or two. The thing that you have done and the words you are uttering are all stolen from the sort of literature you read—the most part smacks of the cheap novel and the melodrama."
Binodini.—"Stolen!"
Vihari.—"Yes, stolen, and not from the best sources either. You may think the sentiments your own, but they are only echoes of printed trash. Had you been a simple ignorant girl, the blessing of love would not have been denied to you—but the heroine of a melodrama is best on the stage, the home has no place for her.
Binodini's proud hearing subsided like a charmed snake. After a long pause and without looking up at Vihari she meekly asked, "What would you have me do?"
"I ask nothing extraordinary of you," replied Vihari. "Do what ordinary womanly good-sense prompt should prompt you. Go back home."
Binodini.—"How?"
Vihari—"I'll escort you to the railway station and put you into a Ladies' Compartment."
Binodini.—"Then let me stay here for the night."
Vihari.—"No, I don't trust myself so far."
At his last words Binodini bounded from her chair and dropping on the floor in front of him strained his feet to her breast as she said: "So you own some little weakness, friend Vihari! Don't be perfect like an immaculate stone god. Let love for an imperfect creature stain your heart just a little!" With which Binodini repeatedly fell to kissing his feet.
Vihari was almost overcome by this sudden onslaught. The rigour of his body and mind perceptibly relaxed as he dropped back into his chair. Binodini feeling the limpness, the tremor in him, let go his feet and raised herself on her knees before him. Putting her arms round his neck she said: "O Lord of my life, I know you can't be mine for ever, but let me know that you love me even for a moment. After that I'll go back to my wilderness, content. I'll ask for nothing more from any one in the world, only give me something to remember till death." Binodini closed her eyes and put her lips close to his.
There was a tense silence in the room while for an instant both of them remained motionless. Then with a long drawn sigh Vihari gently undid Binodini's arms from about his neck and moving away took another chair. After clearing his choking throat he said, "There's a passenger train after midnight."
Binodini after remaining motionless for a while said in a scarcely audible voice, "I'll take that train."
All of a sudden Basanta appeared on the scene in his night clothes, with bare feet and chubby bare body, and going up to Vihari's chair stood there gravely gazing at Binodini.
"Hullo, you're not gone to bed?" exclaimed Vihari. But Basanta remained silent in unperturbed gravity.
Binodini put out her arms, and after a a little hesitation the boy went up to her. Then clasping him to her bosom Binodini wept.
XXXV
The impossible becomes possible, the unbearable gets to be borne, else that night could never have been gone through in Mahendra's household. Mahendra after leaving Binodini, had written a letter that same night. The letter reached the house by the morning's post.
Asha, completely prostrated, was still lying on the floor-bed. The servant boy coming up called out, "Mother, a letter." The blood went to Asha's heart with a sudden thump. In the twinkling of an eye a thousand hopes and fears surged through her breast. She raised herself with an effort and took the letter.
On it was Binodini's name in Mahendra's handwriting. Her head fell back on the pillow—she returned the letter to the boy without a word.
"To whom shall I take the letter?" he asked.
"I don't know!" murmured Asha.
At about eight o'clock in the evening Mahendra rushed stormily into the house and stopped at the door of Binodini's room. There was no light in the room—everything was pitch dark. Mahendra struck a match and found the room empty. Binodini was not there, neither were her things. He went out into the south balcony, it was deserted. He called out "Binod!" There was no reply.
"What a fool I've been, what an utter fool! I should have taken her away with me then. Mother must have said something which has driven her away." No sooner had this thought occurred to him
