Reading section 48

MÁTALI.--By all means! An excellent idea. [_Guides the car to the earth._]

KING [_in a tone of wonder_].--How's this? Our chariot wheels move noiselessly. Around No clouds of dust arise; no shock betokened Our contact with the earth; we seem to glide Above the ground, so lightly do we touch it.

MÁTALI.--Such is the difference between the car of Indra and that of your Majesty.

KING.--In which direction, Mátali, is Kaśyapa's sacred retreat?

MÁTALI [_pointing_].--Where stands yon anchorite, towards the orb Of the meridian sun, immovable As a tree's stem, his body half-concealed By a huge ant-hill. Round about his breast No sacred cord is twined, but in its stead A hideous serpent's skin. In place of necklace, The tendrils of a withered creeper chafe His wasted neck. His matted hair depends In thick entanglement about his shoulders, And birds construct their nests within its folds.

KING.--I salute thee, thou man of austere devotion.

MÁTALI [_holding in the reins of the car_].--Great Prince, we are now in the sacred grove of the holy Kaśyapa--the grove that boasts as its ornament one of the five trees of Indra's heaven, reared by Aditi.

KING.--This sacred retreat is more delightful than heaven itself. I could almost fancy myself bathing in a pool of nectar.

MÁTALI [_stopping the chariot_].--Descend, mighty Prince.

KING [_descending_].--And what will you do, Mátali?

MÁTALI.--The chariot will remain where I have stopped it. We may both descend. [_Doing so._] This way, great King, [_Walking on._] You see around you the celebrated region where the holiest sages devote themselves to penitential rites.

KING.--I am filled with awe and wonder as I gaze. In such a place as this do saints of earth Long to complete their acts of penance; here, Beneath the shade of everlasting trees, Transplanted from the groves of Paradise, May they inhale the balmy air, and need No other nourishment; here may they bathe In fountains sparkling with the golden dust Of lilies; here, on jewelled slabs of marble, In meditation rapt, may they recline; Here, in the presence of celestial nymphs, E'en passion's voice is powerless to move them.

MÁTALI.--So true is it that the aspirations of the good and great are ever soaring upwards. [_Turning round and speaking off the stage_.] Tell me, Vriddha-śákalya, how is the divine son of Maríchi now engaged? What sayest thou? that he is conversing with Aditi and some of the wives of the great sages, and that they are questioning him respecting the duties of a faithful wife?

KING [_listening_].--Then we must await the holy father's leisure.

MÁTALI [_looking at the King_].--If your Majesty will rest under the shade, at the foot of this Aśoka-tree, I will seek an opportunity of announcing your arrival to Indra's reputed father.

KING.--As you think proper. [_Remains under the tree_.

MÁTALI.--Great King, I go. [_Exit._

KING [_feeling his arm throb_].--Wherefore this causeless throbbing, O mine arm? All hope has fled forever; mock me not With presages of good, when happiness Is lost, and nought but misery remains.

A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Be not so naughty. Do you begin already to show a refractory spirit?

KING [_listening_].--This is no place for petulance. Who can it be whose behavior calls for such a rebuke? [_Looking in the direction of the sound and smiling_.] A child, is it? closely attended by two holy women. His disposition seems anything but childlike. See, He braves the fury of yon lioness Suckling its savage offspring, and compels The angry whelp to leave the half-sucked dug, Tearing its tender mane in boisterous sport.

_Enter a child, attended by two women of the hermitage, In the manner described_.

CHILD.--Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth.

FIRST ATTENDANT.--You naughty child, why do you tease the animals? Know you not that we cherish them in this hermitage as if they were our own children? In good sooth, you have a high spirit of your own, and are beginning already to do justice to the name Sarva-damana (All-taming), given you by the hermits.

KING.--Strange! My heart inclines towards the boy with almost as much affection as if he were my own child. What can be the reason? I suppose my own childlessness makes me yearn towards the sons of others.

SECOND ATTENDANT.--This lioness will certainly attack you if you do not release her whelp.

CHILD [_laughing_].--Oh! indeed! let her come. Much I fear her, to be sure. [_Pouts his under-lip in defiance_.

KING.--The germ of mighty courage lies concealed Within this noble infant, like a spark Beneath the fuel, waiting but a breath To fan the flame and raise a conflagration.

FIRST ATTENDANT.--Let the young lion go, like a dear child, and I will give you something else to play with.

CHILD.--Where is it? Give it me first. [_Stretches out his hand._

KING [_looking at his hand_].--How's this? His hand exhibits one of those mystic marks which are the sure prognostic of universal empire. See! His fingers stretched in eager expectation To grasp the wished-for toy, and knit together By a close-woven web, in shape resemble A lotus-blossom, whose expanding petals The early dawn has only half unfolded.

SECOND ATTENDANT.--We shall never pacify him by mere words, dear Suvratá. Be kind enough to go to my cottage, and you will find there a plaything belonging to Márkándeya, one of the hermit's children. It is a peacock made of China-ware, painted in many colors. Bring it here for the child.

FIRST ATTENDANT.--Very well. [_Exit._

CHILD.--No, no; I shall go on playing with the young lion.

[_Looks at the female attendant and laughs_.

KING.--I feel an unaccountable affection for this wayward child. How blessed the virtuous parents whose attire Is soiled with dust, by raising from the ground The child that asks a refuge in their arms! And happy are they while with lisping prattle, In accents sweetly inarticulate, He charms their ears; and with his artless smiles Gladdens their hearts, revealing to their gaze His tiny teeth, just budding into view.

ATTENDANT.--I see how it is. He pays me no manner of attention. [_Looking off the stage._] I wonder whether any of the hermits are about here. [_Seeing the King._] Kind Sir, could you come hither a moment and help me to release the young lion from the clutch of this child, who is teasing him in boyish play?

KING [_approaching and smiling_].--Listen to me, thou child of a mighty saint. Dost thou dare show a wayward spirit here? Here, in this hallowed region? Take thou heed Lest, as the serpent's young defiles the sandal, Thou bring dishonor on the holy sage, Thy tender-hearted parent, who delights To shield from harm the tenants of the wood.

ATTENDANT.--Gentle Sir, I thank you; but he is not the saint's son.

KING.--His behavior and whole bearing would have led me to doubt it, had not the place of his abode encouraged the idea.

[_Follows the child, and takes him by the hand, according to the request of the attendant. Speaking aside._ I marvel that the touch of this strange child Should thrill me with delight; if so it be, How must the fond caresses of a son Transport the father's soul who gave him being!

ATTENDANT [_looking at them both_].--Wonderful! Prodigious!

KING.--What excites your surprise, my good woman?

ATTENDANT.--I am astonished at the striking resemblance between the child and yourself; and, what is still more extraordinary, he seems to have taken to you kindly and submissively, though you are a stranger to him.

KING [_fondling the child_].--If he be not the son of the great sage, of what family does he come, may I ask?

ATTENDANT.--Of the race of Puru.

KING [_aside_].--What! are we, then, descended from the same ancestry? This, no doubt, accounts for the resemblance she traces between the child and me. Certainly it has always been an established usage among the princes of Puru's race, To dedicate the morning of their days To the world's weal, in palaces and halls, 'Mid luxury and regal pomp abiding; Then, in the wane of life, to seek release From kingly cares, and make the hallowed shade Of sacred trees their last asylum, where As hermits they may practise self-abasement, And bind themselves by rigid vows of penance. [_Aloud._] But how could mortals by their own power gain admission to this sacred region?

ATTENDANT.--Your remark is just; but your wonder will cease when I tell you that his mother is the offspring of a celestial nymph, and gave him birth in the hallowed grove of Kaśyapa.

KING [_aside_].--Strange that my hopes should be again excited! [_Aloud._] But what, let me ask, was the name of the prince whom she deigned to honor with her hand?

ATTENDANT.--How could I think of polluting my lips by the mention of a wretch who had the cruelty to desert his lawful wife?

KING [_aside_].--Ha! the description suits me exactly. Would I could bring myself to inquire the name of the child's mother! [_Reflecting._] But it is against propriety to make too minute inquiries about the wife of another man.

FIRST ATTENDANT [_entering with the china peacock in her hand_].--Sarva-damana, Sarva-damana, see, see, what a beautiful Śakoonta (bird).

CHILD [_looking round_].--My mother! Where? Let me go to her.

BOTH ATTENDANTS.--He mistook the word Śakoonta for Śakoontalá. The boy dotes upon his mother, and she is ever uppermost in his thoughts.

SECOND ATTENDANT.--Nay, my dear child, I said, Look at the beauty of this Śakoonta.

KING [_aside_].--What! is his mother's name Śakoontalá? But the name is not uncommon among women. Alas! I fear the mere similarity of a name, like the deceitful vapor of the desert, has once more raised my hopes only to dash them to the ground.

CHILD [_takes the toy_].--Dear nurse, what a beautiful peacock!

FIRST ATTENDANT [_looking at the child. In great distress_].--Alas! alas! I do not see the amulet on his wrist.

KING.--Don't distress yourself. Here it is. It fell off while he was struggling with the young lion.

[_Stoops to pick it up_.

BOTH ATTENDANTS.--Hold! hold! Touch it not, for your life. How marvellous! He has actually taken it up without the slightest hesitation.