The first minister, Mṛgadhara, took note of the day and hour, and found that the stars were propitious. Then he set forth and fetched away Viśākhā with great pomp as his son’s spouse. The mother gave her daughter, when she was leaving for her husband’s land, the following counsel: “O daughter, always honour the sun and the moon, pay attention to the fire, wipe dirt off the mirror, and wear white clothes. You shall take but not give. You shall keep your word. When you rise up, you shall yield your [[115]]place to none. You shall partake of savoury food. You shall sleep tranquilly. You shall apply a ladder.”
When Mṛgadhara heard this, he thought that the girl had received a quite wrong piece of advice, and that he must dissuade her from following it and give her proper directions. The loving mother, with troubled heart and eyes full of tears, embraced her daughter, and said with sorrowful voice, “O daughter, this is the last time that I shall see you.”
Viśākhā replied by way of admonition, “O mother, were you born here? Is not the maiden rather born in the house of her relatives? Is that house your home? Is it not rather this one here? Although I was born here, I shall live there. As that which unites undoubtedly underlies separation, be pleased not to wail but rather to keep silence.”
After that Mṛgadhara went his way.
Viśākhā and her husband with the attendants from her house went on board a ship. Soon afterwards a mare which had thrown a foal was to be brought on board the ship. As it felt that its foal would be restless on land, it resisted, and could not be got on board. This gave rise to much noise. When Viśākhā heard it she asked what was the cause. Being told how it arose, she gave directions that the foal should be brought on board first, in which case the mare would follow of its own accord. Her orders were obeyed, and the mare went on board. Mṛgadhara asked the men why they had come so late.
“Because the mare would not come on board.”
“Then how was it induced to come?”
“It did so after the Champā maiden had told us how to manage, and we had embarked the foal before the mare.”
“The Champā maiden is wise.”
On their way, the travellers had on one occasion chosen their quarters for the night, and Mṛgadhara’s tent was pitched under the projecting part of a hill. When Viśākhā saw it she asked to whom it belonged. “To Mṛgadhara,” [[116]]was the reply. “Move it away from there,” she said. “Why should it be moved?” “Because,” she replied, “if the projecting part of the hill were to fall while he was asleep, he would certainly be crushed to death. Then I should all my life be exposed to the annoyance of having people say that my husband married a wife, whose father-in-law died on the way before she entered his house.”