Whilst I am enjoying the rapture of beholding her to whom my soul is attached, thou, cruel remembrancer, tellest me that it is only a picture.
Misr. [Aside.] Such are the woes of a separated lover! He is on all sides entangled in sorrow.
Dushm. Why do I thus indulge unremitted grief? That intercourse with my darling which dreams would give, is prevented by my continued inability to repose; and my tears will not suffer me to view her distinctly even in this picture.
Misr. [Aside.] His misery acquits him entirely of having deserted her in his perfect senses.
The Damsel re-enters.
Dams. As I was advancing, O king, with my box of pencils and colours—
Dushm. [Hastily.] What happened?
Dams. It was forcibly seized by the queen Vasumatì, whom her maid Pingalicà had apprised of my errand; and she said: "I will myself deliver the casket to the son of my lord."
Mádh. How came you to be released?
Dams. While the queen's maid was disengaging the skirt of her mantle, which had been caught by the branch of a thorny shrub, I stole away.
Dushm. Friend Mádhavya, my great attention to Vasumatì has made her arrogant; and she will soon be here: be it your care to conceal the picture.
Mádh. [Aside.] I wish you would conceal it yourself.—[He takes the picture, and rises.]—[Aloud.]—If, indeed, you will disentangle me
