laid on him the curse that he should be turned into a Chandala, or outcast of the lowest sort. Then they turned, each one, to retirement and meditation again.
Sad indeed was the change that passed upon King Trisanku in fulfilment of the Brahmans' curse. His skin became swart in hue and rough, his hair dropped out, his ornaments turned to those of attendants at funerals, and courtiers and friends shrank and fled from him in fear and loathing. Yet, undaunted by this grievous plight, he cherished his high ambition unbroken, and now sought none other than Viswamitra for counsel.
The warrior-hermit gazed with compassion on his fellow monarch, now brought so low, and questioned him concerning his condition and hopes. Hereto Trisanku made reply: "I sought to win heaven in this my human body, and to that end I invoked the aid of my priest and his sons. But neither he nor they would grant their help; therefore, illustrious sage, I come to thee. With these pure lips, which have never known stain of falsehood, I swear by a warrior's faith that I shall abide steadfast in my purpose. Oh, aid me in my quest, for now have I no helper but thee!"
Now, Viswamitra might well be moved by this plea from one of his own order, who, like himself, was seeking high and holy privileges above the common lot of warriors. But, further, it had befallen King Trisanku to be thwarted and buffeted by those same enemies who had wrought Viswamitra so much ill. Therefore it was with much sympathy that the hermit listened to the king's tale; and
