Krishna is late for the tryst. And not merely delayed: he wandered off, ran into Padma, one thing led to another, and there he was in Chandravali's kunja while the time slipped by. Radhika waits and waits, and she is beside herself. At last he appears — and what does the guilty one do? He showers her with praise from head to toe: her brows, her waist, her walk, her voice. But in Vraja praise is a bad sign. Here love speaks in teasing, in barbs, in jokes; start suddenly to flatter sweetly and the bride grows wary: "What has got into him? Why so courteous, as if a stranger?" Smooth, polite speech wounds here — it means you have stopped loving. So the sweet words are exactly what give Krishna away: the more beautifully he praises, the plainer it is that he has something to hide. And this is no cunning of lust: a lustful man too flatters the angry one only to get his way — but here, behind the flattery hides a love that simply cannot speak straight.