"He is really Vishnu, one of the Hindu trinity, known as the preserver.
Vishnu has a considerable number of forms, or incarnations, one of which is
Krishna, the most human of them all."
The curtain rose, and cut short the explanation. The scene, painted on
canvas, was an Indian temple. A figure with an enormous wig, his half-naked
body daubed all over with yellow paint, was seated before it, abstracted in
the deepest meditation. The interpreter told them it was Rishi, a
supernatural power, a genius who is a protector to those who need his
services. Then a crowd of gods and goddesses rushed on the stage, and each
of them made a long speech to the devotee-god, which Sir Modava had not
time to render into English, even with the aid of Sahib Govind.
The actors were fantastically dressed. One had an elephant's head, and all
of them wore high gilt mitres. Krishna enters, and the other divinities
make their exit. He is a nice-looking young man, painted blue, and dressed
like a king. His wife enters, and throws herself at his feet. Then she
reproaches him for forsaking her, in a soft and musical voice, her eyes
raining tears all the time. She embraces his knees.
Then appears the rival in her affections with Krishna, Rukmini, an
imperious woman, and tells by what artifices she has conquered the weak
husband. Then follows a spirited dialogue between the two women.
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