Such negative remarks about Anshumala compelled Rudradhir to change his opinion and lapse once again into fantasy. He began to see Divya, the pure maiden, cheated and slighted by the son of a slave, in her bridal finery, standing in all her beauty and gentleness over a dying Anshumala.

Rudradhir had originally intended to stay only a couple of days in Mathurapuri, to rest for his journey, but a full fortnight had passed and he still lingered. Every evening he returned to Ratnaprabha’s concert hall to watch the performances, and stayed behind to exchange a word or two with Anshumala after the recital. Invariably, she received him politely and always treated him with respect and consideration. Her behaviour, so correct but lacking in warmth, was distasteful to him. He longed for the effect his dynamic personality had at concerts in Sagal, when Divya, on meeting him, would became nervous and lower her head with bashful timidity.

In his own eyes, Rudradhir was a privileged person who, on account of his past associations, was entitled to a special place and status with Anshumala. But there, in Ratnaprabha’s palace, he was just one of the hundreds of high-born dignitaries who assembled to witness the performances—just an individual, like any other. It was an affront to his dignity and to his family to see that other people received greater consideration because they were able to offer expensive presents. To be passed over as someone in the crowd was like feeling a dagger being plunged into his heart.

Disgusted with such treatment, he would go back to the palace of his host. Alone at night, he brooded over the comments and criticisms he had heard, especially those uttered by Aniruddha: ‘Anshumala is nothing but a puppet … her charm and smiles are only a part of her dance routine … she is not a true courtesan; she is a cheat who promises, but never delivers.’ And Rudradhir would add further, on his own, ‘She was born into a Brahmin family … She must still be a virgin.’ He found that his passionate attachment to her was as strong as ever. He would certainly win her back, he promised himself. It became impossible for him to keep away from Ratnaprabha’s concert hall even for a single evening.

Rudradhir noticed the presents lavished on Anshumala. He thought, if money has become all-important for Divya, either from greed as a courtesan or from a desire to earn for her mistress, then he too would give her money. He certainly did not lack money; as the son of the Chairman of the Republican Council of Madra, he was the heir to an estate of ten villages, and, in his own right, a noble of a high Brahmin family.

At the time of his banishment, Rudradhir had not carried much money with him. When he was leaving Sagal, Acharya Pravardhan, in order to provide his son against want and difficulty, had with his own hands put round Rudradhir’s neck a seven-stranded necklace of big Sinhalese pearls. That precious necklace was of the value of almost one village, and was part of the inheritance of the Acharya family. Rudradhir always wore the necklace next to his heart, under his clothes.