Chārudatta. Enough, Maitreya! We need no torches. See, we have a lamp upon the king's highway.
Attended by her starry servants all,
And pale to see as a loving maiden's cheeks,
Rises before our eyes the moon's bright ball,
Whose pure beams on the high-piled darkness fall
Like streaming milk that dried-up marshes seeks. 57
[His voice betraying his passion.] Mistress Vasantasenā, we have reached your home. Pray enter. [Vasantasenā gazes ardently at him, then exit.] Comrade, Vasantasenā is gone. Come, let us go home.
All creatures from the highway take their flight;
The watchmen pace their rounds before our sight;
To forestall treachery, is just and right,
For many sins find shelter in the night. 58
[He walks about.] And you shall guard this golden casket by night, and Vardhamānaka by day.
Maitreya. Very well. [Exeunt ambo.
