"My poor old mother did not taste even a drop of water the whole of the êkâdasi, (yesterday). Rice and hot water for a bath are ready. Pour a little of the water over your head, [88] pronounce one gâyatrî [89] and taste a handful of rice. Whatever may be the urgency of your business, oblige me for my poor mother's sake."
Thus spoke his friend, and Pâpabhîru, out of regard to his father's order never to spurn a morning meal, ran in haste into his friend's house to oblige him; the king's order all the while sitting heavily on his mind.
Meanwhile the minister was most anxious to hear the news of the Brâhmin's death, but was afraid to send any one to inquire about it, lest he should arouse suspicion. So he went himself to the east gate, as soon as the sun had risen, and asked the executioners, sitting by the side of the caldron, by way of a simple question: "Is the business all done?" And as they were instructed not to observe who the person was that came to question them, but to tie him up and boil him in the oil, they, notwithstanding his howls, bound him and threw him in. As soon as he was dead, they extinguished the fire, poured out the oil, turned over the caldron, corpse and all.
The Brâhmin finished his dvâdasi breakfast, in great haste, and, with the betel leaf still in his hand, ran to the gate to inquire of the persons seated by the caldron whether it was all done. When he put them the question, they smilingly replied:--
"Yes, Sir, it is all done. The minister is boiled to death. We gave full execution to the king's orders. You may go and report the affair to him."
The Brâhmin, not knowing the reason for the course events had taken, ran back and reported the reply of the executioners to the king. The minister's interference in the affair at once kindled suspicion in the king's mind. He unsheathed his scimitar, and holding it in his right hand, twisted the lock of hair on the Brâhmin's head into his left. He then asked him whether he had not tried to get his wife away from him the previous morning, and told him that, if he concealed the truth, he would make an end of him. The poor Brâhmin now confessed what he had seen, on which the king threw down the scimitar and fell down on his knees before him.