RASHA-RANGINI

this Painter lived. One smiles and says: "Silly giri»
all that comes of itself."

"Thou hast not scanned the painting on flowers'* \
said L "Dost thou not see, there is but one plant with
one only root; and if it came all of itself, why should
there be different hues in the flowers ? If the art dis-
played on each petal is closely scanned by one, he lives
not in any such delusion."

Another says: "Damsel fair, who can say who
paints these, and what if we do not know ?" I thoughts
that if I could but once catch hold of him, I would live
all my days with him. I shall ask him where he gets
the hues and how he puts them on the petals.

One girl, oh how sweet she was, poured into my
ears: "In the lone wood, unseen by all, he paints and
Rashik Shekhar (Arch-Artist) is his name." Rashik
Shekhar! How sweet is the name! It seemed to
pour sweetness into my ears. Silly girl as I was, I did not
know why the name Rashik Shekhar gave me a thrilL
What beauties he must have, what a fountain of sweet-
ness he must be — why, he must be sweet from head
to foot, every inch of him. And as I thought of him,
what visions of him I conjured up and on what billows
of bliss I was wafted ? In this wood, I thought, unseen
by him I shall seek him out, wherever he might be and
I shall see how he paints the flowers. Heaps and heaps
of flowers were there, wet with the morning dew,
some half open, others in full bloom; and methought
some one had just put his brush to them and vanished.
I ran after him, feeling that far away he could not be.
and into many a lonely bush and grove I peeped to

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