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My son, tell me thy sorrow, that it may become more endurable from participation. At present it is intolerable, while shut up in thine own heart.

Hear it, then. I am a Nága, Śankhachúda by name. I was sent by Vásuki, as a meal for Garuda. But why waste time in words? Even as we talk, perhaps these tracks of drops of blood mingled with dust are disappearing. I will therefore tell it in a breath. By a certain Vidyádhara, whose mind was full of compassion, my life has been preserved. He has given himself up to Garuda.

Who else would thus undergo calamity for another? My child, you might as well have said at once, "By Jímútaváhana!" Alas! I am undone, ill-fated man that I am.

Alas! my child, how could you do this?

How true has my foreboding proved!

[They all faint.

Surely these must be the parents of that magnanimous one, otherwise they would not be brought into this condition by my evil tidings. But what else should issue from the mouth of a venomous serpent, except poison?