Knowing that the time was propitious for Pratapabhanu and that his own star was in the decline, he was very disheartened and refused to return home, for he was too proud to come to terms with the king.

The prince nursed his wrath in his heart and lived in the forest like a beggar in the garb of an anchorite. It was to him that the king went, and he immediately recognized him as Pratapabhanu.

Overcome by thirst, the king, however, could not recognize the prince, but looking only at his holy garb, took him to be some great sage and, dismounting, made obeisance to him. He was, however, wise enough not to declare his name.

Seeing the king to be thirsty, the hermit showed him a fine lake, and the king gladly bathed in it and drank of it, both he and his horse.

Rid of all his fatigue, the king heaved a sigh of relief. The hermit took him back to his own hermitage; and, perceiving that it was sunset now, he gave him a seat and then addressed him in courteous tones:

“Who are you, and why, thus young and handsome, do you risk your life by wandering alone in the forest? You have all the marks of an emperor on your person, and the sight of you awakens my sincere compassion.

“Listen, great sage,” said the king, “there is a monarch called Pratapabhanu and I am his minister. I lost my way while hunting and by great good fortune have been led into your presence.