Girl.
Do not impute the fault to it. It is you who make warm this wind of the plantain leaf, which is cool through its contact with the gathered sandal shoots, changing its nature with your sighs.
Malayavatí (with tears).
Is there any means of checking this fever?
Girl.
There is indeed. If he would but now come.
Then enters the hero with the Vidúshaka.
Jímútaváhana.
O Cupid, why are these purposeless arrows flung against me, already so deeply wounded? Since I was looked on by her, regardless of the Muni's presence, when, as she turned, though but for a moment, she caused, by the glance of her bright black eye, the trees of the hermitage to appear flecked,[1] as though they had masses of the skins of the dappled antelope gleaming suspended from their boughs.
Vidúshaka.
O friend, where now is all thy firmness gone?
Jímútaváhana.
Am I not firm beyond measure? What! have I not passed through the nights, though radiant with the moon?
- ↑ The Hindus imagined that light came from the eye, and lighted up any object gazed upon.
