.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ pain and grief,

       Would try to cut the toughest vine

       With a soft, blue lotus-leaf.

      Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her friends. (He conceals himself.)

      Shakuntala. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYA does so.)

      Priyamvada (laughing). You had better blame your own budding charms for that.

      King. She is quite right.

      Beneath the barken dress

       Upon the shoulder tied,

       In maiden loveliness

       Her young breast seems to hide,

      As when a flower amid

       The leaves by autumn tossed—

       Pale, withered leaves—lies hid,

       And half its grace is lost.

      Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves as an added ornament. For

      The meanest vesture glows

       On beauty that enchants:

       The lotus lovelier shows

       Amid dull water-plants;

      The moon in added splendour

       Shines for its spot of dark;

       Yet more the maiden slender

       Charms in her dress of bark.

      Shakuntala (looking ahead). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like fingers. I must go and see him. (She does so.)

      Priyamvada. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute.

      Shakuntala. Why?

      Priyamvada. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were clinging to the mango-tree.

      Shakuntala. I see why they call you the flatterer.

      King. But the flattery is true.

      Her arms are tender shoots; her lips

       Are blossoms red and warm;

       Bewitching youth begins to flower

       In beauty on her form.

      Anusuya. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband.

      Shakuntala (approaches and looks at it, joyfully). What a pretty pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (She stands gazing at them.)

      Priyamvada (smiling). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so hard at the Light of the Grove?

      Anusuya. No. Why?

      Priyamvada. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover.

      Shakuntala. That's what you want for yourself. (She tips her watering-pot.)

      Anusuya. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father Kanva tended with his own hands—just as he did you. You are forgetting her.

      Shakuntala. I'd forget myself sooner. (She goes to the creeper and looks at it, joyfully.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have something pleasant to tell you.

      Priyamvada. What is it, dear?

      Shakuntala. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered with buds down to the very root.

      The two friends (running up). Really?

      Shakuntala. Of course. Can't you see?

      Priyamvada (looking at it joyfully). And I have something pleasant to tell you. You are to be married soon.

      Shakuntala (snappishly). You know that's just what you want for yourself.

      Priyamvada. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness.

      Anusuya. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the spring-creeper so lovingly.

      Shakuntala. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (She tips her watering-pot.)

      King. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a different caste? But it must be so.

      Surely, she may become a warrior's bride;

       Else, why these longings in an honest mind?

       The motions of a blameless heart decide

       Of right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind.

      Yet I will learn the whole truth.

      Shakuntala (excitedly). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine and is flying into my face. (She shows herself annoyed by the bee.)

      King (ardently).

      As the bee about her flies,

       Swiftly her bewitching eyes

       Turn to watch his flight.

       She is practising to-day

       Coquetry and glances' play

       Not from love, but fright.

      (Jealously.)

      Eager bee, you lightly skim

       O'er the eyelid's trembling rim

       Toward the cheek aquiver.

       Gently buzzing round her cheek,

       Whispering in her ear, you seek

       Secrets to deliver.

      While her hands that way and this

       Strike at you, you steal a kiss,

       Love's all, honeymaker.

       I know nothing but her name,

       Not her caste, nor whence she came—

       You, my rival, take her.

      Shakuntala. СКАЧАТЬ