Enter Saralota with clothes on her head.
Aduri. Here, our washerwoman is come with her clothes.
Sabitri. Thou fool, why is she a washerwoman? She is my Bou of gold, my Goddess of good Fortune (patting her back). Is there no one in my family excepting you to bring down the clothes? Can’t you, for one dunda[[16]] sit quiet in one place? Art thou born of such a mad woman? How did you tear off your cloth. I think you bruised yourself. Ah, her body is, as it were, a red lotus; and this one bruise has made the blood to come out with violence. Now, my daughter, I tell you, never move up and down the steps in the dark, in such a manner.
Enter Soirindri.
Soirindri. Now, our young Bou, let us go to the ghát.
Sabitri. Now, my daughters, while the evening light continues, you two together go and wash yourselves.
(Exit all.)
