At 7.30 P.M. the bridegroom’s procession was formed.  A Sub-Inspector of Police and three constables led the way, followed by a band of music.  Next came a carriage and four conveying Samarendra, his younger brother, and the family priest.  Carriages belonging to Amarendra Babu’s friends, and some hired ones full of invited guests, brought up the rear.  When a start was made, the little police force hustled vehicles out of the way and even stopped tram-cars when necessary; while the band tortured selections from Handel and Beethoven to the intense delight of passers-by, many of whom paused to criticise shortcomings in the procession among themselves.  In about an hour it reached its destination, where Kumodini Babu’s uncle received the guests.  The family barber carried Samarendra in his arms to a chair which had been provided for him.  There he sat with eyes fixed steadily on the ground, while his friends squatted round and cracked jokes at his expense.  He smiled, but modestly implored them not to put him out of countenance.  The Lagna (auspicious time) was determined to be 9.30; meanwhile the guests sat on carpets or chairs, beguiling the delay with hookahs.

While mirth was at its height, strange things were happening in a private room adjoining.  Soon after arriving, Amarendra Babu asked Kumodini Babu and Jadunath to display the presents destined for the young couple.  They took him into a room where all were set forth to the best advantage.  After examining them in silence awhile, Amarendra Babu kicked the nearest contemptuously aside, remarking that they were “mere rubbish”.  In point of fact he fully expected Kumodini Babu to give Rs. 4,000 in cash, Rs. 2,000 in respect of Barabharan and Phulsajya and Rs. 4,000 worth of jewellery—­Rs. 10,000 in all.  To judge by the ornaments shown him, the total dowry would be barely half as much and he could not help expressing disappointment.  On asking Kumodini Babu what he intended paying down in cash, and learning that Rs. 1,001 was all he could afford, Amarendra Babu’s indignation knew no bounds.  He demanded Rs. 5,000, declaring that if it were not paid on the nail, he would take his son away!  The wretched father implored twelve hours’ delay, but was told in as many words that his promise could not be relied on.  The deadlock soon got wind, and Amarendra Babu’s action was severely commented on by the guests, but he remained obdurate.  Kumodini Babu’s uncle ran to a wealthy acquaintance for a loan of Rs. 4,000, but was told that so large a sum was not available at short notice.  On his return, Amarendra Babu delivered his ultimatum—­Rs. 4,000 cash to be paid forthwith; and finding that it was hopeless to expect so much, he hailed a cab, hurried Samarendra into it, and drove home in high dudgeon, followed by all his relatives and friends.  This unexpected calamity brought mourning into a house of mirth; people spoke in whispers; and anguish left its mark on every face.

Sham Babu was supervising the Haluikars (confectioners) when the awful news reached his ears.  For a few minutes he stood transfixed to the spot; but ere long a happy thought struck him.  He clapped his hands in silent glee, and ran to an inner room, where Kumodini Babu lay groaning on the bare floor, guarded by his son who feared that he would do something rash.