event has been long, for thy sake, the chief object of my heart; and now, since my solicitude for thy marriage is at an end, I will marry thy favourite plant to the bridegroom Amra, who sheds fragrance near her.—Proceed, my child, on thy journey.
Sac. [Approaching the two damsels.] Sweet friends, let this Mádhaví creeper be a precious deposit in your hands.
Anu. and Pri. Alas! in whose care shall we be left. [They both weep.
Can. Tears are in vain, Anusúyá: our Sacontalá ought rather to be supported by your firmness, than weakened by your weeping.
[All advance.
Sac. Father! when yon female antelope, who now moves slowly from the weight of the young ones with which she is pregnant, shall be delivered of them, send me, I beg, a kind message with tidings of her safety.—Do not forget.
Can. My beloved, I will not forget it.
Sac. [Advancing, then stopping.] Ah! what is it that clings to the skirts of my robe, and detains me?
[She turns round and looks.
Can. It is thy adopted child, the little fawn, whose mouth, when the sharp points of Cusa grass had wounded it, has been so often smeared by thy hand with the healing oil of Ingudì; who has been so often fed by thee with a handful of Syámáka grains, and now will not leave the footsteps of his protectress.
