The fourth act describes the fulfilment of this evil omen.  The king has now returned to the city, and has given Sakoontala a signet ring, with an inscription on it, pronouncing that after there have elapsed as many days as there are letters in this inscription he will return.  As the two maiden companions of Sakoontala are culling flowers in the garden of the hermitage, they hear a voice exclaiming, “It is I! give heed!” This is the great Durvasas, whom Sakoontala, lost in thoughts of her absent husband, has neglected at once to go forth to welcome.  The voice from behind the scenes is soon after heard uttering a curse—­“Woe unto her who is thus neglectful of a guest,” and declaring that Dushyanta, of whom alone she is thinking, regardless of the presence of a pious saint, shall forget her in spite of all his love, as the wine-bibber forgets his delirium.  The Hindoo saint is here described in all his arrogance and cruelty.  One of the maidens says that he who had uttered the curse is now retiring with great strides, quivering with rage—­for his wrath is like a consuming fire.  A pretty picture is given of Sakoontala, who carries on her finger the signet ring, which has the virtue of restoring the king’s love, if ever he should forget her.  “There sits our beloved friend,” cries one of the maidens:  “motionless as a picture; her cheek supported by her left hand, so absorbed in thoughts of her absent lover that she is unconscious of her own self—­how much more of a passing stranger?”

In the fourth act there is an exquisite description of the return of Kanwa from his pilgrimage, and the preparations for the start of Sakoontala for her husband’s palace, in the city.  The delicate pathos of the scene is worthy of Euripides.  “Alas!  Alas!” exclaim the two maidens, “Now Sakoontala has disappeared behind the trees of the forest.  Tell us, master, how shall we enter again the sacred grove made desolate by her departure?” But the holy calm, broken for a moment by the excitement of his child’s departure, is soon restored to Kanwa’s mind.  “Now that my child is dismissed to her husband’s home, tranquillity regains my soul.”  The closing reflection is worthy of a Greek dramatist:  “Our maids we rear for the happiness of others; and now that I have sent her to her husband I feel the satisfaction that comes from restoring a trust.”

In the fifth act, the scene is laid in Dushyanta’s palace, where the king is living, under the curse of Durvasas, in complete oblivion of Sakoontala.  The life of the court is happily suggested, with its intrigues and its business.  The king has yet a vague impression of restlessness, which, on hearing a song sung behind the scenes, prompts him to say, “Why has this strain flung over me so deep a melancholy, as though I was separated from some loved one; can this be the faint remembrance of affections in some previous existence?” It is here that the hermits, with Gautami, arrive, bringing Sakoontala, soon to be made a mother, into the presence of the