The Panghúlu thus frustrated in his design, writes in revenge to her father, and informs him that his daughter has made a fruitless endeavour to seduce him: upon hearing which the deceived parent orders her to be put to death. Her brother is about to put this order in execution, when placing his hand before his eyes while he inflicts the blow, he stabs a small deer in lieu of his sister, who escapes into the woods.
With rapidity she fled to the woods, and then taking shelter under a wide spreading waríng'en tree, the still unripe fruits of the forest attained maturity, and seemed to offer themselves as a relief to her.
All the flowers, though the season for opening their petals was not arrived, now expanded, and shedding their fragrance, it was borne by a gentle zephyr towards her, while the bramára, attracted by the odour, swarmed around, and the fragrance of each flower seemed to vie with the other in reaching her presence.
The wild animals of the forest, the tiger, the wild ox, the rhinoceros came towards the princess, as if to watch and guard her, crouching around her, but occasioning not the least alarm.
Being in want of water, the princess put up a prayer to heaven, when close by her feet a spring of pure water issued.
On which the sarója flower soon appeared, opening its petals, and offering the shade of a páyung to the smaller water-plants floating beneath.
Her heart now became easy; and delighted at what she beheld, she proceeded to bathe and perform her devotions.
The father, on his return, learns the treachery of the Panghúlu, and having recovered his daughter, she is subsequently married to a neighbouring prince, by whom she has three children. Her trials, however, are not yet at an end, for being on a journey to visit her father, accompanied by the Pepáteh of her husband, who is appointed to guard her on the way, the Pepáteh forms a design upon her virtue. He is represented as saying:—