Radha sees Krishna again — and from that joy alone she loses all composure. Gargi, the daughter of Gargacharya, begs her twice: "Compose yourself, sakhi, compose yourself." And Radhika collects herself — only to fling Krishna at once a crooked side-long glance from under her very brows: what have you done? She hurls a katāksha at him like an arrow, and again, playing with her brows: what have you done to me? And Krishna is all meekness: "What else can I do for you?" At this her whole anger melts: Radhika smiles. "So that no one may see us," she whispers, "let us decorate a kunja of Vrindavan." And Radha and Krishna vanish into the grove: jaya, jaya, Radha-Krishna yugala-milana! And afterwards, says Bhaktivinoda Thakura, this whole meeting is remembered as if it were a dream — and the brief pang of separation only made the sweetness sweeter.