(The hero and heroine look at the Vidúshaka.)
Jímútaváhana.
Friend, you are in luck, being painted, with us for spectators.
Jímútaváhana ( looking in her face).
O lovely-eyed one! the springing of the blossom of a smile is seen on your shoot-like lower lip, but the fruit is seen elsewhere, namely, in the eyes of me as I gaze.
Vidúshaka.
Madam, what have you done?
Girl.
Why, are you not painted?
Vidúshaka (after rubbing his hand over his face and
looking at it, raising his staff).
O daughter of a slave! the royal family are present. What shall I do to you?—Alas! notwithstanding your royal presence, I am blackened by this daughter of a slave. How can I remain here? I will be off.
Girl.
His reverence Átreya is vexed with me. I will go and conciliate him.
Malayavatí.
O Chaturiká! whither do you go, leaving me all alone?
