er," says the queen, and stepping forward, she
confronts the king with the words: "Here is the bark, my husband. You
need not search for it longer." Denial is useless; the king prostrates
himself at her feet, confessing his guilt and begging her not to be
angry at her slave. But she turns her back and leaves him. "I cannot
blame her," says the king; "homage to a woman leaves her cold unless
it is inspired by love, as an artificial jewel leaves an expert who
knows the fire of genuine stones." "Though Urvasi has my heart," he
adds, "yet I highly esteem the queen. Of course, I shall meet her with
firmness, since she has disdained my prostration at her feet."

The reason why Urvasi had been summoned back to heaven so suddenly was
that Indra wanted to hear a play which the celestial manager had
rehearsed with the apsaras. Urvasi takes her part, but her thoughts
are so incessantly with the king that she blunders repeatedly. She
puts passion into lines which do not call for it, and once, when she
is called on to answer the question, "To whom does her heart incline?"
she utters the name of her own lover instead of the one of similar
sound called for in the play. For these mistakes her teacher curses
her and forbids her remaining in heaven any longer. Then Indra says to
the abashed maiden: "I must do a favor to the king whom you love and
who aids me in battle. Go and remain with him at your will, until you
have borne him a son."

Ignorant of the happiness in store for him, the king meanwhile
continues to give utterance to his longings and laments. "The day has
not passed so very sadly; there was something to do, no time for
longing. But how shall I spend the long night, for which there is no
pastime?" The viduschaka counsels hope, and the king grants that even
the tortures of love have their advantage; for, as the force of the
torrent is increased a hundredfold if a rock is interposed, so is the
power of love if obstacles retard the blissful union. The twitching of
his right arm (a favorable sign) augments his hope. At the moment when
he remarks: "The anguish of love increases at night," Urvasi and her
friend came down from the air and hover about him. "Nothing can cool
the flame of my love," he continues,

"neither a bed of fresh flowers, nor moonlight, nor
strings of pearls, nor sandal ointment applied to the
whole body. The only part of my body that has attained
its goal is this shoulder, which touched