Part II

　　Vajramukut was nearly fainting as the flood of splendour broke upon him. Recovering himself he gazed around the rooms， and presently a tumult of delight invaded his soul， and his body bristled with joy. [FN#62] The scene was that of fairyland. Golden censers exhaled the most costly perfumes， and gemmed vases bore the most beautiful flowers； silver lamps containing fragrant oil illuminated doors whose panels were wonderfully decorated， and walls adorned with pictures in which such figures were formed that on seeing them the beholder was enchanted. On one side of the room stood a bed of flowers and a couch covered with brocade of gold， and strewed with freshly-culled jasmine flowers. On the other side， arranged in proper order， were attar holders， betel-boxes， rose-water bottles， trays， and silver cases with four partitions for essences compounded of rose leaves， sugar， and spices， prepared sandal wood， saffron， and pods of musk. Scattered about a stuccoed floor white as crystal， were coloured caddies of exquisite confections， and in others sweetmeats of various kinds.[FN#63] Female attendants clothed in dresses of various colours were standing each according to her rank， with hands respectfully joined. Some were reading plays and beautiful poems， others danced and others performed with glittering fingers and flashing arms on various instruments ——the ivory lute， the ebony pipe and the silver kettledrum. In short， all the means and appliances of pleasure and enjoyment were there； and any description of the appearance of the apartments， which were the wonder of the age， is impossible.

　　[FN#62] Unexpected pleasure， according to the Hindus， gives a bristly elevation to the down of the body.

　　[FN#63] The Hindus banish " flasks，'' et hoc genus omne， from these scenes， and perhaps they are right.

　　Then another veiled figure， the beautiful Princess Padmavati， came up and disclosed herself， and dazzled the eyes of her delighted Vajramukut. She led him into an alcove， made him sit down， rubbed sandal powder upon his body， hung a garland of jasmine flowers round his neck， sprinkled rose-water over his dress， and began to wave over his head a fan of peacock feathers with a golden handle.

　　Said the prince， who despite all efforts could not entirely shake off his unhappy habit of being modest， "Those very delicate hands of yours are not fit to ply the pankha.[FN#64] Why do you take so much trouble？ I am cool and refreshed by the sight of you. Do give the fan to me and sit down."

　　[FN#64] The Pankha， or large common fan， is a leaf of the Corypha umbraculifera， with the petiole cut to the length of about five feet， pared round the edges and painted to look pretty. It is waved by the servant standing behind a chair.

　　"Nay， great king！" replied Padmavati， with the most fascinating of smiles， "you have taken so much trouble for my sake in coming here， it is right that I perform service for you."

　　Upon which her favourite slave， taking the pankha from the hand of the princess， exclaimed， "This is my duty. I will perform the service； do you two enjoy yourselves！"

　　The lovers then began to chew betel， which， by the bye， they disposed of in little agate boxes which they drew from their pockets， and they were soon engaged in the tenderest conversation.

　　Here the Baital paused for a while， probably to take breath. Then he resumed his tale as follows：

　　In the meantime， it became dawn； the princess concealed him； and when night returned they again engaged in the same innocent pleasures. Thus day after day sped rapidly by. Imagine， if you can， the youth's felicity； he was of an ardent temperament， deeply enamoured， barely a score of years old， and he had been strictly brought up by serious parents. He therefore resigned himself entirely to the siren for whom he willingly forgot the world， and he wondered at his good fortune， which had thrown in his way a conquest richer than all the mines of Meru.[FN#65] He could not sufficiently admire his Padmavati's grace， beauty， bright wit， and numberless accomplishments. Every morning， for vanity's sake， he learned from her a little useless knowledge in verse as well as prose， for instance， the saying of the poet ——

　　[FN#65] The fabulous mass of precious stones forming the sacred mountain of Hindu mythology.