The queen and her companions whereas overjoyed as parched rice-field at a fall of rain. Janaka was now free of care and felt gratified like a tiered swimmer reaching a shallow.

But the kings were as confounded at the breaking of the bow as a lamp is dimmed at the dawning of the day. Sita’s delight could only be compared to that of a female chataka bird (the pied cuckoo) on receiving a rain-drop when the sun is in the same longitude as the constellation named svati (Arcturus).

Lakshmana fixed his eyes on Rama as the young partridge gazes on the moon. Then Shatananda gave the word, and Sita advanced towards Rama.

Accompanied by her fair wise companions, who were singing songs of good omen, she paced like a young swan, her limbs possessing infinite beauty.

In the midst of her companions Sita shone as a personification of supreme beauty among other embodiments of beauty. She held in one of her lotus hands the fair wreath of victory, resplendent with the glory of universal triumph.

While her body shrank with modesty, her heart was full of rapture, but no one could guess her deep-hidden love. As she drew near and beheld Rama’s beauty, she stood motionless like a painted picture.

A clever companion, who saw her in this condition, roused her, saying, ‘Invest the bridegroom with the fair wreath of victory.’ At this she raised the wreath with both hands, but was too overwhelmed with emotion to cast it about him.