ACT III THE LOVE-MAKING (Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice.) Pupil (with meditative astonishment). How great is the power of King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed. He does not need to bend the bow; For every evil thing, Awaiting not the arrow, flees From the twanging of the string. Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the altar. (He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not visible.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and the fibrous lotus-leaves? (He listens.) What do you say?