Reboti. O my mother, here is none else. Some great danger has fallen upon me, that Podi Moyrani came to our house yesterday.
Sabitri. Rama! Rama! Rama![1] who allows that nasty fool to enter his house? What is left of her virtue? She has only to write her name in the public notices.
Reboti. My mother, but what shall I do? My house is not an enclosed one. When our males go out to the fields the house in no more a house; but you may call it a mart. That strumpet says (I do shrink at the thought), she says, that the young Saheb is become, as it were, mad at seeing Khetromany; and wants to see her in the Factory.
Aduri. Fy! fy! fy! bad smell of the onion! Can we go to the Saheb. Fy! fy! fy! bad smell of the onion! I shall never be out any more alone. I can bear every other thing, but the smell of the onion I can never bear. Fy! fy! fy! bad smell of the onion.
Reboti. But, my mother, is not the virtue of the poor actual virtue? That fool[2] says, he will give money, give grants of lands for the cultivation of rice and also give some employment to our son-in-law. Fie! fie! to money. Is virtue something to be sold? Has it any price? What can I say? That fool was an agent of the Saheb, or else I would have broken her mouth with one kick. My daughter is become thunderstruck from yesterday; and now and then, she is starting with fear.
Aduri. Oh, the beard! When he speaks, it is like a he-goat twisting about its mouth. For my part, I would never be able to go there as long as he does not leave off his onions and beard. Fie! fie! fie! the bad smell of the onion.
Reboti. Mother, again that unfortunate fool says, if you do not send her with me, I shall take her away by certain latyals.
21
