Krishna is so shy that he dares not even raise his eyes to her. Vrinda-devi and Madhumangala lead him into the parna-kutira, the hut of leaves. Purnamasi comes too, but she is elder, and toward Krishna she feels vatsalya, parental tenderness — and before such love the boy is doubly shy, for vatsalya and madhurya do not mix. So Purnamasi quietly slips away, then Madhumangala, and Krishna is left alone with her. Yet still he is afraid to look — this is purva-raga, the very dawn of love; he is from a most pious family, and he dreads even to glance. "Just look at her," Vrinda-devi coaxes. "Her face is so beautiful that the moon grows embarrassed it is not shining; Lakshmi-devi looks at it and thinks, 'then I must be plain'; and even a mirror feels — I hold no reflection. Look but once." And then Krishna looked. And he was so overwhelmed that his mind froze, he could not even think. He stood stunned, so stunned that for a moment it seemed to him: this is not her at all.