KANWA. [Sighing.
How, O my child, shall my bereaved heart
Forget its bitterness, when, day by day,
Full in my sight shall grow the tender plants
Reared by thy care, or sprang from hallowed grain
Which thy loved hands have strewn around the door—
A frequent offering to our household gods[73]?
Go, my daughter, and may thy journey be prosperous.
[Exit [S']AKOONTALÁ with her escort.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ. [Gazing after [S']AKOONTALÁ.
Alas! alas! she is gone, and now the trees hide our darling from our view.
KANWA. [Sighing.
Well, Anasúyá, your sister has departed. Moderate your grief, both of you, and follow me, I go back to the hermitage.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.
Holy father, the sacred grove will be a desert without
[S']akoontalá. How can we ever return to it?