"After this Padmavati advised， nay ordered， her lover to go forth that night， and not to return till his mind was quite at ease， and she begged him to take a few sweetmeats and other trifles as a little token of her admiration and regard for the clever young man of whom she had heard so much.
Vajramukut embraced her with a transport of gratitude， which so inflamed her anger， that fearing lest the cloak of concealment might fall from her countenance， she went away hurriedly to find the greatest delicacies which her comfit boxes contained. Presently she returned， carrying a bag of sweetmeats of every kind for her lover， and as he rose up to depart， she put into his hand a little parcel of sugar-plums especially intended for the friend； they were made up with her own delicate fingers， and they would please， she flattered herself， even his discriminating palate.
The young prince， after enduring a number of farewell embraces and hopings for a speedy return， and last words ever beginning again， passed safely through the palace gate， and with a relieved aspect walked briskly to the house of the old nurse. Although it was midnight his friend was still sitting on his mat.
The two young men fell upon one another's bosoms and embraced affectionately. They then began to talk of matters nearest their hearts. The Raja's son wondered at seeing the jaded and haggard looks of his companion， who did not disguise that they were caused by his anxiety as to what might have happened to his friend at the hand of so talented and so superior a princess. Upon which Vajramukut， who now thought Padmavati an angel， and his late abode a heaven， remarked with formality —— and two blunders to one quotation ——that abilities properly directed win for a man the happiness of both worlds.
The pradhan's son rolled his head.
"Again on your hobby-horse， nagging at talent whenever you find it in others！ " cried the young prince with a pun， which would have delighted Padmavati. "Surely you are jealous of her！" he resumed， anything but pleased with the dead silence that had received his joke； "jealous of her cleverness， and of her love for me. She is the very best creature in the world. Even you， woman-hater as you are， would own it if you only knew all the kind messages she sent， and the little pleasant surprise that she has prepared for you. There！ take and eat； they are made by her own dear hands！" cried the young Raja， producing the sweetmeats. "As she herself taught me to say -
Thank God I am a man，Not a philosopher！"
"The kind messages she sent me！ The pleasant surprise she has prepared for me！" repeated the minister's son in a hard， dry tone. "My lord will be pleased to tell me how she heard of my name？"
"I was sitting one night，" replied the prince， "in anxious thought about you， when at that moment the princess coming in and seeing my condition， asked， 'Why are you thus sad？ Explain the cause to me.' I then gave her an account of your cleverness， and when she heard it she gave me permission to go and see you， and sent these sweetmeats for you： eat them and I shall be pleased."
"Great king！" rejoined the young statesman， "one thing vouchsafe to hear from me. You have not done well in that you have told my name. You should never let a woman think that your left hand knows the secret which she confided to your right， much less that you have shared it to a third person. Secondly， you did evil in allowing her to see the affection with which you honour your unworthy servant ——a woman ever hates her lover's or husband's friend."
"What could I do？" rejoined the young Raja， in a querulous tone of voice. "When I love a woman I like to tell her everything ——to have no secrets from her ——to consider her another self ——"
"Which habit，" interrupted the pradhan's son， "you will lose when you are a little older， when you recognize the fact that love is nothing but a bout， a game of skill between two individuals of opposite sexes： the one seeking to gain as much， and the other striving to lose as little as possible； and that the sharper of the twain thus met on the chessboard must， in the long run， win. And reticence is but a habit. Practise it for a year， and you will find it harder to betray than to conceal your thoughts. It hath its joy also. Is there no pleasure， think you， when suppressing an outbreak of tender but fatal confidence in saying to yourself， 'O， if she only knew this？' 'O， if she did but suspect that？' Returning， however， to the sugar-plums， my life to a pariah's that they are poisoned！"
