Then their woes were increased a hundredfold by seeing one another; but the other prisoners there said to them, in order to console them, “Enough of grief! Can we avoid the effect of acts done in a previous state of existence? Do you not see that the death of all of us together is imminent? For we have been collected here by this king of the Pulindas, in order that he may offer us up to Durgá on the coming fourteenth day of the month. So why should you grieve? The way of Fate, that sports with living beings, is strange; as she has given you misfortune, she may in the same way give you prosperity.” When the other prisoners had said this to them, they remained there bound with them; it is terrible to see how little respect calamities shew even for the great.

And when the fourteenth day arrived, they were all taken thence by the orders of the king to the temple of Durgá to be sacrificed. It seemed like the mouth of death, the flame of the lamp being its lolling tongue, the range of bells being its row of teeth, to which the heads of men clung.[24] Then Sundarasena, when he saw that goddess, bowed before her, and praised her with mind humbled by devotion, and uttered this prayer, “O thou goddess that didst quell the oppression of the Asuras with thy blood-streaming trident, which mangled haughty Daityas, thou that givest security to thy votaries, look upon me, goddess, that am burned up with the forest-fire of grief, with a favourable nectar-shedding eye, and refresh me. Honour to thee!”

While the prince was saying this, Vindhyaketu, that king of the Pulindas, came there to worship the goddess Durgá. The moment the prince saw the king of the Bhillas, he recognised him, and being bowed down with shame, said of his own accord to his friends, “Ha! this is that very Vindhyaketu, the chief of the Pulindas, who comes to my father’s court to pay him homage, and is the lord of this vast wilderness. Whatever may happen, we must not say anything here, for it is better for a man of honour to die, than to make known who he is under such circumstances.”

While the prince was saying this to his ministers, king Vindhyaketu said to his servants, “Come now, shew me this heroic human victim, who killed so many of my warriors when he was being captured.” As soon as his servants heard this, they brought Sundarasena, smeared with clotted blood, and defiled with wounds, into the presence of that king. When the king of the Bhillas saw him, he half recognised him, and being terrified, said to him, “Tell me, who are you, and whence do you come?” Sundarasena answered the king of the Bhillas, “What does it matter who I am, or whence I come? Do what you are about to do.”

Then Vindhyaketu recognised him completely by his voice, and exclaiming excitedly, “Alas! Alas!” fell on the ground. Then he embraced the prince, and said, “Alas, great king Mahásena, see what a fitting return I, villain that I am, have now made for your numerous benefits, in that I have here reduced to such a state your son, whom you value as your life, prince Sundarasena, who has come here from somewhere or other!” This and many other such laments he uttered in such a way that all there began to shed tears. But the delighted companions of Sundarasena comforted the Bhilla king, saying to him, “Is not this much that you recognised the prince before any misfortune had happened? What could you have done after the event had taken place? So why do you despond in the midst of this joy?”

Then the king fell at the feet of Sundarasena, and lovingly honoured him, and Sundarasena got him to set all the human victims free. And after he had shown him all due respect, he took him to his village and his friends with him, and proceeded to bandage his wounds and administer medicines to him; and he said to him, “Tell me, prince, what brought you to this place, for I have a great desire to know.” Then Sundarasena related to him all his adventures. And that prince of the Śavaras, being astonished, said to him, “What a wonderful chain of events! That you should have set out to marry Mandaravatí, and that you should then have been wrecked[25] in the sea, and that this should have led to your reaching the hermitage of Matanga, and to your meeting your beloved there, and that this merchant, in whom you confided, should have carried her off from you, and that you should have entered the wilderness, and have been imprisoned for sacrifice, and recognised by me and delivered from that death—how strangely does all this hang together! Therefore honour by all means to mysteriously working Destiny! And you must not feel anxious about your beloved, for, as Destiny has done all this, she will also do you that other service soon.”

While the king of the Pulindas was saying this, his commander-in-chief came quickly in a state of high delight, and entering said to him, “King, a certain merchant entered this wilderness with his followers, and he had with him much wealth and a very beautiful lady, a very gem of women; and when I heard of this, I went with an army, and seized him and his followers, with the wealth and the lady, and I have them here outside.” When Sundarasena and Vindhyaketu heard this, they said to themselves “Can these be that merchant and Mandáravatí?” And they said, “Let the merchant and the lady be brought in here at once,” and thereupon the commander-in-chief brought in that merchant and that lady. When Dṛiḍhabuddhi saw them, he exclaimed, “Here is that very princess Mandáravatí, and here is that villain of a merchant. Alas, princess! How came you to be reduced to this state, like a creeper scorched by the heat, with your bud-like lip dried up, and with your flower-ornaments stripped off?” While Dṛiḍhabuddhi was uttering this exclamation, Sundarasena rushed forward, and eagerly threw his arms round the neck of his beloved. Then the two lovers wept for a long time, as if to wash off from one another, by the water of a shower of tears, the defilement of separation.

Then Vindhyaketu, having consoled them both, said to that merchant, “How came you to carry off the wife of one who confided in you?” Then the merchant said, with a voice trembling with fear, “I have fruitlessly done this to my own destruction, but this holy saint was preserved by her own unapproachable splendour; I was no more able to touch her, than if she had been a flame of fire; and I did intend, villain that I was, to take her to my own country, and after her anger had been allayed, and she had been reconciled to me, to marry her.” When the merchant had said this, the king ordered him to be put to death on the spot; but Sundarasena saved him from execution; however he had his abundant wealth confiscated, a heavier loss than that of life; for those that have lost their wealth die daily, not so those that have lost their breath.

So Sundarasena had that merchant set at liberty, and the wretched creature went where he would, pleased at having escaped with life; and king Vindhyaketu took Mandáravatí, and went with her and Sundarasena to the palace of his own queen. There he gave orders to his queen, and had Mandáravatí honoured with a bath, with clothes and with unguents, and after Sundarasena had been in the same way bathed and adorned, he made him sit down on a splendid throne, and honoured him with gifts, pearls, musk, and so on. And on account of the reunion of that couple, the king made a great feast, at which all the Śavara women danced delighted.

Then, the next day, Sundarasena said to the king, “My wounds are healed, and my object is attained, so I will now go hence to my own city; and, please, send off at once to my father a messenger with a letter, to tell the whole story, and announce my arrival.”[26] When the Śavara chief heard this, he sent off a messenger with a letter, and gave him the message which the prince suggested.