As soon as Akshay had left the house Jogendra went upstairs. He found Annada Babu and Hemnalini in the sitting-room engaged in conversation. Annada looked a trifle ashamed of himself when he saw his son. He regretted his outburst at the tea-table and the temporary loss of his usual composure; and he greeted Jogendra accordingly with more than his customary heartiness.
“Come along, Jogendra, come and sit down, lad!”
“Look here, dad,” began Jogendra, “you and Hemnalini never seem to stir out of the house nowadays. Staying indoors all day can’t be good for you.”
“Well, well,” replied Annada, “we’ve always been stay-at-home folk. Besides, one has to cudgel one’s brains for an excuse to take Hem out.”
“Come now, dad,” put in Hemnalini, “you mustn’t put the blame on me. You know I’m quite ready to go anywhere with you.”
Uncongenial though the effort was, the girl was anxious to convince them that she did not intend her secret sorrow to keep her a prisoner within four walls. She would have them believe that she took a lively interest in all that happened outside.
“Well, dad,” said Jogendra, “there’s to be a meeting to-morrow; you had better take Hem to it.”
Annada was aware of Hemnalini’s constitutional distaste for crowded public assemblies, and instead of answering he looked across at his daughter for guidance.
“A meeting!” she cried, with forced animation. “Who is the speaker to be?”
Jogendra. “Dr. Nalinaksha.”
Annada. “Nalinaksha!”
Jogendra. “He’s a remarkably fine speaker, and what’s more he has a most extraordinary history. Such self-denial! Such constancy! He’s a man in a million,” and yet two hours before Jogendra had known nothing of Nalinaksha save one vague rumour!
“Well, dad,” said Hemnalini, with a display of alacrity, “we must certainly go and hear this paragon.”
Annada was by no means convinced by Hemnalini’s show of eagerness; still he was sensible of a certain relief. Let Hemnalini, even though it cost her a struggle, only continue to go out into the world and mingle with her kind and she would soon regain her normal tone. The society of one’s fellow-men is the surest remedy for mental disorders.
“All right,” he said to Jogendra, “you take us to the meeting to-morrow and see that we’re there in good time; but tell me what you know about Nalinaksha. One hears so many different stories about him.”
Jogendra commenced with a tirade against scandalmongers in general.
“The ultra-religious,” he began, “believe that Heaven entrusted them at birth with a licence to slander and abuse their fellow-men indiscriminately. There’s no one more uncharitable and malevolent than these piety-merchants!” and Jogendra’s indignation boiled over.
“I’m with you; I’m with you,” repeated Annada soothingly. “To be always discussing his neighbours’ failings makes a man sour, narrow-minded, and suspicious.”
“Hallo, dad!” exclaimed Jogendra, “are you having a dig at me? I’m not like these pious folk, you know; I can praise as well as blame. I’m quite prepared to tell a man my opinion of him to his face and back it up with my fists if necessary!”
“Don’t be foolish, Jogen,” Annada hastened to reply, “of course, I wasn’t thinking of you. Surely I know you by this time!”
Jogendra now launched forth into the story of Nalinaksha, lavishing on his subject all the eulogy at his command.
“It was to make his mother happy,” he concluded, “that Nalinaksha subdued his natural instincts and went to live in Benares; and all these friends of yours, dad, have seized the opportunity to invent scandalous stories about him. Personally, I admire his conduct. What do you say, Hem?”
“I’m of your opinion,” said Hemnalini.
“I knew that Hem would approve of his action,” - resumed Jogendra. “I haven’t the least doubt that if the occasion arose she would exercise equal self-denial to make her father happy.”
Annada cast an affectionate glance at his daughter. Hem’s face turned crimson, and she dropped her eyes in confusion.