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?