"The sight, though oft repeated, never wearies. I must tear myself from this, lest some one should discover me." She then withdraws a little, hears a bard sing a ballad in praise of the king, perceives her mistake and asks herself, "Is this Udayana, to whom my father destined me a bride?" She becomes enamoured of the king. The king and the queen now rise to return to the palace.
Sagarika thinks, "They come! I must fly hence. Ah me, unhappy! no longer to behold him, whom I could gaze upon for ever."
The king addresses his queen thus:--"Come, love, thou puttest the night to shame. The beauty of the moon is eclipsed by the loveliness of thy countenance, and the lotus sinks humbled into shade; the sweet songs of thy attendant damsels discredit the murmurs of the bees, and mortified they hasten to hide their disgrace within the flowery blossom." The king and the queen return to the palace.
Sagarika enters a plantain bower with a brush and pallet in order to paint a picture and soliloquises thus: "Be still, my foolish heart, nor idly throb for one so high above thy hopes. Why thus anxious to behold that form, one only view of which has inspired such painful agitation? Ungrateful, too, as weak, to fly the breast that has been familiar to thee through life, and seek another, and as yet but once beheld, asylum. Alas! Why do I blame thee! the terror of _Ananga's_ shaft has rendered thee a fugitive;--let me implore his pity. Lord of the flowery bow, victor of demons and of gods! dost thou not blush to waste thy might upon a weak defenceless maiden, or art thou truly without form and sense? Ah me, I fear my death impends, and this the fatal cause." She looks at the picture and goes on, "No one approaches; I will try and finish the likeness I am here attempting to portray. My heart beats high, my hand trembles, yet I must try, and whilst occasion favours me, attempt to complete these lineaments, as the only means to retain them in my sight." She draws the picture, raising her head beholds her friend Susangata with a _Sarika_ or talking bird in a cage, and hides the picture. Susangata sits down, puts her hand upon the picture and asks, "who is this you have delineated?"
Sagarika answers, "The deity of the festival, _Ananga_." Susangata observes, "It is cleverly done, but there wants a figure to complete it. Let me have it, and I will give the god his bride." She takes the paper and draws the likeness of Sagarika. Sagarika expresses anger. Her friend remarks, "Do not be offended without cause. I have given your _Kamadeva_ my _Rati_, that is all. But come, away with disguise, and confess the truth." Seeing that her friend has discovered her secret, Sagarika is overcome with shame and entreats her to promise that no body else shall be made acquainted with her weakness. Her friend replies, "why should you be ashamed? Attachment to exalted worth becomes your native excellence. But be assured I will not betray you; it is more likely this prattling bird will repeat our conversation." The friend brings some leaves and fibres of the lotus, and binds the former with the latter upon Sagarika's bosom. She exclaims, "Enough, enough, my friend, take away these leaves and fibres,--it is vain to offer relief. I have fixed my heart where I dare not raise my hopes. I am overcome with shame--I am enslaved by passion--my love is without return--death, my only refuge." She faints and recovers after a short while. A noise behind proclaims that a monkey has escaped from the stable, and, rattling the ends of his broken chain of gold, he clatters along. Afraid of the advent of the monkey, they both rush to hide in the shade of a _tamala_ grove, leaving the drawing behind. The ape breaks the cage to get at the curds and rice and lets the _Sarika_ fly.