# Indira and Other Stories/Indira/Chapter 7

VII.
Whatever means of inflaming males Providence has entrusted to our sex, these I heartlessly employed in the torture of my husband during his week's trial. How am I, a woman, to describe a woman's arts and wiles? If by right of womanhood I had not known how to kindle the flame, why was there such a blaze in the poor man's heart last night? But by what means I lighted the fire, how cunningly I blew it when it smouldered, how I managed to set my husband's heart aflame, I cannot for sheer shame tell the tale of all this.
If any of my fair readers has ever engaged in the task of man-slaughter, and has succeeded in her endeavour, then she will understand. If any of my male readers has ever suffered at the hands of a destroying angel, I need not tell him of my tactics. Are not we women, in short, the thorns of this weary world? Is it not mere ​history that the world has suffered more from us women than from all the men that were ever born of women? Luckily our sex is for the most part unaware of its destructive power, else by this time our poor globe would have been destroyed by fire!
During this week of trial I was constantly in my husband's company. I spoke to him affectionately and sympathetically. I carefully abstained from idle gossip. Smiles, and looks, and gestures, are not these the natural arms of our weak sex? The first day, I was condescending and kind. The second day, I showed signs of growing affection. The third day, I took it upon myself to supervise his domestic affairs. I was careful to see that due arrangements were made for his comfort in eating, sleeping, and bathing. Nothing was neglected that contributed to his well-being. I cooked with my own hand; I even cut up the firewood. Climax of shame—one day I wept! I refused to tell him plainly why I was crying. But I let him understand that I dreaded that ​when the trial was over, his passion might be sated, he might tire of me, and desert me. One day he was not very well. I sat up all night with him and tended him. Do not despise me for all this wicked behaviour. From my heart I say that it was not all cunning and pretences. I was beginning to love him very dearly. Shall I say that I was already almost half as much in love with him as he was in love with me? Need I say that before the week was up, I would not have left him if he had beaten me and tried to drive me away?
Nor need I tell you that fresh fuel was being added to the flame that consumed him. By degrees he abandoned all his other pursuits for the pleasure of being with me. When I was occupied with my house-work, he followed me about like a child. At every step I could see the growing strength of his passion, and yet at a hint from me he would restrain himself. At length he had come to such a pass that he would touch my feet in the Hindu way of showing submission, would entreat me not to leave him when ​his trial was over. And in truth it seemed to me that I had become so necessary to him that he would lose his senses if I deserted him.
When the last day of the probation came round, I wept and said to him, "Dearest, I did wrong to come with you, I have given you undeserved pain and trouble. It seems to me that this probation has been a foolish mistake. Who can predict the course of a man's passions? You have loved me fondly all these eight days. But eight months hence—can you yourself say whether you will still love me? And if you desert me, think of what my state will be!"
He rose to his feet with a laugh. "If that is your only anxiety," he said, "I can easily put your mind at rest. I had thought of doing it before, but now my mind is made up. I shall make due provision for you."
I had been waiting for a chance of leading him to say something of the sort. I was the more pleased when he said it of his own accord.
"Fie," I cried, "if you leave me, what need shall I have of money? If it is merely a ​question of living, a woman can live by begging. But I do not wish to live if you leave me. What I want is a proof, my dear, that you will not leave me all my life long. For to-day is the last day of my darling's trial."
"What will you have me do?" he asked, "I will do whatever you desire."
"I am only a woman," I replied, "what shall I say? Think it out for yourself."
Then I led the talk to other subjects. By degrees I fell to telling him a silly story—made up, of course—about a man who had made a deed of gift of all his property to his mistress. That was the gist of it.
He ordered his carriage to be got ready, and drove away. This was the first time he had left me during the whole week. Presently he returned, but did not tell me where he had been, nor did I venture to ask him. In the afternoon, he went out again. When he came back, he had a paper in his hand.
"Take this," he said; "this is a deed giving you the whole of my worldly goods. I ​got a lawyer to draw it up. If ever I desert you, I shall be driven to begging my bread in the streets!"
This time the tears that came to my eyes were genuine enough. Did my dear love me so dearly as that? I stooped to touch his feet, and said, "From this day forth, I am thy bond-woman, thy bought slave. The probation is ended."