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When Naraváhanadatta had been thus exhorted by his ministers, he went with the ladies of his harem to the bank of the Mandákiní. And there
he diverted himself in a garden resounding with the song of many birds, adorned with cardamom-trees, clove-trees, vakulas, aśokas, and mandáras. And he sat down on a broad slab of moonstone, placing queen Madanamanchuká at his left hand, accompanied by the rest of his harem, and attended by various princes of the Vidyádharas, of whom Chandasinha and Amitagati were the chief; and while drinking wine and talking on various subjects, the sovereign, having observed the beauty of the season, said to his ministers, " The southern breeze is gentle and soft to the feel; the horizon is clear; the gardens in every corner are full of flowers and fragrant; sweet are the strains of the cuckoo, and the joys of the banquet of wine; what pleasure
is wanting in the spring? Still, separation from one's beloved is during that season hard to bear. Even animals*[1] find separation from their mates in the spring a severe affliction. For instance, behold this hen-cuckoo here distressed with separation ! For she has been long searching for her be loved, that has disappeared from her gaze, with plaintive cries, and not being able to find him, she is now cowering on a mango, mute and like one dead."
When the king had said this, his minister Gomukha said to him, " It is true, all creatures find separation hard to bear at this time; and now listen, king; I will tell you in illustration of this something that happened in Śrávasti."
Story of the devoted couple, Śúrasena and Sushshená.†[2]:— In that town there dwelt a Rájput, who was in the service of the monarch, and lived on the proceeds of a village. His name was Śúrasena, and he had a wife named Sushená, who was a native of Málava. She was in every respect well suited to him, and he loved her more than life. One day the king summoned him, and he was about to set out for his camp, when his loving wife said to him, " My husband, you ought not to go off and leave me alone; for I shall not be able to exist here for a moment without you." When Śúrasena's wife said this to him, he replied, " How can I help going, when the king summons me? Do you not understand my position, fair one? You see, I am a Rájput, and a servant, dependent on another for my subsistence." When his wife heard this, she said to him with tears in her eyes, " If you must of necessity go, I shall manage to endure it somehow, if you return not one day later than the commencement of spring." Having heard
