"Goddess!" he said, "it was to offer my reverence that I had
approached you, but you repulsed me, and rolled me in the dust.
Be it so, I accept your repulse as your boon to me, I raise it to
my head in salutation!" with which he pointed to the place where
he had been hurt.
Had I then misunderstood him? Could it be that his outstretched
hands had really been directed towards my feet? Yet, surely,
even Amulya had seen the passion that flamed out of his eyes, his
face. But Sandip is such an adept in setting music to his chant
of praise that I cannot argue; I lose my power of seeing truth;
my sight is clouded over like an opium-eater's eyes. And so,
after all, he gave me back twice as much in return for the blow I
had dealt him--the wound on his head ended by making me bleed at
heart. When I had received Sandip's obeisance my theft seemed to
gain a dignity, and the gold glittering on the table to smile
away all fear of disgrace, all stings of conscience.
Like me Amulya also was won back. His devotion to Sandip, which
had suffered a momentary check, blazed up anew. The flower-vase
of his mind filled once more with offerings for the worship of
Sandip and me.
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