in charming away the effects of snake-poison.  Needless to say, he uses the ring to procure the freedom of Malavika and her friend, and then brings about a meeting with Agnimitra in the summer-house.  The love-scene which follows is again interrupted by Queen Iravati.  This time the king is saved by the news that his little daughter has been frightened by a yellow monkey, and will be comforted only by him.  The act ends with the announcement that the ashoka-tree has blossomed.

ACT V.—­It now appears that Queen Dharini has relented and is willing to unite Malavika with the king; for she invites him to meet her under the ashoka-tree, and includes Malavika among her attendants.  Word is brought that the army despatched against the king of Vidarbha has been completely successful, and that in the spoil are included two maids with remarkable powers of song.  These maids are brought before the company gathered at the tree, where they surprise every one by falling on their faces before Malavika with the exclamation, “Our princess!” Here the Buddhist nun takes up the tale.  She tells how her brother, the counsellor of the captive prince, had rescued her and Malavika from the king of Vidarbha, and had started for Agnimitra’s court.

On the way they had been overpowered by robbers, her brother killed, and she herself separated from Malavika.  She had thereupon become a nun and made her way to Agnimitra’s court, and had there found Malavika, who had been taken from the robbers by Agnimitra’s general and sent as a present to Queen Dharini.  She had not divulged the matter sooner, because of a prophecy that Malavika should be a servant for just one year before becoming a king’s bride.  This recital removes any possible objection to a union of Malavika and Agnimitra.  To complete the king’s happiness, there comes a letter announcing that his son by Dharini has won a victory over a force of Greek cavalry, and inviting the court to be present at the sacrifice which was to follow the victory.  Thus every one is made happy except the jealous young Queen Iravati, now to be supplanted by Malavika; yet even she consents, though somewhat ungraciously, to the arrangements made.

Criticism of the large outlines of this plot would be quite unjust, for it is completely conventional.  In dozens of plays we have the same story:  the king who falls in love with a maid-servant, the jealousy of his harem, the eventual discovery that the maid is of royal birth, and the addition of another wife to a number already sufficiently large.  In writing a play of this kind, the poet frankly accepts the conventions; his ingenuity is shown in the minor incidents, in stanzas of poetical description, and in giving abundant opportunity for graceful music and dancing.  When the play is approached in this way, it is easy to see the griffe du lion in this, the earliest work of the greatest poet who ever sang repeatedly of love between man and woman, troubled for a time but eventually happy.  For though there is in Agnimitra, as in all heroes of his type, something contemptible, there is in Malavika a sweetness, a delicacy, a purity, that make her no unworthy precursor of Sita, of Indumati, of the Yaksha’s bride, and of Shakuntala.