Before returning, I thought to myself “This man has sworn an oath which he intends to break:  for the preservation of my own life, therefore, I shall be justified in killing him.”

Having formed this resolution, I went back to the prison, where Kantaka was waiting for me.  He told me it was necessary to replace my fetters for the present; and I appeared to acquiesce.  But as he was stooping to fasten them, I gave him a violent kick; and before he could recover himself, I had snatched a short sword which he wore, and cut off his head.

I then returned to Sringalika, who had remained in the prison, and said to her:  “I am not disposed to have had all this toil for nothing.  Tell me the way into the ladies’ rooms.  I will go there and steal something before I make my escape.”

Having received her directions, I passed again through the tunnel which I had made, came up into the court-yard; and from thence entered a large, lofty room lighted by jewelled lamps, where a number of women were sleeping.

There, on a couch ornamented with beautifully carved flowers and resting on lions’ feet, I saw the princess, covered only by a thin silken petticoat, half sunk into a soft white feather-bed, like lightning on an autumn cloud.

Fast asleep, as if wearied by much play, she lay in a very graceful attitude, with her delicate ancles crossed, her knees slightly drawn up; one lovely hand laid loosely on her side, the other beneath her head; her full bosom, slowly heaved by gentle breathing, illuminated by the ruby necklace strung on burnished gold; the top-knot of her loosened hair hanging down like some graceful flower; her lips so bright that the opening of the mouth could hardly be distinguished; her features in calm repose, shaded by her lovely ringlets.

I had entered so softly that no one was disturbed; and I stood gazing for some time lost in admiration of her beauty, quite forgetting the purpose for which I had come.

I thought, she is, after all, the lady of my heart.  If I do not obtain her, Kama will not suffer me to live; but how can I make known my love to her?  Were I now to wake her, she would start up with a cry of alarm, and I should probably lose my life.  I must think of some other way of letting her know my love.

Then, looking round, I saw laid on a shelf a thin board prepared for painting, and a box of paints and brushes.  With these I made a hasty sketch of the princess as she lay, and of myself kneeling at her feet, and underneath it I wrote this verse:—­

  “Of thee thy slave in humble attitude thus prays: 
   Sleep on, not worn like me by pervading love.”

I then painted on the wall near her a pair of chakravakas in loving attitude, gently took off her ring, replacing it with mine, and slipped out without disturbing any of the sleepers.

There was at that time among the prisoners a man named Sinhaghosha, formerly a chief officer of police, but now imprisoned through a false accusation made by Kantaka.