At the foot of a tree near the cottage where Hemchandra was resting, there lived a boatman’s wife. The cottage had three rooms. In one room, the boatman’s wife completed her cooking and household chores. In another, the boatman’s wife slept with her children. In the third room, the boatman’s young daughter Ratnamoyee and two other women slept. These two women are already known to the reader: Mrinalini and Girijaya, who, having found no other refuge in Navadwip, had taken shelter here.

One by one, the three women awoke at dawn. Ratnamoyee was the first to wake. She called out to Girijaya, “Friend?”

Gi. What is it, friend?

Ra. Where are you, friend?

Gi. On the bed, friend.

Ra. Get up, friend!

Gi. No, friend.

Ra. I’ll pour water on you, friend.

Gi. Water, friend? Very well, even that, friend.

Ra. Otherwise, I’ll leave you.

Gi. Why would you leave, friend? You are the friend of my soul—where could I find another like you? You are the very essence of the riverbank—if I don’t speak to you, to whom shall I speak?

Ra. In words, friend, you are ever victorious; before you, I become mute, unable to match you.

Gi. Do you want to match me even more? “May ashes be on your mouth, and may you have no more work with me—I am off to my chores.”

Saying this, Ratnamoyee went about her household duties. Mrinalini had not spoken a word until now. Then Girijaya addressed her, saying,

“Lady, are you awake?”

Mrinalini replied, “I am awake, and I remain so.”

Girijaya: “What were you thinking?”

Mrinalini: “What I always think.”

Girijaya then spoke gravely, “What can I do? It is not my fault. I have heard that he is in this very city; yet I have not found any trace of him. But we have only been here two or three days; we shall search more soon.”

Mrinalini: “Girijaya, what if we do not find him in this city? Then we must remain in this Patni’s house until death. I have nowhere else to go.”

Mrinalini hid her face in her scarf. Silent tears began to flow down Girijaya’s cheeks as well.

At that moment, Ratnamoyee came rushing into the house and exclaimed, “Friend! Friend! Come and see. Someone is sleeping beneath our banyan tree. What a strange man!”

Girijaya went to the cottage door to see. Mrinalini also came up to the threshold and looked out. Both recognized him at once.

The ocean surged up in a single wave. Mrinalini embraced Girijaya. Girijaya sang,

“Fate has woven thorns for the lowly Mrinal.”

That sound, like a dream, entered Hemchandra’s ears. Seeing Girijaya’s outburst, Mrinalini said, “Hush, you demoness, we must not reveal ourselves. Look, he is waking. Watch from behind this screen, see what he does. Wherever he goes, let us follow him unseen, from a distance…” Go with him.—What is this! Why do I see his limbs stained with blood? Come, then, I too shall go with you.”

Hemchandra’s sleep had broken. Seeing that morning had arrived, he leaned on his spear and rose, then slowly made his way toward the house.

After Hemchandra had gone some distance, Mrinalini and Girijaya slipped out of the house to follow him. Then Ratnamoyi asked, “Mistress, who is he to you?”

Mrinalini replied, “The gods know.”