So the king took the faultlessly graceful maiden by the hand and dwelt with her.  And when he had bidden her be of good courage, he went forth, saying again and again:  “I will send a complete army for you, and tell them to bring my sweet-smiling bride to my palace.”  When he had made this promise, the king went thoughtfully to find Kanva.  “What will he do when he hears it, this holy, austere man?” he wondered, and still thinking, he went back to his capital.

Now the moment he was gone, Kanva came to the hermitage.  And Shakuntala was ashamed and did not come to meet her father.  But blessed, austere Kanva had divine discernment.  He discovered her, and seeing the matter with celestial vision, he was pleased and said:  “What you have done, dear, to-day, forgetting me and meeting a man, this does not break the law.  A man who loves may marry secretly the woman who loves him without a ceremony; and Dushyanta is virtuous and noble, the best of men.  Since you have found a loving husband, Shakuntala, a noble son shall be born to you, mighty in the world.”

Sweet Shakuntala gave birth to a boy of unmeasured prowess.  His hands were marked with the wheel, and he quickly grew to be a glorious boy.  As a six years’ child in Kanva’s hermitage he rode on the backs of lions, tigers, and boars near the hermitage, and tamed them, and ran about playing with them.  Then those who lived in Kanva’s hermitage gave him a name.  “Let him be called All-tamer,” they said:  “for he tames everything.”

But when the sage saw the boy and his more than human deeds, he said to Shakuntala:  “It is time for him to be anointed crown prince.”  When he saw how strong the boy was, Kanva said to his pupils:  “Quickly bring my Shakuntala and her son from my house to her husband’s palace.  A long abiding with their relatives is not proper for married women.  It destroys their reputation, and their character, and their virtue; so take her without delay.”  “We will,” said all the mighty men, and they set out with Shakuntala and her son for Gajasahvaya.

When Shakuntala drew near, she was recognised and invited to enter, and she said to the king:  “This is your son, O King.  You must anoint him crown prince, just as you promised before, when we met.”

When the king heard her, although he remembered her, he said:  “I do not remember.  To whom do you belong, you wicked hermit-woman?  I do not remember a union with you for virtue, love, and wealth.[1] Either go or stay, or do whatever you wish.”

When he said this, the sweet hermit-girl half fainted from shame and grief, and stood stiff as a pillar.  Her eyes darkened with passionate indignation; her lips quivered; she seemed to consume the king as she gazed at him with sidelong glances.  Concealing her feelings and nerved by anger, she held in check the magic power that her ascetic life had given her.  She seemed to meditate a moment, overcome by grief and anger.  She gazed at her husband, then spoke passionately:  “O shameless king, although you know, why do you say, ‘I do not know,’ like any other ordinary man?”