First, it is said that when judging an offense, one must carefully consider the presence or absence of virtue and the degree of fault. If the fault outweighs the virtue, then punishment should be imposed on the offender, with severity or leniency—or even a fine—according to what is appropriate. Now, as the night deepened, a terrible demoness, the very flower of the demon clan's forest, let out a deep, thunderous roar that echoed like a streak of cloud in the darkness. When her roar faded, she uttered harsh, piercing words, their shrillness reminiscent of the crack of lightning that follows thunder. She called out, “Hey! Hey! Moon and sun, rulers of the wild forest sky-path; you worms dwelling in the dark hollows of the great illusion’s seat—who are you two? Are you wise or foolish, that you have entered the path of my prey? You seem to be experts in death, if only for a moment! Hey! Hey! Spirit, what are you? Where does your little body stand? Show your face, let your voice be heard—who fears the buzzing of a bee?” She continued, “Like lions, those who seek their aim rush forward with all their strength. You, with your equal form and sound, try to frighten me—but why? For those who delay, nothing succeeds but their own destruction.” When the word ‘king’ was spoken, the demoness found it pleasant to hear; restless as she was, she roared and laughed. Then, by the flood of radiance from her laughter, the two heroes saw her clearly as her sound filled all directions. She appeared like a fragment of a cloud from a bygone age, as if she had scraped the edge of a mountain. Her garment blazed with flashes from the circles of lightning that danced in her own eyes. Her neck was thick and dark as a mass of thunderclouds, and she seemed like swirling flames rising from an ocean of darkness. Her fierce face echoed with the cries of slain night-dwellers, and before her, the sky seemed enlivened as if with pillars of black collyrium. Her hair bristled, her limbs were veined, her eyes tawny, and her form was composed of darkness itself—she inspired great fear even among yakṣas, rākṣasas, and piśācas. Her mouth gaped like a mountain cave, terrifying with the roar of wind; her forehead bore a pestle and mortar, and she wore a plough and winnowing basket as her crown. She shimmered like a peak of beryl at the end of an age, her laughter shaking the lords of the universe, appearing as if the Night of Time itself had arisen. She seemed as if the dense, cloud-filled forest of the sky had taken on a body and arrived—a night so massive and fleshy, endowed with a corporeal form. Her body looked as though it had risen from a seat of mud, as if darkness itself, seeking shelter, had assumed a body to wage war against the moon and sun. Her two breasts, dark as sapphire mountain slopes and resembling a pair of hanging rainclouds, were adorned with pestle and plough. Her great, naked body glowed with embers, and her limbs swayed like the branches of a tree stirred by the wind. Yet, upon seeing her, the two mighty heroes remained unmoved; for nothing can cause delusion in those whose minds are detached. One of them addressed her, saying, “O great rakshasi, is this anger of yours merely laughter? Women are either light-hearted or, even in their lightness, excessively agitated. Abandon anger; this agitation does not suit you. Wise people act in the world only to accomplish their own purpose. Thousands like you, O powerless one, are as insignificant to us as flies. Our strong tendencies sweep them away like grass and leaves. Casting off the fever of anger, with a calm mind and practical reasoning, the wise person accomplishes his aim. Let the task be accomplished by your own action, O Mathava; for under the rule of great destiny, when is there room for confusion? Speak what you desire; what do you seek, O petitioner? Even in dreams, we never pursue what is unattainable.” Hearing these words, the demoness thought to herself, “Ah! Truly, how pure is the conduct and character of these lion-like men. I do not consider these two to be ordinary; this wonder is truly remarkable. Their words, voices, and glances alone reveal their inner resolve. Through the gateways of words, speech, and glances, the intentions of the wise become united with each other, just as the waters of rivers merge through their channels. By these two, my own disposition has been mostly discerned; and by me, theirs. These two are not to be destroyed by me, nor am I by them, for we are all inherently indestructible. I think these two possess self-knowledge; without self-knowledge, there is no true understanding. When the sense of existence and non-existence is cleansed, fear of death ceases. Therefore, I shall ask these two about a certain doubt that has arisen. Those who, having attained the opportunity, do not inquire about anything are the lowest of men.” Having thus reflected, she composed herself, restraining her untimely, cloud-like laughter, and spoke at the right moment: “Who are you two, O sinless and heroic men? Please tell me. For, upon seeing those with pure hearts, friendship arises at once.” The reply came: “This king is the ruler of the Kiratas, and I have attained the position of his minister; we are engaged in night patrols to restrain people like you. The king’s duty, day and night, is to subdue wicked beings; but those who abandon their own duty become fuel for the fire of destruction.” Then, addressing her further, they said, “You are a misguided minister to the king, and because of your poor counsel, this Arada has come; a good minister belongs to a virtuous king, and a king becomes noble through wise ministers. At first, the king should be guided with discernment by a wise minister; through this, he attains nobility—just as is the king, so are his subjects. The highest knowledge of the Self is the collection of all virtues; likewise, a king should be a true king, and a minister should be one who knows counsel. Authority and impartial vision arise from royal wisdom; whoever does not know this is neither a minister nor a ruler.