ne to the right of the
grove. I must find out. (_He walks and looks about_.) Ah, here are
hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle.
They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are
charming!

The city maids, for all their pains,
Seem not so sweet and good;
Our garden blossoms yield to these
Flower-children of the wood.

I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (_He stands, gazing
toward them. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA, _as described, and her two friends_.)

_First friend_. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for
the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a
jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the
trees.

_Shakuntala_. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a
real sister to them. (_She waters the trees_.)

_Priyamvada_. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in
the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is
past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for
a reward.

_Shakuntala_. What a pretty idea! (_She does so_.)

_King_ (_to himself_). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (_In
surprise_.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's
dress of bark.

The sage who yokes her artless charm
With pious pain and grief,
Would try to cut the toughest vine
With a soft, blue lotus-leaf.

Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her
friends. (_He conceals himself_.)

_Shakuntala_. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so
tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYA _does so_.)

_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