Pri. Hear me. I went just now to Sacontalá, meaning only to ask if she had slept well.—
Anu. What then? oh! what then?
Pri. She was sitting with her head bent on her knee, when our father Canna, entering her apartment, embraced and congratulated her.—"My sweet child," said he, "there has been a happy omen; the young Bráhmen who officiated in our morning sacrifice, though his sight was impeded by clouds of smoke, dropped the clarified butter into the very centre of the adorable flame.—Now, since the pious act of my pupil has prospered, my foster child must not be suffered any longer to languish in sorrow; and this day I am determined to send thee from the cottage of the old hermit who bred thee up, to the palace of the monarch who has taken thee by the hand."
Anu. My friend, who told Canna what passed in his absence?
Pri. When he entered the place where the holy fire was blazing, he heard a voice from heaven pronouncing divine measures.—
Anu. [Amazed.] Ah! you astonish me.
Pri. Hear the celestial verse:—"Know that thy adopted daughter, O pious Bráhmen, has received from Dushmanta a ray of glory destined to rule the world; as the wood Samí becomes pregnant with mysterious fire."
Anu. [Embracing Priyamvadá.] I am delighted, my beloved; I am transported with joy.
