Jímútaváhana.
How should I release your guilty hand, which was caught in the very act of placing a noose on a neck fit only for strings of pearls?
Vidúshaka.
What could have been the cause of this determination of hers to die?
Girl.
Was it not this friend of yours?
Jímútaváhana.
How! I the cause of her death? I do not understand.
Vidúshaka.
O lady! how do you mean?
Girl (meaningly).
It was that loved one, whoever she is, that was painted by your friend on the stone. My mistress took this determination in a fit of despair, saying to herself, "Through his devotion to that woman, I am not accepted, even when offered to him by Mitrávasu."
Jímútaváhana (joyfully, to himself).
How, then! This is that Malayavatí, daughter of Viśvávasu! Yet, except from the ocean, how could there be the birth of a digit of the moon?[1] Ah! How I have been taken in by her!
- ↑ The moon is fabled to have been produced from the ocean when it was churned by the gods for ambrosia.
