May my body be free from old age and pain of death; may I never be conquered in battle; may my empire last for a hundred aeons, all under my sole away, rid of every foe.”

“So be it, O king,” said the anchorite; “there is, however, one difficulty; hear what it is. Even Death shall bow down before your feet, O sovereign, with the sole exception of the race of Brahmans.

The Brahmans are ever mighty by the power of penance, and no one can protect men from their wrath. If you can reduce the Brahmans to your will, O king, then even Brahma, Vishnu and the great lord Shiva will be at your command.

Violence is of no avail against the Brahmans; with both arms raised to heaven I tell you this truth. Listen, O sovereign, if you can escape the Brahmans’ curse, you will never at any time perish.”

On hearing his words, the king rejoiced and said, “My lord, now I shall never perish; by your grace, O benevolent master, I shall be for ever blessed.”

“May it be so!” said the false anchorite, and added with crafty intent, “If you tell anyone how you lost your way and met with me, then the fault shall not be mine.

I warn you, O king, because great harm will come to you if you reveal it to anyone. If your adventure reaches a third pair of ears, I tell you, you are surely doomed.