The inducement is insufficient, and a new candidate is presented, the King of Anupa,

  A prince whose fathers’ glories cannot fade,
    By whom the love of learned men is wooed,
  Who proves that Fortune is no fickle jade
    When he she chooses is not fickly good.

But alas!

  She saw that he was brave to look upon,
    Yet could not feel his love would make her gay;
  Full moons of autumn nights, when clouds are gone,
    Tempt not the lotus-flowers that bloom by day.

The King of Shurasena has no better fortune, in spite of his virtues and his wealth.  As a river hurrying to the sea passes by a mountain that would detain her, so the princess passes him by.  She is next introduced to the king of the Kalinga country;

  His palace overlooks the ocean dark
    With windows gazing on the unresting deep,
  Whose gentle thunders drown the drums that mark
    The hours of night, and wake him from his sleep.

But the maiden can no more feel at home with him than the goddess of fortune can with a good but unlucky man.  She therefore turns her attention to the king of the Pandya country in far southern India.  But she is unmoved by hearing of the magic charm of the south, and rejects him too.

  And every prince rejected while she sought
    A husband, darkly frowned, as turrets, bright
  One moment with the flame from torches caught,
    Frown gloomily again and sink in night.

The princess then approaches Aja, who trembles lest she pass him by, as she has passed by the other suitors.  The maid who accompanies Indumati sees that Aja awakens a deeper feeling, and she therefore gives a longer account of his kingly line, ending with the recommendation: 

  High lineage is his, fresh beauty, youth,
    And virtue shaped in kingly breeding’s mould;
  Choose him, for he is worth your love; in truth,
    A gem is ever fitly set in gold.

The princess looks lovingly at the handsome youth, but cannot speak for modesty.  She is made to understand her own feelings when the maid invites her to pass on to the next candidate.  Then the wreath is placed round Aja’s neck, the people of the city shout their approval, and the disappointed suitors feel like night-blooming lotuses at daybreak.

Seventh canto.  Aja’s marriage.—­While the suitors retire to the camps where they have left their retainers, Aja conducts Indumati into the decorated and festive city.  The windows are filled with the faces of eager and excited women, who admire the beauty of the young prince and the wisdom of the princess’s choice.  When the marriage ceremony has been happily celebrated, the disappointed suitors say farewell with pleasant faces and jealous hearts, like peaceful pools concealing crocodiles.  They lie in ambush on the road which he must take, and when he passes with his young bride, they fall upon him.  Aja provides for the safety of Indumati, marshals his attendants, and greatly distinguishes himself in the battle which follows.  Finally he uses the magic weapon, given him by the demigod, to benumb his adversaries, and leaving them in this helpless condition, returns home.  He and his young bride are joyfully welcomed by King Raghu, who resigns the kingdom in favour of Aja.