Vaishampayana said: Janardana, chastiser of enemies, having met with Vidura, then went by day to his paternal aunt, Pritha. Seeing Krishna, whose face shone with the radiance of the blazing sun, arrive at her dwelling, she threw her arms about his neck and began to pour forth her lamentations, remembering her sons. And at the sight, after so long a time, of Govinda of the Vrishni race, the companion of her mighty children, Pritha's tears flowed swiftly. And after Krishna, that foremost of warriors, had taken his seat, having first received the rites of hospitality, Pritha, with sorrowful face and voice choked with tears, addressed him, saying: 'Those who from their earliest years always waited respectfully upon their elders, those who are attached to one another in friendship, those who, deprived by deceit of their kingdom, went into seclusion though worthy to live among friends and servants — they who have subdued both anger and joy, devoted to brahmanas and truthful in speech — those my sons, who, abandoning kingdom and pleasures and abandoning my unhappy self, went into the forest, tearing out the very roots of my heart — those illustrious sons of Pandu, O Keshava, who suffered grief, though undeserved — how, alas, did they live in the dense forest, abounding in lions, tigers and elephants? Deprived in infancy of their father, they were all tenderly raised by me. How did they live in the mighty forest, seeing neither of their parents — they who at home slept in lofty, sumptuous chambers on soft coverlets and runku deerskins, and woke each morning to the trumpeting of elephants, the neighing of horses, the rumble of chariot wheels, and the music of conches and cymbals accompanied by the notes of flutes and lyres — who, worshipping at dawn with sacred resounding hymns chanted by brahmanas, were themselves worshipped by those among them who had earned such worship, in robes, jewels and ornaments, and were blessed with auspicious benedictions by those illustrious twice-born in return for the honor received from them — that they, O Janardana, could sleep in the dense forest, echoing with the shrill and discordant cries of beasts of prey, is scarcely to be believed, though they did not deserve such grief. How could they, O slayer of Madhu, who used to be roused from their beds by the music of cymbals, drums, conches and flutes, by the honeyed voices of songstresses and by the praises sung by bards and professional reciters — alas, how could they be awakened in the dense forest by the cries of wild beasts? He who is endowed with modesty, firm in truth, with senses subdued and compassion for all beings — he who has conquered both lust and malice, and who ever walks the path of the righteous — he who skillfully bore the heavy burden borne by Ambarisha and Mandhatri, Yayati, and Nahusha, and Bharata, and Dilipa, and Shibi, son of Ushinara, and other royal sages of old — he who is endowed with excellent character and disposition, who is versed in virtue, and whose valor cannot be led astray — he who is fit to become king of the three worlds by virtue of possessing every accomplishment — he who is the foremost of all the Kurus in law, in learning and in character, who is handsome, mighty, well-armed and without enemies — oh, how is that Yudhishthira, virtuous in soul and of the hue of pure gold?'