mber him by. That will save her.

_Anusuya_. Come, we must finish the sacrifice for her. (_They walk
about_.)

_Priyamvada_ (_gazing_). Just look, Anusuya! There is the dear girl,
with her cheek resting on her left hand. She looks like a painted
picture. She is thinking about him. How could she notice a guest when
she has forgotten herself?

_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, we two must keep this thing to ourselves. We
must be careful of the dear girl. You know how delicate she is.

_Priyamvada_. Would any one sprinkle a jasmine-vine with scalding
water? (_Exeunt ambo_.)

SCENE II.--_Early Morning_

(_Enter a pupil of_ KANVA, _just risen from sleep_.)

_Pupil_. Father Kanva has returned from his pilgrimage, and has bidden
me find out what time it is. I will go into the open air and see how
much of the night remains. (_He walks and looks about_.) See! The dawn
is breaking. For already

The moon behind the western mount is sinking;
The eastern sun is heralded by dawn;
From heaven's twin lights, their fall and glory linking,
Brave lessons of submission may be drawn.

And again:

Night-blooming lilies, when the moon is hidden,
Have naught but memories of beauty left.
Hard, hard to bear! Her lot whom heaven has bidden
To live alone, of love and lover reft.

And again:

On jujube-trees the blushing dewdrops falter;
The peacock wakes and leaves the cottage thatch;
A deer is rising near the hoof-marked altar,
And stretching, stands, the day's new life to catch.

And yet again:

The moon that topped the loftiest mountain ranges,
That slew the darkness in the midmost sky,
Is fallen from heaven, and all her glory changes:
So high to rise, so low at last to lie!

_Anusuya_ (_entering hurriedly. To herself_). That is just what
happens to the innocent. Shakuntala has been treated shamefully by the
king. _Pupil_. I will tell Father Kanva that the hour of morning
sacrifice is come. (_Exit_.)

_Anusuya_. The dawn is breaking. I am awake bright and early. But what
shall I do now that I am awake? My hands refuse to attend to the
ordinary morning tasks. Well, let love take its course. For the dear,
pure-minded girl trusted him--the traitor! Perhaps it is not the good
king's fault. It must be the curse of Durvasas. Otherwise, how could
the good king say such beautiful things, and then let all this time
pass without even sending a message? (_She reflects_.) Yes, we must
send him the ring he le