SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Śakoontalá. But why should affection so strong as his stand in need of any token of recognition? KING.--Let me now address a few words of reproof to this ring. MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--He is going stark mad, I verily believe. KING.--Hear me, thou dull and undiscerning bauble! For so it argues thee, that thou couldst leave The slender fingers of her hand, to sink Beneath the waters. Yet what marvel is it That thou shouldst lack discernment? let me rather Heap curses on myself, who, though endowed With reason, yet rejected her I loved. MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--And so, I suppose, I must stand here to be devoured by hunger, whilst he goes on in this sentimental strain. KING.--O forsaken one, unjustly banished from my presence, take pity on thy slave, whose heart is consumed by the fire of remorse, and return to my sight. _Enter Chaturiká hurriedly, with a picture in her hand_. CHATURIKÁ.--Here is the Queen's portrait. [_Shows the picture_. MÁTHAVYA.--Excellent, my dear friend, excellent! The imitation of nature is perfect, and the attitude of the figures is really charming. They stand out in such bold relief that the eye is quite deceived. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Śakoontalá herself was before me. KING.--I own 'tis not amiss, though it portrays But feebly her angelic loveliness. Aught less than perfect is depicted falsely, And fancy must supply the imperfection. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--A very just remark from a modest man, whose affection is exaggerated by the keenness of his remorse. MÁTHAVYA.--Tell me--I see three female figures drawn on the canvas, and all of them beautiful; which of the three is her Majesty, Śakoontalá? SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--If he cannot distinguish her from the others, the simpleton might as well have no eyes in his head. KING.--Which should you imagine to be intended for her? MÁTHAVYA.--She who is leaning, apparently a little tired, against the stem of that mango-tree, the tender leaves of which glitter with the water she has poured upon them. Her arms are gracefully extended; her face is somewhat flushed with the heat; and a few flowers have escaped from her hair, which has become unfastened, and hangs in loose tresses about her neck. That must be the queen Śakoontalá, and the others, I presume, are her two attendants. KING.--I congratulate you on your discernment. Behold the proof of my passion; My finger, burning with the glow of love, Has left its impress on the painted tablet; While here and there, alas! a scalding tear Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness. Chaturiká, the garden in the background of the picture is only half-painted. Go, fetch the brush that I may finish it.