--How, O my child, shall my bereaved heart
Forget its bitterness, when, day by day,
Full in my sight shall grow the tender plants
Reared by thy care, or sprung from hallowed grain
Which thy loved hands have strewn around the door--
A frequent offering to our household gods?
Go, my daughter, and may thy journey be prosperous.
[_Exit Sakoontala with her escort_.
PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA [_gazing after Sakoontala_].--Alas! alas! she is
gone, and now the trees hide our darling from our view.
KANWA [_sighing_].--Well, Anasuya, your sister has departed. Moderate
your grief, both of you, and follow me. I go back to the hermitage.
PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA.--Holy father, the sacred grove will be a desert
without Sakoontala. How can we ever return to it?
KANWA.--It is natural enough that your affection should make you view it
in this light. [_Walking pensively on_.] As for me, I am quite surprised
at myself. Now that I have fairly dismissed her to her husband's house,
my mind is easy: for indeed,
A daughter is a loan--a precious jewel
Lent to a parent till her husband claim her.
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