Kacha
I gave my solemn promise to the Gods that I would bring them this lore of deathless life.
Devayani
But is it true you had eyes for nothing save your books? That you never broke off your studies to pay me homage with flowers, never lay in wait for a chance, of an evening, to help me water my flower-beds? What made you sit by me on the grass and sing songs you brought hither from the assembly of the stars, while darkness stooped over the river bank as love droops over its own sad silence? Were these parts of a cruel conspiracy plotted in your Paradise? Was all for the sake of access to my father’s heart?—and after success, were you, departing, to throw some cheap gratitude, like small coins, to the deluded door-keeper?