fact is that wise men never like the look of things.
Then he added: 'Babu will never be able to raise the money, and in the end he will have to fall back upon that jewelry of yours.'
From what she knew of human nature she thought that this was not only possible, but likely. Her anxiety became keener than ever. She had no child to love, and though she had a husband, she was scarcely able to realise his very existence. So her blood froze at the very thought that her only object of love,—the wealth which like a child had grown from year to year,—was to be in a moment thrown into the bottomless abyss of trade. She gasped: 'What then is to be done?'
Modhu said: 'Why not take your jewels and go to your father's house?' In his heart of hearts he entertained the hope that a portion, and possibly the larger portion, of that jewelry would fall to his lot.
Mani at once agreed. It was a rainy night towards the end of summer. At this very ghat a boat was moored. Mani wrapped from head to foot in a thick shawl, stepped into the boat. The frogs croaked in the thick darkness of the cloudy dawn. Modhu, waking up from sleep, roused himself from the boat and said: 'Give me the box of jewels.'
Mani replied: 'Not now, afterwards. Now let us start.'
The boat started, and floated swiftly down the current. Mani had spent the whole night in covering every part of her body with her ornaments. She was afraid that if she put her jewels into a box they might be snatched away from her hands. But if she wore them on her person then no-one could take them away without murdering her. Manimalika did not understand Bhusan, it is true; but there was no doubt about her understanding of Modhu.
Modhu had written a letter to the chief steward to the effect that he had started to take his mistress to her father's house. The steward was an ancient retainer of Bhusan's father. He was furiously angry, and wrote a lengthy epistle full of misspellings to his master. Although the letter was weak in its grammar, yet it was forcible in its language and clearly expressed the writer's disapproval of giving too much indulgence to womankind. Bhusan on receiving it understood what was the motive of Mani's secret departure. What hurt him most was the fact that, in spite of his having given way to the unwillingness of his wife to part with her jewels, in this time of his desperate straits, his wife should still suspect him.
When he ought to have been angry, Bhusan was only distressed. God has so arranged it, that man, for the most trifling reason, will burst forth in anger like a forest fire, and woman will burst into tears like a rain cloud for no reason at all. But the weather cycle seems to have changed, and this appears no longer to hold good.
The husband bent his head and said to himself: 'Well, if this is your judgment, let it be so, I will simply do my own duty.' Bhusan, who ought to have been born five or six centuries hence, when the world will be moved by psychic forces, was unfortunate enough not only to be born in the nineteenth century, but also to marry a woman who belonged to that eternal primitive age which persists through all time. He did not write a word on the subject to his wife, and determined in his mind that he would never mention it to her again. What an awful penalty!
Ten or twelve days later, having secured the necessary loan, Bhusan returned to his home. He imagined that Mani, after completing her mission, had by this time come back from her father's house. And so he approached the door of the inner apartments, wondering whether his wife would show any signs of shame or penitence for her undeserved suspicion.
He found the door shut. Breaking the lock, he entered the room and saw that it was empty.
At first Bhusan did not trouble about his wife's absence. He thought that if she wanted to come back she would do so. His old steward however came to him and said: 'What good will come of taking no notice of it? You ought to get some news of the mistress.' Acting on this suggestion messengers were sent to Mani's father's house. The news was brought that up to that time neither Mani nor Modhu had turned up there.
Then a search began in every direction. Men went along both banks of the river making enquiries. The police were given a description of Modhu, but all in vain. They were unable to find out what boat
