Both. [Approaching it hastily.] Is it really so, sweet friend?
Sac. Is it so? look yourselves.
Pri. [With eagerness.] From this omen, Sacontalá, I announce you an excellent husband, who will very soon take you by the hand.
Sac. [Displeased.] A strange fancy of yours.
Pri. Indeed, my beloved, I speak not jestingly. I heard something from our father Canna. Your nurture of these plants has prospered; and thence it is, that I foretel your approaching nuptials.
Anu. It is thence, my Priyamvadá, that she has watered them with so much alacrity.
Sac. The Mádhavi plant is my sister; can I do otherwise than cherish her?
Dushm. [Aside.] I fear she is of the same religious order with her foster-father. Or has a mistaken apprehension risen in my mind? My warm heart is so attached to her, that she cannot but be a fit match for a man of a military class. The doubts which awhile perplex the good, are soon removed by the prevalence of their strong inclinations. I am enamoured of her, and she cannot, therefore, be the daughter of a Bráhmen, whom I could not marry.
Sac. [Moving her head.] Alas! a bee has left the blossom of this Mallicá, and is fluttering round my face.
