“So go secretly this very night, and carry off that princess from that sanctuary of Gaurí, which is now unfrequented, and bring her here without being observed. Let her be conveyed to the palace of Máyávaṭu; and then these kings, after securing your rear against the fury of the foe, shall come there with me. Let this fighting be put an end to. Do not allow any further slaughter of soldiers. And ensure the personal safety of yourself and the king your father-in-law. For war, that involves a great waste of human life, is an inexpedient expedient, and sages affirm it to be the worst of all political measures.”
When Śrutadhi had said this to Mṛigánkadatta, that prince and his ministers mounted their horses and set out secretly at night. And the prince arrived at the city of Ujjayiní, in which only women, and children, and sleepy men were left, and entered it easily, as the gates were kept by only a few drowsy guards.[5] And then he proceeded to that famous sanctuary of Gaurí, which was easily discovered by the description which Śrutadhi had given of it. It was situated in a great garden called Pushpakarṇḍa, and was just then illuminated by the rays of the moon, which at that time adorned the face of the East.[6]
In the meanwhile Śaśánkavatí, who remained sleepless, though her companions, worn out by attendance and other fatigues, were sleeping around her, was saying to herself; “Alas! for my sake brave kings and princes and heroes are being slain every day in battle in both these armies. Moreover, that prince, who has appealed to the ordeal of battle for my sake, was long ago designated as my husband by the goddess Durgá in a dream; and the god of love has with unfailing aim cut out my heart with a continual shower[7] of arrows, and taken it, and presented it to him. But, ill-starred girl that I am, my father will not give me to that prince, on account of the previous enmity between them, and his own pride; so much I gathered from his letter. So what is the use of a sure revelation by a goddess in a dream, when Fate is adverse? The fact is, I see no chance of obtaining my beloved in any way. So, why should I not abandon my hopeless life, before I hear of some misfortune happening to my father or to my lover in battle?[8]” With these words she rose up, and in her grief went in front of the image of Gaurí and made a noose with her outer garment, fastening it to an aśoka-tree.
In the meanwhile Mṛigánkadatta, with his companions, entered that garden and fastened his horse to a tree in front of the temple and sanctuary of Gaurí. Then Mṛigánkadatta’s minister Vimalabuddhi, seeing the princess near, said of his own accord to the prince, “Look prince, here is some lovely girl trying to hang herself; now, who can she be?” When the prince heard that, he looked at her and said, “Dear me! who can this girl be? Is she the goddess Rati? Or is she happiness incarnate in bodily form? Or is she the beauty of the moon, having taken shape,[9] or the command of Cupid living and walking? Or is she a nymph of heaven? No, that cannot be. For what can make heavenly nymphs desire to hang themselves? So let us remain here for a time concealed by the trees, until we find out for certain, somehow or other, who she is.” When he had said this, he and his ministers remained there in concealment; and in the meanwhile the despondent Śaśánkavatí offered this prayer to the goddess, “O adorable Gaurí that deliverest the afflicted from their pain, grant that, though, owing to my sins in a former state of existence, prince Mṛigánkadatta has not become my husband in this birth, he may become such in a future life.” When the princess had said this, she bowed before the goddess, and fastened the noose round her neck with eyes moist with tears.
At that moment her companions woke up, and distressed at not seeing her, began to look for her, and quickly came where she was. And they said, “Alas, friend, what is this that you have undertaken? Out on your rashness!” With these words they removed the noose from her neck. So, while the girl was standing there ashamed and despondent, a voice came from the inner shrine of Gaurí’s temple, “Do not despond, my daughter Śaśánkavatí; that word, fair one, that I spake to thee in a dream, cannot prove false. Here is that husband of thine in a former life, Mṛigánkadatta, come to thy side; go and enjoy with him the whole earth.”
When Śaśánkavatí heard this sudden utterance, she slowly looked aside a little confused, and at that moment Vikramakeśarin, the minister of Mṛigánkadatta, came up to her, and pointing out the prince with his finger, said to her, “Princess, Bhavání has told you the truth, for here is the prince, your future husband, come to you, drawn by the cords of love.” When the princess heard that, she cast a sidelong glance, and beheld that noble lover of hers[10] standing in the midst of his companions, looking like the moon having descended from heaven begirt by the planets, like the standard by which beauty is tested in others, raining nectar into the eyes.
Then she remained motionless as a pillar, and every hair stood erect with joy on all her limbs, so that they appeared to be covered with the feathers at the end of Cupid’s arrows raining upon her; and at that moment Mṛigánkadatta came up to her, and in order to dispel her shame, he addressed to her, with a voice raining the honey of love, the following speech appropriate to the occasion,[11] “Fair one, you have made me leave my own country and kingdom and relations, and brought me from a distance, enslaving me and binding me with the chain of your virtues. So now I have gained this fruit of my dwelling in the forest, and of my sleeping on the ground, and of my living on wild fruits, and enduring the fierce heat of the sun, and of my emaciation with asceticism, that I have beheld this form of yours which rains nectar into my eyes. And if you love me enough to care to please me, bestow also, gazelle-eyed one, that feast of the eyes upon the ladies of our city. Let the war cease; let the welfare of both armies be ensured; let my birth be made a success, and let my father’s blessing be gained for me at the same time!”
When Mṛigánkadatta had said this to Śaśánkavatí, she slowly answered with eyes fixed on the ground, “I indeed have been purchased with your virtues and made your slave, so do, my husband, what you think will be for our good.” When Mṛigánkadatta had been refreshed by this nectar-like speech of hers, and saw that his point was gained, he praised the goddess Gaurí and bowed before her, and then he made the princess get up behind him on his horse, and his ten[12] brave ministers mounted and took her ladies-in-waiting up behind them; and then the prince, with his sword drawn, set out from that city at night, accompanied by them sword in hand. And though the city-guards saw those eleven heroes, they did not dare to stop them, for they looked as formidable as so many angry Rudras. And leaving Ujjayiní, they went with Śaśánkavatí to the palace of Máyávaṭu, in accordance with the advice of Śrutadhi.
While the guards were exclaiming in their distraction, “Who are these, and whither are they gone?” it gradually became known in Ujjayiní that the princess had been carried off. And the queen-consort hurriedly despatched the governor of the city to the camp, to tell king Karmasena what had taken place. But in the meanwhile the head of the scouts came to king Karmasena in the camp there at night, and and said to him, “King, Mṛigánkadatta and his ministers left the army secretly in the early part of this night, and went on horseback to Ujjayiní, to carry off Śaśánkavatí, who is in the temple of Gaurí. So much I have discovered for certain; your Highness knows what step it is now desirable to take.”
When king Karmasena heard this, he sent for his general, and communicated to him privately the information he had received, and said to him, “Choose five hundred swift horses, and set picked men on them, and go with them secretly and rapidly to Ujjayiní, and wherever you find that villain Mṛigánkadatta, kill him, or make him prisoner: know that I will follow you quickly, leaving my army behind me.” When the general received this order from the king, he said, “So be it,” and set out by night for Ujjayiní with the prescribed force. And on the way he met the governor of the town, from whom he heard that the princess had been carried off by some daring men in another direction. Then he returned with the governor of the town, and told king Karmasena what had taken place. When the king heard it, he thought it impossible, and remained quiet during the night, without making an attack. And in the camp of Mṛigánkadatta Máyávaṭu and the other kings passed the night under arms, by the advice of Śrutadhi.