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 a captive among foes; next fancy a richly furnished, deliciously cool and perfumed chamber. Fix your gaze at the door; suddenly your countenance shows expressions of joy; yonder comes the person who under this hostile roof looks on you as a brother; the person is moreover a woman—a youthful woman—a very full-blown lotus. Lying at length, you are looking at her steadily. Look what a grace is seated on that form—just tending to be tall, with all the members perfectly symmetrical—a very goddess with her divine perfections—a very queen by virtue of Nature's sanctifying chrism. Look, how graceful is her step. Have you heard of the elephant's gait? What is that? You talk of the motion of the swan? Mark the girl's step. The sounding instrument keeps measure in music; your heart keeps time to the music of her steps. See the bouquet in her hand. Do yow see the flowers have lost their hue before the superior brightness of her hands? Do you see that the golden chain has grown dim before the brightness of her throat? Ah! what's this? Why have your eyes forgotten to twinkle? Do you see the graceful manner of her neck? Do you see how happily the dark ringlets have fallen over her alabaster neck? Do you see how sweetly her pendants are waving? Have you marked the gentle inclination of her head? That is owing only to her slight tallness. Why are you looking so steadfastly? What will Aesha think of you?

So long as the illness of Jagat Singha required her services, Aesha was every day ceaselessly engaged in tending him. As the Prince grew better and better, the visits of Aesha became rarer and rarer; and when he was perfectly cured, she seldom came to him, only visiting him once or twice at long intervals, and