To animals he is as good
  As good can be;
  You spoil it, like a black snake’s brood
  In sandal tree.

Hermit-woman.  But, sir, he is not the son of a hermit.

King.  So it would seem, both from his looks and his actions.  But in this spot, I had no suspicion of anything else. (He loosens the boy’s hold on the cub, and touching him, says to himself.)

  It makes me thrill to touch the boy,
  The stranger’s son, to me unknown;
  What measureless content must fill
  The man who calls the child his own!

Hermit-woman (looking at the two).  Wonderful! wonderful!

King.  Why do you say that, mother?

Hermit-woman.  I am astonished to see how much the boy looks like you, sir.  You are not related.  Besides, he is a perverse little creature and he does not know you.  Yet he takes no dislike to you.

King (caressing the boy).  Mother, if he is not the son of a hermit, what is his family?

Hermit-woman.  The family of Puru.

King (to himself).  He is of one family with me!  Then could my thought be true? (Aloud.) But this is the custom of Puru’s line: 

  In glittering palaces they dwell
  While men, and rule the country well;
  Then make the grove their home in age,
  And die in austere hermitage.

But how could human beings, of their own mere motion, attain this spot?

Hermit-woman.  You are quite right, sir.  But the boy’s mother was related to a nymph, and she bore her son in the pious grove of the father of the gods.

King (to himself).  Ah, a second ground for hope. (Aloud.) What was the name of the good king whose wife she was?

Hermit-woman.  Who would speak his name?  He rejected his true wife.

King (to himself).  This story points at me.  Suppose I ask the boy for his mother’s name. (He reflects.) No, it is wrong to concern myself with one who may be another’s wife.

(Enter the first woman, with the clay peacock.)

First woman.  Look, All-tamer.  Here is the bird, the shakunta.  Isn’t the shakunta lovely?

Boy (looks about).  Where is my mamma? (The two women burst out laughing.)

First woman.  It sounded like her name, and deceived him.  He loves his mother.

Second woman.  She said:  “See how pretty the peacock is.”  That is all.

King (to himself).  His mother’s name is Shakuntala!  But names are alike.  I trust this hope may not prove a disappointment in the end, like a mirage.

Boy.  I like this little peacock, sister.  Can it fly? (He seizes the toy.) First woman (looks at the boy.  Anxiously), Oh, the amulet is not on his wrist.