“They are out in a boat,” he replied, glancing about him for support.
Aziz feigned intense surprise. “They have not gone in the direction of Mau, I hope. On a night like this the people become most fanatical.” And, as if to confirm him, there was a sob, as though the lips of a giant had parted; the procession was approaching the Jail.
“You should not treat us like this,” he challenged, and this time Aziz was checked, for the voice, though frightened, was not weak.
“Like what?”
“Dr. Aziz, we have done you no harm.”
“Aha, you know my name, I see. Yes, I am Aziz. No, of course your great friend Miss Quested did me no harm at the Marabar.”
Drowning his last words, all the guns of the State went off. A rocket from the Jail garden gave the signal. The prisoner had been released, and was kissing the feet of the singers. Rose-leaves fall from the houses, sacred spices and coco-nut are brought forth. . . . It was the half-way moment; the God had extended His temple, and paused exultantly. Mixed and confused in their passage, the rumours of salvation entered the Guest House. They were startled and moved on to the porch, drawn by the sudden illumination. The bronze gun up on the fort kept flashing, the town was a blur of light, in which the houses seemed dancing, and the palace waving little wings. The water below, the hills and sky above, were not involved as yet; there was still only a little light and song struggling among the shapeless lumps of the universe. The song became audible through much repetition; the choir was repeating and inverting the names of deities.
“Radhakrishna Radhakrishna,
Radhakrishna Radhakrishna,
Krishnaradha Radhakrishna,
Radhakrishna Radhakrishna,”
they sang, and woke the sleeping sentry in the Guest House; he leant upon his iron-tipped spear.
“I must go back now, good night,” said Aziz, and held out his hand, completely forgetting that they were not friends, and focusing his heart on something more distant than the caves, something beautiful. His hand was taken, and then he remembered how detestable he had been, and said gently, “Don’t you think me unkind any more?”