me, in the presence of all the Bharatas, regarding the stake for which we were to play.  His words were, O prince Ajatsatru, (if vanquished), thou shalt have with all thy brothers, to dwell, to the knowledge of all men, for twelve years in the forest of thy choice, passing the thirteenth year in secrecy.  If during the latter period, the spies of the Bharatas, hearing of thee, succeed in discovering thee, thou shalt have again to live in the forest for the same period, passing once more the last year in secrecy.  Reflecting upon this, pledge thyself to it.  As regards myself, I promise truly in this assembly of the Kurus, that if thou canst pass this time confounding my spies and undiscovered by them, then, O Bharata, this kingdom of the five rivers is once more thine.  We also, O Bharata, if vanquished by thee, shall, all of us, abandoning all our wealth, pass the same period, according to the same rules.  Thus addressed by the prince, I replied unto him in the midst of all the Kurus, ‘So be it!’ The wretched game then commenced.  We were vanquished and have been exiled.  It is for this that we are wandering miserably over different woody regions abounding with discomfort.  Suyodhana, however, still dissatisfied, gave himself up to anger, and urged the Kurus as also all those under his sway to express their joy at our calamity.  Having entered into such an agreement in the presence of all good men, who dareth break it for the sake of a kingdom on earth?  For a respectable person, I think, even death itself is lighter than the acquisition of sovereignty by an act of transgression.  At the time of the play, thou hadst desired to burn my hands.  Thou wert prevented by Arjuna, and accordingly didst only squeeze thy own hands.  If thou couldst do what thou hadst desired, could this calamity befall us?  Conscious of thy prowess, why didst thou not, O Bhima, say so before we entered into such an agreement?  Overwhelmed with the consequence of our pledge, and the time itself having passed, what is the use of thy addressing me these harsh words?  O Bhima, this is my great grief that we could not do anything even beholding Draupadi persecuted in that way.  My heart burneth as if I have drunk some poisonous liquid.  Having, however, given that pledge in the midst of the Kuru heroes, I am unable to violate it now.  Wait, O Bhima, for the return of our better days, like the scatterer of seeds waiting for the harvest.  When one that hath been first injured, succeedeth in revenging himself upon his foe at a time when the latter’s enmity hath borne fruit and flowers, he is regarded to have accomplished a great thing by his prowess.  Such a brave person earneth undying fame.  Such a man obtaineth great prosperity.  His enemies bow down unto him, and his friends gather round him, like the celestials clustering round Indra for protection.  But know, O Bhima, my promise can never be untrue.  I regard virtue as superior to life itself and a blessed state of celestial existence.  Kingdom, sons, fame, wealth,—­all these do not come up to even a sixteenth part of truth.’