mity of the lotos to that eye which equals it in brightness.
Sac. Well: now I see a prince who keeps his word as it becomes his imperial character. Yet I am really ashamed that no desert of mine entitles me to the kind service of my lord's son.
Dushm. What reward can I desire, except that which I consider as the greatest, the fragrance of your delicious lip?
Sac. Will that content you?
Dushm. The bee is contented with the mere odour of the water lily.
Sac. If he were not, he would get no remedy.
Dushm. Yes, this and this.— [Kissing her eagerly.
Behind the scenes.] Hark! the Chacraváca is calling her mate on the bank of the Málinì; the night is beginning to spread her shades.
Sac. [Listening alarmed.] O son of my lord, the matron Gautamí approaches to enquire after my health. Hide yourself, I entreat, behind yon trees.
Dushm. I yield to necessity. [He retires.
Gaut. [Looking anxiously at Sacontalá.] My child, here is holy water for thee.—What! hast thou no companion here but the invisible gods; thou who art so much indisposed?
Sac. Both Priyamvadá and Anusúyá are just gone down to the river.
Gaut. [Sprinkling her.] Is thy fever, my child, a little abated?
