With a face flooded by tears of joy, Hemchandra took Mrinalini by the hand and led her toward the garden pavilion. Hemchandra, who had once insulted, rebuked, wounded, and abandoned Mrinalini, now returned of his own accord and took her to his heart— Seeing this, Girijaya was astonished, but Mrinalini asked not a single question, Spoke not a single word. Overwhelmed by the flood of happiness, she covered her tears with her garment and walked on. There was no need to call Girijaya—she, too, followed silently, her heart full.

When Mrinalini entered the garden bower, the two began to pour out the words of their hearts, long held back for many days. Then Hemchandra, recounting each event... He spoke of the reasons for which his heart had once turned away from Mrinalini, and how those reasons had since been destroyed. Then Mrinalini recounted how she had left Hrishikesha’s house, how she had come to Navadwip, and all that had transpired. Thereupon, both began to reveal to each other the many feelings that had long lain hidden in their hearts. Together, they wove dreams of the future; together, they bound themselves with ever-new vows. In those moments, even the most trivial words were uttered with the earnestness reserved for matters of utmost importance. Time and again, both struggled to restrain the tears that welled up, eager for release. Time and again, their eyes met, and they exchanged sweet, meaningless smiles—the meaning of those smiles being, “How happy I am now!”

When at last the birds began to herald the dawn, both were astonished to think, “Why has the night ended so soon?” And in that city, where the tumult of the Yavana uprising had risen like the roar of a storm-tossed sea, now, in the waves of their hearts’ joy, that clamor was drowned and forgotten.

Elsewhere in the garden house, another scene was unfolding. Digvijay, by his lord’s command, had kept vigil through the night, guarding the house. When Hemchandra arrived with Mrinalini, Digvijay saw and recognized her. Mrinalini was not unknown to him—the reason for this acquaintance would soon be revealed. At the sight of Mrinalini, Digvijay was somewhat surprised, but there was no possibility of asking questions—how could he? A moment later, seeing Girija arrive as well, Digvijay thought to himself, “I understand—these two have come from Gauda to see two of us. The noble lady has come to see the prince, and this one, without doubt, has come to see me.”

Thinking thus, Digvijay gave his moustache a quick twist and mused, “And why should it not be so?” Then again he thought, “But this is rather improper—after all, how long have I been the object of such affection? Only for a single day—” She did not speak—she only scolded me—but is there any chance that she will come to see me? Whatever it may be, let me try an experiment. The night is over—my master has also returned; now I shall slip away and lie down for a while. Let me see if Piyari comes looking for me or not.” Thinking thus, Digvijay went to a secluded spot and lay down. Girijaya saw this.

Girijaya then began to say to herself, “I am Mrinalini’s maid—Mrinalini is or will be the mistress of this house—so the right to do the household chores is mine alone.” Thus comforting her mind, Girijaya gathered a bunch of brooms and entered the room where Digvijay was lying. Digvijay kept his eyes closed; from the sound of footsteps, he understood that Girijaya had come—his heart filled with joy—so Girijaya does love him after all. Let’s see what Girijaya says. Thinking this, Digvijay kept his eyes tightly shut. Suddenly, blows from the broom began to rain down hard upon his back. Girijaya, raising her voice, began to say, “Ah, die, the rooms are all filthy—what’s this? A man! A thief, perhaps? Die, you man, stealing in the king’s house!” Saying this, she struck again with the broom. Digvijay’s back was nearly split open.

“O Girijaya, it’s me! It’s me!”

“It’s you! That’s why I’m sweeping you out with the broom,” she replied, and again the broom fell with the weight of eighty-two coins.

“Mercy! Mercy! Girijaya! It’s me, Digvijay!”

“Come to steal again—‘I am Digvijay!’ Who is Digvijay, you man?”—the broom’s fury did not cease.

This time Digvijay pleaded in distress, “Girijaya, have you forgotten me?”

Girijaya replied, “What man has any acquaintance with you and me, you rascal?” Digvijay saw that there was no escape—retreat in battle was the only counsel. Seeing himself helpless, Digvijay fled from the house in breathless haste. Girijaya, broom in hand, ran after him.