But the poor Brahman was not dead; for his good Deva had preserved his life within the well-pit, and certain travelers passing by drew him up and gave him to eat. Thus it happened that he presently came to the same village in which the wicked Brahmani dwelt; and, fearing with an exceeding great fear, she hastened to the king, and said, "Lo! the enemy who seeketh to kill my husband pursueth after us."
Then said the king, "Let him be trampled under foot by the elephants!"
But the Brahman, struggling in the grasp of the king's men, cried out, with a bitter cry: "O king! art thou indeed called just, who will not hearken to the voice of the accused? This fair but wicked woman is indeed my own wife; ere I be condemned, let her first give back to me that which I gave her!"
And the king bade his men stay their hands. "Give him back," he commanded, in a voice of tempest, "that which belongs to him!"
But the Brahmani protested, saying, "My lord, I have nought which belongs to him." So the king's brow darkened with the frown of a maharajah.
"Give me back," cried the Brahman, "the life which I gave thee, my own life given to thee with the utterance of the three mystic syllables—the half of my own years."
Then, through exceeding fear of the king, she murmured, "Yea, I render it up to thee, the life thou gavest me with the utterance of the three mystic syllables." And fell dead at the king's feet.
Thus the truth was made manifest; and hence the proverb arose:
She for whom I gave up family, home, and even the half of my life, hath abandoned me, the heartless one! What man may put faith in women?