‘You need not feel depressed, my dear,’ said Prabuddha Sharma reassuringly. ‘A guest must be treated with due honour. Your grand-uncle did not want to greet the son of a slave, but he too acknowledged his greetings. How could he be indifferent to the prevalent customs of Madra?’

Touched by her uncle’s sympathy, Divya became even more agitated. She covered her face with her stole, so as to hide her tears, and stood there with her head bowed.

‘Silly girl,’ said Prabuddha Sharma, affectionately stroking her back. ‘Why should you feel hurt that your grand-uncle holds such views? Have you ever seen intellectuals agreeing on anything in the gatherings arranged by your great-grandfather? And are they all fools? Will you call Acharya Pravardhan a fool, or Pandit Ikrid or the venerable Buddhist, Dharma Rakshit, or Cheebuk or Marish?’

Divya wiped her eyes and said in a faltering voice, ‘Yesterday evening, it was the Council that gave Arya Prithusen the title of the best swordsman. How am I to blame for that?’

‘Of course, you are not to blame,’ agreed Prabuddha Sharma playfully. ‘That young man, to have the chance of demonstrating his regard for you, was ready to shed the blood of Rudradhir, the Acharya’s son. Why shouldn’t you respect him? The people of Madra do not have ungrateful blood in their veins.’

Taking Prabuddha Sharma’s sinewy hand tenderly into hers, Divya said, ‘Uncle, was it Prithusen, then? Is my grand-uncle annoyed with him because of that? The palanquin was high up and there was a crowd of people, so I couldn’t make out.’

‘Yes, yes. Let’s go in,’ he said and putting his arm tenderly round Divya, moved towards the door, which led to the interior of the house. ‘No wonder. Those who ride in palanquins are never able to see the bearers. Dear girl, tell the maidservant to prepare my bath. I perspired greatly on the way and am covered with dust.’

Divya could not directly go and convey the news to her great-grandfather about the purpose of Prithusen’s visit. Night came, but the Chief Justice, preoccupied with numerous matters, was still surrounded by visitors. The subject kept working in her mind the entire evening. She would begin to ponder on it for a number of reasons, among them the attitude of her grand-uncle Vishnu Sharma, and her own involvement in the incident. She knew that the news of Prithusen’s untowardly behaviour must have already reached her great-grandfather, surrounded as he was by numerous guests. More than telling him about Prithusen’s visit, she wanted to know his views on the matter.

Divya’s anxiety caused her to vacillate. Had she conveyed the news to her grandsire before brooding over it, there would have been no difficulty. But now she felt a certain reticence in broaching the subject; it was not proper to keep quiet about it either. She had assured Prithusen of justice, had given him her word. How could she remain indifferent? She had never paid much attention to the discussions on the subject of justice that went on around her great-grandfather. But now there was no excuse for passivity.