O goddess, listen to the wondrous tale that unfolded. The sage Gauramukha, filled with reverence, praised the Supreme Lord, saying, "O Lord, you are Bhū, you are Bhuvaḥ; you are Jana and Mahaḥ. You are the essence of tapas and truth, and within you resides all that moves and does not move. From you, this entire world has arisen; the Ṛg and other Vedas have sprung from you. All scriptures and sacrifices find their origin in you. Trees, herbs, forest plants, cattle, birds, and serpents—all are born from you, O Janārdana." Then, the sage spoke of his predicament, "O Lord of gods, a king named Durjaya has come as my guest. I wish to offer him proper hospitality. Today, O Lord of gods, I am poor and bowed in devotion. Please grant me a supply of food. Whatever I touch with my hand, whatever I see with my eyes—be it tree, grass, or root—may all that become the four kinds of food. And whatever else I contemplate in my mind, let all that be accomplished for me. Salutations to you, Supreme Lord." Pleased by these praises, the Lord of gods, Keśava, revealed his divine form to the sage. With grace in his heart, he said, "Speak, O brāhmaṇa, choose the highest boon." Hearing this, the sage slowly opened his eyes and beheld Janārdana, holding conch and mace, clad in yellow garments, radiant, seated upon Garuḍa, shining with the brilliance of twelve suns. Indeed, if a thousand suns rose at once in the sky, that would rival the radiance of the great soul before him. In that sacred moment, the sage saw the entire universe, divided in countless ways, all in one place, his eyes wide with wonder. Bowing his head, palms joined, he spoke, "If the Lord grants me a boon, O Keśava, let it be for your devotee. May this king, with his army and vehicles, having been fed in my hermitage, return to his own home tomorrow." Thus addressed, the Lord of gods became the granter of boons. He bestowed upon the sage mastery of the mind and a jewel of great brilliance. Having given these gifts, the god vanished, and the sage Gauramukha returned to his sacred hermitage, surrounded by many seers. There, the foremost of Brahmins envisioned a house shaped like the peak of the Himalayas, towering like a great cloud, shining like the rays of the moon, and having a hundred stories. Then, empowered by Vishnu's boon, the Brahmin created thousands, hundreds of millions, of such houses in every way. Around them, he fashioned walls and gardens, filled with the calls of cuckoos and noble birds, and planted with campaka, ashoka, punnaga, naga, and kesara trees. Within these house-gardens grew trees of many kinds, and there were stables for elephants and stalls for horses. The Brahmin made stores of all kinds of foods: things to eat, enjoy, lick, and suck, in many varieties, and heaps of cooked rice, all in vessels of gold. Having prepared all this, the Brahmin said to the king of great splendor, "Let all your armies enter the houses." Thus addressed, the king entered the house, massive as a mountain, and his attendants quickly followed into the inner parts. Once they had entered, sage Gauramukha took up the divine jewel and spoke to the king, "For your bathing, eating, and relief from the fatigue of the journey, O king, I will send maidens and servants to you." Having spoken, he placed the auspicious Vaishnava jewel in a secluded spot before the king. As soon as the pure, radiant jewel was placed, thousands of women of divine form appeared. They were most delicate, with beautiful limbs, lovely cheeks, charming bodies, fine hair, and beautiful eyes; some took up golden vessels and set forth. Groups of women and male attendants, all the king's servants, emerged, bringing food and all kinds of garments. These women quickly gave baths to all the servants, on the royal road, and also to the men, horses, and elephants. Various musical instruments were played; as the king bathed, other women danced and sang, just as when Indra bathes in his heavenly abode. Thus, attended with divine service, the great-minded king bathed. Filled with wonder, he thought, "Is this the power of the sage, or of austerity, or of the jewel?" After bathing, he donned auspicious and excellent garments and, following the prescribed manner, enjoyed various kinds of food. As the great sage performed worship for the king, he also honored the king’s attendants. While the king, his attendants, army, and vehicles were eating, the sun, glowing with a reddish hue, moved toward the mountain of setting. Then night arrived, adorned with the bright autumn moon and shining stars. The moon, consort of Rohini, spread a gentle radiance, harmoniously blending with its mild qualities. The illustrious Bhrigu, along with the lord of the gods and the preceptor of the demons, rose with the dark-rayed sun; but when they entered the lunar fortnight, they did not shine, and by their inherent nature, the minds of embodied beings are influenced. The son of the earth relinquishes his deep redness, and Rahu, pale, is released by the moon’s bright rays; the natural disposition of the world, among gods and demons, is followed, and the virtuous king is powerful by his own nature. In the circle of rays called 'lord of the white,' pure as the grinding stone of the sun’s doctrine, the comet does not cause great darkness; at that time, the movement among the skilled is clear. The son of the king, illuminating the world with his own deeds, shone with intelligence heightened by Mercury’s rise; the desire of the attendants, long fostered by proximity, surely finds agreement among the virtuous. Thus, O goddess, was the king Durjaya honored and nourished by the sage's devotion and the grace of the Supreme Lord.