Do not forget to send me
word when she becomes a mother.
KANWA.--I will not forget it.
SAKOONTALA [_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.
SAKOONTALA.--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.
Pages:
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513