'Then Mahaçveta beat her breast with a bitter cry, saying: "Thou didst keep thy love for me through another birth, Pundarika; I was all the world to thee; and yet, like a demon, born for thy destruction even in a fresh life, I have received length of years but to slay thee again and again. (576) Even in thee, methinks, coldness must now have sprung up towards one so ill-fated, in that thou answerest not my laments;" and she flung herself on the ground. But Kapiñjala pityingly replied: "Thou art blameless, princess, and joy is at hand. Grieve not, therefore, but pursue the penance undertaken by thee; for to perfect penance naught is impossible, and by the power of thine austerities thou shalt soon be in the arms of my friend."
'(577) Then Kadambari asked Kapiñjala what had become of Patralekha when she plunged with him into the tank. But he knew naught of what had happened since then, either to her, or his friend, or Candrapida, and rose to the sky to ask the sage Çvetaketu, Pundarika's father, to whom everything in the three worlds was visible.
'(577-578) Then Mahaçveta counselled Kadambari, whose love to her was drawn the closer from the likeness of her sorrow, that she should spend her life in ministering to the body of Candrapida, nothing doubting that while others, to gain good, worshipped shapes of wood and stone that were but images of invisible gods, she ought to worship the present deity, veiled under the name of Candrapida. Laying his body tenderly on a rock, Kadambari put off the adornments with which she had come to meet her lover, keeping but one bracelet as a happy omen. She bathed, put on two white robes, rubbed off the deep stain of betel from her lips, (579) and the very flowers, incense, and unguents she had brought to grace a happy love she now offered to Candrapida in the worship due to a god. That day and night she spent motionless, holding the feet of the prince, and on the morrow she joyfully saw that his brightness was unchanged, (581) and gladdened her friends and the prince's followers by the tidings. (582) The next day she sent Madalekha to console her parents, and they sent back an assurance that they had never thought to see her wed, and that now they rejoiced that she had chosen for her husband the incarnation of the moon-god himself. They hoped, when the curse was over, to behold again her lotus-face in the company of their son-in-law. (583) So comforted, Kadambari remained to tend and worship the prince's body. Now, when the rainy season was over, Meghanada came to Kadambari, and told her that messengers had been sent by Tarapida to ask the cause of the prince's delay, (584) and that he, to spare her grief, had told them the whole story, and bade them hasten to tell all to the king. They, however, had replied that this might doubtless be so; yet, to say nothing of their hereditary love for the prince, the desire to see so great a marvel urged them to ask to be allowed to behold him; their long service deserved the favour; and what would the king say if they failed to see Candrapida's body? (585) Sorrowfully picturing to herself what the grief of Tarapida would be, Kadambari admitted the messengers, (586) and as they tearfully prostrated themselves, she consoled them, saying that this was a cause for joy rather than sorrow. "Ye have seen the prince's face, and his body free from change; therefore hasten to the king's feet. Yet do not spread abroad this story, but say that ye have seen the prince, and that he tarries by the Acchoda Lake. For death must come to all, and is easily believed; but this event, even when seen, can scarce win faith. It profits not now, therefore, by telling this to his parents, to create in them a suspicion of his death; but when he comes to life again, this wondrous tale will become clear to them." (587) But they replied: "Then we must either not return or keep silence. But neither course is possible; nor could we so greet the sorrowing king." She therefore sent Candrapida's servant Tvaritaka with them, to give credit to the story, for the prince's royal retinue had all taken a vow to live there, eating only roots and fruits, and not to return till the prince himself should do so.