_Rishyas._ And what is this I feel for you, O wise one? In skies from whence you come, what is its name? So pure are you that surely you can tell me?
_Koïl._ O holy one, the people call it love.
_Rishyas._ Then is love better than all other bliss My father's meditations ever bring. And I will seek thro all the lapse of lives To hold you thus, And have your arms about me, As vines about the asoka clingingly. Happy am I that you have found me out, And never shall you leave me.
But unto the city you shall go with me And there with Brahmin rites be made my husband.
_Rishyas._ Which is--I know not what--yet will I be Husband and more to you. For now it seems That not the tiger in his jungle-might, Nor any incarnation terrible, Could tear you from me.
_Koïl._ Then come quickly, now, And I will be for you a champa-flower, Swung sweetly and forever to your breast. And often will I dance for you and sing And love you, Rishyas, as a deva-queen! Come quickly, one is waiting in the wood To guide us.
_Rishyas._ Yes, O yes! (_remembering_) But stay! my father! First I will tell him I have won this wisdom.
_Rishyas._ Yes! (_calls_) Father! father!
_Koïl_ (_in terror_). Rishyas, no! But come, come with me quickly.
_Koïl._ He is so old!... You guess not what you do. Haste, or he will forbid.
_Rishyas._ You know him not. For I will tell him you are a holier saint To guide my steps, Then will he bid me go. Ho! father! ho!
_Vishwamya_ (_heard off_). My son, you call? I come.
_Rishyas_ (_dazed_). I do not understand.
_Koïl._ Sunandi! Speak, Sunandi!--Ah, he comes.
[_VISHWAMYA enters and seeing her stops amazed. SUNANDI enters behind unseen. Deep suspense._
_Rishyas_ (_uncomprehendingly_). Do you see, father, I have found one here Holy, and fairer than the Apsaras. And I shall follow her, she is some goddess. For I desire only to be with her, And she has taught me this desire is love. O and I love her, And tho yet I know Not well what miracle love is in me, Yet it is better than this hermitage. For it has made me seem.... But what burns in you?
_Vishwamya._ My son, you are beguiled. Let go her hand That leads you on to ruin. Do you not Behold what manner of creature you so clasp?
_Vishwamya._ Deva! This is a woman, And women like the wind are full of wiles, And tempt saints to abandon Swerga's rest. He who would rule his mind has naught with them. Let go her hand and send her away.