ven look dingy. [He looks in another direction.] And the pond here looks like the morning twilight, for the lilies and red lotuses are as splendid as the rising sun. And again:
The ashoka-tree, whose twigs so merry
And crimson flowers have just appeared,
Seems like a battling mercenary,
With clotting crimson gore besmeared. 31
Good! Now where's your mistress?
Maid. If you would stop star-gazing, sir, you would see her.
Maitreya. [Perceives Vasantasenā and approaches.] Heaven bless you!
Vasantasenā. [Speaking in Sanskrit.[1]] Ah, Maitreya! [Rising.] You are very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated.
Maitreya. When you are seated, madam. [They both seat themselves.]
Vasantasenā. Is the merchant's son well?
Maitreya. Well, madam.
Vasantasenā. Tell me, good Maitreya,
Do friends, like birds, yet seek a shelter free
Beneath the modest boughs of this fair tree,
Whose leaves are virtues, confidence its root,
Its blossoms honor, good its precious fruit? 32
Maitreya. [Aside.] A good description by a naughty woman. [Aloud.] They do, indeed.
Vasantasenā. Tell me, what is the purpose of your coming?
Maitreya. Listen, madam. The excellent Chārudatta folds his hands[2] and requests—
Vasantasenā. [Folding her hands.] And commands—
Maitreya. He says he imagined that that golden casket was his own and gambled it away. And nobody knows where the gambling-
