Dushm. You depreciate your own merits. The sight of you, sweet damsels, has sufficiently honoured me.
Sac. My foot, O Anusúyá, is hurt by this pointed blade of Cusa grass; and now my loose vest of bark is caught by a branch of the Curuvaca. Help me to disentangle myself, and support me. [She goes out looking from time to time at Dushmanta, and supported by the damsels.]
Dushm. [Sighing.] They are all departed; and I too, alas! must depart. For how short a moment have I been blessed with a sight of the incomparable Sacontalá! I will send my attendants to the city, and take my station at no great distance from this forest. I cannot, in truth, divert my mind from the sweet occupation of gazing on her. How, indeed, should I otherwise occupy it? My body moves onward; but my restless heart runs back to her; like a light flag borne on a staff against the wind, and fluttering in an opposite direction. [He goes out.]
