KING.--Alas! the shades of my forefathers are even now beginning to be alarmed, lest at my death they may be deprived of their funeral libations. No son remains in King Dushyanta's place To offer sacred homage to the dead Of Puru's noble line: my ancestors Must drink these glistening tears, the last libation A childless man can ever hope to make them. [_Falls down in an agony of grief_. CHATURIKÁ [_looking at him in consternation_].--Great King, compose yourself. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Alas! alas! though a bright light is shining near him, he is involved in the blackest darkness, by reason of the veil that obscures his sight. I will now reveal all, and put an end to his misery. But no; I heard the mother of the great Indra, when she was consoling Śakoontalá, say, that the gods will soon bring about a joyful union between husband and wife, being eager for the sacrifice which will be celebrated in their honor on the occasion. I must not anticipate the happy moment, but will return at once to my dear friend and cheer her with an account of what I have seen and heard. [_Rises aloft and disappears_. A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Help! help! to the rescue! KING [_recovering himself. Listening_].--Ha! I heard a cry of distress, and in Máthavya's voice. What ho there! VETRAVATÍ [_entering_].--Your friend is in danger; save him, great King. KING.--Who dares insult the worthy Máthavya? VETRAVATÍ.--Some evil demon, invisible to human eyes, has seized him, and carried him to one of the turrets of the Palace of Clouds. KING [_rising_].--Impossible! Have evil spirits power over my subjects, even in my private apartments? Well, well-- Daily I seem less able to avert Misfortune from myself, and o'er my actions Less competent to exercise control; How can I then direct my subjects' ways, Or shelter them from tyranny and wrong? A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Halloo there! my dear friend; help! help! KING [_advancing with rapid strides_].--Fear nothing-- THE SAME VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Fear nothing, indeed! How can I help fearing when some monster is twisting back my neck, and is about to snap it as he would a sugarcane? KING [_looking round_].--What ho there! my bow. SLAVE [_entering with a bow_].--Behold your bow, Sire, and your arm-guard. [_The king snatches up the bow and arrows_. ANOTHER VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Here, thirsting for thy life-blood, will I slay thee, As a fierce tiger rends his struggling prey. Call now thy friend Dushyanta to thy aid; His bow is mighty to defend the weak; Yet all its vaunted power shall be as nought. KING [_with fury_].--What! dares he defy me to my face? Hold there, monster! Prepare to die, for your time is come. [_Stringing his bow_.] Vetravatí, lead the way to the terrace. VETRAVATÍ.--This way, Sire. [_They advance in haste_. KING [_looking on every side_].--How's this? there is nothing to be seen.