How could any other man touch the hand of one whose mind is unwavering, when that hand has already been taken by the son of a sage, by a sage himself, or by you? A brahmin, when angered, is more fearsome than a serpent filled with deadly poison or a fire blazing on every side—especially so to a man of wisdom. You may wonder, “How is it that a brahmin is more difficult to withstand than a venomous serpent or a raging fire?” Listen, best of men: a poisonous serpent can bite only one, and a weapon can strike down only one, but an enraged brahmin has the power to destroy entire kingdoms, even those that have stood since ancient times. Therefore, I say to you, gentle one, that a brahmin is indeed more formidable. It was for this reason that your father did not give you to me, and thus, I do not take you as my wife. Instead, accept me as given by your father; you, O king, have been chosen by me. There is no cause for fear in the one who receives a maiden given, nor in the one who accepts her. At Devayānī’s command, her nurse quickly went and reported all that had happened to her father, without omission. Hearing everything, the sage Bhargava came to the king. When Yayāti, lord of the earth, saw the brahmin arrive, he greeted him with deep reverence, palms joined and head bowed. The brahmin Kavi addressed the king with gentle and pleasing words. “Father,” Devayānī said, “this king, son of Nahusha, has taken my hand in a difficult situation. I bow to you—give me to him, for I choose no other husband in this world.” Kavi then spoke, “O hero, this daughter of mine, whom I cherish, has chosen you as her husband. Accept her, given by me, as your queen, O son of Nahusha.” Yayāti replied, “If I were to act otherwise, O Bhargava, sin would touch both me and her, for it would be a mixing of classes. Therefore, I accept you.” The sage responded, “From unrighteousness I release you; choose any boon you desire. In this marriage you are to be praised, and I remove your secret sin. Take Devayānī, pure and smiling, as your wife in righteousness; with her, attain a happiness without equal. But know this: the maiden Śarmiṣṭhā, daughter of Vṛṣaparvan, must always be honored by you, O King, but you must not summon her to your bed.” Thus instructed, Yayāti circumambulated the great sage Śukra and, with his blessing, returned joyfully to his own city. Upon reaching his splendid city, which shone like the city of Indra, Yayāti entered his inner chambers and settled Devayānī there as his queen. With Devayānī’s consent, he built a house for Śarmiṣṭhā, daughter of Vṛṣaparvan, near the Aśoka grove, and settled her there. Śarmiṣṭhā, the daughter of the Asura, was attended by a thousand maidservants and was well provided with garments, food, and drink—she was cared for in every way. Thereafter, the king, son of Nahusha, spent many joyful years with Devayānī, as if he were in the gardens of the gods. When the proper season arrived, Devayānī, radiant and beautiful, conceived and gave birth to a son. After a thousand years had passed, Śarmiṣṭhā, daughter of Vṛṣaparvan, reached the bloom of youth and, lotus-eyed, came into her season. The virtuous and radiant Śarmiṣṭhā reflected, “My season has come, but I have no husband. What has happened? What can I do? How can I find happiness? Devayānī has given birth, while I have reached youth in vain. As she chose a husband, so too will I choose. The king should grant me the fruit of a son—this is my firm resolve. Perhaps now that righteous one will come to me in private.” It happened then that the king, as he was passing by the Aśoka grove, came upon Śarmiṣṭhā and was astonished to see her. Seeing the king alone, Śarmiṣṭhā approached him with a lovely smile, made reverence with joined palms, and spoke: “O son of Nahusha, in your house, who—be it Soma, Indra, Vāyu, Yama, or Varuṇa—has the right to look upon a woman? O king, you have always known me—my beauty, my lineage, my character. Therefore, I beseech you, be gracious and unite with me here, O lord of men.” Yayāti replied, “I know you to be a virtuous daughter of the Daityas, blameless in conduct. I cannot find even the smallest fault in your beauty. Yet, when I married Devayānī, Śukra told me: ‘This daughter of Vṛṣaparvan must not be summoned by you to your bed.’” Śarmiṣṭhā answered, “O king, words spoken in jest do not bring harm—nor do they among women, nor at the time of marriage, in mortal danger, or when all wealth is lost; these five falsehoods are said to be without sin. When questioned as witnesses, people may speak otherwise; their words may not be truthful. But when united in purpose, one who speaks falsely injures truth. The king is the authority among beings; if he speaks untruth, he perishes. Even when facing hardship for wealth, he should not act falsely. There are two opinions, O King: the husband is both a friend and a lord. Marriage is equality; you are my friend because you are my husband. It is my vow to give to one who asks; now you are asking me for pleasure. Tell me, what shall I do for you? Save me from unrighteousness, O King, and establish righteousness. By you, may I bear offspring and practice the highest dharma in the world. There are three who are without wealth, O King: wife, servant, and son. Whatever they acquire belongs to the one to whom they belong; that is his wealth. I am to be enjoyed by you, O Bhārgava, and am under your control. Both Devayānī and I must be maintained by you, O King; accept me.” Hearing these words, the king acknowledged their truth and honored Śarmiṣṭhā, establishing righteousness as was proper.