thou thus burnest me and dost not reduce me to ashes?"

Having heard this, I made my appearance, and said: "O lovely lady, do
you ask how you have offended Kâma? You have given him great offence,
since you disparage his beloved Rati by your form, his bow by your
arched eyebrows, his arrows by your glances, his great friend, the
perfumed wind of Malaya, by your sweet breath, the notes of his
favourite bird by your voice. For all this Kâma justly torments you.
But I have done nothing to offend him; why should he so distress me?
Have pity on me, and cure the wound inflicted by the serpent of love,
with the life-giving antidote of an affectionate look."

Delighted at seeing me, she required no entreaty on my part, and
readily yielded to my embrace; and, sitting down on the couch, we
conversed as though we had been long acquainted.

At last the time for separation arrived, and I rose up to go; but she
with tears detained me, saying: "When you depart, my life seems to
follow. If you go, let me go with you."

I answered: "O my beloved, that is impossible. If you love me, be
guided by me, and we shall soon meet again, not to be parted."

This she readily promised, and I told her exactly what was to be done.
Then quitting her with reluctance, I returned safely by the way I had
come, and she went back to the palace.

The next day she showed the picture to the king, who greatly admired
it, and asked her where she had got it. She told him: "I have lately
made acquaintance with a very wonderful old woman, who has travelled