Into the air, as they would fly with him; And when the Raja felt them, fleet as wind, Whirling along, mute sat he and amazed; And much Varshneya mused to hear and see The thundering of those wheels; the fiery four So lightly held; Vahûka's matchless art. "Is Mâtali, who driveth Indra's car, Our charioteer? for all the marks of him Are here! or Sâlihotra can this be, The god of horses, knowing all their ways, Who here in mortal form his greatness hides? Or is it--can it be--Nala the Prince, Nala the steed-tamer?" Thus pondered he:-- "Whatever Nala knew this one doth know. Alike the mastery seems of both; alike I judge their years. If this man be not he, Two Nalas are there in the world for skill. They say there wander mighty powers on earth In strange disguises, who, divinely sprung, Veil themselves from us under human mould; Bewilderment it brings me, this his shape Misshappen--from conclusion that alone Withholds me; yet I wist not what to think, In age and manner like--and so unlike In form! Else Vahûka I must have deemed Nala, with Nala's gifts." So in his heart, Varshneya, watching, wondered--being himself The second charioteer. But Rituparna Sat joyous with the speed, delightedly Marking the driving of the Prince: the eyes Attent; the hand so firm upon the reins; The skill so quiet, wise, and masterful; Great joy the Maharaja had to see. By stream and mountain, woodland-path and pool, Swiftly, like birds that skim in air, they sped; Till, as the chariot plunged, the Raja saw His shoulder-mantle falling to the ground; And--loath to lose the robe--albeit so pressed, To Nala cried he, "Let me take it up; Check the swift horses, wondrous charioteer; And bid Varshneya light, and fetch my cloth," But Nala answered: "Far it lies behind; A yojana already we have passed; We cannot turn again to pick it up." A little onward Riturparna saw Within the wood a tall Myrobolan Heavy with fruit; hereat, eager he cried:-- "Now, Vahûka, my skill thou mayest behold In the Arithmic. All arts no man knows; Each hath his wisdom, but in one man's wit Is perfect gift of one thing, and not more. From yonder tree how many leaves and fruits, Think'st thou, lie fall'n there upon the earth? Just one above a thousand of the leaves, And one above a hundred of the fruits; And on those two limbs hang, of dancing leaves, Five crores exact; and shouldst thou pluck yon boughs Together with their shoots, on those twain boughs Swing twice a thousand nuts and ninety-five!" Vahûka checked the chariot wonderingly, And answered: "Imperceptible to me Is what thou boastest, slayer of thy foes! But I to proof will put it, hewing down The tree, and, having counted, I shall know.