"Once in every two years it is my custom to travel from Bombay to Benares, and invariably I break the journey at a certain village some six or seven days from my final destination. Here dwells an old friend and caste brother, formerly, like myself, a merchant in the Bombay bazaar where silken stuffs are sold, but retired now to his own country with modest savings sufficient for the rest of his days. Baji Lal, as he is named, is all the closer to me because his wife Devaka is a sister of my own wife, and the two are always eager to have news of each other's welfare.
"At the house of this friend I rest for a day or two, enjoying his companionship, the reminiscences of old times, and the gossip of the hour. So, on my long and fatiguing journeyings, I have always looked forward to these meetings with pleasurable anticipation and remembered them with tranquil satisfaction.
"But on the occasion of one of my periodical visits judge of my surprise when I was received in silence and with apathy that made no pretence at disguise. Devaka did not rise from her cushions on the floor to bid me welcome, and her husband, similarly irresponsive, returned my customary cordial greeting with nothing better than a look of wearied dejection.
"'Baji Lal, my friend, what is the matter? Are you ailing?'
"But he only shook his head, and turned away.
"'What is the meaning of this?' I asked. 'Sadness and silence where everything used to be joy.'
"She drew aside the sari that had concealed her face, and I was shocked at its grief-stricken aspect. Her trembling lips parted to answer me, but her husband checked her with a sharp word, such as I had never heard him use to her before. Her eyes filled with tears, and I could see the big drops rolling down her cheeks as she silently replaced the sari over her head, and, bending low, rocked herself to and fro.
"For the moment I imagined that I had intruded on some scene of domestic unhappiness which would be dissipated in an hour. So, hiding my embarrassment, I turned to the door, intimating that I would seek some other lodging for the night, and return on the morrow, when I hoped my friends would be in fitter mood to receive me.
"At last Baji Lal spoke, raising his face but still remaining seated on the divan we were wont in former times to share.