Presently the mother of the princess--the queen of the ex-king Mânasâra, who had also come with her attendants into the park, joined her daughter; and Bâlachandrika having seen her approaching, made a sign to the prince, upon which he and his friend slipped on one side, and hid themselves behind some leafy bushes. After the queen had stayed a short time talking to her daughter and looking at the games, she set out to return, and the princess accompanied her. Before going, she turned round, as if addressing the swan, but intending the speech for the prince, who was anxiously watching her from his hiding-place, "Though you came near me so lovingly just now, I may not stay longer with you: I must leave you and follow my mother: do not forget me or imagine that I neglect you, for I am still fond of you." With these words she walked slowly away, looking with longing eyes in the direction of her lover. On their return to the palace, the princess heard from Bâlachandrika a full account of Râjavâhana and his adventures, through which she was even more in love than before; and having no opportunity of seeing him again, became listless and indifferent to her usual occupations, lost her appetite, wasted away, and at last lay on her bed, burning with fever. In vain did her devoted attendants use all their efforts to diminish the heat by means of cold water, fanning, and other remedies; and she, seeing their distress, said to her faithful Bâlachandrika: "Ah, dear friend, all you can do is to no purpose; they call Kâma the god with five arrows; but surely this is a wrong name, for I feel as if pierced by him with hundreds of arrows. They call the wind from Malaya cooling; but to me it only increases the fever, as if blowing up the fire which consumes me: my own necklace, the contact of which was formerly agreeable, now feels as if smeared with the poison of serpents. Give up your exertions; the prince is the only physician who can cure me; and how can he come to me here?" Then Bâlachandrika thought to herself: "Something must be done, and that without delay, or this violent passion of love will surely cause her death. I will at least see the prince, and try if it is possible to bring about a meeting." Having thus resolved, she begged the princess to write a few lines to her lover; and committing her to the care of the other attendants, she went to the house of her husband. There she found Râjavâhana almost in the same state as the princess, burning with fever, throwing himself about restlessly on his couch, and bemoaning his hard fate to his friend. On seeing Bâlachandrika, he started up, saying, "Oh, how welcome is the sight of you! I am sure you must be the bearer of good news. Sit down here and tell me about my darling." She answered: "The princess is suffering like yourself, longing to see you; and has now sent me with this letter." Eagerly opening it, he read--