Note 3 — Chapter LXXVIII · (Vetála 4.)

When Víravara heard that, he said, “I will do so,” and set out thence with his dagger in his belt, and his sword in his hand. He looked upon the world as a Rákshasa black with fresh clouds, having the lightning flashing from them by way of an eye, raining large drops of rain instead of stones. And king Śúdraka, seeing him starting alone on such a night, and being penetrated with pity and curiosity, came down from the top of the palace, and taking his sword, set out close behind him, alone and unobserved. And Víravara went on persistently in the direction of the weeping, and reached a tank outside the city, and saw there that woman in the middle of the water uttering this lament, “Hero! merciful man! Generous man! How can I live without you?” And Víravara, who was followed by the king, said with astonishment, “Who are you, and why do you thus weep?”—Then she answered him, “Dear Víravara, know that I am this earth, and king Śúdraka is now my righteous lord, but on the third day from this his death will take place, and whence shall I obtain such another lord? So I am grieved, and bewail both him and myself.”3 When Víravara heard this, he said, like one alarmed, “Is there then, goddess, any expedient to prevent the death of this king, who is the protecting amulet of the world?”