—Go, venerable man, go back to thy mansion, from which she is doomed to be so long absent.
Can. Sweet child, this delay interrupts my religious duties.
Sac. You, my father, will perform them long without sorrow; but I, alas! am destined to bear affliction.
Can. O! my daughter, compel me not to neglect my daily devotions.—[Sighing.] No, my sorrow will not be diminished.—Can it cease, my beloved, when the plants which rise luxuriantly from the hallowed grains which thy hand has strewn before my cottage, are continually in my sight? Go, may thy journey prosper.
Sacontalá goes out with Gautamí and the two Misras.
Both Damsels. [Looking after Sacontalá with anguish.] Alas! alas! our beloved is hidden by the thick trees.
Can. My children, since your friend is at length departed, check your immoderate grief, and follow me.
Both. Holy father, the grove will be a perfect vacuity without Sacontalá.
Can. Your affection will certainly give it that appearance.—[He walks round meditating.]—Ah me!—Yes; at last my weak mind has attained its due firmness after the departure of my Sacontalá.—In truth a daughter must sooner or later be the property of another; and, having now sent her to her lord, I find my soul clear and
