KING.
Alas! can this indeed be my [S']akoontalá?
Clad in the weeds of widowhood, her face
Emaciate with fasting, her long hair
Twined in a single braid[121], her whole demeanour
Expressive of her purity of soul;
With patient constancy she thus prolongs
The vow to which my cruelty condemned her.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Gazing at the KING, who is pale with remorse.
Surely this is not like my husband; yet who can it be that dares pollute by the pressure of his hand my child, whose amulet should protect him from a stranger's touch?
CHILD. [Going to his mother.
Mother, who is this man that has been kissing me and calling me his son?
KING.
My best beloved, I have indeed treated thee most cruelly, but am now once more thy fond and affectionate lover. Refuse not to acknowledge me as thy husband.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.