Long he pondered thus, until Kali swayed him to desert his faithful wife. So he severed her garment and used half of it. He turned away from the fair princess as she lay fast asleep. Repenting in his heart, Nala returned speedily and gazed upon fair Damayantí with pity and with love. He wept bitterly, saying: “Ah! thou dost sleep on the bare hard ground whom neither sun nor storm hath ever used roughly. O my loved one, thou hast ever awakened to smile. How wilt thou fare when thou dost discover that thy lord hath abandoned thee in the midst of the perilous forest?... May sun and wind and the spirits of the wood protect thee, and may thou be shielded ever by thine own great virtue!” Then the distracted rajah, prompted by Kali again, hastened away; but his heart was torn by his love, which drew him back.... So time and again he came and went, like to a swing, backward and forward, until in the end the evil spirit conquered him, and he departed from Damayantí, who moaned fitfully in her sleep; and he plunged into the depths of the forest. Ere long the fair princess awoke, and when she perceived that she was all alone she uttered a piteous scream and cried out: “Oh! where art thou, my king, my lord, my sole protector?... I am lost; oh! I am undone. I am helpless and alone in the perilous wood.... Ah! now thou art but deceiving me. Do not mock me, my lord. Art thou hidden there among the bushes? Oh, speak!... Why dost thou not make answer?... I do not sorrow for myself only. I cannot well endure that thou shouldst be alone, that thou shouldst thirst and be anhungered and very weary, and without me to give thee comfort....” So she wailed as she searched through the forest for Nala, now casting herself upon the ground, now sitting to pine in silence, and anon crying out in her grief. At length she said: “Oh, may he who causeth Nala to suffer endure even greater agony than he endureth, and may he live for ever in darkness and in misery!” Hither and thither she wandered, seeking her lord, and ever was she heard crying: “Alas! O alas! my husband.” Suddenly a great serpent rose up in its wrath and coiled itself round her fair body.... “Oh! my guardian,” she cried, “I am now undone. The serpent hath seized me. Why art thou not near?... Ah! who will comfort thee now in thy sorrow, O blameless Nala?” As she lamented thus, a passing huntsman heard her cries; he broke through the jungle and beheld Damayantí in the coils of the serpent.... Nimbly he darted forward and with a single blow smote off the monster's head, and thus rescued the beauteous lady from her awesome peril. Then he washed her body and gave her food, and she was refreshed. “Who art thou, O fair-eyed one?” he asked. “Why dost thou wander thus alone in the perilous wood?”