Be of good cheer, my heart. The anger of Destiny is at last appeased. Heaven regards thee with compassion. But is he in very truth my husband?
KING.
Behold me, best and loveliest of women,
Delivered from the cloud of fatal darkness
That erst oppressed my memory. Again
Behold us brought together by the grace
Of the great lord of Heaven. So the moon
Shines forth from dim eclipse [122], to blend his rays
With the soft lustre of his Rohiní.
[S']AKOONTALÁ.
May my husband be victorious—
[She stops short, her voice choked with tears.
KING.
O fair one, though the utterance of thy prayer
Be lost amid the torrent of thy tears,
Yet does the sight of thy fair countenance
And of thy pallid lips, all unadorned[123]
And colourless in sorrow for my absence,
Make me already more than conqueror.
CHILD.
Mother, who is this man?