May learn of your delay and punish ye."
They bowed and went, with hearts of burning grief.

The merchant and his wife then lifted up
Poor Bidasari. They were all but dead
With sorrow. On his knees the father took
The body wrapped in crimson silk. He felt
A warmth. Then he remembered that within
The water was her vital spirit still,
And, placing her upon a mat, sent Dang
Poulam, the casket from the pond to bring.
But 'twas not there. Then all the household searched,
But found it not. The merchant beat his breast.
"Branch of my heart," he said, "we all had thought
Thou wouldst become a princess. I have lost
My reason. I hoped now to summon back
Thy spirit vital, but the casket's lost.
My hope is gone. It may be the _dyangs_
Have stolen it. They're faithful to the Queen.
We may not trust in them. They're filled with hate
And trickery." Unconscious all the time
Lay Bidasari; but at midnight's hour
She for the first time moved. They torches brought
And there behind Egyptian curtains, right
And left, ignited them, with many lamps'
Soft flames. The servants watched and waited there.
The father, always at his daughter's side,
With fixed glance looked for life to come once more
Back to his darling one. She moved again.
With opening eyes she saw and recognized