At this, the king is at a loss. His heart melts at the tender cries of
the women. He extinguishes the flame with his weapon dedicated to
Varuna, the god of the waters.

The three ladies are the three arts of creation, preservation and
destruction. They, thus delivered, go away to Heaven, showering
blessings of victory on their deliverer.

The meditations of the dreadful sage Viswamitra are thus broken off. His
eyes are red with anger. Seeing Harischandra standing before him he
cries out, "Oh wretch of a Kshattriya! I will burn you up as Siva did
the god of love."

The king is at a loss. He trembles as a plantain tree tossed up by
tempest. He touches the feet of the sage and most piteously begs pardon
of him.

But the sage is obdurate. He will not be appeased. He is about to
consume the offender with imprecation.

The Raja again and again implores him thus:--

"My lord Kausika! Forgive me. I was touched by the piteous appeals of
the women and disturbed you for the sake of duty."

At this, the sage becomes still more furious and says trembling, "O
Villain! speak of duty! What is your duty?"

The king replies,