I kept still. Who was I to stop her? Was I the god of her worship that I should have any qualms? Bimala's Story XXIII Come, come! Now is the time to set sail towards that great confluence, where the river of love meets the sea of worship. In that pure blue all the weight of its muddiness sinks and disappears. I now fear nothing--neither myself, nor anybody else. I have passed through fire. What was inflammable has been burnt to ashes; what is left is deathless. I have dedicated myself to the feet of him, who has received all my sin into the depths of his own pain. Tonight we go to Calcutta. My inward troubles have so long prevented my looking after my things. Now let me arrange and pack them. After a while I found my husband had come in and was taking a hand in the packing. "This won't do," I said. "Did you not promise me you would have a sleep?" "I might have made the promise," he replied, "but my sleep did not, and it was nowhere to be found." "No, no," I repeated, "this will never do. Lie down for a while, at least." "But how can you get through all this alone?" "Of course I can." "Well, you may boast of being able to do without me. But frankly I can't do without you. Even sleep refused to come to me, alone, in that room." Then he set to work again. But there was an interruption, in the shape of a servant, who came and said that Sandip Babu had called and had asked to be announced. I did not dare to ask whom he wanted. The light of the sky seemed suddenly to be shut down, like the leaves of a sensitive plant. "Come, Bimal," said my husband. "Let us go and hear what Sandip has to tell us. Since he has come back again, after taking his leave, he must have something special to say." I went, simply because it would have been still more embarrassing to stay. Sandip was staring at a picture on the wall. As we entered he said: "You must be wondering why the fellow has returned. But you know the ghost is never laid till all the rites are complete." With these words he brought out of his pocket something tied in his handkerchief, and laying it on the table, undid the knot. It was those sovereigns. "Don't you mistake me, Nikhil," he said. "You must not imagine that the contagion of your company has suddenly turned me honest; I am not the man to come back in slobbering repentance to return ill-gotten money. But..."