"Tiang." There was a hoarseness in her level voice. The brightness of the hundred watt globe illuminating the bale bandung made Biang Rai rub her eyes. A ray of light flashed across her worn cheek. She wiped clean the young coconut palm fronds that she held in the grasp of her hand. She felt she'd lost all feeling, lost the sense and spirit of being a woman. Once again her sister-in-law shot her a glance. She had to admit, Luh Candra was beautiful, with a tinge of blue and a look of authoritativeness in her face. That was because her mother had been born a Dayu, a Dayu from this Gria who, according to the members of the Gria, had been extremely beautiful. Almost every man had wanted her, had wanted to take her as his wife. She's also heard that Aji had competed for Dayu Bulan, Luh Candra's mother, the Luh Candra who had now become her sister-in-law. Biang Rai's eyes were slightly swollen. She no longer knew how she should think. She had no wish to draw breath in search of strength. She gripped the coconut palm fronds tightly. The emotion exploding in her chest was unspeakably painful. She wanted to let it spill out, but to whom could she turn?

"Go to bed!" This was the cold sentence that finally emerged from between her red lips. Her sharp eyes were hidden between the edges of the coconut fronds. Jero Kendelan raised her face. An unpleasant feeling played in her breast. All she wanted was to be sheltered in her mother's lap and told the story about life in the Gria and how one would be treated there. These longings bubbled up from within, surfacing briefly and then just as quickly departed again. Jero Kendelan once again stared at Biang Rai.

"Go to bed!" This time, the tone of voice was softer, but her face still reflected an arrogance intimidating enough to frighten. The wrinkles suspended around Biang Rai's stern eyes underscored and strengthened her character as the eldest child in Jero Kendelan husband's family.

"If Biang Rai will excuse me." Jero Kendelan bowed her head, her hair, piled up high, exposing the white nape of her neck. Noticing this, Biang Rai mumbled something indistinctly.

The night crawled by alone. In the distance, an owl hooted, each time sounding closer and closer. Biang Rai stood alone at the top of the steps on the bale bandung, her black eyes following the night. She strained to hear. The sound of the owl was getting closer. Usually, she heard dogs fighting over food or howling mysteriously. This time she heard nothing. She was being tossed around by her disturbed thoughts. The owl perched nearby in a flowering tree, its song clearly audible. It was not like usual. She complained, and then closed the bale bandung. A short while later, Biang Rai slept soundly. The colour of exhaustion reflected distinctly in her face and lips. A woman with a hard character. Or, was it the era she had lived in that had tarred her, so that he looked old-fashioned and conservative? Or perhaps it was just Father Time who had made her unable to differentiate between reality and illusion. The night faded in it weariness, and as it did Biang Rai woke with a start as a ray of sunlight shone straight into her eyes. She wrinkled her forehead. "Eight o'clock!" An indistinct mutter emerged from her lips.

"Kendelan, can you make coffee for me?" Kendelan nodded quickly. A tinge of panic floated briefly in her bright eyes.

"I'm not Mbok Rai. Can't you tell the difference in my tone of voice? Kendelan, you shouldn't take Mbok Rai's way of speaking to heart. I know she's stubborn and controlling. But at heart, she's kind. She's a fighter. Just think, she sent me to school until I graduated, and Gus Mahendra also. We're both graduates, and she only sells banten. And another thing, to this day, she's never married. I hope you'll try and understand, Kendelan." Kendelan smiled warmly. Gus Rama was the only one in the household who could read her heart and feelings. He understood everything. Mahendra didn't, he brushed everything aside as inconsequential. For him, a problem was just another form of criticism. But he was the one who belonged to her, the man who made her mother happy. Because of him, an old woman who had fought hard to restore her nobility was now able to smile with all her heart and soul. Kendelan nodded. Then she handed Gus Rama a cup of coffee. She had to admit how different he was to his younger brother, Mahendra. She smiled, and when her eyes accidentally met his, they both felt embarrassed. Rama left and Kendelan, her cheeks flaming, pretended to busy herself chopping up chillis in preparation for the day's meal. She took a breath, slowly. She tried to take charge of the dangerous forces surging within her. She felt ill. The face appeared again before her.