KING [_alighting_].--Charioteer, groves devoted to penance must be entered in humble attire. Take these ornaments. [_Delivers his ornaments and bow to the Charioteer_.] Charioteer, see that the horses are watered, and attend to them until I return from visiting the inhabitants of the hermitage. CHARIOTEER.--I will. [_Exit_. KING [_walking and looking about_].--Here is the entrance to the hermitage. I will now go in. [_Entering he feels a throbbing sensation in his arm_ Serenest peace is in this calm retreat, By passion's breath unruffled; what portends My throbbing arm? Why should it whisper here Of happy love? Yet everywhere around us Stand the closed portals of events unknown. A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--This way, my dear companions; this way. KING [_listening_].--Hark! I hear voices to the right of yonder grove of trees. I will walk in that direction. [_Walking and looking about_.] Ah! here are the maidens of the hermitage coming this way to water the shrubs, carrying watering-pots proportioned to their strength. [_Gazing at them_.] How graceful they look! In palaces such charms are rarely ours; The woodland plants outshine the garden flowers. I will conceal myself in this shade and watch them. [_Stands gazing at them_. _Enter Śakoontalá, with her two female companions, employed in the manner described_. ŚAKOONTALÁ.--This way, my dear companions; this way. ANASÚYÁ.--Dear Śakoontalá, one would think that father Kanwa had more affection for the shrubs of the hermitage even than for you, seeing he assigns to you who are yourself as delicate as the fresh-blown jasmine, the task of filling with water the trenches which encircle their roots. ŚAKOONTALÁ.--Dear Anasúyá, although I am charged by my good father with this duty, yet I cannot regard it as a task. I really feel a sisterly love for these plants. [_Continues watering the shrubs_. KING.--Can this be the daughter of Kanwa? The saintly man, though descended from the great Kaśyapa, must be very deficient in judgment to habituate such a maiden to the life of a recluse. The sage who would this form of artless grace Inure to penance--thoughtlessly attempts To cleave in twain the hard acacia's stem With the soft edge of a blue lotus leaf. Well! concealed behind this tree, I will watch her without raising her suspicions. [_Conceals himself_. ŚAKOONTALÁ.--Good Anasúyá, Priyamvadá has drawn this bark-dress too tightly about my chest. I pray thee, loosen it a little. ANASÚYÁ.--I will. [_Loosens it_. PRIYAMVADÁ [_smiling_].--Why do you lay the blame on me? Blame rather your own blooming youthfulness which imparts fulness to your bosom.