ot what I speak to Bhima--O my mother, be made known--
In thy presence to Sudeva--best of Brahmins, I would speak.
Let not this my secret counsel--to king Bhima be disclosed;
This the object we must compass--if thy daughter thou wouldst please,
As myself was to my kindred--swiftly by Sudeva brought,
With the same good fortune swiftly--may Sudeva part from hence,
Home to bring the royal Nala--mother, to Ayodhya's town."
Resting from his toil, Parnada--of the Brahmin race the best,
Did the daughter of Vidarbha--honour, and with wealth reward.
"Brahmin! home if come my Nala--richer guerdon will I give;
Much hast thou achieved, and wisely--so as none but thou has done.
That again with my lost husband--noblest Brahmin, I may meet."
Thus addressed, his grateful homage--and his benedictions paid,
Having thus achieved his mission--home the wise Parnada went.
Then accosting good Sudeva--Damayanti thus began,
And before her mother's presence--in her pain and grief she spake:
"Go, Sudeva, to the city--where Ayodhya's raja dwells,
Speak thou thus to Rituparna--Come, as of thine own accord.
Once again her Swayembara--does king Bhima's daughter hold;
Damayanti, thither hasten--all the kings and sons of kings;
Closely now the time is reckoned--when to-morrow's dawn appears;
If that thou would'st win the Princess--speed thou, tamer of thy foes.
When the sun is in his rising--she a second lord will choose:
Whether lives or is not living--royal Nala, no one knows."
Thus, as he received his mission--hastening to the king, he spake,
To the royal Rituparna--spake Sudeva, in these words.

BOOK XIX.

Hearing thus Sudeva's language--Rituparna, king of men
With a gentle voice and blandly--thus to Vahuca began.
"Where the princess Damayanti--doth her Swayembara hold
In one day to far Vidarbha--Vahuca, I fain would go."
In these words the unknown Nala--by his royal lord addressed
All his heart was torn with anguish--thus the lofty-minded thought--
"Can she speak thus, Damayanti--thus with sorrow frantic act?
Is't a stratagem thus subtly--for my sake devised and plann'd?
To desire this deed unholy[118]--is that holy princess driven
Wrong'd by me, her basest husband--miserable, mind-estranged!
Fickle is the heart of woman--grievous too is my offence!
Hence she thus might act ignobly--in h