Once again, Vanathi slipped into unconsciousness. Her eyes closed. Little by little, her awareness began to return. She realized that her marriage to the prince, in the realm of the Nagas or the Devas, had been nothing but a dream. She recalled the sorrowful news she had heard about the prince, how she had run to the riverbank in her grief, how her head had spun and she had fallen into the water. These memories brought her immeasurable disappointment; a sharp pain stabbed her heart like a spear. She tried to open her eyes, but could not.

Who could have lifted her from the water and brought her to the shore? It must have been the young princess. The woman approaching in the boat a short distance away must be Kundavai Devi. Why should she have saved her? Would it not have been better to let her drown and disappear forever? As soon as she could open her eyes and speak, she must quarrel with the young princess: “Why did you save me?” Was this all the affection she had for her beloved younger brother?

There—the young princess is speaking. What is she saying? To whom is she speaking? Let her listen.

“She is raving in her delirium! It is a great thing that she survived at all! What if our boat had been a little farther away? What if we had not seen her fall into the stream? Just the thought of it makes my heart tremble!”

“If we had not seen her, in one way it would have been for the best. The princess of Kodumbalur, whose life you have saved, would have been spared much sorrow in her life…”

‘Ah! Who is this speaking with such compassion for me? Yes, it is that young man—the brave youth I saw at the Kudanthai astrologer’s house and at the royal ferry! He must have brought the news of the prince’s drowning in the sea. What else are they going to talk about? Even if I cannot open my eyes, I can still hear well enough!’

“How can you speak so heartlessly? Are the hearts of men always made of stone?” said the young princess’s voice.

“What did I say now that makes you judge me as stone-hearted?” “If only this girl had died, you said—that wasn’t enough for you? Do you know how much hardship I have endured to raise her?”

“Did you hear the words she was raving?”

“What fell upon your ears?”

“Something about marrying the prince, I thought I heard…”

“Yes, even in her delirium, her lips kept murmuring so. Her desire for the prince has taken deep root in her heart.”

“That desire is not good for this girl! Only suffering and disappointment will come of it.”

“Why do you say that? Who else is more suited to the prince than this girl? Are you not aware of the ancient, valiant lineage of Kodumbalur from which she descends?”

“I know it well. But what I