_The Gardens of the Palace of the King_.
_Time_: _late afternoon_.
_Colonnades of roses stretch away on every side_. _Fountains play_,
_throwing a shower on water-lilies of monstrous size_. _Peacocks walk
with stately tread across the green turf_. _Only one_, _larger and more
beautiful than the rest_, _is perched alone_, _with drooping head and
folded tail_, _on the broad-pillared terrace that overhangs the sea_.
_The scene is aglow with light and colour_, _yet holds a shadowed
silence_.
_Enter some courtiers_, _who converse in perturbed fashion as they go
towards the Palace_.
_Enter_ MOUNG PHO MHIN _and_ U. RAI GYAN THOO, _accompanied by the Court
Physicians and Astrologers_.
"The King cannot live beyond the night," _the Physicians say_. _The
sudden_, _mysterious illness that has attacked him defies their skill_.
_The Astrologers declare that the stars in their courses fight against
his recovery_; _unless a miracle should happen_, _the new day will see
him dead_.
_The Ministers regard each other in consternation_; _then walk the
terrace with bent heads_.
_The peacock on the wall spreads its tail and utters a melancholy cry of
poignant pain_.
_The listeners start in superstitious horror_.
_The peacock folds its tail and resumes its meditations_.
"That bird is not as other birds," _one astrologer declares_. "I have
watched it for years past--it is ever alone--the others all avoid it. I
think it has a soul."
"You mistake," _replies his colleague_; "it is but an evil Nat. {32}
Observe its eyes: they are not those of a bird; they are those of a
spirit in prison."
_They pass on in the wake of the ministers_.
_The peacock closes its eyes_.
_Enter the two young_ PRINCES, _accompanied by two great Pegu hounds_.
_They converse in subdued tones_, _strolling slowly_. _They are followed
by pages of honour_, _carrying grain_, _which the young men proceed to
distribute amongst the birds as they rapidly approach them_. _The
peacock on the wall never stirs_; _she watches the young men always_.
_Then the elder one comes with a handful of food and proffers it_, _but
the peacock does not eat_.
"I shall never understand you, Queen of the Kingdom of Birds," _he says_,
_and strokes her feathers_. _At his touch the plumage scintillates with
a brighter_, _a more exquisite sheen_.
_He murmurs to the bird in soft tones and mythical words_. _He tells it
that the fear of everyone is that the King is mortally stricken_, _for he
lies yonder in most strange and evil agony_; _that the hearts of himself
and his brother are numb with the sorrow that knows no language_. _The
bird listens eagerly_. _And if the King should go_, _he_, _the speaker_,
_will reign in his stead_. _The prospect fills him with fear_. _He
desires_, _as also his brother_, _if the King must die_, _to return to
dwell in the forest with the mother who he knows awaits them there_.
_The peacock spreads its wings as if for flight_, _then crouches down
once more_, _and over it watches the young prince_.
_The sun envelops them both in a sudden shaft of rose and purple and
gold_. _A servant descends and comes across the grass_. _He shikoes
profoundly to the two young men_, _lifting up his hands in the deepest
reverence of Burmah_.
"The Lord of the Earth and the Sky desires his sons; he nears the Great
Unknown."
CURTAIN