sting; and I was dull and
thick-headed enough to believe you. But so fate decreed, and
there is no help for it.

SANUMATI. [_Aside_.

Exactly.

KING. [_After deep thought_.

My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.

MA[T.]HAVYA.

Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way? Such weakness is
unworthy of you. Great men never surrender themselves to
uncontrolled grief. Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a
gale of wind?

KING.

How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the
agonized demeanour of the dear one on the occasion of my
disowning her?

When cruelly I spurned her from my presence,
She fain had left me; but the young recluse,
Stern as the Sage, and with authority
As from his saintly master, in a voice
That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay.
Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears,
She cast on me one long reproachful look,
Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still.

SANUMATI. [_Aside_.

Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash
action. But his anguish only rejoices me.

MA[T.]HAVYA

An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial
being had carried her off to heaven.

KING.

Very likely. Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife,
the idol of her husband? It is said that Menaka, the nymph of
heaven, gave her birth. The suspicion has certainly crossed my
mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to
their own abode.

SANUMATI. [_Aside_.

His present recollection of every circumstance of her history
does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.

MA[T.]HAVYA.

If that's the case, you will be certain to meet her before long.

KING.

Why?

MA[T.]HAVYA.

No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the
pain of separation from her husband.

KING. Oh! my dear Ma[T.]Havya,

Was it a dream? or did some magic dire,
Dulling my senses with a strange delusion,
O'ercome my spirit? or did destiny,
Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit,
And rob me of their guerdon? It is past,
Whate'er the spell that bound me. Once again
Am I awake, but only to behold
The precipice o'er which my hopes have fallen.

MA[T.]HAVYA.

Do not despair in this man