KING.—­An excellent idea!

SAKOONTALA [feeling for the ring].—­Alas! alas! woe is me!  There is no
ring on my finger!
          [Looks with anguish at Gautami.

GAUTAMI.—­The ring must have slipped off when thou wast in the act of offering homage to the holy water of Sachi’s sacred pool, near Sakravatara.

KING [smiling].—­People may well talk of the readiness of woman’s invention!  Here is an instance of it.

SAKOONTALA.—­Say, rather, of the omnipotence of fate.  I will mention another circumstance, which may yet convince thee.

KING.—­By all means let me hear it at once.

SAKOONTALA.—­One day, while we were seated in a jasmine bower, thou didst pour into the hollow of thine hand some water, sprinkled by a recent shower in the cup of a lotus blossom—­

KING.—­I am listening; proceed.

SAKOONTALA.—­At that instant, my adopted child, the little fawn, with soft, long eyes, came running towards us.  Upon which, before tasting the water thyself, thou didst kindly offer some to the little creature, saying fondly—­“Drink first, gentle fawn.”  But she could not be induced to drink from the hand of a stranger; though immediately afterwards, when I took the water in my own hand, she drank with perfect confidence.  Then, with a smile, thou didst say—­“Every creature confides naturally in its own kind.  You are both inhabitants of the same forest, and have learnt to trust each other.”

KING.—­Voluptuaries may allow themselves to be seduced from the path of duty by falsehoods such as these, expressed in honeyed words.

GAUTAMI.—­Speak not thus, illustrious Prince.  This lady was brought up in a hermitage, and has never learnt deceit.

KING.—­Holy matron,
    E’en in untutored brutes, the female sex
    Is marked by inborn subtlety—­much more
    In beings gifted with intelligence. 
    The wily Koeil, ere towards the sky
    She wings her sportive flight, commits her eggs
    To other nests, and artfully consigns
    The rearing of her little ones to strangers.

SAKOONTALA [angrily].—­Dishonorable man, thou judgest of others by thine own evil heart.  Thou, at least, art unrivalled in perfidy, and standest alone—­a base deceiver in the garb of virtue and religion—­like a deep pit whose yawning mouth is concealed by smiling flowers.

KING [aside].—­Her anger, at any rate, appears genuine, and makes me
almost doubt whether I am in the right.  For, indeed,
    When I had vainly searched my memory,
    And so with stern severity denied
    The fabled story of our secret loves,
    Her brows, that met before in graceful curves,
    Like the arched weapon of the god of love,
    Seemed by her frown dissevered; while the fire
    Of sudden anger kindled in her eyes.

[Aloud.] My good lady, Dushyanta’s character is well-known to all.  I comprehend not your meaning.