Others who had been bereft of their kindred and their wealth, and were in misery, said: “Who was she—that ill-omened, maniac-eyed woman who came amongst us? In truth she seemed scarcely human. Surely it is by reason of her evil power that disaster hath befallen us. Ah! she is a witch, or she is a sorceress, or mayhap a demon.... Without doubt she is the cause of all our woes.... Would that we could find her—oh the evil destroyer! Oh the curse of our host!... Let us slay the murderess with clods and with stones, with canes and with staves, or else with our fists....”[311] [311] A curious glimpse of Hindu ideas regarding demi-gods or demons. When the terrified and innocent Damayantí heard these fearsome threats, she fled away through the trees, lamenting her fate, and wailing: “Alas! alas! my terrible doom doth haunt me still. Misfortune dogs my footsteps.... I have no memory of any sin of thought or deed—of any wrong done by me to living beings. Perchance, oh, alas! I did sin in my former life, and am now suffering due punishment.... For I suffer, indeed. I have lost my husband; my kingdom is lost; I have lost my kindred; my noble Nala has been taken from me, and I am far removed from my children, and I wander alone in the wood of serpents.” When morning broke, the sorrowful queen met with some holy Brahmans who had escaped the night's disaster, and she went with them towards the city of Chedi. The people gazed with wonder on Damayantí when she walked though the streets with her dust-smeared body and matted hair. The children danced about her as she wandered about like to a maniac, so miserable and weary and emaciated. It chanced that the sorrowing woman came nigh to the royal palace. The mother of the king looked forth from a window, and beheld her and said: “Hasten, and bid this poor wanderer to enter. Although stricken and half-clothed she hath, methinks, the beauty of Indra's long-eyed queen. Let her have refuge from those staring men.” Damayantí was then led before the queen mother, who spoke gently, saying: “Although bowed down with grief, thou art beautiful of form. Thou fearest not anyone. Who art thou so well protected by thine own chastity?” Bhima's daughter wept, lamenting her fate, and related all that had befallen her, but did not reveal who she was. Then the queen mother said: “Dwell thou here with me, and our servants shall go in quest of thy husband.” Damayantí said: “O mother of heroes, if I abide here with thee I must eat not of food remnants, nor do menial service, nor can I hold converse with any man save the holy Brahmans who promise to search for my husband.” The royal lady made answer: “As thou desireth, so let it be.” Then she spake to Sunanda, her daughter, saying: “This lady will be to thee a handmaiden and a friend. She is of thine own age and thy worthy peer. Be happy together.”