King. An excellent idea!
Shakuntala (touching her finger). Oh, oh! The ring is lost. (She looks sadly at GAUTAMI.)
Gautami. My child, you worshipped the holy Ganges at the spot where Indra descended. The ring must have fallen there.
King. Ready wit, ready wit!
Shakuntala. Fate is too strong for me there. I will tell you something else.
King. Let me hear what you have to say.
Shakuntala. One day, in the bower of reeds, you were holding a lotus-leaf cup full of water.
King. I hear you.
Shakuntala. At that moment the fawn came up, my adopted son. Then you took pity on him and coaxed him. "Let him drink first," you said. But he did not know you, and he would not come to drink water from your hand. But he liked it afterwards, when I held the very same water. Then you smiled and said: "It is true. Every one trusts his own sort. You both belong to the forest."
King. It is just such women, selfish, sweet, false, that entice fools. Gautami. You have no right to say that. She grew up in the pious grove. She does not know how to deceive.