: "Do not be angry with me. I am going to
destruction."

Hara Deb was very wise. On reading this letter he thought to himself:
"What is this? Anxiety about money? A quarrel with some friend?
Debendra Datta? Nothing of the kind. Is this love?"

Kamal Mani received another letter from Surja Mukhi. It concluded
thus: "Come, Kamal Mani, sister; except you I have no friend. Come to
me."

Kamal Mani was agitated; she could contain herself no longer. She
felt that she must consult her husband.

Srish Chandra, sitting in the inner apartments, was looking over the
office account-books. Beside him on the bed, Satish Chandra, a child
of a year old, was rejoicing in the possession of an English
newspaper. He had first tried to eat it; but, failing in that, had
spread it out and was now sitting upon it. Kamal Mani, approaching her
husband, brought the end of her _sari_ round her neck, threw herself
down, bending her forehead to the floor, and, folding her hands, said,
"I pay my devotions to you, O great king." Just before this time, a
play had been performed in the house, from whence she borrowed this
inflated speech.

Srish said, laughing, "Have the cucumbers been stolen again?"

"Neither cucumbers nor melons; this time a most valuable thing has
been stolen."

"Where is the robbery?" asked Srish.

"The robbery took place at Govindpur. My elder brother had a broken
shell in a golden box. Some one has stolen it."

Srish, not understanding the metaphor, said "Your brother's golden
casket is Surja Mukhi. What is the broken shell?"

"Surja Mukhi's wits," replied Kamal.

"People say if one has a mind to play he can do so, though the shells
are broken" (referring to a game played with shells). "If Surja
Mukhi's understanding is defective, yet with it she gained your
brother's heart, and with all your wisdom, you could not bring him
over to your side. Who has stolen the broken shell?"

"That I know not; but, from reading her letter, I perceive it is
gone--else how could a woman write such a letter?"

"May I see the letter?" asked Srish.

Kamal Mani placed the letter in her husband's hand, saying: "Surja
Mukhi forbade my telling you all this; but while I keep it from you I
am quite uneasy. I can neither sleep nor eat, and I fear I may lose my
senses."

"If you have been forbidden to tell me of the matter I cannot read
this letter, nor do I wish to hear its contents. Tell me what has to
be done."

"This is what must be