Reading section 45

_Enter King Dushyanta, dressed in deep mourning, attended by his Jester, Máthavya, and preceded by Vetravatí._

CHAMBERLAIN [_gazing at the King_].--Well, noble forms are certainly pleasing, under all varieties of outward circumstances. The King's person is as charming as ever, notwithstanding his sorrow of mind. Though but a single golden bracelet spans His wasted arm; though costly ornaments Have given place to penitential weeds; Though oft-repeated sighs have blanched his lips, And robbed them of their bloom; though sleepless care And carking thought have dimmed his beaming eye; Yet does his form, by its inherent lustre, Dazzle the gaze; and, like a priceless gem Committed to some cunning polisher, Grow more effulgent by the loss of substance.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside. Looking at the King_].--Now that I have seen him, I can well understand why Śakoontalá should pine after such a man, in spite of his disdainful rejection of her.

KING [_walking slowly up and down, in deep thought_].-- When fatal lethargy overwhelmed my soul, My loved one strove to rouse me, but in vain:-- And now when I would fain in slumber deep Forget myself, full soon remorse doth wake me.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--My poor Śakoontalá's sufferings are very similar.

MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--He is taken with another attack of this odious Śakoontalá fever. How shall we ever cure him?

CHAMBERLAIN [_approaching_].--Victory to the King! Great Prince, the royal pleasure-grounds have been put in order. Your Majesty can resort to them for exercise and amusement whenever you think proper.

KING.--Vetravatí, tell the worthy Piśuna, my prime minister, from me, that I am so exhausted by want of sleep that I cannot sit on the judgment-seat to-day. If any case of importance be brought before the tribunal he must give it his best attention, and inform me of the circumstances by letter.

VETRAVATÍ.--Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed. [_Exit._

KING [_to the Chamberlain_].--And you, Vátáyana, may go about your own affairs.

CHAMBERLAIN.--I will, Sire. [_Exit._

MÁTHAVYA.--Now that you have rid yourself of these troublesome fellows, you can enjoy the delightful coolness of your pleasure-grounds without interruption.

KING.--Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage--"When affliction has a mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere"--and it is verified in me. Scarce is my soul delivered from the cloud That darkened its remembrance of the past, When lo! the heart-born deity of love With yonder blossom of the mango barbs His keenest shaft, and aims it at my breast.

MÁTHAVYA.--Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Káma's arrow with a cut of my cane.

[_Raises his stick and strikes off the mango-blossom._

KING [_smiling_].--That will do. I see very well the god of Love is not a match for a Bráhman. And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?

MÁTHAVYA.--Do you not remember? you told Chaturiká you should pass the heat of the day in the jasmine bower; and commanded her to bring the likeness of your queen Śakoontalá, sketched with your own hand.

KING.--True. The sight of her picture will refresh my soul. Lead the way to the arbor.

MÁTHAVYA.--This way, Sire.

[_Both move on, followed by Sánumatí._

MÁTHAVYA.--Here we are at the jasmine bower. Look, it has a marble seat, and seems to bid us welcome with its offerings of delicious flowers. You have only to enter and sit down. [_Both enter and seat themselves._

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--I will lean against these young jasmines. I can easily, from behind them, glance at my friend's picture, and will then hasten to inform her of her husband's ardent affection. [_Stands leaning against the creepers_.

KING.--Oh! my dear friend, how vividly all the circumstances of my union with Śakoontalá present themselves to my recollection at this moment! But tell me now how it was that, between the time of my leaving her in the hermitage and my subsequent rejection of her, you never breathed her name to me! True, you were not by my side when I disowned her; but I had confided to you the story of my love and you were acquainted with every particular. Did it pass out of your mind as it did out of mine?

MÁTHAVYA.--No, no; trust me for that. But, if you remember, when you had finished telling me about it, you added that I was not to take the story in earnest, for that you were not really in love with a country girl, but were only jesting; and I was dull and thick-headed enough to believe you. But so fate decreed, and there is no help for it.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Exactly.

KING [_after deep thought_].--My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.

MÁTHAVYA.--Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way? Such weakness is unworthy of you. Great men never surrender themselves to uncontrolled grief. Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a gale of wind?

KING.--How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the agonized demeanor of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her? When cruelly I spurned her from my presence, She fain had left me; but the young recluse, Stern as the Sage, and with authority As from his saintly master, in a voice That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay. Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears, She cast on me one long reproachful look, Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action. But his anguish only rejoices me.

MÁTHAVYA.--An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven.

KING.--Very likely. Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife, the idol of her husband? It is said that Menaká, the nymph of heaven, gave her birth. The suspicion has certainly crossed my mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to their own abode.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--His present recollection of every circumstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.

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

KING.--Why?

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

KING.--Oh! my dear Máthavya, 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.

MÁTHAVYA.--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!

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

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

SÁNUMATÍ.--I myself am curious to know.

KING.--You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved Śakoontalá 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?"

MÁTHAVYA.--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.

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

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

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

MÁTHAVYA.--Very likely.

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Śakoontalá. 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.

MÁTHAVYA [_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.

MÁTHAVYA [_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 Chaturiká hurriedly, with a picture in her hand_.

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

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

SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Śakoontalá 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.

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