Enter a YOUNG BRÁHMAN carrying bundles of ku[S']a-grass for the use of the sacrificing priest.
YOUNG BRÁHMAN.
How wonderful is the power of King Dushyanta! No sooner did he enter our hermitage, than we were able to proceed with our sacrificial rites, unmolested by the evil demons.
No need to fix the arrow to the bow;
The mighty monarch sounds the quivering string,
And, by the thunder of his arms dismayed,
Our demon foes are scattered to the wind.
I must now, therefore, make haste and deliver to the sacrificing priests these bundles of Ku[s']a-grass, to be strewn round the altar.
[Walking and looking about; then addressing some one off the stage.]
Why, Priyamvadá, for whose use are you carrying that ointment of
Usíra-root and those lotus-leaves with fibres attached to them?
[Listening for her answer.]
What Say you?—that [S']akoontalá is suffering from fever produced by exposure to the sun, and that this ointment is to cool her burning frame? Nurse her with care, then, Priyamvadá, for she is cherished by our reverend Superior as the very breath of his nostrils[46]. I, for my part, will contrive that soothing waters, hallowed in the sacrifice, he administered to her by the hands of Gautamí.
[Exit.