"I have to prepare pán," responded she with the same irritable look.
"Do it then here and let me have some," said he.
"Let me go," said she again.
"Why, what is [it]?" said Mathur fondly, "Name but my offence to you and I promise you expiation."
"Offence to me," said she in the same pettish manner, "what offence can you be guilty of towards me? What am I that I can be offended with you? You can do what you please without offending anybody—and I am nobody."
"Sabash," said he, "this is anger indeed! But tell me, queen of [my] life, what is that I must undo, and I will undo it immediately."
"Go to the wife you love," she said "and she may tell you if there is anything to undo, and undo it then.—What matters to you this wishes of a poor woman who no further trespasses on your bounty than to live in your household which even strangers are permitted to do?"
"Oh! can it be that?" asked Mathur, now comprehending how matters stood—"are you angry that I have taken the poor woman to my household at the"—he would have added—"at the intercession of your rival,"—but he forebore and stopped short.
"It is your house", returned she, still with apparent displeasure, but now glad at heart that he had divined the cause of her displeasure, "you can admit anybody you please."
"But seriously," he added with earnestness
