When you behold our penitential rites
Performed without impediment by saints
Rich only in devotion, then with pride
Will you reflect:--Such are the holy men
Who call me Guardian; such the men for whom
To wield the bow I bare my nervous arm,
Scarred by the motion of the glancing string.

KING.

Is the Chief of your Society now at home?

HERMIT.

No; he has gone to Soma-tírtha[14] to propitiate Destiny, which
threatens his daughter [S']akoontalá with some calamity; but he has
commissioned her in his absence to entertain all guests with
hospitality.

KING.

Good! I will pay her a visit. She will make me acquainted with
the mighty sage's acts of penance and devotion.

HERMIT.

And we will depart on our errand.

[_Exit with his companions_.