KING [approaching and smiling].—­Listen to me, thou child of a mighty
saint. 
    Dost thou dare show a wayward spirit here? 
    Here, in this hallowed region?  Take thou heed
    Lest, as the serpent’s young defiles the sandal,
    Thou bring dishonor on the holy sage,
    Thy tender-hearted parent, who delights
    To shield from harm the tenants of the wood.

ATTENDANT.—­Gentle Sir, I thank you; but he is not the saint’s son.

KING.—­His behavior and whole bearing would have led me to doubt it, had not the place of his abode encouraged the idea.

[Follows the child, and takes him by the hand, according to the request
of the attendant.  Speaking aside.
    I marvel that the touch of this strange child
    Should thrill me with delight; if so it be,
    How must the fond caresses of a son
    Transport the father’s soul who gave him being!

ATTENDANT [looking at them both].—­Wonderful!  Prodigious!

KING.—­What excites your surprise, my good woman?

ATTENDANT.—­I am astonished at the striking resemblance between the child and yourself; and, what is still more extraordinary, he seems to have taken to you kindly and submissively, though you are a stranger to him.

KING [fondling the child].—­If he be not the son of the great sage, of what family does he come, may I ask?

ATTENDANT.—­Of the race of Puru.

KING [aside].—­What! are we, then, descended from the same ancestry? 
This, no doubt, accounts for the resemblance she traces between the
child and me.  Certainly it has always been an established usage among
the princes of Puru’s race,
    To dedicate the morning of their days
    To the world’s weal, in palaces and halls,
    ’Mid luxury and regal pomp abiding;
    Then, in the wane of life, to seek release
    From kingly cares, and make the hallowed shade
    Of sacred trees their last asylum, where
    As hermits they may practise self-abasement,
    And bind themselves by rigid vows of penance.
[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 Kasyapa.

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.