One day my husband came to my bedside. "I cannot brazen it out before
you any longer," said he, "Kumo, it is I who have ruined your eyes."
I felt that his voice was choking with tears, and so I took up his right
hand in both of mine and said: "Why! you did exactly what was right.
You have dealt only with that which was your very own. Just imagine, if
some strange doctor had come and taken away my eyesight. What
consolation should I have had then? But now I can feel that all has
happened for the best; and my great comfort is to know that it is at
your hands I have lost my eyes. When Ramchandra found one lotus too few
with which to worship God, he offered both his eyes in place of the
lotus. And I hate dedicated my eyes to my God. From now, whenever you
see something that is a joy to you, then you must describe it to me; and
I will feed upon your words as a sacred gift left over from your
vision."
I do not mean, of course, that I said all this there and then, for it is
impossible to speak these things an the spur of the moment.
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