On that fateful day, in the heart of the city, a man was paraded through the streets atop a donkey, a spectacle for all to see. The sight of him, so transformed and disgraced, caused a woman who delighted in happiness to faint at the very sight. Undeterred, the man approached the king and boldly declared, “The five hundred thousand in wealth is mine.” The king, amused by this claim, laughed and replied, “This is a thief, a plunderer of wealth.” Hearing the king’s words, the thief was overcome with despair and met his end. In that very moment, the thief’s daughter was swept up in the power of divine illusion. Yet, pleased with their devotion, the goddess Durgā, in her compassion, granted them long life by her favor. Having witnessed these events, the king spoke again, smiling, and pondered aloud, “What should I give to her, who is so affectionate toward me?” He continued, “Therefore, I wept afterwards—listen to the reason for my laughter. One who is unrighteous is not worthy to receive the fruit of heaven. That is why I laughed at first, deluded by Hari’s divine play. Because of that, I spoke harsh words, and thus the pure one was saved alive.” O King, in those days there was a delightful city named Puṣpāvatī, where a noble king resided. His queen, Candraprabhā, was graced with beauty and youth. One day, she ventured with her friends into a grove rich with flowers. Enchanted by the surroundings, the queen was suddenly overcome, and a Brāhmaṇa who was present also fell to the ground. When the queen returned home, two Brāhmaṇas arrived to see her. Among them was one, youthful and handsome, who caught everyone’s attention. Upon hearing of the events, he wept and revealed everything that had transpired. In the house, he recited the great mantra, joined with the seed-syllable of Cāmuṇḍā. There was a single maiden in the house, beautiful and auspicious, just twelve years old. The two Brāhmaṇas went to the royal palace and offered their blessings to the king. Meanwhile, the son and wife, having fled, came together to search for their loved ones. One of the Brāhmaṇas entrusted the maiden to a woman, saying, “Until I return to my own house, protect her righteously.” With that, the twice-born departed for his home. In the quiet of night, Sudeva spoke to the woman without fear. She confessed, “Sudeva, the best of Brahmins, is always in my heart.” Sudeva replied, “O Subhū, if you desire the best of Brahmins, I shall always be your servant, O twice-born lady.” Moved by her words, Sudeva gently removed the device from her mouth. O king, after four months, the woman became pregnant. Meanwhile, the minister’s son was captivated by the form of the Brahmin woman. Out of affection, the minister deliberated at length with the wise, seeking counsel in his heart. The minister’s son spent three months wandering the region of holy places. Driven by desire and languid from love, he finally embraced the king’s beloved, who herself was overcome by passion. Sudeva, having assumed human form, went to the house of Mūladeva. Mūladeva, pleased at heart, had a friend named Śaśin. After reporting all that had happened to the king, he requested, “Give me the bride, O king.” The minister, named Rājakara, had a son called Madanālasa. Yet, because of separation from his own son, the minister found himself in a state of sorrow and longing.