Mrinalini said, “Girijaya, he must have spoken in anger, ‘It is for the best’; why should he not be angry upon hearing this?”

Doubt arose in Girijaya’s mind as well. She said, “That is indeed possible.”

Then Mrinalini said, “You did not do well to say such a thing. This must be remedied; go now and take your meal. Meanwhile, I shall write a letter. After you have eaten, take it to him.”

Girijaya, agreeing, promptly went to take her meal.

Mrinalini wrote a brief letter.

She wrote:

“Girijaya is a liar. If you ask her why she lied to you about me, she will herself explain everything in detail. I did not go to Mathura. On the night when, seeing your ring, I came to the banks of the Yamuna, from that night onward the road to Mathura was closed to me. Without going to Mathura, I came to see you in Navadwip.” I have come. Even after arriving in Navadwip, the reason I have not yet met you is this: if I were to meet you, your vow would be broken. My desire is to see you; but to fulfill that, is it necessary that you must see me?”

Taking this letter, Girijaya once again set out towards Hemchandra’s house. In the evening, after finishing her conversation with Manorama, Hemchandra was going to see the Ganges. On the way, he met Girijaya. She handed him the letter.

Hemchandra said, “Why have you come again?”

Gi. I have brought a letter.

He. Whose letter?

Gi. Mrinalini’s letter.

Hemchandra was astonished. “How did this letter come to you?”

Gi. Mrinalini is in Navadwip. I lied to you about Mathura.

He. Is this letter hers?

Gi. Yes, written by her own hand.

Without reading the letter, Hemchandra tore it into pieces. Throwing the fragments into the forest, he said, “I have already heard that you are a liar. You have brought a letter from that wicked woman—she did not go to be married, Hrishikesh has driven her away—I have already heard all this. I will not read the letter of a harlot. Get away from my sight.”

Stunned, Girijaya gazed silently at Hemchandra’s face.

Breaking a branch from a small tree by the roadside and holding it in his hand, Hemchandra said, “Go away, or I shall strike you with this stick.” Girijaya could bear it no longer. Slowly, she said, “A true hero indeed! Is this the kind of valor you have come to display in Nadiya? There was no need—you could have shown such heroism sitting in Magadha as well. To carry the shoes of the Muslims, and to beat the daughters of the poor and destitute with a cane.”

Hemchandra, embarrassed, threw the cane away. But Girijaya’s anger did not subside. She said, “You wish to marry Mrinalini? Forget Mrinalini, you are not even worthy of me.”

Saying this, Girijaya strode away with the proud gait of a queen. Hemchandra stood astonished, watching the pride of the beggar-woman.