MÁTHAVYA.—Do not despair in this manner. Is not this very ring a proof that what has been lost may be unexpectedly found?
KING [gazing at the ring].—Ah! this ring, too, has fallen from a station which it will not easily regain, and deserves all my sympathy.
O gem, deserved the punishment we suffer,
And equal is the merit of our works,
When such our common doom. Thou didst enjoy
The thrilling contact of those slender fingers,
Bright as the dawn; and now how changed thy lot!
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable.
MÁTHAVYA.—Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?
SÁNUMATÍ.—I myself am curious to know.
KING.—You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved Śakoontalá that I might return to my own capital, she said to me, with tears in her eyes, "How long will it be ere my lord send for me to his palace and make me his queen?"
MÁTHAVYA.—Well, what was your reply?
KING.—Then I placed the ring on her finger, and thus addressed her—
Repeat each day one letter of the name
Engraven on this gem; ere thou hast reckoned
The tale of syllables, my minister
Shall come to lead thee to thy husband's palace.