"The money, Queen?" said Sandip with his keen glance full on my
face.
Amulya also fixed his gaze on me. Though not my own mother's
child, yet the dear lad is brother to me; for mother is mother
all the world over. With his guileless face, his gentle eyes,
his innocent youth, he looked at me. And I, a woman--of his
mother's sex--how could I hand him poison, just because he asked
for it?
"The money, Queen!" Sandip's insolent demand rang in my ears.
For very shame and vexation I felt I wanted to fling that gold at
Sandip's head. I could hardly undo the knot of my __sari__,
my fingers trembled so. At last the paper rolls dropped on the
table.
Sandip's face grew black ... He must have thought that the rolls
were of silver ... What contempt was in his looks. What utter
disgust at incapacity. It was almost as if he could have struck
me! He must have suspected that I had come to parley with him,
to offer to compound his claim for five thousand rupees with a
few hundreds. There was a moment when I thought he would snatch
up the rolls and throw them out of the window, declaring that he
was no beggar, but a king claiming tribute.
"Is that all?" asked Amulya with such pity welling up in his
voice that I wanted to sob out aloud. I kept my heart tightly
pressed down, and merely nodded my head. Sandip was speechless.
He neither touched the rolls, nor uttered a sound.
My humiliation went straight to the boy's heart. With a sudden,
feigned enthusiasm he exclaimed: "It's plenty. It will do
splendidly. You have saved us." With which he tore open the
covering of one of the rolls.
The sovereigns shone out. And in a moment the black covering
seemed to be lifted from Sandip's countenance also. His delight
beamed forth from his features. Unable to control his sudden
revulsion of feeling, he sprang up from his seat towards me.
What he intended I know not. I flashed a lightning glance
towards Amulya--the colour had left the boy's face as at the
stroke of a whip. Then with all my strength I thrust Sandip from
me. As he reeled back his head struck the edge of the marble
table and he dropped on the floor. There he lay awhile,
motionless. Exhausted with my effort, I sank back on my seat.
Amulya's face lightened with a joyful radiance. He did not even
turn towards Sandip, but came straight up, took the dust of my
feet, and then remained there, sitting on the floor in front of
me. O my little brother, my child! This reverence of yours is
the last touch of heaven left in my empty world! I could contain
myself no longer, and my tears flowed fast. I covered my eyes
with the end of my __sari__, which I pressed to my face with
both my hands, and sobbed and sobbed. And every time that I felt
on my feet his tender touch trying to comfort me my tears broke
out afresh.
After a little, when I had recovered myself and taken my hands
from my face, I saw Sandip back at the table, gathering up the
sovereigns in his handkerchief, as if nothing had happened.
Amulya rose to his seat, from his place near my feet, his wet
eyes shining.
Sandip coolly looked up at my face as he remarked: "It is six
thousand."
"What do we want with so much, Sandip Babu?" cried Amulya.
"Three thousand five hundred is all we need for our work."
"Our wants are not for this one place only," Sandip replied. "We
shall want all we can get."
"That may be," said Amulya. "But in future I undertake to get
you all you want. Out of this, Sandip Babu, please return the
extra two thousand five hundred to the Maharani."
Sandip glanced enquiringly at me.
"No, no," I exclaimed. "I shall never touch that money again.
Do with it as you will."
"Can man ever give as woman can?" said Sandip, looking towards
Amulya.
"They are goddesses!" agreed Amulya with enthusiasm.
"We men can at best give of our power," continued Sandip. "But
women give themselves. Out of their own life they give birth,
out of their own life they give sustenance. Such gifts are the
only true gifts." Then turning to me, "Queen!" said he, "if
what you have given us had been only money I would not have
touched it. But you have given that which is more to you than
life itself!"
There must be two different persons inside men. One of these in
me can understand that Sandip is trying to delude me; the other
is content to be deluded. Sandip has power, but no strength of
righteousness. The weapon of his which rouses up life smites it
again to death. He has the unfailing quiver of the gods, but the
shafts in them are of the demons.
Sandip's handkerchief was not large enough to hold all the coins.
"Queen," he asked, "can you give me another?" When I gave him
mine, he reverently touched his forehead with it, and then
suddenly kneeling on the floor he made me an obeisance.
"Goddess!" he said, "it was to offer my reverence that I had
approached you, but you repulsed me, and rolled me in the dust.
Be it so, I accept your repulse as your boon to me, I raise it to
my head in salutation!" with which he pointed to the place where
he had been hurt.
Had I then misunderstood him? Could it be that his outstretched
hands had really been directed towards my feet? Yet, surely,
even Amulya had seen the passion that flamed out of his eyes, his
face. But Sandip is such an adept in setting music to his chant
of praise that I cannot argue; I lose my power of seeing truth;
my sight is clouded over like an opium-eater's eyes. And so,
after all, he gave me back twice as much in return for the blow I
had dealt him--the wound on his head ended by making me bleed at
heart. When I had received Sandip's obeisance my theft seemed to
gain a dignity, and the gold glittering on the table to smile
away all fear of disgrace, all stings of conscience.
Like me Amulya also was won back. His devotion to Sandip, which
had suffered a momentary check, blazed up anew. The flower-vase
of his mind filled once more with offerings for the worship of
Sandip and me. His simple faith shone out of his eyes with the
pure light of the morning star at dawn.
After I had offered worship and received worship my sin became
radiant. And as Amulya looked on my face he raised his folded
hands in salutation and cried __Bande Mataram__! I cannot
expect to have this adoration surrounding me for ever; and yet
this has come to be the only means of keeping alive my self-
respect.
I can no longer enter my bedroom. The bedstead seems to thrust
out a forbidding hand, the iron safe frowns at me. I want to get
away from this continual insult to myself which is rankling
within me. I want to keep running to Sandip to hear him sing my
praises. There is just this one little altar of worship which
has kept its head above the all-pervading depths of my dishonour,
and so I want to cleave to it night and day; for on whichever
side I step away from it, there is only emptiness.
Praise, praise, I want unceasing praise. I cannot live if my
wine-cup be left empty for a single moment. So, as the very
price of my life, I want Sandip of all the world, today.