On their return to the palace, the princess heard from Bâlachandrika a
full account of Râjavâhana and his adventures, through which she was
even more in love than before; and having no opportunity of seeing him
again, became listless and indifferent to her usual occupations, lost
her appetite, wasted away, and at last lay on her bed, burning with
fever.

In vain did her devoted attendants use all their efforts to diminish
the heat by means of cold water, fanning, and other remedies; and she,
seeing their distress, said to her faithful Bâlachandrika: "Ah, dear
friend, all you can do is to no purpose; they call Kâma the god with
five arrows; but surely this is a wrong name, for I feel as if pierced
by him with hundreds of arrows. They call the wind from Malaya
cooling; but to me it only increases the fever, as if blowing up the
fire which consumes me: my own necklace, the contact of which was
formerly agreeable, now feels as if smeared with the poison of
serpents. Give up your exertions; the prince is the only physician who
can cure me; and how can he come to me here?"

Then Bâlachandrika thought to herself: "Something must be done, and
that without delay, or this violent passion of love will surely cause
her death. I will at least see the prince, and try if it is possible
to bring about a meeting."

Having thus resolved, she begged the princess to write a few lines to
her lover; and committing her to the care of the other attendants, she
went to the house of her husband. There she found Râjavâhana almost in
the same state as the princess, burning with fever, throwing himself
about restlessly on his couch, and bemoaning his hard fate to his
friend.