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this is the new moon which left the firmament in honour of superior beauty, and, having descended on your enchanting wrist, has joined both its horns round it in the shape of a bracelet.

Sac. I really see nothing like a moon; the breeze, I suppose, has shaken some dust from the lotos flower behind my ears, and that has obscured my sight.

Dushm. Smiling? If you permit me, I will blow the fragrant dust from your eye.

Sac. It would be a kindness; but I cannot trust you.

Dushm. Oh! fear not, fear not. A new servant never transgresses the command of his mistress.

Sac. But a servant over-assiduous deserves no confidence.

Dushm. [Aside.] I will not let slip this charming occasion.—[Attempting to raise her head, Sacontalá faintly repels him, but sits still.] O damsel with an antelope's eyes, be not apprehensive of my indiscretion.—[Sacontalá looks up for a moment, and then bashfully drops her head. Dushmanta, aside, gently raising her head.]—That lip, the softness of which is imagined, not proved, seems to pronounce, with a delightful tremour, its permission for me to allay my thirst.

Sac. The son of my lord seems inclined to break his promise.

Dushm. Beloved, I was deceived by the prox-