KANWA.--Daughter, the cherished purpose of my heart Has ever been to wed thee to a spouse That should be worthy of thee; such a spouse Hast thou thyself, by thine own merits, won. To him thou goest, and about his neck Soon shalt thou cling confidingly, as now Thy favorite jasmine twines its loving arms Around the sturdy mango. Leave thou it To its protector--e'en as I consign Thee to thy lord, and henceforth from my mind Banish all anxious thought on thy behalf. Proceed on thy journey, my child. ŚAKOONTALÁ [_to Priyamvadá and Anasúyá_].--To you, my sweet companions, I leave it as a keepsake. Take charge of it when I am gone. PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ [_bursting into tears_].--And to whose charge do you leave us, dearest? Who will care for us when you are gone? KANWA.--For shame, Anasúyá! dry your tears. Is this the way to cheer your friend at a time when she needs your support and consolation? [_All move on_. ŚAKOONTALÁ.--My father, see you there my pet deer, grazing close to the hermitage? She expects soon to fawn, and even now the weight of the little one she carries hinders her movements. Do not forget to send me word when she becomes a mother. KANWA.--I will not forget it. ŚAKOONTALÁ [_feeling herself drawn back_].--What can this be, fastened to my dress? [_Turns round_. KANWA.--My daughter, It is the little fawn, thy foster-child. Poor helpless orphan! it remembers well How with a mother's tenderness and love Thou didst protect it, and with grains of rice From thine own hand didst daily nourish it; And, ever and anon, when some sharp thorn Had pierced its mouth, how gently thou didst tend The bleeding wound, and pour in healing balm. The grateful nursling clings to its protectress, Mutely imploring leave to follow her. ŚAKOONTALÁ.--My poor little fawn, dost thou ask to follow an unhappy woman who hesitates not to desert her companions? When thy mother died, soon after thy birth, I supplied her place, and reared thee with my own hand; and now that thy second mother is about to leave thee, who will care for thee? My father, be thou a mother to her. My child, go back, and be a daughter to my father. [_Moves on, weeping_. KANWA.--Weep not, my daughter, check the gathering tear That lurks beneath thine eyelid, ere it flow And weaken thy resolve; be firm and true-- True to thyself and me; the path of life Will lead o'er hill and plain, o'er rough and smooth, And all must feel the steepness of the way; Though rugged be thy course, press boldly on. SÁRNGARAVA.--Venerable sire! the sacred precept is--"Accompany thy friend as far as the margin of the first stream." Here then, we are arrived at the border of a lake. It is time for you to give us your final instructions and return. KANWA.--Be it so; let us tarry for a moment under the shade of this fig-tree. [_They do so_.