts of petting?"
"Dada," said Vihari, "I have something to say to you, will you come out with me?"—with which he went off with Mahendra without a word of leave-taking to Binodini. She remained leaning against the railing of the passage in which they had been standing, gazing into the emptiness of the courtyard through which the friends passed out.
When they were out of the house Vihari said: "Well, Dada, is this to be the end of our friendship?"
Mahendra was all on fire within. Binodini's derisive laugh was cutting from one end of his consciousness to the other, like repeated lightning flashes. "It may be to
- ↑ The eleventh day of the moon is a fast-day for orthodox Hindus, more strictly observed by widows and others who take up an ascetic life.
