"What is it?"
"Man. The forest-maid with his touch blossoms into a full-blown house-wife. You have touched that stone."
Then she hummed in the following air in a tuneful voice:
I shall bind thy ample locks of hair
And give thee shining robe to wear;
Your braid shall shine with flowers fresh,
A tiara shall thy temple grace;
There shall be a girdle for thy waist,
For ears, a pair of pendants best;
Nut, leaf and betel spices sweet,
Sandal and ingredients meet,
Delicious shall thy cup overflow;
Thy ruddy lips shall ruddier glow.
There shall, a boy, as bright as gold
And fair, as doll, thy arms enfold;
And, I am sure, such a sight as this
Will fill your heart with joy and bliss.
"Well, now I understand. Granted, I have touched the philosopher's stone and in contact with it have turned into gold; granted, I have braided the hair and stuck up flower in the braided knot; granted, I have dangled the waist-band on the loin and hung up ear-rings in the ear; granted, I have used plenty of sandal, kunkum, chooa, betel and betel-nut and am delivered even of the precious sweet boy babe; granted, it gave a fillip to my pleasures. After all, do these make up happiness?"
