She is the daughter of Dantavaktra, the king of Karnata. Recognizing you by the sign of the flower, I will bring you to her presence. “Give the order, O king; I will go to Karnata,” said the messenger. “I will go—there is no doubt—if you wish your son to live.” Without delay, they mounted horses and swiftly made their way to the city of Dantavaktra. The wise Buddhidaksha offered the woman much wealth for her help. At dawn the next day, the old woman went to the royal palace. When she found Padmavati alone, she delivered my message: “A handsome man, seen for your sake, has come here.” Padmavati, her fingers still moist with sandalwood paste, grew angry at these words. Touching her cheeks with her fingers, she left and went home in silence. Meanwhile, a sorrowful friend was comforted: “Listen, friend, abandon your grief. For your sake, my chest was struck—when will you become my friend? At the end of my menstruation, O friend, I kissed your face.” After three days had passed, the old woman, now aged, returned and reported these events to Padmavati, urging her, “Unite with him today, O lovely-hipped one, and make your life fruitful.” But Padmavati, enraged, expelled the old woman through the window door, striking her on her back and below. Yet Mitra, pleased and clever, said, “Listen, O friend! Arrive at midnight and enjoy me, who am overcome with desire.” The great lover, swift and eager, went to her and delighted the woman. He spoke tenderly to his beloved Padmavati: “Hear my words, beautiful-faced one.” Buddhidaksha, ever attentive, asked, “Where is she now?” But when he heard the reply, harsh as a thunderbolt, Buddhidaksha, devoted to the worship of Chitragupta, was shaken. Meanwhile, the king arrived, filled with urgency, and asked, “Why have you not eaten, friend, the food prepared by my beloved?” After eating, the friend met his death; seeing this, the king was astonished. “Friend, go home quickly; the sinful woman has been abandoned by me,” he urged. “Bring that ornament and place the trident at her knee.” Hearing these instructions, the king went, did as he was told, and returned. Assuming the form of a yogi, he made that king his disciple, adorning him as an ornament. Believing himself crowned with a thunderous diadem, the king went to the city, following that command. The news was swiftly reported, and Dantavaktra spoke to him. The matted-haired one said, “O King, my guru is staying in the cremation ground.” Hearing this, the king immediately summoned that guru. In the cremation ground, I established the mantra, taking the form of a yogi. With a trident at her left knee, she gave the ornament. The king, crowned with a thunderous diadem, took it and returned home. Then came the question: “To whom has great sin come among the four? Tell me now.” Sūta said: Hearing these words, the king named Vikrama—smiling—said to Bhārgava, “Sin has indeed come to the king.