Strings of pearls were still woven in her hair. She had the crescent mark on her forehead, and her lips were painted red. Her curving neck, luminous as a seashell, looked all the more lustrous, set off by strings of pearls. The tight cloth of her red bodice restrained her full breasts like the bridles on a pair of horses. Below her waist, her smooth light-green sari clung to her firm round hips and her long, shapely thighs still quivered faintly from the strain of her performance. Between the bodice and the sari, the skin of her bare midriff had a natural glow that outshone the lustre of the red silk above and the light-green below.

Marish’s mind was still troubled and he could not acknowledge Anshu’s greetings with due formality. His lack of courtesy, however, did not annoy Anshu. What did irritate her a little was the attempt he made to maintain his usual air of nonchalance.

‘Pray be seated, Arya,’ she said, pointing to a seat.

Marish sat down, without replying to the greeting. Anshu, unmindful of the maid who was removing her ornaments, came closer to Marish and said, ‘Arya, I hope you are feeling well, both in body and mind?’

‘Yes, I am quite well, lady. Did my sudden entrance into your room cause your embarrassment?’ He was trying to control his feeling, but signs of discomfiture appeared on his face. Anshu understood the reason for Marish’s discomfiture, but trying to keep a smile on her face, assured him, ‘There was no inconvenience, Arya. Your humble servant is at your disposal.’

Marish was silent for a moment, and then said in a grave voice, ‘I came because I could no longer bear to keep my thoughts from you.’

The words reverberated like drumbeats in Anshu’s mind. Clasping and entwining her fingers in an effort to control her agitation, she suddenly realized that it had been improper for her to permit a man into her chamber without the permission of her mistress. ‘It is stuffy inside the room, Arya. If it is not too much trouble, let us go into the garden and talk in the open air,’ she said.

The slave-girl whose duty it was to fan her mistress was so taken aback by the entrance of a man into the chamber that she had neglected her task. At a sign from her mistress, however, she had resumed it. ‘That will do,’ Anshu said, ‘we don’t need the fan. Take the Arya to the garden seat under the bakul¹ tree.’ Then turning to Marish, said, ‘Arya, I shall follow you there in a moment.’

‘What should I tell her and how should I put it?’ Marish was thinking as he sat down under the bakul tree, on a seat carved from stone. In a moment of agitation, he had gone into her room. The recollection of that mistake, however, induced him to reason things out with himself rather than feel disturbed. He saw Divya coming towards him. She had changed out of her dance costume and was once again dressed in white clothes, without any jewellery. The smile too had disappeared from her lips. She sat down beside him. ‘I am listening, Arya,’ she said, after a little while.