KING.—­How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the
agonized demeanor of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her? 
    When cruelly I spurned her from my presence,
    She fain had left me; but the young recluse,
    Stern as the Sage, and with authority
    As from his saintly master, in a voice
    That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay. 
    Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears,
    She cast on me one long reproachful look,
    Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still.

SANUMATI [aside].—­Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action.  But his anguish only rejoices me.

MATHAVYA.—­An idea has just struck me.  I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven.

KING.—­Very likely.  Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife, the idol of her husband?  It is said that Menaka, the nymph of heaven, gave her birth.  The suspicion has certainly crossed my mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to their own abode.

SANUMATI [aside].—­His present recollection of every circumstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.

MATHAVYA.—­If that’s the case, you will be certain to meet her before long.

KING.—­Why?

MATHAVYA.—­No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the pain of separation from her husband.

KING.—­Oh! my dear Mathavya,
    Was it a dream? or did some magic dire,
    Dulling my senses with a strange delusion,
    Overcome my spirit? or did destiny,
    Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit,
    And rob me of their guerdon?  It is past,
    Whatever the spell that bound me.  Once again
    Am I awake, but only to behold
    The precipice o’er which my hopes have fallen.

MATHAVYA.—­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!

SANUMATI [aside].—­Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable.

MATHAVYA.—­Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?

SANUMATI.—­I myself am curious to know.

KING.—­You shall hear.  When I was leaving my beloved Sakoontala 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?”