At midday, finding Divya lying on the mattress with her eyes closed and thinking her to be asleep, Chhaya went away to Mahadevi’s chambers to spend some time with her mother. But there she heard some news that made her rush back to Divya. Divya lay motionless with her face towards the wall. Chhaya could not contain herself. How could she let her mistress remain ignorant of the terrible news she carried?

In order to get over her mental agitation, Chhaya busied herself in tidying up the room. While doing so, her foot struck the metal lamp-holder, which fell and the whole room rang with the noise. Divya sat up startled and looked at her. Humbly apologizing for the disturbance, Chhaya faced her mistress and said in a tremulous voice, ‘An invitation has come, to attend the ceremony of Arya Prithusen’s betrothal with the granddaughter of the President. Both the grandsire and Mahadevi are terribly worried. There was a heated argument between Arya Dhriti Sharma and Vinay Sharma …’

Divya lay motionless on her bed, staring at the ceiling. For a long time she lay still. Stifling the cries that rose in her throat, Chhaya silently wiped the tears from her eyes and gazed at her mistress.

Late that evening, Chhaya helped her mistress prepare for bed. Despite the winter cold, Divya had not thought of covering herself warmly. Chhaya covered her with a quilt and a shawl, and sat down on the floor beside the bed, her chin resting on the bedstead.

Divya’s eyes were dry, but Chhaya’s were red and swollen.

‘Chhaya,’ Divya said looking at her without raising her head from the pillow. Chhaya looked up eagerly. ‘I would like just once to meet the Arya,’ said Divya in a feeble but determined voice.

‘Mistress,’ said Chhaya in a hushed tone, drawing close to Divya, ‘the President’s granddaughter has bewitched the Arya by some tantric spell. There is no doubt about it. If you will permit me, I shall go to Baikunth, the tantrik, and get a mantra from him to undo the spell cast by her. I will also get a magic charm to put the Arya in your power.’

‘Do whatever you like,’ said Divya, in a faint despairing voice. ‘God knows what has come over him. Even if he is so attracted to Seero, why is he turning away from me? I would willingly live with Seero as a co-wife. In every noble family of the Aryas there are several wives. Can’t Seero accept other women as wives of the Arya? Many a creature finds rest in the shade of a single tree. The king elephant has many wives. Surely, both of us could live together in the shelter of the arms of the Arya.’

Divya had begun to feel uncomfortably warm under the quilt and the shawl. She suddenly threw them aside. ‘There’s a cold wind blowing, Mistress,’ Chhaya said, as she drew up the shawl again, leaving only the feet uncovered. ‘You could catch a chill.’