The Queen felt in her heart A joy unspeakable. She took the fish And wore it on a ribbon round her neck. Unto the Queen then Bidasari spoke, "Oh, give my body to my parents dear When I am dead." Again the young maid swooned. The Queen believed her dead, and ceased to beat Her more. But she yet lived, though seeming dead. The joyful Queen a white cloth over her Then spread, and called aloud to the _dyangs_, "Take Bidasari to her father's house." They groaned and trembled when they saw that she Was dead, and said with many tears: "Alas! O dearest one, O gold all virginal! What shall we say when we thy parents see? They'll beat their breasts and die of grief. They gave Thee to the King because they trusted us." But the proud Queen, her face all red with hate: "Why stay ye? Take the wretched girl away." They saw the Queen's great rage, and bore the maid Upon their shoulders forth, and carried her Unto her father's house at dead of night. Fear seized the merchant. "Say what bring ye here? Tell me, _dyangs_." They placed her on the ground. The merchant and his wife, beside themselves, With tears embraced her form. "I trusted in The Queen, and so I sent my child to her. O daughter dear, so young, so pure, so sweet, What hast thou done that could the Queen displease, That she should send thee home like this to me? How could the Queen treat Bidasari so? For seven days she imprisoned her and sent Her home in death. Ah, noble child! alas! Thy father's heart will break, no more to hear Thy voice. Speak to thy father, O my child, My pearl, my gem of women, purest gold, Branch of my heart; canst thou not quiet me? O Bidasari, why art thou so still? Arise, my pretty child, arise and play With all thy maids. Here is thy mother, come To greet thee. Bid her welcome. Why art thou So motionless? Hast thou no pity, dear, To see thy father overwhelmed with woe? My heart is bursting with despair because Thou'rt lost to me." Long time the merchant thus Lamented. "What have I to live for now? Since thou art dead, thy father too shall die. It is his lot both night and day to sigh For thee. My God, I cannot understand Why this dear child should thus a victim be! 'Tis the _dyangs_ who have this evil wrought." Then, through the whole _campong_, the merchants all Made lamentations, rolling on the ground, With noise of thunder, and their hearts on fire. They sought to speak and could not. Then began Again the merchant, and unto his friends Told his misfortune, asking back his child.