Surely this is not like my husband; yet who can it be that dares pollute by the pressure of his hand my child, whose amulet should protect him from a stranger’s touch?

CHILD. [Going to his mother.

Mother, who is this man that has been kissing me and calling me his son?

KING.

My best beloved, I have indeed treated thee most cruelly, but am now once more thy fond and affectionate lover.  Refuse not to acknowledge me as thy husband.

[S’]AKOONTALA. [Aside.

Be of good cheer, my heart.  The anger of Destiny is at last appeased.  Heaven regards thee with compassion.  But is he in very truth my husband?

KING.

  Behold me, best and loveliest of women,
  Delivered from the cloud of fatal darkness
  That erst oppressed my memory.  Again
  Behold us brought together by the grace
  Of the great lord of Heaven.  So the moon
  Shines forth from dim eclipse [122], to blend his rays
  With the soft lustre of his Rohini.

[S’]AKOONTALA.

May my husband be victorious—­

[She stops short, her voice choked with tears.

KING.

O fair one, though the utterance of thy prayer
Be lost amid the torrent of thy tears,
Yet does the sight of thy fair countenance
And of thy pallid lips, all unadorned[123]
And colourless in sorrow for my absence,
Make me already more than conqueror.

CHILD.

Mother, who is this man?

[S’]AKOONTALA.

My child, ask the deity that presides over thy destiny.

KING. [Falling at [S’]AKOONTALA’s feet.

  Fairest of women, banish from thy mind
  The memory of my cruelty; reproach
  The fell delusion that o’erpowered my soul,
  And blame not me, thy husband; ’tis the curse
  Of him in whom the power of darkness[124] reigns,
  That he mistakes the gifts of those he loves
  For deadly evils.  Even though a friend
  Should wreathe a garland on a blind man’s brow,
  Will he not cast it from him as a serpent?

[S’]AKOONTALA.

Rise, my own husband, rise.  Thou wast not to blame.  My own evil deeds, committed in a former state of being[37], brought down this judgment upon me.  How else could my husband, who was ever of a compassionate disposition, have acted so unfeelingly?

[The KING rises.]

But tell me, my husband, how did the remembrance of thine unfortunate wife return to thy mind?

KING.

As soon as my heart’s anguish is removed, and its wounds are healed, I will tell thee all.

Oh! let me, fair one, chase away the drop
That still bedews the fringes of thine eye;
And let me thus efface the memory
Of every tear that stained thy velvet cheek,
Unnoticed and unheeded by thy lord,
When in his madness he rejected thee.