asked merely wherefore his father did not welcome him after the wonted fashion. But the stricken monarch, cut to the heart by the fulfilment of his odious duty, again sank insensible.
Wild was Kausalya's grief, and hot was Lakshman's ire, when Rama mildly imparted his heavy tidings to them. The mother cried that she had better have died childless, and that, if Rama departed, she would take her own life by fasting. Lakshman counselled resistance, and offered even to slay his father, if the cruel command was pressed.
Rama reasoned with each in turn. To Kausalya he said that, if bereft of her, the king would die, and that a woman's happiness stands and falls with her husband's welfare; therefore, she should neither take her own life nor come with her son to the forest. To her son's wise persuasion Kausalya yielded, and blessed his undertaking. But Lakshman still rebelled in spirit; Rama's obedience, whether to an unjust decree or to the overbearing might of fate, seemed to him childish and unworthy.
The dispossessed heir had next to carry word to his wife. Her he informed as gently as he could, and spoke of going alone to the forest, leaving her behind to pray for his welfare and comfort his mother. To this Sita replied, with much feeling, that she must needs go with him, for apart from him she had no support and cared not for life.
Rama again prayed her to stay, for the forest life was full of sorrow and danger. "The woods," said he, "are full of lions, elephants, and other wild monsters; the streams are deep and rife with crocodiles. Thy only bed will be a couch of leaves
