‘“‘A sweet joy filled me as I heard her say this, and I thought, (437) “Surely Love has led her far in her feelings for Candrāpīḍa. If this indeed be true, he shows in visible form, under the guise of Kādambarī, his tender feeling towards the prince, and he is met by the prince’s innate and carefully-trained virtues. The quarters gleam with his glory; a rain of pearls is cast by his youth on the waves of the ocean of tenderness; his name is written by his youthful gaiety on the moon; his own fortune is proclaimed by his happy lot; and nectar is showered down by his grace as by the digits of the moon.”
‘“‘Moreover, the Malaya wind has at length its season; moonrise has gained its full chance; the luxuriance of spring flowers has won a fitting fruit; the sharpness of wine has mellowed to its full virtue, and the descent of love’s era is now clearly manifest on earth.
‘“‘Then I smiled, and said aloud: “If it be so, princess, cease thy wrath. Be appeased. Thou canst not punish the prince for the faults of Kāma. These truly are the sports of Love, the god of the Flowery Bow, not of a wanton Candrāpīḍa.”
‘“‘As I said this, she eagerly asked me: “As for this Kāma, whoever he may be, tell me what forms he assumes.”
‘“‘“How can he have forms?” replied I. “He is a formless fire. For without flame he creates heat; without smoke he makes tears flow; without the dust of ashes he shows whiteness. Nor is there a being in all the wide universe who is not, or has not been, or will not be, the victim of his shaft. Who is there that fears him not? (438) Even a strong man is pierced by him when he takes in hand his flowery bow.
‘“‘“Moreover, when tender women are possessed by him, they gaze, and the sky is crowded with a thousand images of their beloved. They paint the loved form; the earth is a canvas all too small. They reckon the virtues of their hero; number itself fails them. They listen to talk about their dearest; the Goddess of Speech herself seems all too silent. They muse on the joys of union with him who is their life; and time itself is all too short to their heart.”
‘“‘She pondered a moment on this ere she replied: “As thou sayest, Patralekhā, Love has led me into tenderness for the prince. For all these signs and more are found in me. Thou art one with my own heart, and I ask thee to tell me what I should now do? I am all unversed in such matters. Moreover, if I were forced to tell my parents, I should be so ashamed that my heart would choose death rather than life.”
‘“‘Then again I answered; “Enough, princess! Why this needless talk of death as a necessary condition?[300] Surely, fair maiden, though thou hast not sought to please him, Love has in kindness given thee this boon. Why tell thy parents? Love himself, like a parent, plans for thee; (439) like a mother, he approves thee; like a father, he bestows thee; like a girl friend, he kindles thine affection; like a nurse, he teaches thy tender age the secrets of love. Why should I tell thee of those who have themselves chosen their lords? For were it not so, the ordinance of the svayaṃvara in our law-books[301] would be meaningless. Be at rest, then, princess. Enough of this talk of death. I conjure thee by touching thy lotus-foot to send me. I am ready to go. I will bring back to thee, princess, thy heart’s beloved.”
‘“‘When I had said this, she seemed to drink me in with a tender glance; she was confused by an ardour of affection which, though restrained, found a path, and burst through the reserve that Love’s shafts had pierced. In her pleasure at my words, she cast off the silken outer robe which clung to her through her weariness, and left it suspended on her thrilling limbs.[302] She loosened the moonbeam necklace on her neck, put there as a noose to hang herself, and entangled in the fish ornaments of her swinging earring. Yet, though her whole soul was in a fever of joy, she supported herself by the modesty which is a maiden’s natural dower, and said: “I know thy great love. But how could a woman, tender of nature as a young çirīsha-blossom, show such boldness, especially one so young as I? (440) Bold, indeed, are they who themselves send messages, or themselves deliver a message. I, a young maiden,[303] am ashamed to send a bold message. What, indeed, could I say? ‘Thou art very dear,’ is superfluous. ‘Am I dear to thee?’ is a senseless question. ‘My love for thee is great,’ is the speech of the shameless. ‘Without thee I cannot live,’ is contrary to experience. ‘Love conquers me,’ is a reproach of my own fault. ‘I am given to thee by Love,’ is a bold offering of one’s self. ‘Thou art my captive,’ is the daring speech of immodesty. ‘Thou must needs come,’ is the pride of fortune. ‘I will come myself,’ is a woman’s weakness. ‘I am wholly devoted to thee,’ is the lightness of obtruded affection. ‘I send no message from fear of a rebuff,’ is to wake the sleeper.[304] ‘Let me be a warning of the sorrow of a service that is despised,’ is an excess of tenderness. ‘Thou shalt know my love by my death,’ is a thought that may not enter the mind.”’”’