the image of
the flower-armed deity, which stands at the foot of the red _Asoka_
tree. The queen enters the garden accompanied by Kanchanmala, her
principal attendant, Sagarika and other damsels. Noticing Sagarika, the
queen thinks, "What carelessness! an object I have hitherto so
cautiously concealed, thus heedlessly exposed! I must remove her hence
before the arrival of the king." She says, "How now, Sagarika, what
makes you here? where is my favourite starling, that I left to your
charge, and whom it seems you have quitted for this ceremony? Return to
your place." Sagarika withdraws to a short distance and thinks, "the
bird is safe with my friend Susangata. I should like to witness the
ceremony. I wonder if _Annaga_ is worshipped here as in my father's
mansion! I will keep myself concealed amongst the shrubs and watch them,
and for my own presentation to the deity I will go, cull a few of these
flowers." The king now joins the queen. Kanchanmala delivers the
accustomed gifts of sandal, saffron, and flowers to the queen, who
offers them to the image. The king thus eulogises the beauty of the
queen, "Whilst thus employed, my love, you resemble a graceful creeper
turning round a coral tree: your robes of the orange dye, your person
fresh from the bath. As rests your hand upon the stem of the _Asoka_,
it seems to put forth a new and lovelier shoot. The unembodied god
to-day will regret his disencumbered essence, and sigh to be material,
that he might enjoy the touch of that soft hand."

The worship of the divinity concluded, the queen worships the king.
Sagarika views the scene, mistakes the king for the god and observes,
"What do I see? Can this be true? Does then the deity, whose effigy only
we adore in the dwelling of my father, here condescend to accept in
person the homage of his votaries? I, too, though thus remote, present
my humble offering."

She throws down the flowers and continues:--"Glory to the flower-armed
god: may thy auspicious sight both now and hereafter prove not to have
been vouchsafed to me in vain!"

She bows down, then rising looks again, and observes:--

"The sight, though oft repeated, never wearies. I must tear myself from
this, lest some one should discover me." She then withdraws a little,
hears a bard sing a ballad in praise of the king, perceives her mistake
and asks herself, "Is this Udayana, to whom my father destined me a
bride?" She becomes enamoured of the king. The king and the q