"Couldst thou not give me a few cakes, O sweet one, and some dall?" he said to the good-natured looking wench who had been serving him. "I have a brother—hungry—all day in the rain—while I have eaten. Thou art like the moon, O beauty, and thy heart as soft as butter. Give me the cakes for a poor, weak, hungry brother."
"Was there ever such a tongue and such a face?" retorted the damsel, laughing. "Look, Rookmee!"
The cook turned round and looked, too, laughing heartily; for Lukshmun's attitude on one leg, with the sole of the other foot pressed against the calf of it, his hands joined and stretched out imploringly, and his seared face twisted into a grotesque expression of supplication, was not to be resisted.
"Give him these cakes," said the cook, handing two to the girl.
"By your antelope eyes, O sweet ones, more!" he said, not altering his posture. "Do you think two would fill a hungry man's belly? By your lotos feet——"
"There, begone!" said the cook, handing him a few more and some dall; "there is a meal for a Rajah. Go, if the mistress should hear you——"
"I am gone, O my beauties," continued Lukshmun, folding the cakes into his waist-cloth, and tying them behind, then washing his hands elaborately. "You have made my heart——"
"Come quickly, come," said a voice at the door; "they want thee. Wilt thou eat all day?"
"I worship you, lovely nymphs, even as Rama adored——"
"Begone!" cried both the girls in a breath. "Here is the mistress coming, and if she hear such nonsense thou wilt be whipped."