I can secure this exquisitely beautiful
creature. Taking her with me, I shall go back to my abode, Oh sir, and
enquire who she is and whence she has come and why also that delicate
being hath come into this forest beset with thorns. Will this ornament of
womankind, this slender-waisted lady of so much beauty, endued with
handsome teeth and large eyes, accept me as her lord? I shall certainly
regard myself successful, if I obtain the hand of this excellent lady.
Go, Kotika, and enquire who her husband may be.' Thus asked, Kotika,
wearing a kundala, jumped out of his chariot and came near her, as a
jackal approacheth a tigress, and spake unto her these words.'"

SECTION CCLXIII

Kotika said, "Excellent lady, who art thou that standest alone, leaning
on a branch of the Kadamva tree at this hermitage and looking grand like
a flame of fire blazing at night time, and fanned by the wind?
Exquisitely beautiful as thou art, how is it that thou feelest not any
fear in these forests? Methinks thou art a goddess, or a Yakshi, or a
Danavi, or an excellent Apsara, or the wife of a Daitya, or a daughter of
the Naga king, or a Rakshasi or the wife of Varuna, or of Yama, or of
Soma, or of Kuvera, who, having assumed a human form, wanderest in these
forests. Or, hast thou come from the mansions of Dhatri, or of Vidhatri,
or of Savitri, or of Vibhu, or of Sakra? Thou dost not ask us who we are,
nor do we know who protects thee here! Respectfully do we ask thee, good
lady, who is thy powerful father, and, O, do tell us truly the names of
thy husband, thy relatives, and thy race, and tell us also what thou dost
here. As for us, I am king Suratha's son whom people know by the name of
Kotika, and that man with eyes large as the petals of the lotus, sitting
on a chariot of gold, like the sacrificial fire on the altar, is the
warrior known by the name of Kshemankara, king of Trigarta. And behind
him is the famous son of the king of Pulinda, who is even now gazing on
thee. Armed with a mighty bow and endued with large eyes, and decorated
with floral wreaths, he always liveth on the breasts of mountains. The
dark and handsome young man, the scourge of his enemies, standing at the
edge of that tank, is the son of Suvala of the race of Ikshwaku. And if,
O excellent lady, thou hast ever heard the name of Jayadratha, the king
of Sauviras, even he is there at the head of six thousand chariots, with
horses and elephants and infantry, and followed b