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Dushm. A capital invention!

Sac. [Looking at her finger.] Ah me! I have no ring. [She fixes her eyes with anguish on Gautamí.]

Gaut. The fatal ring must have dropped, my child, from thy hand, when thou tookest up water to pour on thy head in the pool of Sachitirt'ha, near the station of Sacrávatára.

Dushm. [Smiling.] So skilful are women in finding ready excuses!

Sac. The power of Brahmá must prevail: I will yet mention one circumstance.

Dushm. I must submit to hear the tale.

Sac. One day, in a grove of Vétasas, thou tookest water in thy hand from its natural vase of lotos leaves—

Dushm. What followed?

Sac. At that instant a little fawn, which I had reared as my own child, approached thee; and thou saidst with benevolence: "Drink thou first, gentle fawn." He would not drink from the hand of a stranger, but received water eagerly from mine when thou saidst, with increasing affection: "Thus every creature loves its companions; you are both foresters alike, and both alike amiable."

Dushm. By such interested and honied falsehoods are the souls of voluptuaries ensnared.

Gaut. Forbear, illustrious prince, to speakharshly. She was bred in a sacred grove where she learned no guile.