Act IV
Prelude to
Scene — The Garden of the Hermitage
Enter PRIYAMVADÁ and ANASÚYÁ in the act of gathering flowers_.
Anasúyá
Although, dear Priyamvadá, it rejoices my heart to think that [S’]akoontalá has been happily united to a husband in every respect worthy of her, by the form of marriage prevalent among Indra’s celestial musicians, nevertheless, I cannot help feeling somewhat uneasy in my mind.
Priyamvadá
How so?
Anasúyá
You know that the pious King was gratefully dismissed by the hermits on the successful termination of their sacrificial rites. He has now returned to his capital, leaving [S’]akoontalá under our care; and it may be doubted whether, in the society of his royal consorts, he will not forget all that has taken place in this hermitage of ours.
Priyamvadá
On that score be at ease. Persons of his noble nature are not so destitute of all honourable feeling. I confess, however, that there is one point about which I am rather anxious. What, think you, will Father Kanwa say when he hears what has occurred?
Anasúyá
In my opinion, he will approve the marriage.
Priyamvadá
What makes you think so?
Anasúyá
From the first, it was always his fixed purpose to bestow the maiden on a husband worthy of her; and since heaven has given her such a husband, his wishes have been realized without any trouble to himself.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking at the flower-basket.
We have gathered flowers enough for the sacred offering, dear Anasúyá.
Anasúyá
Well, then, let us now gather more, that we may have wherewith to propitiate the guardian-deity of our dear [S’]akoontalá.
Priyamvadá
By all means.
[They continue gathering.
A Voice Behind the Scenes
Ho there! See you not that I am here!
Anasúyá
That must be the voice of a guest announcing his arrival.
Priyamvadá
Surely, [S’]akoontalá is not absent from the cottage.
[Aside.]
Her heart at least is absent, I fear.
Anasúyá
Come along, come along; we have gathered flowers enough.
[They move away.
The Same Voice Behind the Scenes
Woe to thee, maiden, for daring to slight a guest like me!
Shall I stand here unwelcomed—even I,
A very mine of penitential merit,
Worthy of all respect? Shalt thou, rash maid,
Thus set at nought the ever sacred ties
Of hospitality? and fix thy thoughts
Upon the cherished object of thy love,
While I am present? Thus I curse thee, then—
He, even he of whom thou thinkest, he
Shall think no more of thee; nor in his heart
Retain thine image. Vainly shalt thou strive
To waken his remembrance of the past;
He shall disown thee, even as the sot,
Roused from his midnight drunkenness, denies
The words he uttered in his revellings.
Priyamvadá
Alas! alas! I fear a terrible misfortune has occurred. [S’]akoontalá, from absence of mind, must have offended some guest whom she was bound to treat with respect.
[Looking behind the scenes.]
Ah! yes; I see; and no less a person than the great sage Durvásas57, who is known to be most irascible. He it is that has just cursed her, and is now retiring with hasty strides, trembling with passion, and looking as if nothing could turn him. His wrath is like a consuming fire.
Anasúyá
Go quickly, dear Priyamvadá, throw yourself at his feet, and persuade him to come back, while I prepare a propitiatory offering[59] for him, with water and refreshments.
Priyamvadá
I will.
[Exit.
Anasúyá
[Advancing hastily a few steps and stumbling.
Alas! alas! this comes of being in a hurry. My foot has slipped, and my basket of flowers has fallen from my hand.
[Stays to gather them up.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Re-entering
Well, dear Anasúyá, I have done my best; but what living being could succeed in pacifying such a cross-grained, ill-tempered old fellow? However, I managed to mollify him a little.
ANASÚYÁ [Smiling.
Even a little was much for him. Say on.
Priyamvadá
When he refused to turn back, I implored his forgiveness in these words: ‘Most venerable sage, pardon, I beseech you, this first offence of a young and inexperienced girl, who was ignorant of the respect due to your saintly character and exalted rank.’
Anasúyá
And what did he reply?
Priyamvadá
‘My word must not be falsified; but, at the sight of the ring of recognition the spell shall cease.’ So saying, he disappeared.
Anasúyá
Oh! then we may breathe again; for, now I think of it, the King himself, at his departure, fastened on [S’]akoontalá’s finger, as a token of remembrance, a ring on which his own name was engraved. She has, therefore, a remedy for her misfortune at her own command.
Priyamvadá
Come, dear Anasúyá, let us proceed with our religious duties.
[They walk round.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking off the stage.
See, Anasúyá, there sits our dear friend, motionless as a statue, resting her face on her left hand, her whole mind absorbed in thinking of her absent husband. She can pay no attention to herself, much less to a stranger.
Anasúyá
Priyamvadá, let this affair never pass our lips. We must spare our dear friend’s feelings. Her constitution is too delicate to bear much emotion.
Priyamvadá
I agree with you. Who would think of watering a tender jasmine with hot water?