And the great lady threw herself upon the earth and so lay, with the women sitting about her, held motionless by strong grief, as marble images.
And when at last one gathered up courage to tell the Princess she sent for Channa, towering in indignation above him like an angry Queen.
“O faithless man, and trusted in vain! evil contriver, false servant!—beneath these pretended tears there is a hidden smile. You went out with him and alone you return. What have you done? Better an open enemy than a false friend. Alas, the sorrows of our line! Surely his noble mother died foreseeing the grief of to-day, for our house is left unto us desolate!”
And Channa, pierced to the soul and thunderstruck, was silent, and she spoke again.
“You weep aloud now. Why did you not awake the Palace when he went? Then all might have been saved. Now it is too late.”
So, folding his hands, with no anger in his heart, for the agony of the Princess was visible, the true Channa replied:
“Great Lady, have pity on my grief, for I am innocent in this. In my soul I believe it was the Gods’ doing. From the day of his birth there have been portents, and who was I to stand against it?”
Then the Princess, just and noble of soul, recollected herself, regretting her words, knowing well that the burden of the Gods’ purpose is their own and cannot be charged upon a man, and she spoke gently to him, and when he was gone she sat alone mourning, recalling the face and voice of her Prince, and slowly as the strong grief overburdened her she slipped down strengthless from the golden cushions and lay upon the ground, her empty arms stretched out before her.
So her women found her, and as they raised her tenderly, she said this only:
“Take away my golden bed where my lord and I lay, for henceforth I will lie upon bare earth. Take away my robes of silk and my jewels and bring me the yellow robe of the mendicant, for I am beggared indeed. Henceforth I will wear no other. Cut off my long hair, for I have done with beauty. And once a day and once only, bring me the food of the mendicant, such as will keep the flame of life alight and no more, for as to pleasure, the name of it is forgotten.”