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Tales from Indian Mythology
"You fool," thundered a voice from the heavens all of a sudden. "On whom are you lavishing your love? Do you realize that you are driving to your own grave? It is the will of God that you shall die at the hands of Devaki's eighth child.” Was it the voice of some goddess, jealous of Devaki? wondered Kamsa. Whatever it might be, its portent was sinister, and he would take no chances. So he sprang from his seat and unsheathed his sword. He kicked out Devaki and Vasudeva and himself leapt forth after them with the fury of a serpent. Holding Devaki by her hair and flourishing his ever-hungry sword which had been accustomed to tasting innocent blood, he burst into a volley of abuse which he uttered for the first time, and which he had spared even the worst of his enemies. His mad rage reached its crescendo when he could only go on hysterically repeating. "You ... you . . . you ...” for want of words. His sword was about to cut Devaki to pieces when Vasudeva, intercepting him implored. "My powerful brother-in-law, be sensible, if you cannot be generous. How can you raise your sword on women ? Surely you deserve foes worthy of your steel! You are already under the curse of the many mothers and children with whose blood you have swelled the waters of the Yamuna. So shed no more of it, lest you hasten your own doom. More. over it is not Devaki, who shall slay you. It is one of her children and I beg of you to spare her own life in return for that of each of her issues.” Accepting Vasudeva's suggestion, Kamsa addressed himself to his men thus: "We drive back to Mathura. Throw Devaki and Vasudeva into the filthie i and grimmest of our dungeons where they shall remain for the rest of their lives. Inform me the moment she gives birth to a child. And of course I need not remind you what punishment
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