"Love spreads through every vein like subtlest poison and, like fire
that brightens in the breeze, consumes this feeble frame. Resistless
fever preys on each fibre. Its fury is fatal. No one can help me.
Neither father nor mother nor Lavangika can save me. Life is distasteful
to me.
Repeatedly recurring to the anguish of my heart, I lose all fortitude
and in my grief become capricious and unjust. Forgive me. Let the full
moon blaze in the mighty sky. Let love rage on. Death screens me from
his fury."
In the meantime, the king makes the long-expected demand and the
minister Bhurivasu returns the following ambiguous answer:--
"Your Majesty may dispose of your daughter as your Majesty pleases."
[This answer is used in a double sense:--
"Your minister's daughter is your own daughter and you can dispose of
her as you please," and "You can dispose of your own daughter as you
please, but not my daughter."
The father's connivance at his daughter's stolen marriage would appear
inconsistent if the reply is not understood in its double sense.]
The intelligence reaches the lovers. They are thrown into despair.
Requested by Lavangika, Kamandaki thus describes Madhava in the presence
of Malati:--
"The sovereign of Vidarbha boasts for minister the wise and
long-experienced Devarata, who bears the burden of state and spreads
throughout the world his piety and fame. Your father knows him well.
For, in their youth, they were joined in study and trained to learning
by the same preceptor.
In this world we rarely behold such characters as theirs. Their lofty
rank is the abode of wisdom and of piety, of valour and of virtue. Their
fame spreads white and spotless through the universe. A son has sprung
from Devarata whose opening virtues early give occasion of rejoicing to
the world. Now, in his bloom, this youth has been sent to our city to
collect ripe stores of knowledge. His name is Madhava."