Madhava thus describes to his friend Makaranda his first interview with Malati, and acknowledges himself deeply smitten:—­

“One day, advised by Avalokita, I went to the temple of the god of love.  I saw there a beauteous maid.  I have become a victim to her glances.  Her gait was stately.  Her train bespoke a princely rank.  Her garb was graced with youth’s appropriate ornaments.  Her form was beauty’s shrine, or of that shrine she moved as the guardian deity.  Whatever Nature offers fairest and best had surely been assembled to mould her charms.  Love omnipotent was her creator.  Then I too plainly noted that the lovely maid, revealed the signs of passion long entertained for some happy youth.

Her shape was as slender as the lotus stalk.  Her pallid cheeks, like unstained ivory, rivalled the beauty of the spotless moon.  I scarcely had gazed upon her, but my eyes felt new delight, as bathed with nectar.  She drew my heart at once towards her as powerfully as the magnet does the unresisting iron.  That heart, though its sudden passion may be causeless, is fixed on her for ever, chance what may, and though my portion be henceforth despair.  The goddess Destiny decrees at pleasure the good or ill of all created beings.”

Makranda observes, “Believe me, this cannot be without some cause.  Behold! all nature’s sympathies spring not from outward form but from inward virtue.  The lotus does not bud till the sun has risen.  The moon-gem does not melt till it feels the moon.”  Madhava goes on with his description thus:—­

“When her fair train beheld me, they exchanged expressive looks and smiles and murmured to one another as if they knew me.  What firmness could resist the honest warmth of nature’s mute expressiveness?  Those looks of love, beaming with mild timidity and moist with sweet abandonment, tore off my heart,—­nay plucked it from my bosom by the roots, all pierced with wounds.  Being incredulous of my happiness, I sought to mark her passion, without displaying my own.  A stately elephant received the princess and bore her towards the city.  Whilst she moved, she shot from her delicate lids retiring glances, tipped with venom and ambrosia, My breast received the shafts.  Words cannot paint my agony.  Vain were the lunar rays or gelid streams to cool my body’s fever, whilst my mind whirls in perpetual round and does not know rest.  Requested by Lavangika, I gave her the flowery wreath.  She took it with respect, as if it were a precious gift and all the while the eyes of Malati were fixed on her.  Bowing with reverence, she than retired.”

Makaranda remarks—­

“Your story most plainly shows that Malati’s affection is your own.  The soft cheek, whose pallid tint denoted love pre-conceived, is pale alone for you; She must have seen you.  Maidens of her rank do not allow their eyes to rest on one to whom they have not already given their hearts.  And then, those looks that passed among her maidens plainly showed the passion you had awakened in their mistress.