The royal sage, his heart sincere, addressed Shakuntalā with gentle firmness: “Otherwise, honored one, I shall not take you to my abode; but with all auspicious hospitality, O beautiful-browed, I pledge this to you in truth.” Having spoken thus, the king embraced the blameless Shakuntalā and looked upon her with a warm, reassuring smile. Circumambulating her in reverence, he embraced her once more. Shakuntalā, her face radiant with grace, bowed down and touched the king’s feet in humility. Lifting her up, he comforted her repeatedly, saying, “Do not grieve. By my good deeds, O daughter of the sage, I swear I will bring you to me.” Thus assuring her, King Duṣyanta departed, his mind full of thoughts, making his way toward the sage Kaśyapa. Meanwhile, the blessed sage, absorbed in his austerities, heard of Duṣyanta’s visit and wondered what the king would do. Troubled that he had not greeted the king himself, Kaśyapa pondered whether the eminent Brahmin would be pleased. With these thoughts, he entered his city. Soon after, the venerable sage Kanva returned to the hermitage. Out of modesty, Shakuntalā hesitated to approach her father. Apprehensive, she drew near to the sage slowly, took his burdens, and prepared a seat for him. With reverence, she washed the great-souled Kaśyapa’s feet, though bashfulness kept her from meeting his gaze. Silent and withdrawn, Shakuntalā could not speak, her heart heavy with the sense that she had strayed from her duty. Seeing her thus, the sage addressed her with kindness: “Even in your bashfulness, you will live long as before. Tell me what has happened, O slender-thighed one. Do not be afraid.” Having washed his feet, Shakuntalā placed before the resting sage roots and fruits as he wished. She then massaged his feet and withdrew, her heart both modest and pure. Though weary, she smiled gently and, with faltering words, spoke to Kaśyapa: “Father, King Duṣyanta, son of Ilila, has come here. By divine will, I have accepted him as my husband.” She continued, “Therefore, father, be gracious. My husband is renowned and virtuous. By your divine insight, you know all that has occurred.” Kaśyapa, with his divine vision, perceived everything that had transpired. Recognizing her righteousness and unwavering devotion to duty, the great sage, pleased, spoke to her: “So it is—I have known and seen all through my divine sight, what you have done today for the sake of the royal lineage, though you did not first consult me. Union with a man is not unrighteous; do not fear, gentle one, for you have acted rightly. For a Kṣatriya, the Gandharva marriage—where both desire and consent—is regarded as best. How much more so when performed according to proper rites! You will gain noble offspring, for Duṣyanta is righteous and the best of men.” He blessed her further: “Your husband, O Shakuntalā, who has come to you while you were devoted, is a great soul. Your son will be renowned throughout the world. He will enjoy the entire earth, bounded by the oceans, and the wheel of his sovereignty will turn unhindered. Truly, for your sake, O beautiful one, I am well pleased. Many seasons have passed in vain, but now this has become fruitful and you are free from fault. Take a boon from me, whatever you desire.” Shakuntalā replied, “He whom I have accepted as husband, Duṣyanta, the best of men, has been recognized by me as my husband in the presence of the gods. Therefore, be gracious to him and his counselors.” Having spoken thus, the wise and steadfast Shakuntalā chose righteousness and steadfastness in the kingdom. For the good of Duṣyanta of the Paurava line, Kanva, foremost among the righteous, said to her, “So be it,” and touched his radiant daughter with his hands. He declared, “From this day forward, O noble lady, you are the wife of the great-souled Duṣyanta. Uphold the conduct proper for devoted wives.” Having said this, the sage refrained from further touch for the sake of purity, but at the mere contact of his hand, Shakuntalā was filled with great joy. After Duṣyanta had departed, having pledged himself, day by day the royal maiden bore the growing child of that great soul. Constantly thinking of the king, her heart heavy with longing, Shakuntalā became sleepless, neglecting both bathing and food. Always expecting the king’s messengers, brāhmaṇas, or troops to arrive—today, tomorrow, or the day after—she waited in hope. Days, fortnights, seasons, months, and years passed by, and three years elapsed. When three years had fully passed, out of respect for the sage’s words, the wives of the sage spoke gently to her many times, offering words of reason: “Listen, dear one, to the ways of the world; do what pleases you after hearing. The words of the guru should not be disregarded; do what is beneficial.” They reminded her, “Viṣṇu is the deity of the gods, Agni of the brāhmaṇas, and Brahmā as well. For women, the husband is the deity, and for the worlds, the brāhmaṇa is the teacher.” Thus, Shakuntalā’s story continued, her heart steadfast in righteousness, awaiting the fulfillment of destiny.