'Forcibly?'
'Forcibly.'
'Very well, then, I will make a move. But the world is not divided between Calcutta and your estates. There are other places on the map.'
'From the way you have been going on, one would hardly have thought that there was any other place in the world except my estates.'
Sandip stood up. '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."[1] 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.
- ↑ Quotation from the National song,—Bande Mataram.
