She no sooner knew Sudeva--Damayanti, of her kin,
Many a question asked in order--and of every friend beloved.
And the daughter of Vidarbha--freely wept, so sudden thus
On Sudeva, best of Brahmins--gazing, on her brother's friend.
Her beheld the young Sunanda--weeping, wasted with distress,
As she thus her secret converse--with the wise Sudeva held.
Thus she spake unto her mother--"Lo, how fast our handmaid weeps,
Since her meeting with the Brahmin--who she is, thou now may'st know."
Forth the king of Chedi's mother--from the inner chamber went,
And she passed where with the Brahmin--that mysterious woman stood.
Them the mother queen Sudeva--bade before her presence stand;
And she asked, "Whose wife, whose daughter--may this noble stranger be?
From her kindred how dissevered--from her husband, the soft-eyed?
Is she known to thee, O Brahmin--canst thou tell from whence she came?
This I fain would hear, and clearly--all her strange and wonderous tale.
Tell me all that hath befallen--to this heaven-formed, plainly tell."
Best of Brahmins, thus Sudeva--by the mother queen addressed,
All the truth of Damayanti--sitting at his ease, declared.

BOOK XVII.

"In Vidarbha the just monarch--Bhima, in his glory dwells.
Of that king is she the daughter--Damayanti is her name;
And the raja of Nishadha--Nala, Virasena's son,
Of that king is she the consort--Punyasloka named, the Wise.
Him in play his brother worsted--spoiled of realm the king of earth:
He set forth with Damayanti--whither is unknown of men.
For the sake of Damayanti--wander we about the earth;
Till I found yon noble woman--in the palace of your son.
Like to her of mortal women--is there none, her beauty's peer;
In the midst, between her eyebrows--from her birth a lovely mole,
Dark was seen, and like a lotus--that hath vanished from my sight,
Covered over with defilement--like the moon behind a cloud.
This soft mark of perfect beauty--fashioned thus by Brahma's self,
As at change the moon's thin crescent--only dim and faintly gleams.
Yet her beauty is not faded--clouded o'er with toil and mire
Though she be, it shines apparent, like the native unwrought gold.
With that beauteous form yon woman--gifted with that lovely mole,
Instant knew I for the Princess--as the heat betrays the fire."

VRIHADASVA _spake_.