KING.—­This sacred retreat is more delightful than heaven itself.  I could almost fancy myself bathing in a pool of nectar.

MATALI [stopping the chariot].—­Descend, mighty Prince.

KING [descending].—­And what will you do, Matali?

MATALI.—­The chariot will remain where I have stopped it.  We may both descend. [Doing so.] This way, great King, [Walking on.] You see around you the celebrated region where the holiest sages devote themselves to penitential rites.

KING.—­I am filled with awe and wonder as I gaze. 
    In such a place as this do saints of earth
    Long to complete their acts of penance; here,
    Beneath the shade of everlasting trees,
    Transplanted from the groves of Paradise,
    May they inhale the balmy air, and need
    No other nourishment; here may they bathe
    In fountains sparkling with the golden dust
    Of lilies; here, on jewelled slabs of marble,
    In meditation rapt, may they recline;
    Here, in the presence of celestial nymphs,
    E’en passion’s voice is powerless to move them.

MATALI.—­So true is it that the aspirations of the good and great are ever soaring upwards. [Turning round and speaking off the stage.] Tell me, Vriddha-sakalya, how is the divine son of Marichi now engaged?  What sayest thou? that he is conversing with Aditi and some of the wives of the great sages, and that they are questioning him respecting the duties of a faithful wife?

KING [listening].—­Then we must await the holy father’s leisure.

MATALI [looking at the King].—­If your Majesty will rest under the shade, at the foot of this Asoka-tree, I will seek an opportunity of announcing your arrival to Indra’s reputed father.

KING.—­As you think proper. [Remains under the tree.

MATALI.—­Great King, I go. [Exit.

KING [feeling his arm throb].—­Wherefore this causeless throbbing, O
mine arm? 
    All hope has fled forever; mock me not
    With presages of good, when happiness
    Is lost, and nought but misery remains.

A VOICE [behind the scenes].—­Be not so naughty.  Do you begin already to show a refractory spirit?

KING [listening].—­This is no place for petulance.  Who can it be whose
behavior calls for such a rebuke? [Looking in the direction of the
sound and smiling.] A child, is it? closely attended by two holy women. 
His disposition seems anything but childlike.  See,
    He braves the fury of yon lioness
    Suckling its savage offspring, and compels
    The angry whelp to leave the half-sucked dug,
    Tearing its tender mane in boisterous sport.

Enter a child, attended by two women of the hermitage, In the manner described.

CHILD.—­Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth.