A pretty picture is given of Sakoontala, who
carries on her finger the signet ring, which has the virtue of restoring
the king's love, if ever he should forget her. "There sits our beloved
friend," cries one of the maidens: "motionless as a picture; her cheek
supported by her left hand, so absorbed in thoughts of her absent lover
that she is unconscious of her own self--how much more of a passing
stranger?"
In the fourth act there is an exquisite description of the return of
Kanwa from his pilgrimage, and the preparations for the start of
Sakoontala for her husband's palace, in the city. The delicate pathos of
the scene is worthy of Euripides. "Alas! Alas!" exclaim the two maidens,
"Now Sakoontala has disappeared behind the trees of the forest. Tell us,
master, how shall we enter again the sacred grove made desolate by her
departure?" But the holy calm, broken for a moment by the excitement of
his child's departure, is soon restored to Kanwa's mind. "Now that my
child is dismissed to her husband's home, tranquillity regains my soul."
The closing reflection is worthy of a Greek dramatist: "Our maids we
rear for the happiness of others; and now that I have sent her to her
husband I feel the satisfaction that comes from restoring a trust.
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