It was ten o'clock at night. Jalpa was lying on the open roof. In the golden moonlight of the month of Jeth, the finials, domes, and trees spread across the city looked like dream images. Jalpa's eyes were fixed upon the moon. She felt as though she were flying toward it. Her nose felt dry, her eyes burned, and her head was spinning. Whenever a thought came to her, she forgot it immediately, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember it. Once she remembered home and began to cry. In the very next moment she remembered her friends and began to laugh. Suddenly Ramanath came with a bundle in his hand, smiling, and sat down on the cot.
Jalpa sat up and asked, “What's in the bundle?”
Ramanath: “Guess and I'll tell you.”
Jalpa: “A ball of laughter!” She began laughing.
Ramanath: “Wrong.”
Jalpa: “Then it must be a bundle of sleep!”
Ramanath: “Wrong.”
Jalpa: “Then it must be a box of love!”
Ramanath: “Correct. Today I am going to make you the goddess of flowers.”
Jalpa blossomed with delight. With great affection Rama began adorning her with floral jewelry. The cool, soft touch of the flowers tickled her delicate body. Every pore of her being seemed to bloom like those flowers.
Rama smiled and said, “Some reward?”
Jalpa gave no answer. Even while looking at her husband in this attire, she felt shy. She greatly wished to see herself in the mirror. A lamp was burning in the room in front. She got up, went inside, and stood before the mirror. In the wave of intoxication she felt as though she truly were the goddess of flowers. She picked up the betel box and came outside to prepare betel leaves.
At that moment Rama felt deep remorse over his deceitful conduct. When Jalpa returned from the room and looked at him with loving eyes, he turned his face away. He could not look into those eyes filled with such simple trust. He thought, “What a great coward I am. Could I not have answered Father plainly? Why did I agree at all? Was it not my duty to tell Jalpa the truth about the household's condition? His eyes filled with tears. He went and stood near the parapet. In the pure light of love, his moral torment seemed to stare at him like some terrible creature. He felt such disgust toward himself that for a moment he wanted to reveal the whole deception; but he restrained himself. The consequences would be terrible. The thought of falling in Jalpa's eyes was unbearable to him.
Jalpa looked at him with loving eyes and said, “My grandfather saw you and, when he came home, began praising you to Mother, and I wondered what you would be like. All kinds of pictures came into my mind.”
Ramanath drew a long breath. He gave no answer.
Jalpa continued, “My friends were enchanted when they saw you. Shahzadi would not move away from the window. She very much wanted to talk to you. When you went inside, she was the one who gave you the betel leaves, remember?”
Rama gave no answer.
Jalpa: “You know, the one who was the prettiest, with a mole on her cheek—you looked at her so affectionately that the poor thing was embarrassed. She told me, ‘Jijaji seems to be quite a romantic.’ The girls teased her terribly, and the poor thing nearly cried. Remember?”
Rama said as though drowning in a river, “I don't remember.”
Jalpa: “Well, next time you go, I'll show her to you. You went toward the market today, didn't you?”
Rama lowered his head. “I didn't have time today.”
Jalpa: “Then I won't speak to you. You make excuses every day. You'll bring it tomorrow, won't you?”
Ramanath's heart was crushed. She was so desperate for the Chandrahār. How could she know that misfortune was preparing to strip her of everything? He was determined to rob the very girl whose simple heart deserved that he sacrifice his life for her. He became so agitated that he felt like jumping from the roof and ending his life.
Half the night had passed. The moon peeped out like a thief from behind a tree. Jalpa was asleep with her arms around her husband's neck. Rama rose quietly with a terrible resolve; but the flower-lamp sleeping in the lap of slumber made him hesitate. For a moment he stood gazing in enchantment at Jalpa's smiling face in sleep. He did not have the courage to enter the room. He lay down again.
Jalpa asked in alarm, “Where are you going? Has morning come?”
Ramanath: “It is still deep night.”
Jalpa: “Then why are you sitting up?”
Ramanath: “Nothing. I just got up to drink some water.”
Jalpa, filled with love, put her arms around Rama's neck and made him lie down. “If you cast such a spell on me, I will run away. I don't know how you look at me, what you do, or what incantations you recite, but my heart becomes restless. Basanti is right: there is magic in men's eyes.”
In a broken voice Rama said, “I am not casting a spell. I am quenching the thirst of my eyes.”
They slept again, one immersed in joy, the other absorbed in worry.
Three more hours passed. The moon of the twelfth lunar day extinguished its lamp over the world. The cool morning breeze wandered through nature, offering it cups of intoxication. Even the market, which stayed awake until midnight, had fallen asleep. Only Rama was still awake. Various arguments and counterarguments rose in his mind, making him get up repeatedly and then lie down again. Finally, when he heard the sound announcing four o'clock, he jumped up in alarm and went into the room. The jewelry chest was kept in the cupboard. Rama picked it up and, trembling, went downstairs. In his panic he had not even had time to select a few pieces of jewelry.
Dayanath was sleeping in the veranda below. Rama gently woke him. He asked in confusion, “Who?”
Rama put a finger to his lips. “It's me. I have brought this chest. Keep it.”
Dayanath sat up cautiously. Until then only his eyes had awakened; now his consciousness awakened as well. When Rama had told him he would bring the jewelry, he had assumed that he was speaking in a moment of excitement. He had not believed that Rama would actually carry out what he was saying. He himself wanted to stay far away from such despicable tactics. His conscience could not accept collusion with his son in such a vile act. He asked, “Why did you bring it?”
Rama said boldly, “It was your order.”
Dayanath: “You are lying.”
Ramanath: “Then shall I put it back?”
Rama's question placed Dayanath in a terrible dilemma. Embarrassed, he said, “How can you put it back now? If someone sees you, there will be a catastrophe. You will do exactly the thing that will bring disgrace upon us. Why are you standing there? Put the chest in my large trunk and go lie down. If anyone wakes up, it will be all over!”
Behind the veranda was Dayanath's room. An old cedarwood trunk stood inside it. Rama put the jewelry chest inside and hurried upstairs. Reaching the roof, he listened. Jalpa was deep in the pleasant sleep of the last part of the night.
The moment Rama sat on the cot, Jalpa started awake and clung to him. Rama asked, “What is it? Why did you start?”
Jalpa looked around with happy eyes and said, “Nothing. I was dreaming. Why are you sitting up? How late is it?”
Rama lay down and said, “It is almost morning. What were you dreaming?”
Jalpa: “As though some thief were carrying away my jewelry chest.”
Rama's heart began pounding so violently that it seemed hammers were striking it. His blood ran cold. But a suspicion arose: had she seen him? He shouted loudly, “Thief! Thief!”
Down in the veranda, Dayanath also shouted, “Thief! Thief!”
Jalpa rose in alarm. She ran into the room and immediately opened the cupboard. The jewelry chest was not there. She collapsed unconscious.