Part 5 (1/2)

_Shakuntala_. Of course. Can't you see?

_Priyamvada_ (_looking at it joyfully_). And I have something pleasant to tell _you_. You are to be married soon.

_Shakuntala_ (_snappishly_). You know that's just what you want for yourself.

_Priyamvada_. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness.

_a.n.u.suya_. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the spring-creeper so lovingly.

_Shakuntala_. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (_She tips her watering-pot_.)

_King_. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a different caste? But it _must_ be so.

Surely, she may become a warrior's bride; Else, why these longings in an honest mind?

The motions of a blameless heart decide Of right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind.

Yet I will learn the whole truth.

_Shakuntala_ (_excitedly_). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine and is flying into my face. (_She shows herself annoyed by the bee_.)

_King_ (_ardently_).

As the bee about her flies, Swiftly her bewitching eyes Turn to watch his flight.

She is practising to-day Coquetry and glances' play Not from love, but fright.

(_Jealously_.)

Eager bee, you lightly skim O'er the eyelid's trembling rim Toward the cheek aquiver.

Gently buzzing round her cheek, Whispering in her ear, you seek Secrets to deliver.

While her hands that way and this Strike at you, you steal a kiss, Love's all, honeymaker.

I know nothing but her name, Not her caste, nor whence she came-- You, my rival, take her.

_Shakuntala_. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee!

_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Who are we, that we should save you?

Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the king.

_King_. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no--(_He checks himself. Aside_.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to appear as a guest.

_Shakuntala_. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away.

(_She takes a step and looks about_.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is following me. Please save me.

_King_ (_hastening forward_). Ah!

A king of Puru's mighty line Chastises shameless churls; What insolent is he who baits These artless hermit-girls?

(_The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king_.)