[SUDARSHANA and SURANGAMA at the Window]
SUDARSHANA. Must I go to the assembly of the princes, then? Is
there no other means of saving father's life?
SURANGAMA. The King of Kanchi has said so.
SUDARSHANA . Are these the words worthy of a King? Did he say
so with his own lips?
SURANGAMA. No, his messenger, Suvarna, brought this news.
SUDARSHANA. Woe, woe is me!
SURANGAMA. And he produced a few withered flowers and said,
"Tell your Queen that the drier and more withered these souvenirs
of the Spring Festival become, the fresher and more blooming do
they grow within in my heart."
SUDARSHANA. Stop! Tell me no more. Do not torment me any more.
SURANGAMA. Look! There sit all the princes in the great
assembly. He who has no ornament on his person, except a single
garland of flowers round his crown--he is the King of Kanchi.
And he who holds the umbrella over his head, standing behind
him--that is Suvarna.
SUDARSHANA. Is that Suvarna? Are you quite certain?
SURANGAMA. Yes, I know him well.
SUDARSHANA. Can it be that it is this man that I saw the other
day? No, no,--I saw something mingled and transfused and blended
with light and darkness, with wind and perfume,--no, no, it
cannot be he; that is not he.
SURANGAMA. But every one admits that he is exceedingly beautiful
to look at.
SUDARSHANA. How could that beauty fascinate me? Oh, what shall
I do to purge my eyes of their pollution?
SURANGAMA. You will have to wash them in that bottomless
darkness.
SUDARSHANA. But tell me, Surangama, why does one make such
mistakes?
SURANGAMA. Mistakes are but the preludes to their own
destruction.
MESSENGER. [entering] Princess, the Kings are waiting for you in
the hall. [Exit.]
SUDARSHANA. Surangama, bring me the veil. [SURANGAMA goes out.]
O King, my only King! You have left me alone, and you have been
but just in doing so. But will you not know the inmost truth
within my soul? [Taking out a dagger from within her bosom.]
This body of mine has received a stain--I shall make a sacrifice
of it to-day in the dust of the hall, before all these princes!
But shall I never be able to tell you that I know of no stain of
faithlessness within the hidden chambers of my heart? That dark
chamber where you would come to meet me lies cold and empty
within my bosom to-day--but, O my Lord! none has opened its
doors, none has entered it but you, O King! Will you never come
again to open those doors? Then, let death come, for it is dark
like yourself, and its features are beautiful as yours . It is
you--it is yourself, O King!