Hrishikesh of Lakshmanavati was neither a wealthy nor a destitute Brahmin. His dwelling bore a remarkable elegance. Within his inner quarters, where two young women were engaged in painting upon the chamber walls, the reader must now pause. Both maidens were deeply absorbed in their tasks, yet this absorption did not hinder their conversation with one another. From the midst of their dialogue, let us begin to listen.

One young woman said to the other, “Why, Mrinalini, do you not answer me? I love to hear stories of that prince.”

“My dear Manimalini! Speak of your own happiness, and I shall listen with delight.”

Manimalini replied, “I am weary of hearing about my own happiness—what shall I tell you?”

Mrinalini: Whom do you hear it from—your husband?

Manimalini: From whom else? There is no one else to tell me such things. Look, see how I have drawn this lotus?

Mrinalini: It is not quite right. The lotus rises too far above the water, but in a pond it is not so. The stem of the lotus rests upon the water, and so it should be in the painting as well. Add a few more lotus leaves; otherwise, the beauty of the lotus does not stand out. And if you can, draw a royal swan near it.

Manimalini: What would a swan do here? Mrinalini: You will speak of happiness to Padma as you do to your husband.

Manimalini (smiling): Both of you have sweet voices. But I will not draw a swan. I am weary of hearing tales of happiness again and again.

Mrinalini: Then draw a wagtail.

Manimalini: I will not draw a wagtail. The wagtail will spread its wings and fly away. She is not Mrinalini, whom one can bind with the chains of affection.

Mrinalini: If the wagtail is so mischievous, then, just as you have caged Mrinalini, do the same with the wagtail!

Manimalini: We did not cage Mrinalini—she entered the cage of her own accord.

Mrinalini: That is the virtue of Madhavacharya.

Manimalini: Friend, you have told me many times that you would recount in detail the story of that cruel deed of Madhavacharya. But see, even today you have not told me. Why did you leave your father’s house at Madhavacharya’s bidding?

Mrinalini: I did not come at Madhavacharya’s bidding. I did not even know him. Nor did I come here of my own will. One evening, after dusk, my maid brought me this ring and said that the one who had sent it was waiting in the flower garden. I saw that it was Hemchandra’s signet ring. If he wished to meet me, he would send this ring. There was a garden just behind our house. The cool breeze from the Yamuna would dance through that garden. It was there that I would meet him.

Manimalini said, “Even the memory of that makes me feel ill. How could you, a maiden, secretly love a man?”

Mrinalini: Why ill, my friend? He is my