the pallour that hath come over my complexion which not even a life in
the woods fraught as it was with extreme misery, could bring about. Thou,
O Pritha's son, knowest what happiness, O Bhima, was formerly mine. Even,
I, who was such have now sunk into servitude. Sorely distressed, I can
find no rest. That the mighty-armed and terrible bowman, Dhananjaya the
son of Pritha, should now live like a fire that hath been put out, maketh
me think of all this as attributable to Destiny. Surely, O son of Pritha,
it is impossible for men to understand the destinies of creatures (in
this world). I, therefore, think this downfall of yours as something that
could not be averted by forethought. Alas, she who hath you all, that
resemble Indra himself to attend to her comforts--even she, so chaste and
exalted, hath now to attend to the comforts of others, that are to her
far inferior in rank. Behold, O Pandava, my plight. It is what I do not
deserve. You are alive, yet behold this inversion of order that time hath
brought. She who had the whole Earth to the verge of the sea under her
control, is now under the control of Sudeshna and living in fear of her.
She who had dependants to walk both before and behind her, alas, now
herself walketh before and behind Sudeshna. This, O Kaunteya, is another
grief of mine that is intolerable. O, listen to it. She who had never,
save for Kunti, pounded unguents even for her own use, now, good betide
thee, poundeth sandal (for others). O Kaunteya, behold these hands of
mine which were not so before.' Saying this she showed him her hands
marked with corns. And she continued, 'she who had never feared Kunti
herself nor thee and thy brothers, now standeth in fear before Virata as
a slave, anxious of what that king of kings may say unto her regarding
the proper preparation of the unguents, for Matsya liketh not sandal
pounded by others.'"

Vaisampayana continued, "Relating her woes thus, O Bharata, unto
Bhimasena, Krishna began to weep silently, casting her eyes on Bhima. And
then, with words choked in tears, and sighing repeatedly, she addressed
Bhima in these words, powerfully stirring his heart, 'Signal, O Bhima,
must have been my offence of old unto the gods, for, unfortunate as I am.
I am yet alive, when, O Pandava, I should die.'"

Vaisampayana continued, "Then that slayer of hostile heroes, Vrikodara,
covering his face with those delicate hands of his wife marked with
corns, began to weep. And t