PRELUDE TO ACT IV.
SCENE.—The Garden of the Hermitage.
Enter PRIYAMVADÁ and ANASÚYÁ in the act of gathering flowers_.
ANASÚYÁ.
Although, dear Priyamvadá, it rejoices my heart to think that [S']akoontalá has been happily united to a husband in every respect worthy of her, by the form of marriage prevalent among Indra's celestial musicians, nevertheless, I cannot help feeling somewhat uneasy in my mind.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
How so?
ANASÚYÁ.
You know that the pious King was gratefully dismissed by the hermits on the successful termination of their sacrificial rites. He has now returned to his capital, leaving [S']akoontalá under our care; and it may be doubted whether, in the society of his royal consorts, he will not forget all that has taken place in this hermitage of ours.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
On that score be at ease. Persons of his noble nature are not so destitute of all honourable feeling. I confess, however, that there is one point about which I am rather anxious. What, think you, will Father Kanwa say when he hears what has occurred?
ANASÚYÁ.
In my opinion, he will approve the marriage.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
What makes you think so?
ANASÚYÁ.
From the first, it was always his fixed purpose to bestow the maiden on a husband worthy of her; and since heaven has given her such a husband, his wishes have been realized without any trouble to himself.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking at the flower-basket.
We have gathered flowers enough for the sacred offering, dear
Anasúyá.
ANASÚYÁ.
Well, then, let us now gather more, that we may have wherewith to propitiate the guardian-deity of our dear [S']akoontalá.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
By all means.
[They continue gathering.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Ho there! See you not that I am here!
ANASÚYÁ.
That must be the voice of a guest announcing his arrival.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Surely, [S']akoontalá is not absent from the cottage.
[Aside.]
Her heart at least is absent, I fear.
ANASÚYÁ.
Come along, come along; we have gathered flowers enough.
[They move away.
THE SAME VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Woe to thee, maiden, for daring to slight a guest like me!
Shall I stand here unwelcomed—even I,
A very mine of penitential merit,
Worthy of all respect? Shalt thou, rash maid,
Thus set at nought the ever sacred ties
Of hospitality? and fix thy thoughts
Upon the cherished object of thy love,
While I am present? Thus I curse thee, then—
He, even he of whom thou thinkest, he
Shall think no more of thee; nor in his heart
Retain thine image. Vainly shalt thou strive
To waken his remembrance of the past;
He shall disown thee, even as the sot,
Roused from his midnight drunkenness, denies
The words he uttered in his revellings.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Alas! alas! I fear a terrible misfortune has occurred. [S']akoontalá, from absence of mind, must have offended some guest whom she was bound to treat with respect.
[Looking behind the scenes.]
Ah! yes; I see; and no less a person than the great sage Durvásas[57], who is known to be most irascible. He it is that has just cursed her, and is now retiring with hasty strides, trembling with passion, and looking as if nothing could turn him. His wrath is like a consuming fire.
ANASÚYÁ.
Go quickly, dear Priyamvadá, throw yourself at his feet, and persuade him to come back, while I prepare a propitiatory offering[59] for him, with water and refreshments.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
I will.
[Exit.
ANASÚYÁ.
[Advancing hastily a few steps and stumbling.
Alas! alas! this comes of being in a hurry. My foot has slipped, and my basket of flowers has fallen from my hand.
[Stays to gather them up.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Re-entering
Well, dear Anasúyá, I have done my best; but what living being could succeed in pacifying such a cross-grained, ill-tempered old fellow? However, I managed to mollify him a little.
ANASÚYÁ [Smiling.
Even a little was much for him. Say on.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
When he refused to turn back, I implored his forgiveness in these words: 'Most venerable sage, pardon, I beseech you, this first offence of a young and inexperienced girl, who was ignorant of the respect due to your saintly character and exalted rank.'
ANASÚYÁ
And what did he reply?
PRIYAMVADÁ.
'My word must not be falsified; but, at the sight of the ring of recognition the spell shall cease.' So saying, he disappeared.
ANASÚYÁ.
Oh! then we may breathe again; for, now I think of it, the King himself, at his departure, fastened on [S']akoontalá's finger, as a token of remembrance, a ring on which his own name was engraved. She has, therefore, a remedy for her misfortune at her own command.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Come, dear Anasúyá, let us proceed with our religious duties.
[They walk round.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking off the stage.
See, Anasúyá, there sits our dear friend, motionless as a statue, resting her face on her left hand, her whole mind absorbed in thinking of her absent husband. She can pay no attention to herself, much less to a stranger.
ANASÚYÁ.
Priyamvadá, let this affair never pass our lips. We must spare our dear friend's feelings. Her constitution is too delicate to bear much emotion.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
I agree with you. Who would think of watering a tender jasmine with hot water?
ACT IV.
Scene.—_The Neighbourhood of the Hermitage.
Enter one of_ Kanwa's Pupils just arisen from his couch at the dawn of day.
PUPIL.
My master, the venerable Kanwa, who is but lately returned from his pilgrimage, has ordered me to ascertain how the time goes. I have therefore come into the open air to see if it be still dark.
[Walking and looking about.]
Oh! the dawn has already broken.
Lo! in one quarter of the sky, the Moon,
Lord of the herbs and night-expanding flowers,
Sinks towards his bed behind the western hills;
While in the east, preceded by the Dawn,
His blushing charioteer[59], the glorious Sun
Begins his course, and far into the gloom
Casts the first radiance of his orient beams.
Hail! co-eternal orbs, that rise to set,
And set to rise again; symbols divine
Of man's reverses, life's vicissitudes.
And now,
While the round Moon withdraws his looming disc
Beneath the western sky, the full-blown flower
Of the night-loving lotus[60] sheds her leave
In sorrow for his loss, bequeathing nought
But the sweet memory of her loveliness
To my bereaved sight; e'en as the bride
Disconsolately mourns her absent lord,
And yields her heart a prey to anxious grief.
ANASÚYÁ. [Entering abruptly.
Little as I know of the ways of the world, I cannot help thinking that King Dushyanta is treating [S']akoontalá very improperly.
PUPIL.
Well, I must let my revered preceptor know that it is time to offer the burnt oblation.
[Exit.
ANASÚYÁ.
I am broad awake, but what shall I do? I have no energy to go about my usual occupations. My hands and feet seem to have lost their power. Well, Love has gained his object; and Love only is to blame for having induced our dear friend, in the innocence of her heart, to confide in such a perfidious man. Possibly, however, the imprecation of Durvásas may he already taking effect. Indeed, I cannot otherwise account for the King's strange conduct, in allowing so long a time to elapse without even a letter; and that, too, after so many promises and protestations. I cannot think what to do unless we send him the ring which was to be the token of recognition. But which of these austere hermits could we ask to be the bearer of it? Then, again, Father Kanwa has just returned from his pilgrimage; and how am I to inform him of [S']akoontalá's marriage to King Dushyanta, and her expectation of becoming soon a mother? I never could bring myself to tell him, even if I felt that [S']akoontalá had been in fault, which she certainly has not. What is to be done?
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Entering; joyfully.
Quick! quick! Anasúyá! come and assist in the joyful preparations for [S']akoontalá's departure to her husband's palace.
ANASÚYÁ.
My dear girl, what can you mean?
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Listen, now, and I will tell you all about it. I went just now to
[S']akoontalá, to inquire whether she had slept comfortably—
ANASÚYÁ.
Well, well; go on.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
She was sitting with her face bowed down to the very ground with shame, when Father Kanwa entered, and, embracing her, of his own accord offered her his congratulations. 'I give thee joy, my child,' he said, 'we have had an auspicious omen. The priest who offered the oblation dropped it into the very centre of the sacred fire [81], though thick smoke obstructed his vision. Henceforth thou wilt cease to be an object of compassion. This very day I purpose sending thee, under the charge of certain trusty hermits, to the King's palace; and shall deliver thee into the hands of thy husband, as I would commit knowledge to the keeping of a wise and faithful student.'
ANASÚYÁ.
Who, then, informed the holy father of what passed in his absence?
PRIYAMVADÁ.
As he was entering the sanctuary of the consecrated fire, an invisible being chanted a verse in celestial strains.
ANASÚYÁ. [With astonishment.
Indeed! pray repeat it.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Repeating the verse.
Glows in thy daughter King Dushyanta's glory,
As in the sacred tree the mystic fire [62];
Let worlds rejoice to hear the welcome story,
And may the son immortalize the sire.
ANASÚYÁ. [Embracing PRIYAMVADÁ.
Oh, my dear Priyamvadá, what delightful news! I am pleased beyond measure; yet when I think that we are to lose our dear [S']akoontalá this very day, a feeling of melancholy mingles with my joy.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
We shall find means of consoling ourselves after her departure.
Let the dear creature only be made happy at any cost.
ANASÚYÁ.
Yes, yes, Priyamvadá, it shall be so; and now to prepare the bridal array. I have always looked forward to this occasion, and some time since, I deposited a beautiful garland of Ke[S']ara flowers in a cocoa-nut box, and suspended it on a bough of yonder mango-tree. Be good enough to stretch out your hand and take it down, while I compound unguents and perfumes with this consecrated paste and these blades of sacred grass.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Very well.
[Exit ANASÚYÁ. PRIYAMVADÁ takes down the flowers.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Gautamí, bid [S']árngarava and the others hold themselves in readiness to escort [S']akoontalá.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Listening.
Quick, quick, Anasúyá! They are calling the hermits who are to go with [S']akoontalá to Hastinápur[83].
ANASÚYÁ. [Re-entering with the perfumed unguents in her hand.
Come along then, Priyamvadá; I am ready to go with you.
[They walk away.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking.
See! there sits [S']akoontalá, her locks arranged even at this early hour of the morning. The holy women of the hermitage are congratulating her, and invoking blessings on her head, while they present her with wedding-gifts and offerings of consecrated wild-rice. Let us join them.
[They approach.
[S']AKOONTALÁ is seen seated, with women surrounding her, occupied in the manner described.
FIRST WOMAN. [To [S']AKOONTALÁ.
My child, may'st thou receive the title of 'Chief-queen,' and may thy husband delight to honour thee above all others!
SECOND WOMAN.
My child, may'st thou be the mother of a hero!
THIRD WOMAN.
My child, may'st thou be highly honoured by thy lord!
[Exeunt all the women, excepting GAUTAMÍ, after blessing_ [S']AKOONTALÁ.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ. [Approaching.
Dear [S']akoontalá, we are come to assist you at your toilet, and may a blessing attend it!
[S']AKOONTALÁ.
Welcome, dear friends, welcome. Sit down here.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.
[Taking the baskets containing the bridal decorations, and sitting down.
Now, then, dearest, prepare to let us dress you. We must first rub your limbs with these perfumed unguents.
[S']AKOONTALÁ.
I ought indeed to be grateful for your kind offices, now that I am so soon to be deprived of them. Dear, dear friends, perhaps I shall never be dressed by you again.
[Bursts into tears.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.
Weep not, dearest; tears are out of season on such a happy occasion.
[They wipe away her tears and begin to dress her.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
Alas! these simple flowers and rude ornaments, which our hermitage offers in abundance, do not set off your beauty as it deserves.
Enter TWO YOUNG HERMITS, bearing costly presents.
BOTH HERMITS.
Here are ornaments suitable for a queen.
[The women look at them in astonishment.
GAUTAMÍ
Why, Nárada, my son, whence came these?
FIRST HERMIT.
You owe them to the devotion of Father Kanwa.
GAUTAMÍ.
Did he create them by the power of his own mind?
SECOND HERMIT.
Certainly not; but you shall hear. The venerable sage ordered us to collect flowers for [S']akoontalá from the forest-trees; and we went to the wood for that purpose, when
Straightway depending from a neighbouring tree
Appeared a robe of linen tissue, pure
And spotless as a moonbeam—mystic pledge
Of bridal happiness; another tree
Distilled a roseate dye wherewith to stain
The lady's feet [135]; and other branches near
Glistened with rare and costly ornaments.
While, 'mid the leaves, the hands of forest-nymphs,
Vying in beauty with the opening buds,
Presented us with sylvan offerings.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking at [S']AKOONTALÁ.
The wood-nymphs have done you honour, indeed. This favour doubtless signifies that you are soon to be received as a happy wife into your husband's house, and are from this time forward to become the partner of his royal fortunes.
[S']AKOONTALÁ appears abashed.
FIRST HERMIT.
Come, Gautama; Father Kanwa has finished his ablutions. Let us go and inform him of the favour we have received from the deities who preside over our trees.
SECOND HERMIT.
By all means.
[Exeunt.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ
Alas! what are we to do? We are unused to such splendid decorations, and are at a loss how to arrange them. Our knowledge of painting must be our guide. We will dispose the ornaments as we have seen them in pictures.