Mádh. But how came the ring to enter, like a hook, into the mouth of a carp?
Dushm. When my beloved was lifting water to her head in the pool of Sachitírt'ha, the ring must have dropped unseen.
Mádh. It is very probable.
Misr. [Aside.] Oh! it was thence that the king, who fears nothing but injustice, doubted the reality of his marriage; but how, I wonder, could his memory be connected with a ring?
Dushm. I am really angry with this gem.
Mádh. [Laughing.] So am I with this staff.
Dushm. Why so, Mádhavy ?
Mádh. Because it presumes to be so straight when I am so crooked.—Impertinent stick!
Dushm. [Not attending to him.] How, O ring, couldst thou leave that hand adorned with soft long fingers, and fall into a pool decked only with water lilies?—The answer is obvious; thou art irrational.—But how could I, who was born with a reasonable soul, desert my only beloved?
Misr. [Aside.] He anticipates my remark.
Mádh. [Aside.] So; I must wait here during his meditations, and perish with hunger.
Dushm. O my darling, whom I treated with disrespect, and forsook without reason, when will this traitor, whose heart is deeply stung with repentant sorrow, be once more blessed with a sight of thee?
A Damsel enters with a picture.
Dams. Great king, the picture is finished.
