Like the sudden rise of storm clouds, the prince Hemchandra, in a terrible guise, set out in search of the Turk. As a tiger, upon seeing its prey, rushes forth with speed, so did Hemchandra, the moment he glimpsed the Turk, rush upon him. But where— He could not be certain whether he would encounter the Turks.

Hemchandra had seen only a single Turk. Yet he concluded that either the Turkish army had arrived near the city and was lying in concealment, or this man was a scout sent ahead by the Turks. If indeed the Turkish army had come, it would be impossible to fight them alone. But whatever the truth of the matter, Hemchandra could never remain still without investigating the real situation. For the great cause for which he had abandoned Mrinalini, he could not, even for a single night, allow himself to be lulled into sleep and neglect his duty. Especially, Hemchandra felt a deep, inner joy at the thought of slaying the Yavanas. Ever since he had seen the turbaned head, his thirst for vengeance had grown terribly fierce—how then could he remain calm? Therefore, with swift and determined steps, Hemchandra set out toward the royal road.

The royal road lay some distance from the garden house. The path that led from the garden house to the royal road was a rural lane, seldom trodden by people. Hemchandra took that path. Beside it ran a very broad and beautiful tank, adorned with steps. Along the banks of the tank grew many trees—bakul, sal, ashok, champak, kadamba, aswattha, banyan, mango, tamarind, and others. The trees were not arranged in any orderly fashion; rather, many of them were so closely intertwined, their branches mingling with each other, that they cast a deep, impenetrable shade along the water’s edge. Even by day, it was dark there. There was a rumor that ghosts haunted that tank. This belief had become so firmly rooted in the minds of the local people that they rarely went there. If they did, they never went alone. At night, no one ever ventured there.

In an age dominated by myth and legend, what wonder if Hemchandra too believed in the existence of ghosts? But though he believed in spirits, he was not of such timid nature as to hesitate to take the path he must. Therefore, without any hesitation, he walked along the edge of the tank. He proceeded. He was indeed unhesitant, yet not devoid of curiosity. Walking by the side of the riverbank, he cast his unwavering gaze everywhere and upon every object. He drew near the stairway. Suddenly, he was startled. His faith in popular rumor became firmly established. He saw, in the moonlight, upon the lowest step of the stairs, someone clad in white garments sitting with her feet just above the water. He perceived her to be a woman. She was dressed in white, her hair unbound; the mass of her tresses covered her shoulders, back, arms, face, and breast—enveloping her entirely.

Taking her for a spirit, Hemchandra began to pass by in silence. Yet he thought to himself, what if she is human? Who could be here at such an hour of the night? If she has seen the Turk, she might be able to tell me. With this suspicion, Hemchandra turned back. Fearlessly, he ascended the riverbank, and began to descend the stairway slowly. The apparition, though aware of his approach, did not move, but remained as before. Hemchandra came near her. Then she rose to her feet. She turned towards Hemchandra, and with her hands, brushed aside the veil of hair that covered her face. Hemchandra saw her face. She was no spirit, but had she been, Hemchandra would not have been more astonished.

He said, “Who is it, Manoroma! You here?”

Manorama replied, “I come here often—but why are you here?”

Hemchandra: I have business.

Manorama: What business at this hour of the night?

Hemchandra: I will tell you later; but why are you here at this hour?

Manorama: Why are you dressed so? A spear in your hand; a sword at your side; what is that glittering on the sword? Is that a diamond? And what is that on your head? That too sparkles—what is it? Is that also a diamond? Where did you get so many diamonds?

Hemchandra: They were mine. Monorama: Are you going out at night adorned with so many diamonds? What if a thief snatches them away?

Hemchandra: A thief cannot snatch anything from me.

Monorama: Then why do you need so many ornaments at this hour of the night? Are you going to a wedding?

Hemchandra: What do you think, Monorama?

Monorama: No one goes to a wedding armed for battle. You are going to war.

Hemchandra: Whom shall I fight? And what were you doing here?

Monorama: I was bathing. After bathing, I was drying my hair in the breeze. See, my hair is still wet.

Saying this, Monorama touched her damp hair to Hemchandra’s hand.

Hemchandra: Why bathe at night?

Monorama: My body burns.

Hemchandra: Why not bathe in the Ganges instead of here?

Monorama: The water here is much cooler.

Hemchandra: Do you always come here?

Monorama: I do.

Hemchandra: I am arranging your marriage—you will be wed soon. After marriage, how will you come here like this?

Monorama: Let the marriage happen first.

Hemchandra laughed and said, “You have no shame—you are so bold.”

Monorama: Why do you reproach me? You promised you would not.

Hemchandra: Do not take offense at that. Have you seen anyone else passing this way?

Monorama: I have. Hem: What was his attire?

Monorama: The attire of a Turk.

Hemchandra was greatly astonished; he said, “What? How did you recognize he was a Turk?”

Monorama: I have seen Turks before.

Hem: Truly? Where did you see them?

Monorama: Where have I not seen them?—Will you now pursue that Turk?

Hem: I will—Which way did he go?

Monorama: Why?

Hem: I