SaNUMATi [_aside_].--His present recollection of every circ.u.mstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.

MaTHAVYA.--If that's the case, you will be certain to meet her before long.

KING.--Why?

MaTHAVYA.--No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the pain of separation from her husband.

KING.--Oh! my dear Mathavya, Was it a dream? or did some magic dire, Dulling my senses with a strange delusion, Overcome my spirit? or did destiny, Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit, And rob me of their guerdon? It is past, Whatever the spell that bound me. Once again Am I awake, but only to behold The precipice o'er which my hopes have fallen.

MaTHAVYA.--Do not despair in this manner. Is not this very ring a proof that what has been lost may be unexpectedly found?

KING [_gazing at the ring_].--Ah! this ring, too, has fallen from a station which it will not easily regain, and deserves all my sympathy.

O gem, deserved the punishment we suffer, And equal is the merit of our works, When such our common doom. Thou didst enjoy The thrilling contact of those slender fingers, Bright as the dawn; and now how changed thy lot!

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable.

MaTHAVYA.--Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?

SaNUMATi.--I myself am curious to know.

KING.--You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved Sakoontala that I might return to my own capital, she said to me, with tears in her eyes, "How long will it be ere my lord send for me to his palace and make me his queen?"

MaTHAVYA.--Well, what was your reply?

KING.--Then I placed the ring on her finger, and thus addressed her-- Repeat each day one letter of the name Engraven on this gem; ere thou hast reckoned The tale of syllables, my minister Shall come to lead thee to thy husband's palace.

But, hard-hearted man that I was, I forgot to fulfil my promise, owing to the infatuation that took possession of me.

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--A pleasant arrangement! Fate, however, ordained that the appointment should not be kept.

MaTHAVYA.--But how did the ring contrive to pa.s.s into the stomach of that carp which the fisherman caught and was cutting up?

KING.--It must have slipped from my Sakoontala's hand, and fallen into the stream of the Ganges, while she was offering homage to the water of Sachi's holy pool.

MaTHAVYA.--Very likely.

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Sakoontala. But why should affection so strong as his stand in need of any token of recognition?

KING.--Let me now address a few words of reproof to this ring.

MaTHAVYA [_aside_].--He is going stark mad, I verily believe.

KING.--Hear me, thou dull and undiscerning bauble!

For so it argues thee, that thou couldst leave The slender fingers of her hand, to sink Beneath the waters. Yet what marvel is it That thou shouldst lack discernment? let me rather Heap curses on myself, who, though endowed With reason, yet rejected her I loved.

MaTHAVYA [_aside_].--And so, I suppose, I must stand here to be devoured by hunger, whilst he goes on in this sentimental strain.

KING.--O forsaken one, unjustly banished from my presence, take pity on thy slave, whose heart is consumed by the fire of remorse, and return to my sight.

_Enter Chaturika hurriedly, with a picture in her hand_.

CHATURIKa.--Here is the Queen's portrait. [_Shows the picture_.

MaTHAVYA.--Excellent, my dear friend, excellent! The imitation of nature is perfect, and the att.i.tude of the figures is really charming. They stand out in such bold relief that the eye is quite deceived.

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Sakoontala herself was before me.

KING.--I own 'tis not amiss, though it portrays But feebly her angelic loveliness.

Aught less than perfect is depicted falsely, And fancy must supply the imperfection.

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--A very just remark from a modest man, whose affection is exaggerated by the keenness of his remorse.

MaTHAVYA.--Tell me--I see three female figures drawn on the canvas, and all of them beautiful; which of the three is her Majesty, Sakoontala?

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--If he cannot distinguish her from the others, the simpleton might as well have no eyes in his head.

KING.--Which should you imagine to be intended for her?

MaTHAVYA.--She who is leaning, apparently a little tired, against the stem of that mango-tree, the tender leaves of which glitter with the water she has poured upon them. Her arms are gracefully extended; her face is somewhat flushed with the heat; and a few flowers have escaped from her hair, which has become unfastened, and hangs in loose tresses about her neck. That must be the queen Sakoontala, and the others, I presume, are her two attendants.

KING.--I congratulate you on your discernment. Behold the proof of my pa.s.sion; My finger, burning with the glow of love, Has left its impress on the painted tablet; While here and there, alas! a scalding tear Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness.

Chaturika, the garden in the background of the picture is only half-painted. Go, fetch the brush that I may finish it.

CHATURIKa.--Worthy Mathavya, have the kindness to hold the picture until I return.

KING.--Nay, I will hold it myself.

[_Takes the picture. Exit Chaturika_.

KING.--My loved one came but lately to my presence And offered me herself, but in my folly I spurned the gift, and now I fondly cling To her mere image; even as a madman Would pa.s.s the waters of the gushing stream, And thirst for airy vapors of the desert.

MaTHAVYA [_aside_].--He has been fool enough to forego the reality for the semblance, the substance for the shadow. [_Aloud._] Tell us, I pray, what else remains to be painted.

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favorite spot where my dear Sakoontala delighted to ramble.

KING.--You shall hear------ I wish to see the Malini portrayed, Its tranquil course by banks of sand impeded-- Upon the brink a pair of swans: beyond, The hills adjacent to Himalaya, Studded with deer; and, near the spreading shade Of some large tree, where 'mid the branches hang The hermits' vests of bark, a tender doe, Rubbing its downy forehead on the horn Of a black antelope, should be depicted.

MaTHAVYA [_aside_].--Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant s.p.a.ces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits.

KING.--My dear Mathavya, there is still a part of Sakoontala's dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted.

MaTHAVYA.--What is that?

SaNUMATi [_aside_].--Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest.

KING.--A sweet Sirisha blossom should be twined Behind her ear, its perfumed crest depending Towards her cheek; and, resting on her bosom, A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright As an autumnal moon-beam, should be traced.

MaTHAVYA.--Pray, why does the Queen cover her lips with the tips of her fingers, bright as the blossom of a lily, as if she were afraid of something? [_Looking more closely_.] Oh! I see; a vagabond bee, intent on thieving the honey of flowers, has mistaken her mouth for a rose-bud, and is trying to settle upon it.

KING.--A bee! drive off the impudent insect, will you?