_Vasantasenā._ But not so much as I shall be. [_Persuasively._] Here, girl, take this pearl necklace. You must go and give it to my lady sister, his good wife. And give her this message: "Worthy Chārudatta's virtues have won me, made me his slave, and therefore your slave also. And so I hope that these pearls may adorn your neck." [94.3. S. _Maid._ But mistress, Chārudatta will be angry with you. _Vasantasenā._ Go. He will not be angry. _Maid._ [_Takes the necklace._] Yes, mistress. [_She goes out, then returns._] Mistress, his lady wife says that her lord made you a present of it, and it would not be right for her to accept it. And further, that you are to know that her lord and husband is her most excellent adornment. [_Enter Radanikā, with Chārudatta's little son._] _Radanikā._ Come, dear, let's play with your little cart. _Rohasena._ [_Peevishly._] I don't like this little clay cart, Radanikā. Give me my gold cart. _Radanikā._ [_Sighing wearily._] How should we have anything to do with gold now, my child? When your papa is rich again, then you shall have a gold cart to play with. But I'll amuse him by taking him to see Vasantasenā. [_She approaches Vasantasenā._] Mistress, my service to you. _Vasantasenā._ I am glad to see you, Radanikā. But whose little boy is this? He wears no ornaments, yet his dear little face makes my heart happy. _Radanikā._ This is Chārudatta's son, Rohasena. _Vasantasenā._ [_Stretches out her arms._] Come, my boy, and put your little arms around me. [_She takes him on her lap._] He looks just like his father. _Radanikā._ More than looks like him, he _is_ like him. At least I think so. His father is perfectly devoted to him. _Vasantasenā._ But what is he crying about? _Radanikā._ He used to play with a gold cart that belongs to the son of a neighbor. But that was taken away, and when he asked for it, I made him this little clay cart. But when I gave it to him, he said "I don't like this little clay cart, Radanikā. Give me my gold cart." P. 158.10] _Vasantasenā._ Oh, dear! To think that this little fellow has to suffer because others are wealthy. Ah, mighty Fate! the destinies of men, uncertain as the water-drops which fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to thee but playthings! [_Tearfully._] Don't cry, my child. You shall have a gold cart to play with. _Rohasena._ Who is she, Radanikā? _Vasantasenā._ A slave of your father's, won by his virtues. _Radanikā._ My child, the lady is your mother. _Rohasena._ That's a lie, Radanikā. If the lady is my mother, why does she wear those pretty ornaments? _Vasantasenā._ My child, your innocent lips can say terrible things. [_She removes her ornaments. Weeping._] Now I am your mother. You shall take these ornaments and have a gold cart made for you. _Rohasena._ Go away! I won't take them. You're crying.