Passed in, and to Nishadha's ruler said, Her soft voice broken, and her bright eyes dimmed:-- "Raja, the people of thy town are here; Before our gates they gather, citizens And counsellors, desiring speech with thee; In lealty they come. Wilt thou be pleased We open to them? Wilt thou?" So she asked Again and yet again; but not one word To that sad lady with the lovely brows Did Nala answer, wholly swallowed up Of Kali and the gaming; so that those-- The citizens and counsellors--cried out, "Our lord is changed! He is not Nala now!" And home returned, ashamed and sorrowful; Whilst ceaselessly endured that foolish play Moon after moon--the Prince the loser still. Then Damayanti, seeing so estranged Her lord, the praised in song, the chief of men, Watching, all self-possessed, his fantasy, And how the gaming held him; sad, and 'feared, The heavy fortunes pondering of her Prince; Hating the fault, but to the offender kind; And fearing Nala should be stripped of all, This thing devised: Vrihatsenâ she called-- Her foster-nurse and faithful ministrant-- True, skilful at all service, soft of speech, Kind-hearted; and she said, "Vrihatsenâ, Go call the ministers to council now, As though 'twere Nala bade; and make them count What store is gone of treasure, what abides." So went Vrihatsenâ, and summoned those; And when they knew all things, as from the Prince, "Truly we, too, shall perish!" cried they then; And all to Nala went, and all the town, A second time assembling, thronged his gates:-- Which Bhima's daughter told; but not one word Answered the Prince. And when she saw her lord Put by her plea, utterly slighting it, Back to her chamber, full of shame, she goes, And there still hears the dice are falling ill; Still hears of Nala daily losing more; So that again unto her nurse she spake:-- "Send to Varshneya, good Vrihatsenâ; Say to the charioteer--in Nala's name-- 'A great thing is to do. Come thou!'" And this-- So soon as Damayanti uttered it-- Vrihatsenâ, by faithful servants, told Unto the son of Vrishni, who, being come In fitting time and place, heard the sweet Queen In mournful music speak these wistful words:-- "Thou knowest how thy Raja trusted thee; Now he hath fall'n on evil; succor him! The more that Pushkara conquers in the play, The wilder rage of gaming takes thy lord-- The more for Pushkara the dice light well, More contrary they happen to the Prince: Nor heeds he, as were meet, kindred or friends; Nay, of myself he putteth by the prayer Unanswered, being bewitched; for well I deem This is not noble-minded Nala's sin, But some ill spell possesseth him to shut His ears to me. Thou, therefore, charioteer! Our refuge be; do what I shall command; My heart is dark with fear.