"It does happen at times," he said, "that a
man's whole world is reduced to a single spot. I have realized
my universe in this sitting-room of yours, that is why I have
been a fixture here."
Then he turned to me. "None but you, Queen Bee," he said, "will
understand my words--perhaps not even you. I salute you. With
worship in my heart I leave you. My watchword has changed since
you have come across my vision. It is no longer __Bande
Mataram__ (Hail Mother), but Hail Beloved, Hail Enchantress.
The mother protects, the mistress leads to destruction--but sweet
is that destruction. You have made the anklet sounds of the
dance of death tinkle in my heart. You have changed for me, your
devotee, the picture I had of this Bengal of ours--'the soft
breeze-cooled land of pure water and sweet fruit.' [27] You have
no pity, my beloved. You have come to me with your poison cup
and I shall drain it, either to die in agony or live triumphing
over death.
"Yes," he continued. "The mother's day is past. O love, my
love, you have made as naught for me the truth and right and
heaven itself.
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