We are the dice; we come to ravish hence Thy last poor cloth; we were not well content Thou shouldst depart owning a garment still." And when he saw the dice take wings and fly, Leaving him bare, to Damayanti spake This melancholy Prince: "O Blameless One, They by whose malice I am driven forth, Finding no sustenance, sad, famine-gaunt-- They whose decree forbade Nishadha's folk Should succor me, their Raja--these have come-- Demon and dice--and like to winged birds Have borne away my cloth. To such shame fall'n, Such utmost woe, wretched, demented--I Thy lord am still, and counsel thee for good. Attend! Hence be there many roads which go Southwards: some pass Avanti's walls, and some Skirt Rikshavan, the forest of the bears; This wends to Vindhya's lofty peaks, and this To the green banks where quick Payoshni runs Seaward, between her hermitages, rich In fruits and roots; and yon path leadeth thee Unto Vidarbha; that to Kosala, And therefrom southward--southward--far away." So spake he to the Princess wistfully, Between his words pointing along the paths, Which she should take (O King!). But Bhima's child Made answer, bowed with grief, her soft voice choked With sobs, these piteous accents uttering:-- "My heart beats quick; my body's force is gone, Thinking, dear Prince, on this which thou hast said, Pointing along the paths. What! robbed of realm, Stripped of thy wealth, bare, famished, parched with thirst, Thus shall I leave thee in the untrodden wood? Ah, no! While thou dost muse on dear days fled, Hungry and weeping, I in this wild waste Will charm thy griefs away, solacing thee. The wisest doctors say, 'In every woe No better physic is than wifely love,' And, Nala, I will make it true to thee." "Thou mak'st it true," he said; "thou sayest well, Sweet Damayanti; neither is there friend To sad men given better than a wife. I had not thought to leave thee, foolish Love! Why didst thou fear? Alas, 't is from myself That I would fly--not thee, thou Faultless One!" "Yet, if," the Princess answered, "Maharaja! Thou hadst no thought to leave me, why by thee Was the way pointed to Vidarbha's walls? I know thou wouldst not quit me, noblest Lord, Being thyself, but only if thy mind Were sore distraught; and see, thou gazest still Along the southward road, my dread thereby Increasing, thou that wert as are the gods! If it be thy fixed thought, 'Twere best she went Unto her people'--be it so; I go; But hand in hand with thee. Thus let us fare Unto Vidarbha, where the King, my sire, Will greet thee well, and honor thee; and we Happy and safe within his gates shall dwell." "As is thy father's kingdom," Nala said, "So, once, was mine. Be sure, whatever betide, Never will I go thither! How, in sooth,