Bhabatosh took no supper that night, declaring that he had no appetite.
The triumph in his mind over his self-conquest and the fulfilment of his vow began to abate. As often as Jagadamba's face arose before his mind, his heart grew cold within him. He began to think that ugly as she was, it would not have been so bad had she shown some signs of intellect.
On Monday early, Bhabatosh took train for Calcutta, his mother having remarked that there were only ten days to the wedding and that he must come home two days before the event.
At the mess-house his comrades observed that his countenance was clouded. He went to his own room and sat down. One after another came to him with greeting and the question—"What news have you for us?"—Before setting out for his home Bhabatosh had told them all what was afoot.
With an embarrassed laugh Bhabatosh answered—"The news is good." Then they questioned him as to the girl's appearance, her accomplishments, her age. Suddenly one of them said—"What is her name?" Bhabatosh gave it.
At the sound of it something of a smile appeared on every face. One only, losing control over himself, laughed out—"Ha! ha! ha! Jagadamba! he! he! he! A fine name that, isn't it?"
