It is well past midnight. Kishori is lying on her bed under the mosquito net in her room, lost in thoughts unknown. Yes, her tear-filled eyes certainly reveal that some kind of turmoil is raging within her heart. There is no sleep in her eyes; she keeps turning from side to side and sighing deeply.

Suddenly, a heart-wrenching sound from outside the room reached her ears, making her restless at once. She could not remain lying down any longer. She got down from the bed, opened the door, and began to look around outside. The sound was of someone sobbing and weeping.

Outside the room was an eight-doored veranda, where, leaning against a pillar, stood a young woman, sobbing and crying bitterly. The moonlight was falling clearly on both the pillar and the woman. Coming closer, Kishori realized that the woman was shivering from the cold, for she wore no heavy garment to protect herself.

Kishori's heart was already wounded. How could she bear to see someone weeping so bitterly? She immediately went up to the woman, took her hand, and asked—

"What calamity has befallen you, that you are weeping so bitterly?"

Woman: "Alas, a calamity has befallen me that cannot be averted in any way!"

Kishori brought her into her own chamber and, seating her beside her on the carpet, began to converse with her. This woman could not have been more than eighteen years old. She was beautiful and delicate in every way; the jewelry she wore made it clear that she must be the daughter of a noble family.

Kishori: "I hope you will tell me your heart's story plainly, and, considering me your sister, hide nothing from me."

Woman: "Sister, I will certainly tell you my tale, for you too are ensnared in the same misfortune as I am."

Kishori (startled): "Have you, too, suffered injustice as I have?"

Woman: "Without a doubt."

Kishori (with a deep sigh): "O God! I have wronged no one, then why must I endure such sorrow?"

Woman: "But I cannot remain in this place any longer!"

Kishori: "Why is that? Do you feel some kind of fear?"

Woman: "No, no, I am not afraid of anything, but at this moment I have hope of escaping with someone's help, and that is why I left my room and came here."

Kishori: "Has some plan been devised?"

Woman: "Yes, and if you wish, you too can escape from here with me. A powerful man of this very kingdom will help us tonight."

Hearing this, Kishori was overjoyed. She quite forgot to ask who this woman was, what her name might be, or what sorrow had befallen her; in her eagerness to escape, she clasped the woman's hands in her own and, gazing at her with affection, asked, "With your help, can I too be freed from here?"

Woman: "Certainly you can, but we must not delay any longer."

Kishori was about to reply when the door before them opened, and a beautiful woman entered. She appeared to be about twenty years old, her complexion fair as wheat, her stature neither tall nor short, her body graceful and well-formed, her face charming, her eyes full of sweetness. Aside from a diamond stud in her nose and a few simple ornaments, she wore little jewelry, yet she was worthy to sit among the highest ranks of beauties. At the sight of her, the woman sitting beside Kishori started, looked at her, and exclaimed, "Lali, your coming here at this hour astonishes me!"

Lali: "But you will be even more astonished to learn that I have come to save poor Kishori from your clutches."

At these words, the other woman's entire demeanor changed. On her face appeared...

The gloom that had lingered until now vanished completely, replaced by a sudden flush of anger. Her eyes, which had been brimming with tears, dried up at once, and a crimson fury began to burn within them. She looked at Lali with such a commanding gaze, as though she held some authority over her.

Kishori, too, recognized Lali, for she was one of those beauties appointed to entertain Kishori and ensure her safety.

After fixing Lali with that imperious look for several moments, the woman spoke again—

"Lali, have you gone mad today, that you dare to speak so disrespectfully in my presence?"

Lali replied, "And who are you, that I should treat you with respect?"

The woman (standing up): "Do you not know who I am?"

Lali: "Kundan, I know you very well. But you do not realize that your reins are in my hands, and you can do nothing to me. Nor can you ensnare poor Kishori in the web of your deceit!"

No sooner had Lali spoken these words than the woman—whose name was Kundan—turned red with rage, unable to contain her fury. She drew a dagger, hidden at her waist, and lunged at Lali to strike. But Lali swiftly produced an orange from beneath her arm, held it up, and asked, "Have you forgotten how many segments are in this?"

At the sight of the orange, and upon hearing Lali's words, Kundan's anger melted away. Fear and panic drained the color from her face, and with a shriek, she collapsed to the ground.