These verses while ye speak,” quoth the Princess,
    “Should any man make answer, note him well
    In any place; and who he is, and where
    He dwells.  And if one listens to these words
    Intently, and shall so reply to them,
    Good Brahmans, hold ye fast his speech, and bring,
    Breath by breath, all of it unto me here;
    But so that he shall know not whence ye speak,
    If ye go back.  Do this unweariedly;
    And if one answer—­be he high or low,
    Wealthy or poor—­learn all he was and is,
    And what he would.” 
                        Hereby enjoined, they went,
    Those twice-born, into all the lands to seek
    Prince Nala in his loneliness.  Through towns,
    Cities and villages, hamlets and camps,
    By shepherds’ huts and hermits’ caves, they passed,
    Searching for Nala; yet they found him not;
    Albeit in every region (O my king!)
    The words of Damayanti, as she taught,
    Spake they again in hearing of all men. 
      Suddenly—­after many days—­there came
    A Brahman back, Parnada he was called,
    Who unto Bhima’s child in this wise spake:—­
    “O Damayanti, seeking Nala still,
    Ayodhya’s streets I entered, where I saw
    The Maharaja; he—­noble-minded one!—­
    Heard me thy verses say, as thou hadst said;
    Great Rituparna heard those very words,
    Excellent Princess; but he answered nought;
    And no man answered, out of all the throng
    Ofttimes addressed.  But when I had my leave
    And was withdrawn, a man accosted me
    Privately—­one of Rituparna’s train,
    Vahuka named, the Raja’s charioteer
    (Something misshapen, with a shrunken arm,
    But skilled in driving, very dexterous
    In cookery and sweetmeats).  He—­with groans,
    And tears which rolled and rolled—­asked of my health,
    And then these verses spake full wistfully:—­

      ’Even when their loss is largest, noble ladies
        Keep the true treasure of their hearts unspent,
      Attaining heaven through faith, which undismayed is
        By wrong, unaltered by abandonment;
      Such an one guards with virtue’s golden shield
        Her name from harm; pious and pure and tender;
      And, though her lord forsook her, will not yield
        To wrath, even against that vile offender—­
      Even against the ruined, rash, ungrateful,
        Faithless, fond Prince from whom the birds did steal
      His only cloth, whom now a penance fateful
        Dooms to sad days, that dark-eyed will not feel
      Anger; for if she saw him she should see
        A man consumed with grief and loss and shame;
      Ill or well lodged, ever in misery,
        Her unthroned lord, a slave without a name.’