Shakuntala (wearily).  Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (The two friends look sorrowfully at each other.)

King.  She is seriously ill. (Doubtfully.) Is it the heat, or is it as I hope? (Decidedly.) It must be so.

  With salve upon her breast,
    With loosened lotus-chain,
  My darling, sore oppressed,
    Is lovely in her pain.

  Though love and summer heat
    May work an equal woe,
  No maiden seems so sweet
    When summer lays her low.

Priyamvada (aside to ANUSUYA).  Anusuya, since she first saw the good king, she has been greatly troubled.  I do not believe her fever has any other cause.

Anusuya.  I suspect you are right.  I am going to ask her.  My dear, I must ask you something.  You are in a high fever.

King.  It is too true.

  Her lotus-chains that were as white
  As moonbeams shining in the night,
  Betray the fever’s awful pain,
  And fading, show a darker stain.

Shakuntala (half rising.) Well, say whatever you like. Anusuya.  Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in your mind.  But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can’t help thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love.  Please tell us what hurts you.  We have to understand the disease before we can even try to cure it.

King.  Anusuya expresses my own thoughts.

Shakuntala.  It hurts me terribly.  I can’t tell you all at once.

Priyamvada.  Anusuya is right, dear.  Why do you hide your trouble?  You are wasting away every day.  You are nothing but a beautiful shadow.

King.  Priyamvada is right.  See!

  Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail;
  Her waist is weary and her face is pale: 
  She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet! 
  As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.

Shakuntala (sighing).  I could not tell any one else.  But I shall be a burden to you.

The two friends.  That is why we insist on knowing, dear.  Grief must be shared to be endured.

King.

  To friends who share her joy and grief
    She tells what sorrow laid her here;
  She turned to look her love again
    When first I saw her—­yet I fear!

Shakuntala.  Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious grove—­(She stops and fidgets.)

The two friends.  Go on, dear.

Shakuntala.  I love him, and it makes me feel like this.

The two friends.  Good, good!  You have found a lover worthy of your devotion.  But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.

King (joyfully).  I have heard what I longed to hear.

  ’Twas love that caused the burning pain;
  ’Tis love that eases it again;
  As when, upon a sultry day,
  Rain breaks, and washes grief away.