Maitreya. Tell me, girl, are you going to sleep here to-night?
Maid. [Laughing.] But good Maitreya, you show yourself most remarkably plain-spoken now.
Maitreya. See, my friend, the rain enters again in great streams, as if it wanted to drive people away when they are sitting comfortably together.
Chārudatta. You are quite right.
The falling waters pierce the cloud,
As lotus-shoots the soil;
And tears the face of heaven shroud,
Who weeps the moon's vain toil. 44
And again:
In streams as pure as thoughts to good men given,
But merciless as darts that Arjun hurls,
And black as Baladeva's cloak, the heaven
Seems to pour out all Indra's hoarded pearls. 45
See, my belovèd, see!
The heaven is painted with the blackest dye,
And fanned by cool and fragrant evening airs;
Red lightning, glad in union, clasps the sky
With voluntary arms, and shows on high
The love that maiden heart to lover bears. 46
[Vasantasenā betrays her passion, and throws her arms about Chārudatta. Chārudatta feels her touch, and embraces her.]
Chārudatta. More grimly yet, O thunder, boom;
For by thy grace and power
My love-distracted limbs now bloom
Like the kadamba flower.
Her dear touch all my being thrills,
And love my inmost spirit fills. 47
Maitreya. Confound you, storm! You are no gentleman, to frighten the lady with the lightning.
