anything to complain of, why did he not speak out, why not rebuke her? But perhaps he to was ashamed of his own unworthy suspicions, and had not the courage to mention them to her,—else why that guilty look? For he certainly did not look like an angry judge.
The glimpse of Asha's piteous face which Mahendra had had from the carriage haunted him all day. During the lectures, amidst the ranks of the students, the picture of that window, and the forlorn dishevelled Asha with her disconsolate gaze, came up repeatedly before his vision in clear outline. After the classes were over, he began to pace up and down in the neighbouring square; and thus he continued till it grew dark. He could not decide as to how he should behave towards Asha. Should he be kindly false or frankly cruel? Whether he should give up Binodini or not was an alternative which refused to occur to him.
At last he consoled himself with the reflection that the tenderness he still felt for Asha was such as most wives would be glad enough of. Why should such tenderness, such affection, not satisfy her? His heart was big enough to have room for both Binodini and Asha. The purity of the love he felt for Binodini need not in the least stand in the way of his marital duties.
Thus persuaded, his mind was eased of its load. Why should he cast away either? He felt quite cheerful when he had decided that nothing need deter him from holding on his course like a planet served by two moons. To-night he would retire early and coax and caress and comfort Asha into forgetting her slight and her sorrow—and he hastened his steps homewards.
Asha was not present during his meal. She would have to come to bed sometime or other, thought Mahendra. But the fancies which lulled him into a languor, when alone in bed, were not recollections of the perennial freshness of the daily love-play of his early wedded life. Like moon-beams at the rising of the sun, the bashful girlish figure had paled before the charms of full-blown youth which had dazzled him. He went over again, in reminiscence, his tussle with Binodini for the "Poison Tree"; he lingered over the memory of the evening readings of "Kapala Kundala," which had gone on sometimes far into the night, and in the silence which fell upon the household after everyone had retired, Binodini's voice had grown softer and softer, and at times almost died away, with the burden of her emotion; and when, suddenly recollecting herself, she had started up to leave the room, he had offered to accompany her down the stairs; and each incident as it came back to him again and again, repeatedly thrilled him.
As the night advanced, Mahendra was every now and then disturbed with the apprehension that Asha would be coming,—but she came not. "I was quite ready to do my duty," then thought he, "but if she will be needlessly sulky, what can I do?" And he allowed himself to wholly relapse into thoughts of Binodini.
When it struck one, Mahendra could lie in bed no longer. He thrust aside the mosquito-curtain and jumped out. Coming on to the terrace he found it to be a beautiful moonlit summer night. The vast sleep of silence around him, which felt as if it could be touched like the waters of a motionless sea, seemed to be charmed into a deeper and deeper profundity by the soft-blowing wind which wandered over the housetops.
Mahendra's long-repressed desires would be curbed no longer. Binodini had not shown herself to him since Asha's return. The moon-intoxicated solitude now irresistibly impelled Mahendra towards Binodini. He went down the stairs. Going along the passage to Binodini's room, he found the door open. Entering, he saw the bed left as it had been made, unslept on. At the sound of footsteps in the room, Binodini exclaimed from the balcony on the other side, "Who's there?"
In a voice thick with suppressed passion Mahendra replied, "'Tis I, Binod," and as he spoke he stepped out on the balcony.
In the warm summer night, Rajlakshmi was with Binodini, reposing on a mat spread out in the open balcony adjoining both their rooms. "What brings you here, Mahin, at this time of night?" she cried out in surprise.
Binodini from beneath her heavy frowning eyebrows showered black thunderbolts at Mahendra, as he slunk away without a word.
XXXII
The next morning was heavily clouded. The sky which had been burning in the fiery heat of the last few days looked gratefully refreshed. Mahendra had left for his
