eping good time. I
suppose Lady Hansavati is practising.

_King_. Be quiet. I wish to listen.

_Chamberlain_ (_looks at the king_). Ah, the king is occupied. I must
await his leisure. (_He stands aside_.)

_A song behind the scenes_.

You who kissed the mango-flower,
Honey-loving bee,
Gave her all your passion's power,
Ah, so tenderly!

How can you be tempted so
By the lily, pet?
Fresher honey's sweet, I know;
But can you forget?

_King_. What an entrancing song!

_Clown_. But, man, don't you understand what the words mean?

_King_ (_smiling_). I was once devoted to Queen Hansavati. And the
rebuke comes from her. Friend Madhavya, tell Queen Hansavati in my
name that the rebuke is a very pretty one.

_Clown_. Yes, sir. (_He rises_.) But, man, you are using another
fellow's fingers to grab a bear's tail-feathers with. I have about as
much chance of salvation as a monk who hasn't forgotten his passions.

_King_. Go. Soothe her like a gentleman.

_Clown_. I suppose I must. (_Exit_.)

_King_ (_to himself_). Why am I filled with wistfulness on hearing
such a song? I am not separated from one I love. And yet

In face of sweet presentment
Or harmonies of sound,
Man e'er forgets contentment,
By wistful longings bound.

There must be recollections
Of things not seen on earth,
Deep nature's predilections,
Loves earlier than birth.

(_He shows the wistfulness that comes from unremembered things_.)

_Chamberlain_ (_approaching_). Victory to your Majesty. Here are
hermits who dwell in the forest at the foot of the Himalayas. They
bring women with them, and they carry a message from Kanva. What is
your pleasure with regard to them?

_King_ (_astonished_). Hermits? Accompanied by women? From Kanva?

_Chamberlain_. Yes.

_King_. Request my chaplain Somarata in my name to receive these
hermits in the manner prescribed by Scripture, and to conduct them
himself before me. I will await them in a place fit for their
reception.

_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.)

_King_ (_rising_). Vetravati, conduct me to the fire-sanctuary.

_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. (_She walks about_) Your Majesty,
here is the terrace of the fire-sanctuary. It is beautiful, for it has
just been swept, and near at hand is the cow that yields the milk of
sacrifice. Pray ascend it.

_King_ (_ascends and stands leaning on the shoulder of an attendant_.)
Vetravati, with what purpose