_a.n.u.suya_. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named Kaushika----

_King_. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika.

_a.n.u.suya_. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being.

But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when she was abandoned.

_King_. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear the whole story?

_a.n.u.suya_. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a life of stern austerities, and the G.o.ds, becoming strangely jealous, sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions.

_King_. Yes, the G.o.ds feel this jealousy toward the austerities of others. And then--

_a.n.u.suya_. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating beauty--(_She stops in embarra.s.sment_.)

_King_. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph.

_a.n.u.suya_. Yes.

_King_. It is as it should be.

To beauty such as this No woman could give birth; The quivering lightning flash Is not a child of earth.

(SHAKUNTALA _hangs her head in confusion_.) _King_ (_to himself_).

Ah, my wishes become hopes.

_Priyamvada_ (_looking with a smile at_ SHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALA _threatens her friend with her finger_.)

_King_. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have another question.

_Priyamvada_. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer all demands.

_King_. My question is this:

Does she, till marriage only, keep her vow As hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love?

Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now, Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove?

_Priyamvada_. Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it is her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover.

_King_ (_joyfully to himself_).

O heart, your wish is won!

All doubt at last is done; The thing you feared as fire, Is the jewel of your desire.

_Shakuntala_ (_pettishly_). a.n.u.suya, I'm going.

_a.n.u.suya_. What for?

_Shakuntala_. I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is talking nonsense. (_She rises_.)

_a.n.u.suya_. My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a distinguished guest, and go wandering about.

(SHAKUNTALA _starts to walk away without answering_.)

_King_ (_aside_). She is going! (_He starts up as if to detain her, then checks his desires_.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a lover.

Though nurture, conquering nature, holds Me back, it seems As had I started and returned In waking dreams.

_Priyamvada_ (_approaching_ SHAKUNTALA). You dear, peevish girl! You mustn't go.

_Shakuntala_ (_turns with a frown_). Why not?

_Priyamvada_. You owe me the watering of two trees. You can go when you have paid your debt. (_She forces her to come back_.)

_King_. It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the trees.

See!

Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet; Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair; The blossom o'er her ear hangs limply wet; One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair.

I therefore remit her debt. (_He gives the two friends a ring. They take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other_.)

_King_. Make no mistake. This is a present--from the king.

_Priyamvada_. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is enough to remit the debt.

_a.n.u.suya_. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind gentleman--or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now?

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). I would never leave him if I could help myself.

_Priyamvada_. Why don't you go now?

_Shakuntala_. I am not _your_ servant any longer. I will go when I like.

_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_). Does she feel toward me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope.

Although she does not speak to me, She listens while I speak; Her eyes turn not to see my face, But nothing else they seek.

_A voice behind the scenes_. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the neighbourhood.

The dust his horses' hoofs have raised, Red as the evening sky, Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs Where hanging garments dry.

_King_ (_aside_). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their search for me. _The voice behind the scenes_. Hermits!

Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and children.

One tusk is splintered by a cruel blow Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow, For countless fettering vines impede and cling; He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar, Fleeing in terror from the royal car.

(_The girls listen and rise anxiously_.)

_King_. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back.