“The maiden is right. She is worthy of the God’s embrace. Is there more to say?”
“Maharaj, I worship you!” said the old man submissively (and still he had not looked at his child). “It is well. What orders?”
“Let her be perfumed and anointed daily. Let her food and drink be purer than the pure. Let her worship daily at the temple of Sri Krishna. The bridal shall be held in a month from this, that time being auspicious. The Car of her Lord shall come for her as the Queen she is, and all envy the Chosen.”
He turned to Radha, still at her father’s feet.
“Farewell, happiest Lady. Joys earthly and celestial await you. Rest in the knowledge of the favour of Sri Krishna. Hear of him, dream of him, until the glad truth slays all dream.”
He moved slowly toward the steps. Her father pursued him.
“Maharaj. Forgive, forgive! I neglect my manners. Thanks a thousandfold for the honour you have condescended to bring us this happy day. Your commands are ever before me.”
The words poured forth. He could not say enough.
“It is well, Pandit-ji. It is well. Say no more!” said the great guest, striding onward to the gate where two other Brahmans and his palki awaited him.
She stood in the shadows as the Pandit returned.