Krishnakanta's Will (Chatterjee, Roy)/Part 2/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
Rohini had a nice comfortable room upstairs, and she had every comfort that Gobindalal's money could buy. The servants over whom she exercised full control had their quarters below. In this solitary and out-of-the-way place Gobindalal had as few visitors as he could wish to have. If any traders called, though such calls were few and far between, the servants would let their master know, and he would walk downstairs and see them on the ground floor where he had a room reserved for occasional use.
Having discovered Gobindalal's whereabouts Nishakar, with whom the reader is acquainted, approached the house, and standing at the entrance cried, "Who is here?"
Gobindalal had two servants—Sona and Rupa. Hearing a man at the entrance they quickly appeared before him. Nishakar's features, which were pretty imposing, and the costly clothes he had taken care to wear, made them pause a little, wondering and exchanging looks with each other, for they had never known a gentleman of his appearance cross the threshold before. "Who do you want, sir," they both inquired at once.
"I want to see your master," said Nishakar.
"What name, sir?" asked Sona.
"You need mention no name," he said. "Only tell your master that there is a gentleman at the door, who desires an interview with him."
The master had expressly told his servants that he did not wish to see any gentleman, so they were not very willing to carry the message. Sona was rather afraid and knew not what answer to make; but Rupa was brave and said, "I am afraid, sir, master will not receive you unless you have an appointment."
"That's none of your concern, my friend. Will you go and tell your master that there is a gentleman downstairs wanting to see him?"
Rupa was silent.
"Well, if you will not," said Nishakar, "I think I will go upstairs and introduce myself."
"Oh, don't, sir, pray. That will lose us our places," said both the servants appealingly, rather alarmed.
"Here is a rupee," said Nishakar. "I will give it to either of you who will bear the message to his master."
Sona certainly felt the temptation; but before he could make up his mind to accept the reward offered by the gentleman, Rupa, who was more clever and less scrupulous than his companion, was quick to anticipate him. He moved up very quickly and held out his hand to receive the gift. When he had secured the rupee in the folds of his cloth he leisurely walked upstairs to deliver the message to his master.
When Rupa had gone Nishakar put another rupee into Sona's hand and said, "Mind you let me know what your master says. I shall be waiting outside in the garden."
When Rupa went upstairs the master was engaged, and he had had to wait before he could deliver the message. As Nishakar walked up and down the garden, a beautiful young woman was standing at a window above, watching him.
Rohini, for it was she who was at the window, wondered in her mind where the gentleman was from, and what he could want with Gobindalal. It did not seem to her that he belonged to Haridragram, for, if he did, she ought to have seen him before. But he was certainly a very handsome man, she thought. His gait—how easy and graceful. His complexion, she must confess, was not very fair—not so fair as Gobindalal's; yet his eyes—were they not quite killing? Why should she not talk to him? What harm was there if she really meant to remain faithful to Gobindalal?
As she was occupied with these thoughts, Nishakar, as he walked up and down, happened to look up, and his eyes met Rohini's. Whether the exchange of looks had conveyed to each other any secret message we are unable to say, but Rohini thought he was a man to know, and she must know him.
Just at this time, finding the master was disengaged Rupa approached him and said, "There is a gentleman downstairs asking to see master."
"Where is he from?" asked the master.
"Please, sir, I do not know."
"So you have come to tell me there is a gentleman downstairs without knowing where he is from?"
Rupa did not wish his master to think him a fool, and he had the presence of mind to say, "I asked him, sir, but he would not tell me."
"Tell him then I cannot see him," said the master.
A little before the message was delivered, Rohini, having occasion to go to the window, had accidentally seen Nishakar walking in the garden.
It was late; and neither of the servants turning up Nishakar was impatient and re-entered the house. There was no one downstairs. He would not wait any longer, and he mounted the stairs to introduce himself. He had just reached the door of the room when Rupa said, "Here is the gentleman, master." Nishakar quietly stepped into the room and sat down uninvited.
The music stopped. Gobindalal was greatly vexed; but seeing that the visitor was a gentleman, he suppressed his feelings and said, "Who do you want, sir?"
"My business is with yourself," said Nishakar.
"With me? Your name, please?"
"Rashbehari De."
"Where do you come from?"
"Baranagar."
"Sir, if you had the patience to wait instead of intruding into my room, you would have heard from my servants that I saw no one unless by appointment."
"I must beg your pardon for the intrusion. But allow me to tell you that my business with you is of such importance that it would have been hard to put me off with an answer like that. And now I am here I am not going to leave the house until I have let you know what my business is, and have got an answer from you."
"I think I don't want to know; but if you be very brief, as brief as you can, I may allow you to mention your business."
"My business may be mentioned in two words," said Nishakar.
"Well? said Gobindalal, wondering what it could possibly be.
At this time Danesh Khan—for that was the name of the music-master—was giving the bow a rub on a piece of resinous gum preparatory to playing a fresh tune on the violin.
"Your wife, Bhramar Dasi, wishes to lease her property, and—"
He had just begun when the music-master interrupted him as he said, addressing himself to Gobindalal, "This is word number one, let him remember, sir, for he said he would mention his business in two words."
"—And I am the party who wishes to be the lease-holder."
"This is number two," again broke in the music-master, putting up the fore and the middle finger of his right hand together. "He ought to stop there."
"I beg your pardon, Khan sahib, are you counting pigs?" said Nishakar, smiling derisively.
He had touched him at the most delicate point. The music-master fired up at once. "Sir," said he, "please send away this illbred fellow who dares offer this insult to a Musulman."
Gobindalal made no answer, for it seemed his thoughts were elsewhere at the time.
"I had been to Haridragram," said Nishakar, taking up the subject again. "Your wife wishes to lease the property. She let me know that if I could find out your whereabouts I should tell you that she wished to have your consent in the matter. The object of my visit is to communicate to you your wife's desire to grant me the lease, which, she says, cannot be done without your sanction."
Gobindalal was silent still. He looked rather sad and abstracted. Once more Nishakar put the matter clearly before him, and concluded by saying that his wife wanted from him a written permission without which she could not grant him the lease. Gobindalal easily swallowed what Nishakar told him, though the reader knows that his words had no foundation in truth. So after a while he very gently said, "The property is my wife's, not mine. It was given her by will by my uncle, and she might dispose of it as she likes. A written permission from me is of no significance, for I have nothing to do with it. That's the whole thing in a nutshell. Now you know what the fact is, I hope you will allow me to say goodbye."
Nishakar said no more. He thanked him and rose and came downstairs.
Gobindalal felt very low in spirits, and bade Danesh Khan give him a sprightly song. The man chose one he thought would be liked, but Gobindalal could find little or no pleasure in it. He next thought he would fiddle a little. He tried a certain melodious air, the one he had been practising lately, but this evening he played very clumsily though it might be said that he already had a passable hand on the violin. He said to Danesh Khan that he did not feel very well, and told him to go home. He afterwards took up again the novel he had been reading, but he could not give attention to it. So he threw aside the book and called Sona. "I want to sleep a while," he said to him. "Don't wake me before I awake."
The sun was about to go down, and he went and shut himself up in his room.
Gobindalal went not to sleep. He sat on the bed and wept silently. What made him weep we do not know, but probably it was the thought of his wife whom he had left for nearly two years and to whom he had been very cruel. Probably it was the reflection of his past and present sinful life, which made him feel very miserable.