ANASUYA [smiling].—­Even a little was much for him.  Say on.

PRIYAMVADA.—­When he refused to turn back, I implored his forgiveness in these words:  “Most venerable sage, pardon, I beseech you, this first offence of a young and inexperienced girl, who was ignorant of the respect due to your saintly character and exalted rank.”

ANASUYA.—­And what did he reply?

PRIYAMVADA.—­“My word must not be falsified; but at the sight of the ring of recognition the spell shall cease.”  So saying, he disappeared.

ANASUYA.—­Oh! then we may breathe again; for now I think of it, the King himself, at his departure, fastened on Sakoontala’s finger, as a token of remembrance, a ring on which his own name was engraved.  She has, therefore, a remedy for her misfortune at her own command.

PRIYAMVADA.—­Come, dear Anasuya, let us proceed with our religious duties. [They walk away.

PRIYAMVADA [looking off the stage].—­See, Anasuya, there sits our dear friend, motionless as a statue, resting her face on her left hand, her whole mind absorbed in thinking of her absent husband.  She can pay no attention to herself, much less to a stranger.

ANASUYA.—­Priyamvada, let this affair never pass our lips.  We must spare our dear friend’s feelings.  Her constitution is too delicate to bear much emotion.

PRIYAMVADA.—­I agree with you.  Who would think of watering a tender jasmine with hot water?

ACT FOURTH

Scene.—­The Neighborhood of the Hermitage

Enter one of Kanwa’s pupils, just arisen from his couch at the dawn of day.

PUPIL.—­My master, the venerable Kanwa, who is but lately returned from
his pilgrimage, has ordered me to ascertain how the time goes.  I have
therefore come into the open air to see if it be still dark. [Walking
and looking about.] Oh! the dawn has already broken. 
    Lo! in one quarter of the sky, the Moon,
    Lord of the herbs and night-expanding flowers,
    Sinks towards his bed behind the western hills;
    While in the east, preceded by the Dawn,
    His blushing charioteer, the glorious Sun
    Begins his course, and far into the gloom
    Casts the first radiance of his orient beams,
    Hail! co-eternal orbs, that rise to set,
    And set to rise again; symbols divine
    Of man’s reverses, life’s vicissitudes. 
And now,
    While the round Moon withdraws his looming disc
    Beneath the western sky, the full-blown flower
    Of the night-loving lotus sheds her leaves
    In sorrow for his loss, bequeathing nought
    But the sweet memory of her loveliness
    To my bereaved sight:  e’en as the bride
    Disconsolately mourns her absent lord,
    And yields her heart a prey to anxious grief.

ANASUYA [entering abruptly].—­Little as I know of the ways of the world, I cannot help thinking that King Dushyanta is treating Sakoontala very improperly.