Rudradhir’s eyes were bloodshot and his face as immobile as a statue. He paid obeisance to the elders, but he and his friends remained standing where they were.

One by one the ladies of the nobility blessed him, applying the auspicious tilak on his forehead and offering him coconuts for good luck. Then as a propitious offering, each lady took out a gold coin, touched it to Rudradhir’s head and threw it into a vessel to be given away in charity to the priest. After wishing him long life, success and fame, the elders and their ladies proceeded towards the main gate along a path lighted for them by the torch-bearers.

After the departure of the elders, the remaining four young men sat down in a relaxed fashion around Rudradhir. Rudradhir’s younger brother, Vasudhir, out of respect for his elder brother and his friends, sat some distance away. Indradeep yawned and asked Vasudhir for a round of drinks.

Rudradhir sat with his elbow on the cushion and his head resting in his hand. Three quarters of the night had passed since he had returned from the House of Justice, and not a single word had passed his lips. The fires of ignominy and humiliation raging in his heart had consumed his power of speech.

When the sentence was pronounced in the House of Justice—a thousand days’ banishment for insulting the son of a slave—Rudradhir felt so angry that he forgot all decorum due to the law and the government of the state. His eyes became bloodshot and his hand went to the belt where his sword usually hung. As within the precincts of the House of Justice only state officials could carry weapons—the plaintiff, respondent and other people were not permitted to do so—his hand could not grasp his weapon. Finding himself thus thwarted his anger and irritation increased. He raised his head contemptuously to look squarely into the eyes of the aged Chief Justice and say, ‘Does the government of the caste nobility exist only for the glory of slaves?’

Not a muscle moved on the face of the aged Chief Justice at the youth’s impudence; only his lips, surrounded by his snow-white beard, did. He said, ‘Rudradhir, son of Acharya Pravardhan, the Chairman of the Republican Council, has been punished for his offence of insulting Prithusen, son of Prestha, the merchant, in public. He is now being further punished for contempt of this law court of Madra by an addition of another thousand days to his period of banishment.’

Silence fell on all sides. ‘In view of the status and high birth of Acharya Pravardhan, the Chairman of the Council, a period of one day and one night is hereby granted to Rudradhir to prepare himself for his banishment, failing which the state officials shall force obedience to the order.’

As soon as Rudradhir stepped out of the House of Justice, he was greeted by Indradeep, Sakrid, Vinay Sharma, Balajit and other high-born young men. They seated him in a palanquin and carried him on their shoulders to the palace of the Acharya. That he should have accepted the insult to his caste and family, and should still be alive, was a thought too terrible for Rudradhir to bear. ‘I should have killed Prithusen and thereafter killed myself,’ he kept repeating to himself.