[Aloud.] But how could mortals by their own power gain admission to this sacred region?
ATTENDANT.—Your remark is just; but your wonder will cease when I tell you that his mother is the offspring of a celestial nymph, and gave him birth in the hallowed grove of Kaśyapa.
KING [aside].—Strange that my hopes should be again excited! [Aloud.] But what, let me ask, was the name of the prince whom she deigned to honor with her hand?
ATTENDANT.—How could I think of polluting my lips by the mention of a wretch who had the cruelty to desert his lawful wife?
KING [aside].—Ha! the description suits me exactly. Would I could bring myself to inquire the name of the child's mother! [Reflecting.] But it is against propriety to make too minute inquiries about the wife of another man.
FIRST ATTENDANT [entering with the china peacock in her hand].—Sarva-damana, Sarva-damana, see, see, what a beautiful Śakoonta (bird).
CHILD [looking round].—My mother! Where? Let me go to her.
BOTH ATTENDANTS.—He mistook the word Śakoonta for Śakoontalá. The boy dotes upon his mother, and she is ever uppermost in his thoughts.
SECOND ATTENDANT.—Nay, my dear child, I said, Look at the beauty of this Śakoonta.
KING [aside].—What! is his mother's name Śakoontalá? But the name is not uncommon among women. Alas! I fear the mere similarity of a name, like the deceitful vapor of the desert, has once more raised my hopes only to dash them to the ground.