Without being joined to him in wedlock with the proper ceremony, how could she protect from hostile eyes that part of Prithusen that she carried within her? What had been the grandest and sweetest thing in her life was now turning into a matter of shame and ignominy. How proud and happy she had felt to shelter and receive the agitated and restless Prithusen! That pride had now turned into a dark abyss, which was about to swallow her up. ‘Only a miracle can save me now,’ she told herself. ‘I want to be married to Prithusen, to bear his children. Then why has the prospect become so terrible now?’

Divya kept to her bed most of the time, listless and depressed. Mahadevi again grew anxious about her health. She appointed Dhata to look after her, and every now and then enquired about her. Knowing that the situation would arouse suspicion and make her face perilous consequences, Chhaya and Dhata, out of love for Divya, would tell Mahadevi and others that Divya was merely indisposed.

Chhaya’s lover, Bahul, had been killed in the battle of Darva. Having lost her lover, Chhaya had become all the more attached to her mistress suffering the pangs of separation. She had literally become Divya’s shadow. At night, unsure if Divya was asleep or brooding over her plight, Chhaya would keep a watch on her mistress, and doze off leaning against the bedpost.

Every day, under Mahadevi’s instructions, Assa, another maidservant, would go to the temple of Prajapati and to the Buddhist monastery to make offerings for Divya’s health. On her return she brought all sorts of news, which Chhaya passed on to Divya. Assa once said, ‘Just as offerings are being made for Divya, they are also being made for Prithusen’s health, and at the same temples and monasteries. And do you know where the offerings are being sent from? From Prestha’s palace and from the palace of the President.’

Then one day Chhaya said excitedly, ‘Arya Prithusen has recovered completely.’

Divya could not share Chhaya’s enthusiasm. Her thoughts had turned in a different direction ever since she had learned that offerings for Prithusen’s recovery were being sent from the palace of the President. She recalled how possessively Seero had sat by Prithusen’s bed, as though she was the mistress of the house.

Chhaya also brought another piece of news from Assa—Prithusen and the granddaughter of the President had been seen going together in a palanquin to the palace of Mallika, to lake Pushkarni and also to the palace of the President. Divya fell into a fit of deep despondency. ‘What is the matter with him?’ she said to herself. ‘He used to be so sensitive and so strong, a victor in battle, one who would set his life at naught for the sake of honour. For him, life without me had no meaning; he went smiling to face death on the battlefield in the assurance that I would be his. Was his declaration of love and passion mere deception and duplicity? Has he forgotten me altogether? Where shall I seek refuge now? If only the earth could open and hide me in her fold! I was not destined to have abiding love, otherwise why should my mother, who gave me birth, have vanished from this earth? The one person whom I regarded as my very own—the only one in the whole world—has turned his back upon me. And Rudradhir? He was banished by my own great-grandfather and has gone far far away.’