* * * * *

And by degrees they reached the briny sea;
They reached the northern region and beheld with heaven-aspiring
hearts
The mighty mountain Himavat.  Beyond its lofty peak they passed
Toward a sea of sand, and saw at last the rocky Meru, king
Of mountains.  As with eager steps they hastened on, their souls
intent
On union with the Eternal, Draupadi lost hold of her high hope,
And faltering fell upon the earth.
—­Edwin Arnold.

Thus during this toilsome journey, one by one fell, never to rise again, until presently only two of the brothers and the dog were left.  The eldest Pandav, who had marched on without heeding the rest, now explained to his companion how Draupadi sinned through excessive love for her husbands, and that his fallen brothers were victims of pride, vanity, and falsehood.  He further predicted that the speaker himself would fall, owing to selfishness, a prediction which was soon verified, leaving the eldest Pandav alone with his dog.

On arriving, Indra bade this hero enter heaven, assuring him the other spirits had preceded him thither, but warning him that he alone could be admitted there in bodily form.  When the Pandav begged that his dog might enter too, Indra indignantly rejoined that heaven was no place for animals, and inquired why the Pandav made more fuss about a four-legged companion than about his wife and brothers.  Thereupon the Pandav returned he had no power to bring the others back to life, but considered it cowardly to abandon a faithful living creature.  The dog, listening intently to this dialogue, now resumed his proper form,—­for it seems he was the king’s father in a former birth,—­and, having become human once more, he too was allowed to enter Paradise.

Straight as he spoke, brightly great Indra smiled,
Vanished the hound, and in its stead stood there,
The lord of death and justice, Dharma’s self.

          
                                                      —­Edwin Arnold.

Beneath a golden canopy, seated on jewelled thrones, the Pandav found his blind uncle and cousins, but failed to discern any trace of his brothers or Draupadi.  He, therefore, refusing to remain, begged Indra’s permission to share their fate in hell; so a radiant messenger was sent to guide him along a road paved with upturned razor edges, which passed through a dense forest whose leaves were thorns and swords.  Along this frightful road the Pandav toiled, with cut and mangled feet, until he reached the place of burning, where he beheld Draupadi and his brothers writhing in the flames.  Unable to rescue them, the Rajah determined to share their fate, so bade his heavenly guide return to Paradise without him.  This, however, proved the last test to which his great heart was to be subjected, for no sooner had he expressed a generous determination to share his kinsmen’s lot, than he was told to bathe in the Ganges and all would be well.  He had no sooner done so than the heavens opened above him, allowing him to perceive, amid undying flowers, the fair Draupadi and his four brothers, who, thanks to his unselfishness, had been rescued from hell.