Go, go, now step out—where all love has merged into the ocean of worship, at that sacred confluence. In that pure blue depth, the weight of all mud will dissolve. And now I am no longer afraid—neither of myself, nor of anyone else. I have passed through fire—what was meant to burn has turned to ashes, what remains now can never die. That self I offer at the feet of Him who has taken all my sins into His profound sorrow.

Tonight, I must leave for Kolkata. All this while, my mind, troubled by the turmoil inside and out, could not settle on the task of packing my things. Now, at last, I pulled the trunks close and began to arrange them. After a while, I saw my husband had come to stand beside me. I said, “No, that won’t do—you promised me you would take a little rest.”

My husband replied, “It seems I made the promise, but my sleep did not—it is nowhere to be found.”

I said, “No, that will not do—you must go and lie down.”

He said, “Why should you do everything alone?”

I may not be able to do it well. Even if I am not here, you may want to carry on this grandeur—do as you wish, but without you, I cannot manage. That is why, alone in my room, I could not fall asleep at all.

Saying this, he set about his work. Just then, the servant came and announced, "Sandip Babu has come; he asked me to inform you."

I did not have the courage to ask whom he had told to be informed. In that instant, it felt as if the daylight in my world shrank away like the shy touch-me-not plant.

My husband said, "Come, Bimala, let’s go and hear what Sandip has to say. He had taken his leave and gone, but now that he has returned, perhaps there is something important."

Not going would be more embarrassing than going, so I accompanied my husband outside. In the drawing room, Sandip was standing, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall. As soon as we entered, he said—

"You must be wondering—why does this fellow return? Unless the last rites are properly performed, the spirit does not depart."

Saying this, he drew a small bundle wrapped in a handkerchief from within his shawl and placed it open on the table. Those were the coins. He said, "Nikhil, do not misunderstand, do not think that suddenly, by coming into your company, I have turned into a saint. I am not here to shed tears of repentance and return these six thousand rupees—"

Sandeep is not the sort of petty fellow who would return the jewels.

But—

With this, Sandeep did not finish his sentence. After a brief pause, he looked at me and said, “Queen of the hive, after all these days, a ‘but’ has entered into the root of Sandeep’s life—every day, waking after three in the morning,