SECTION LIX.
When coming out of the hermitage, Raghu's descendant, Rāma, after a while, from grief, spake these words to the son of Sumitrā, "When confiding myself in thee, I had left Maithili with thee in the wood, why then didst thou go oat, leaving her behind? O Lakshmana, directly I saw thee approach, renouncing Maithili, my mind, apprehending great wrong, became really aggrieved. O Lakshmana, seeing thee coming at a distance, renouncing her, my left eye and arm as well as ray heart keep throbbing." Thus accosted, Lakshmana having auspicious signs, afflicted with great grief, said unto the aggrieved Rāma, "I have not come hither, of my own accord, renouncing Sitā; but I have come to thee, having been urged thereto by herself with rudeness. The cries of "O Lakshmana, save me," as if uttered by the master, came to the ears of Maithili. Hearing those distressful accents, Maithili from affection [for thee], breaking out into lamentations, and overwhelmed with fear, spoke unto me, "Off," "off." On being repeatedly urged, with "Go," I answered Maithili in these words, tending to inspire her confidence, 'I do not see such a Rākshasa, as can excite his fear. Do thou desist. These cries do not come from him; but must have been uttered by some one else. How can he that can rescue the celestials themselves, utter, O Sitā, such a blame-worthy and base word as—save [me]? Some one far some purpose, assuming my brothers voice, is crying— O Lakshmana, save me. O beauteous lady, these words, Save me—must have been uttered by some Rākshasa from fear. Thou shouldst not act like a mean woman. Do not be overwhelmed; and banish thy anxiety. There breathes no person, nor yet shall there be born any one in these three worlds who in the field shall vanquish Rāghava in fight. Rāghava is incapable of being beaten in battle by the very gods headed by Indra.' Thus addressed (by me) Vaidehi, deprived of her sense, shedding tears, spake unto me these cruel words, 'Thou cherishest the vile idea that on thy brother perishing, thou shalt come by me; but me thou shalt never have. As thou dost not go to him albeit he is crying loudly (for help), thou followest Rāma in consonance with a hint from Bharata. A foe going about in disguise, thou followest Rāma for my sake, prying into Rāghava's draw backs; and it is for this that thou dost not go (to him)?' Thus accosted by Vaidehi, I, with eyes reddened in wrath, and my nether lip swollen in ire, rushed out of "the asylum." When Saumitri had spoken thus, Rāma transported by grief, said unto Lakshmana, "O gentle one, thou hast done wrong in having come out hither without her. Although thou knewest (full well) that I was able to withstand the Rākshasas, yet didst thou sally out at the angry words of Mithilā's daughter. I am not pleased with thee that hearing her harsh speech spoken in wrath, thou hast come hither, leaving Vaidehi behind. Thou hast every way done wrong in not acting out my mandate in consequence of being urged by Sitā, and under the influence of indignation. That Rākshasa lieth low, being wounded by my shafts—that had drawn me away from the asylum wearing the form of a deer. I hit him stretching my brow slightly and fixing the shaft on it; when, renouncing his deer-form he became a Rākshasa wearing a bracelet and began to emit distressful shrieks. Wounded by my shaft, he, assuming my voice, and in accents capable of being heard from far, uttered those dreadful words fraught with dole, hearing which, thou hast come hither, renouncing Mithilā's daughter."