“Whilst the devotees were lost in their passions, and absent from their homes, Sheevah entered their village with a musical instrument in his hand, playing and singing like some of those who solicit charity. At the sound of his voice, the women immediately quitted their occupation; they ran to see from whom it came. He was as beautiful as Krishen on the plains of Matra. Some dropped their jewels without turning to look for them; others let fall their garments without perceiving that they discovered those abodes of pleasure which jealousy as well as decency had ordered to be concealed. All pressed forward with their offerings, all wished to speak, all wished to be taken notice of, and bringing flowers and scattering them before him, said—‘Askest thou alms! thou who are made to govern hearts. Thou whose countenance is as fresh as the morning, whose voice is the voice of pleasure, and they breath like that of Vassant (Spring) in the opening of the rose! Stay with us and we will serve thee; nor will we trouble thy repose, but only be zealous how to please thee.’ The Pandaram continued to play, and sung the loves of Kama (God of Love), of Krishen and the Gopia, and smiling the gentle smiles of fond desire.... “But the desire of repose succeeds the waste of pleasure. Sleep closed the eyes and lulled the senses. In the morning the Pandaram was gone. When they awoke they looked round with astonishment, and again cast their eyes on the ground. Some directed to those who had formerly been remarked for their scrupulous manners, but their faces were covered with their veils. After sitting awhile in silence they arose and went back to their houses, with slow and troubled steps. The devotees returned about the same time from their wanderings after Prakeety. The days that followed were days of embarrassment and shame. If the women had failed in their modesty, the devotees had broken their vows. They were vexed at their weakness, they were sorry for what they had done; yet the tender sigh sometimes broke forth, and the eyes often turned to where the men first saw the maid—the women, the Pandaram. “But the women began to perceive that what the devotees foretold came not to pass. Their disciples, in consequence, neglected to attend them, and the offerings from the princes and nobles became less frequent than before. They then performed various penances; they sought for secret places among the woods unfrequented by man; and having at last shut their eyes from the things of this world, retired within themselves in deep meditation, that Sheevah was the author of their misfortunes. Their understanding being imperfect, instead of bowing the head with humility, they were inflamed with anger; instead of contrition for their hypocrisy, they sought for vengeance. They performed new sacrifices and incantations, which were only allowed to have effect in the end, to show the extreme folly of man in not submitting to the will of heaven.