Anusuya.  Priyamvada, dear Shakuntala has been properly married by the voluntary ceremony and she has a husband worthy of her.  And yet I am not quite satisfied.

Priyamvada.  Why not?

Anusuya.  The sacrifice is over and the good king was dismissed to-day by the hermits.  He has gone back to the city and there he is surrounded by hundreds of court ladies.  I wonder whether he will remember poor Shakuntala or not.

Priyamvada.  You need not be anxious about that.  Such handsome men are sure to be good.  But there is something else to think about.  I don’t know what Father will have to say when he comes back from his pilgrimage and hears about it.

Anusuya.  I believe that he will be pleased.

Priyamvada.  Why?

Anusuya.  Why not?  You know he wanted to give his daughter to a lover worthy of her.  If fate brings this about of itself, why shouldn’t Father be happy?

Priyamvada.  I suppose you are right. (She looks at her flower-basket.) My dear, we have gathered flowers enough for the sacrifice.

Anusuya.  But we must make an offering to the gods that watch over Shakuntala’s marriage.  We had better gather more.

Priyamvada.  Very well. (They do so.)

A voice behind the scenes.  Who will bid me welcome?

Anusuya (listening).  My dear, it sounds like a guest announcing himself.

Priyamvada.  Well, Shakuntala is near the cottage. (Reflecting.) Ah, but to-day her heart is far away.  Come, we must do with the flowers we have. (They start to walk away.)

The voice.

    Do you dare despise a guest like me? 
  Because your heart, by loving fancies blinded,
    Has scorned a guest in pious life grown old,
  Your lover shall forget you though reminded,
    Or think of you as of a story told.

(The two girls listen and show dejection.)

Priyamvada.  Oh, dear!  The very thing has happened.  The dear, absent-minded girl has offended some worthy man.

Anusuya (looking ahead).  My dear, this is no ordinary somebody.  It is the great sage Durvasas, the irascible.  See how he strides away!

Priyamvada.  Nothing burns like fire.  Run, fall at his feet, bring him back, while I am getting water to wash his feet.

Anusuya.  I will. (Exit.)

Priyamvada (stumbling).  There!  I stumbled in my excitement, and the flower-basket fell out of my hand. (She collects the scattered flowers.  ANUSUYA returns.)

Anusuya.  My dear, he is anger incarnate.  Who could appease him?  But I softened him a little.

Priyamvada.  Even that is a good deal for him.  Tell me about it.

Anusuya.  When he would not turn back, I fell at his feet and prayed to him.  “Holy sir,” I said, “remember her former devotion and pardon this offence.  Your daughter did not recognise your great and holy power to-day.”