his great festival is welcome when one is young. But tell me, mistress, is it a king, or a king's favorite, whom you worship?
Vasantasenā. Girl, I wish to love, not to worship.
Madanikā. Is it a Brahman that excites your passion, some youth distinguished for very particular learning?
Vasantasenā. A Brahman I should have to reverence.
Madanikā. Or is it some young merchant, grown enormously wealthy from visiting many cities?
Vasantasenā. A merchant, girl, must go to other countries and leave you behind, no matter how much you love him. And the separation makes you very sad.
Madanikā. It isn't a king, nor a favorite, nor a Brahman, nor a merchant. Who is it then that the princess loves?
Vasantasenā. Girl! Girl! You went with me to the park where Kāma's temple stands?
Madanikā. Yes, mistress.
Vasantasenā. And yet you ask, as if you were a perfect stranger.
Madanikā. Now I know. Is it the man who comforted you when you asked to be protected?
Vasantasenā. Well, what was his name?
Madanikā. Why, he lives in the merchants' quarter.
Vasantasenā. But I asked you for his name.
Madanikā. His name, mistress, is a good omen in itself. His name is Chārudatta.
Vasantasenā. [Joyfully.] Good, Madanikā, good. You have guessed it.
Madanikā. [Aside.] So much for that. [Aloud.] Mistress, they say he is poor.
Vasantasenā. That is the very reason why I love him. For a courtezan who sets her heart on a poor man is blameless in the eyes of the world.
