_ (_smiling_). Oh, I'm dreadfully scared. (_He bites his lip_.)

_King_ (_in surprise_).

The boy is seed of fire
Which, when it grows, will burn;
A tiny spark that soon
To awful flame may turn.

_First woman_. Let the little lion go, dear. I will give you another
plaything.

_Boy_. Where is it? Give it to me. (_He stretches out his hand_.)

_King_ (_looking at the hand_.) He has one of the imperial birthmarks!
For

Between the eager fingers grow
The close-knit webs together drawn,
Like some lone lily opening slow
To meet the kindling blush of dawn.

_Second woman_. Suvrata, we can't make him stop by talking. Go. In my
cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs to the
hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that.

_First woman_. I will. (_Exit_.) _Boy_. Meanwhile I'll play with
this one.

_Hermit-woman_ (_looks and laughs_). Let him go.

_King_. My heart goes out to this wilful child. (_Sighing_.)

They show their little buds of teeth
In peals of causeless laughter;
They hide their trustful heads beneath
Your heart. And stumbling after
Come sweet, unmeaning sounds that sing
To you. The father warms
And loves the very dirt they bring
Upon their little forms.

_Hermit-woman_ (_shaking her finger_). Won't you mind me? (_She looks
about_.) Which one of the hermit-boys is here? (_She sees the king_.)
Oh, sir, please come here and free this lion cub. The little rascal is
tormenting him, and I can't make him let go.

_King_. Very well. (_He approaches, smiling_.) O little son of a great
sage!

Your conduct in this place apart,
Is most unfit;
'Twould grieve your father's pious heart
And trouble it.

To animals he is as good
As good can be;
You spoil it, like a black snake's brood
In sandal tree.

_Hermit-woman_. But, sir, he is not the son of a hermit.

_King_. So it would seem, both from his looks and his actions. But in
this spot, I had no suspicion of anything else. (_He loosens the boy's
hold on the cub, and touching him, says to himself_.)

It makes me thrill to touch the boy,
The stranger's son, to me unknown;
What measureless content must fill
The man who calls the child his own!

_Hermit-woman_ (_looking at the two_). Wonderful! wonderful!

_King_. Why do you say that, mother?

_Hermit-woman_. I am astonished to see how much the boy looks like
you, sir. You are not related. Besides, he is a perverse little
creature and