"Mani called him and told him what had happened. She ended up by asking him: "Now
what is your advice?"
"He shook his head wisely and said: "I don't like the look of things at all." The 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 humanity 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 almost unable 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. Mani 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. Man is the rod of
God's justice, to him has been entrusted the thunderbolt of the divine wrath, and if at
wrong done to himself or another it does not at once break out into fury, then it is a
shame. 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 cycle seems to have changed, and this appears no longer to hold good.