Shakuntala. What condition?
King. That I may myself place it where it belongs.
Shakuntala (to herself). What can I do? (She approaches.) King. Let us sit on this stone bench. (They walk to the bench and sit down.)
King (taking Shakuntala’s hand). Ah!
When Shiva’s anger burned the tree
Of love in quenchless fire,
Did heavenly fate preserve a shoot
To deck my heart’s desire?
Shakuntala (feeling his touch). Hasten, my dear, hasten.
King (joyfully to himself). Now I am content. She speaks as a wife to her husband. (Aloud.) Beautiful Shakuntala, the clasp of the bracelet is not very firm. May I fasten it in another way?
Shakuntala (smiling). If you like.
King (artfully delaying before he fastens it). See, my beautiful girl!
The lotus-chain is dazzling white
As is the slender moon at night.
Perhaps it was the moon on high
That joined her horns and left the sky,
Believing that your lovely arm
Would, more than heaven, enhance her charm.
Shakuntala. I cannot see it. The pollen from the lotus over my ear has blown into my eye.
King (smiling). Will you permit me to blow it away?
Shakuntala. I should not like to be an object of pity. But why should I not trust you?
King. Do not have such thoughts. A new servant does not transgress orders.
Shakuntala. It is this exaggerated courtesy that frightens me.
King (to himself). I shall not break the bonds of this sweet servitude.
(He starts to raise her face to his. Shakuntala resists a little, then is passive.) King. Oh, my bewitching girl, have no fear of me. (Shakuntala darts a glance at him, then looks down. The king raises her face. Aside.) Her sweetly trembling lip
With virgin invitation
Provokes my soul to sip
Delighted fascination.
Shakuntala. You seem slow, dear, in fulfilling your promise.
King. The lotus over your ear is so near your eye, and so like it, that I was confused. (He gently blows her eye.)
Shakuntala. Thank you. I can see quite well now. But I am ashamed not to make any return for your kindness.
King. What more could I ask?
It ought to be enough for me
To hover round your fragrant face;
Is not the lotus-haunting bee
Content with perfume and with grace?
Shakuntala. But what does he do if he is not content?
King. This! This! (He draws her face to his.) A voice behind the scenes. O sheldrake bride, bid your mate farewell.
The night is come.
Shakuntala (listening excitedly). Oh, my dear, this is Mother Gautami, come to inquire about me. Please hide among the branches. (The king conceals himself. Enter Gautami, with a bowl in her hand.) Gautami. Here is the holy water, my child. (She sees Shakuntala and helps her to rise.) So ill, and all alone here with the gods?
Shakuntala. It was just a moment ago that Priyamvada and Anusuya went down to the river.
Gautami (sprinkling Shakuntala with the holy water). May you live long and happy, my child. Has the fever gone down? (She touches her.) 37
Shakuntala. There is a difference, mother.
Gautami. The sun is setting. Come, let us go to the cottage.
Shakuntala (weakly rising. To herself). Oh, my heart, you delayed when your desire came of itself. Now see what you have done. (She takes a step, then turns around. Aloud.) O bower that took away my pain, I bid you farewell until another blissful hour. (Exeunt Shakuntala and Gautami.) King (advancing with a sigh.) The path to happiness is strewn with obstacles.
Her face, adorned with soft eye-lashes,
Adorable with trembling flashes
Of half-denial, in memory lingers;
The sweet lips guarded by her fingers,
The head that drooped upon her shoulder
Why was I not a little bolder?
Where shall I go now? Let me stay a moment in this bower where my beloved lay. (He looks about.)
The flower-strewn bed whereon her body tossed;
The bracelet, fallen from her arm and lost;
The dear love-missive, in the lotus-leaf
Cut by her nails: assuage my absent grief
And occupy my eyes - I have no power,
Though she is gone, to leave the reedy bower.
(He reflects.) Alas! I did wrong to delay when I had found my love. So now
If she will grant me but one other meeting,
I’ll not delay; for happiness is fleeting;
So plans my foolish, self-defeated heart;
But when she comes, I play the coward’s part.
A voice behind the scenes. O King!
The flames rise heavenward from the evening altar;
And round the sacrifices, blazing high,
Flesh-eating demons stalk, like red cloud-masses,
And cast colossal shadows on the sky.
King (listens. Resolutely). Have no fear, hermits. I am here. (Exit.)
ACT IV - Shakuntala’s Departure
SCENE I
(Enter the two friends, gathering flowers.)
Anusuya. Priyamvada, dear Shakuntala has been properly married by the voluntary ceremony and she has a husband worthy of her. And yet I am not quite satisfied.
Priyamvada. Why not?
Anusuya. The sacrifice is over and the good king was dismissed to-day by the hermits. He has gone back to the city and there he is surrounded by hundreds of court ladies. I wonder whether he will remember poor Shakuntala or not.
Priyamvada. You need not be anxious about that. Such handsome men are sure to be good. But there is something else to think about. I don’t know what Father will have to say when he comes back from his pilgrimage and hears about it.
Anusuya. I believe that he will be pleased.
Priyamvada. Why?
Anusuya. Why not? You know he wanted to give his daughter to a lover worthy of her. If fate brings this about of itself, why shouldn’t Father be happy?
Priyamvada. I suppose you are right. (She looks at her flower-basket.) My dear, we have gathered flowers enough for the sacrifice.
Anusuya. But we must make an offering to the gods that watch over Shakuntala’s marriage. We had better gather more.
Priyamvada. Very well. (They do so.) A voice behind the scenes. Who will bid me welcome?
Anusuya (listening). My dear, it sounds like a guest announcing himself.
Priyamvada. Well, Shakuntala is near the cottage. (Reflecting.) All, but to-day her heart is far away. Come, we must do with the flowers we have. (They start to walk away.)
The voice. Do you dare despise a guest like me?
Because your heart, by loving fancies blinded,
Has scorned a guest in pious life grown old,
Your lover shall forget you though reminded,
Or think of you as of a story told.
(The two girls listen and show dejection.)
Priyamvada. Oh, dear! The very thing has happened. The dear, absent-minded girl has offended some worthy man.
Anusuya (looking ahead). My dear, this is no ordinary somebody. It is the great sage Durvasas, the irascible. See how he strides away!