Well-tended, well-befriended in thy house; In mine own palace never better stead. The skill in steeds which pleased thee, that is mine, And, Raja, I will give it all to thee, If thou art minded." So Nishadha gave All his great gift in horses to the King, Who learned each rule approved, and ordinance; And, having all this knowledge, gave in turn His deepest lore of numbers and the dice To Nala, afterwards departing home To his own place, another charioteer Driving his steeds; and, Rituparna gone, Not long did Nala dwell in Bhima's town. When one moon he had tarried, taking leave, Nishadha to his city started forth With chosen train. A shining car he drove; And elephants sixteen, and fifty horse, And footmen thirty-score came in the rear. Swiftly did Nala journey, making earth Quake 'neath his flying car; and wrathfully With quick steps entered he his palace doors. The son of Virasena, Nala, stood Once more before that gamester Pushkara! Spake he: "Play yet again; much wealth is mine, And that, and all I have--yea, my Princess-- Set I for stakes: set thou this realm, and throw! My mind is fixed a second chance to try, Where, Pushkara, we will play for all or none. Who wins his throne and treasures from a prince, Must stand the hazard of the counter-cast-- This is the accepted law. If thou dost blench, The next game we will play is 'life or death,' In chariot-fight; when, or of thee or me One shall lie satisfied: 'Descended realms, By whatsoever means, are to be sought,' The sages say, 'by whatsoever won.' Choose, therefore, Pushkara, which way of these Shall please thee; either meet me with the dice, Or with thy bow confront me in the field." When Pushkara this heard, lightly he smiled, Concluding victory sure; and to the Prince Answered, exulting: "_Dishtya_! hast thou gained Stakes for a counter-game, Nishadha, now? _Dishtya_! shall I have my hard-won prize, Sweet Damayanti? _Dishtya_! didst thou come In kissing-reach again of thy fair wife? Soon, in thy new gold splendid, she shall shine Before all men beside me, as in heaven On Sakra waits the loveliest Apsarâ. See, now, I thought on thee, I looked for thee, Ever and ever, Prince. There is no joy Like casting in the game with such as thee. And when to-day I win thy blameless one-- The smooth-limbed Damayanti--then shall be What was to be: and I can rest content, For always in my heart her beauty burns." Listening the idle talk that babbler poured, Angry Prince Nala fain had lopped away His head with vengeful _khudga;_[29] but, unmoved, Albeit the wrath blazed in his bloodshot eyes, He made reply: "Play! mock me not with jests; Thou wilt not jest when I have cast with thee!"