“Then that old Bráhman, having tricked Keśaṭa, went on his way, taking with him Rúpavatí for his son: but nobody knew where Keśaṭa had gone after marrying her. And Rúpavatí, not seeing Keśaṭa on the journey, said, ‘Why do I not see my husband here, though all the rest of the party are travelling along with me?’ When the old Bráhman heard that, he shewed her that son of his, and said to her, ‘My daughter, this son of mine is your husband; behold him.’ Then Rúpavatí said in a rage to the old man there, ‘I will not have this ugly fellow for a husband; I will certainly die, if I cannot get that husband, who married me yesterday.’
“Saying this, she at once stopped eating and drinking; and the old Bráhman, through fear of the king, had her taken back to her father’s house. There she told the trick that the old Bráhman had played her, and her father, in great grief, said to her, ‘How are we to discover, my daughter, who the man that married you, is?’ Then Rúpavatí said, ‘My husband’s name is Keśaṭa, and he is the son of a Bráhman named Deśaṭa in Páṭaliputra; for so much I heard from the mouth of a Rákshasa.’ When she had said this, she told her father the whole story of her husband and the Rákshasa. Then her father went and saw the Rákshasa lying dead, and so he believed his daughter’s story, and was pleased with the virtue of that couple.
“He consoled his daughter with hopes of reunion with her husband, and sent his son to Keśaṭa’s father in Páṭaliputra, to search for him. And after some time they came back and said, ‘We saw the householder Deśaṭa in Páṭaliputra. But when we asked him where his son Keśaṭa was, he answered us with tears, “My son Keśaṭa is not here; he did return here, and a friend of his named Kandarpa came with him; but he went away from here without telling me, pining for Rúpavatí”—When we heard this speech of his, we came back here in due course.’
“When those sent to search had brought back this report, Rúpavatí said to her father, ‘I shall never recover my husband, so I will enter the fire; how long, father, can I live here without my husband?’ She went on saying this, and as her father has not been able to dissuade her, she has come out to-day to perish in the fire. And two maidens, friends of hers, have come out to die in the same way; one is called Śṛingáravatí and the other Anurágavatí. For long ago, at the marriage of Rúpavatí, they saw Keśaṭa and made up their minds that they would have him for a husband, as their hearts were captivated by his beauty. This is the meaning of the noise which the people here are making.”
When Kandarpa heard this from that man, he went to the pyre which had been heaped up for those ladies. He made a sign to the people from a distance to cease their tumult, and going up quickly, he said to Rúpavatí, who was worshipping the fire; “Noble lady; desist from this rashness; that husband of yours Keśaṭa is alive; he is my friend; know that I am Kandarpa.” When he had said this, he told her all Keśaṭa’s adventures, beginning with the circumstance of the old Bráhman’s treacherously making him embark on the boat. Then Rúpavatí believed him, as his story tallied so completely with what she knew, and she joyfully entered her father’s house with those two friends. And her father kindly welcomed Kandarpa and took good care of him; and so he remained there, to please him.
In the meanwhile it happened that, as Keśaṭa was roaming about, he reached Ratnapura and found there the house of Kandarpa, in which his two wives were. And as he was wandering about near the house, Sumanas, the wife of Kandarpa, saw him from the top of the house and said delighted to her father-in-law and mother-in-law, and the other people in the house, “Here now is Keśaṭa my husband’s friend arrived; we may hear news of my husband from him; quickly invite him in.” Then they went and on some pretext or other brought in Keśaṭa as she advised, and when he saw Sumanas come towards him, he was delighted. And after he had rested she questioned him, and he immediately told her his own and Kandarpa’s adventures, after the scare produced by the wild elephants.
He remained there some days, hospitably entertained, and then a messenger came from Kandarpa with a letter. The messenger said, “Kandarpa and Rúpavatí are in the town where Kandarpa’s friend Keśaṭa married Rúpavatí;” and the contents of the letter were to the same effect; and Keśaṭa communicated the tidings with tears to the father of Kandarpa.
And the next day Kandarpa’s father sent in high glee a messenger to bring his son, and dismissed Keśaṭa, that he might join his beloved. And Keśaṭa went with that messenger, who brought the letter, to that country where Rúpavatí was living in her father’s house. There, after a long absence, he greeted and refreshed the delighted Rúpavatí, as the cloud does the chátakí. He met Kandarpa once more, and he married at the instance of Rúpavatí her two before-mentioned friends, Anurágavatí and Śṛingáravatí. And then Keśaṭa went with Rúpavatí and them to his own land, after taking leave of Kandarpa. And Kandarpa returned to Ratnapura with the messenger, and was once more united to Sumanas and Anangavatí and his relations. So Kandarpa regained his beloved Sumanas, and Keśaṭa his beloved Rúpavatí, and they lived enjoying the good things of this life, each in his own country.
Thus men of firm resolution, though separated by adverse destiny, are reunited with their dear ones, despising even terrible sufferings, and taking no account of their interminable duration. So rise up quickly my friend, let us go; you also will find your wife, if you search for her; who knows the way of Destiny? I myself regained my wife alive after she had died.
“Telling me this tale my friend encouraged me; and himself accompanied me; and so roaming about with him, I reached this land, and here I saw a mighty elephant and a wild boar. And, (wonderful to say!) I saw that elephant bring my helpless wife out of his mouth, and swallow her again; and I followed that elephant, which appeared for a moment and then disappeared for a long time, and in my search for it I have now, thanks to my merits, beheld your Majesty here.”