In the midst of a gathering of wise souls, a wandering mendicant was observed—one who, though restrained, lived among householders devoted to desire in the village. Such a mendicant, it was said, reaches the foremost position between the two paths of renunciation and worldly life. If a person, born without attaining a long life, engages in improper conduct and is tormented by austerity, he should seek another form of penance to purify himself. Indeed, a man who constantly fears sinful deeds, even while performing pleasant actions, ultimately attains supreme happiness. It was also declared that whatever is cruel is false, and one who serves righteousness with a mind set only on gain is likened to a powerless horse—his straightforwardness, concentration, and nobility are lacking. Then, a king was asked, “By whom have you been called? Who has sent you here? Young, garlanded, handsome, radiant—where have you come from, from which direction, or do you possess royal status?” The king replied, “The guardians of the worlds and brahmins urge me onward.” He spoke of the virtuous path as a precipice, where all who gather are endowed with virtues. A boon had been granted to him by Indra, and as he was about to fall to the earth, he pleaded, “I ask you, do not let me fall into the abyss. If there are worlds for me here, whether in the sky or established in heaven, I consider you the knower of that field of righteousness.” He was assured, “As many cows and horses as are established on earth, along with wild animals and mountains, so many worlds are established for you in heaven—know this, O lion among kings. I give them to you—do not fall into the abyss. The worlds that are mine in heaven, O lord of kings, whether in the sky or established in heaven, quickly ascend to them, freed from delusion.” Yet, the king reflected, “No one like me, who is not a brahmin or knower of Brahman, accepts gifts, O foremost of kings. As it is always to be given to the twice-born, so I have given before, O King. A non-brahmin, a miserable man, should never live, nor should his non-brahmin wife, even if she is a hero’s wife. I would never act in a way not done before, seeking to know what is right—how could that be good?” Again, he asked, “O one of desirable form—I am Pratardana—if there are worlds for me, whether in the sky or established in heaven, I consider you the knower of the field of that righteousness.” He was assured, “There are many worlds for you, O King—even each one for seven days and nights—dripping with honey, mixed with ghee, free from sorrow; they are endless and await you. I give them to you—do not fall into the abyss—the worlds that are mine, let them be yours. Whether they are in the sky or established in heaven, quickly ascend to them, freed from delusion.” He was cautioned, “A king should not desire the prosperity of one whose power is not equal, even if he is righteous, O King. When misfortune comes by fate, the wise king should never act cruelly. A king striving on the righteous path, seeking fame, should act with an eye to righteousness; one who knows righteousness as I do should not act in such a pitiable way toward me as you have suggested. One should not do what has never been done before by others, merely out of desire; what virtue is there in that? One should act with careful discernment between righteousness and unrighteousness, and be vigilant regarding what ought and ought not to be done.” He proclaimed, “He who is wise, truthful, self-controlled, and a king—he becomes a protector of the world by his greatness. When there is doubt in matters of righteousness, or where desire and gain are equally present, in such cases, the work of righteousness should be undertaken first; that is righteousness which does not conflict with desire or gain.” Then another questioned, “O wealthy one, possessor of healing herbs, is there a world in heaven for me, O king? If there is one established in the sky, O great-souled one, I consider you the knower of the field of that righteousness.” He was told, “Whatever space, earth, and directions there are, and the sun who shines by your brilliance—so many worlds are established in heaven, and by that, the finite beings are sustained. I give you those worlds; do not fall into ruin. Whatever worlds are mine, let them be yours. Buy them even with a blade of grass, O king, if your acceptance is not tainted, O wise one.” The king replied, “I do not recall ever making a false sale, nor have I ever taken anything in vain, fearing the reproach of children. Nor would I do what has not been done before by others, merely out of desire; what virtue is there in that?” He was urged, “You, O king, accept those worlds which I have given; if you do not desire the price, let it be so. I will not take them back, O king; let all those worlds be yours.” Another declared, “I am Śibi, son of Uśīnara; if there are worlds for me here, O dear one, whether they are in the sky or established in heaven, I consider you the knower of the field of that righteousness.” Because Śibi had not disdained the good, either in word or in heart, when they sought him, he was granted infinite worlds established in heaven, vast and resounding like thunderclouds. He was told, “You, O king, accept those worlds which I have given; if you do not desire the price, let it be so. Nor will I accept them back after giving, where the steadfast go and do not grieve.” As Śibi possessed power like Indra and the worlds were infinite, he declared, “Today I do not delight in a gift received from another; therefore, O Śibi, I do not welcome the share.” Yet, if the worlds were not accepted one by one, all those who had given would go to hell. Śibi replied, “Whatever I am worthy of, let that be given, O virtuous ones who rejoice in truth. I do not know of anything done by me before that would entitle me to this.” Someone asked, “To whom do these five golden chariots appear? Mounting them, a man desires the eternal worlds.” The five golden chariots, shining high and bright, blazing like tongues of fire, were declared to be for the king. In the great sacrifice of the horse, the Aśvamedha, ordained of old by the Self-born, all the limbs of the horse were gathered together in due order. The Hotṛ, Adhvaryu, Udgātṛ, and Brahman, together with all sixteen officiating priests, duly offered oblations into the fire. Even the most sinful men on earth who inhaled the scent of the smoke became purified and freed from sin in that very instant. Meanwhile, Mādhavī, rich in austerity, covered her body with a deerskin and wrapped herself in the hide. Moving about with the deer, living as they did, she entered the sacrificial enclosure with the herds of deer, greatly astonished. Smelling the scent of the smoke, she wandered there with the deer, roaming the sacrificial ground, and saw her sons, now defeated. Witnessing the greatness of the sacrifice, Mādhavī felt joy and saw Yayāti, son of Nahusha, not touching the earth. Thus, in this sacred assembly, the wisdom of righteousness, the granting of worlds, and the transformative power of sacrifice were revealed, and those who sought virtue and truth were uplifted and purified, their destinies entwined with the celestial realms.