Chapter XV

_Dūtikā:_ Childhood and youth are mingled both,
Her eyes have taken the road to her ears:
Wily are her words, and her low laugh
As if the moon appeared on earth.

She takes a mirror to array herself,
And asks: 'What is the game of love, my dear?'
How many times she secretly regards her bosom,
Smiling to see her breasts!

First like a jujube, then like an orange,--
Love day by day enfolds her limbs:
O Mādhava, I saw a girl surpassing fair.
Childhood and youth were one in her!

_Saith Vidyāpati: Oh foolish maid,_
_The wise would say, The twain have met._

XVI.

_Dūtikā:_ Day by day her breasts grew great.
Her hips increased, her middle waned:
Madan now enlarged her eyes.
All of her childhood fled in fear.

Breasts that are jujubes first, and then like oranges,
Daily the sting of Love increasing them:
Thereafter waxing greater than the pummalo,
Now they are twin ripe honey-apple fruits.

Ah Mādhava! I saw the fair one freely,
I suddenly beheld her as she bathed;
The filmy muslin clung upon her breast,--
Happy he who sees her thus!

Her jet-black hair poured down her breast
As though a shaggy yak concealed a gold Mahesh:
_Hearken Murāri, Vidyāpati saith:_
_So fair a may may dally with a man of worth._

XVII.

_Krishna:_ Now and again her eyes to their corners fly,
Now and again her filmy robe receives them;
Now and again her serried teeth laugh out,
Now and again the smile delays upon her lips.

Sometimes she hurries nervously, sometimes she walks
but slowly,
Now for the first time learning Madan's lessons:
She steals a glance at her breasts' buds,--
Sometimes she draws the wimple close, sometimes she
stands astonished.

Childhood and youth are met in her.
None knoweth which is first or last:
_Hearken, O Kāna, says Vidyāpati,_
_The marks of youth and childhood are indivisible._