King Vikramaditya returned to the Shishapa tree, brought down the corpse in which Vethala dwelt and placed it upon his shoulder. Then he set out once more through the dark cremation ground. As they went, Vethala began another story. “O King, listen carefully to this tale.”

In Varanasi there lived a wealthy Brahmin named Devasvami, who was honoured by the king. He had a son named Harisvami, whose wife was Lavanyavati. She was so beautiful that she seemed like a new creation of Brahma, made after he had perfected his art upon Tilottama and the other Apsaras.

One night, after spending a long time together, Harisvami and Lavanyavati fell asleep upon the upper terrace of their house. The night was bright with moonlight, and Lavanyavati lay sleeping beside her husband. At that time, a Vidyadhara prince named Madanavega happened to be travelling through the sky. When he saw Lavanyavati below, he was struck by her beauty and descended to the terrace.

Madanavega lifted the sleeping Lavanyavati and carried her away through the sky. A short while later, Harisvami awoke and reached for his wife, but she was gone. He searched the terrace, calling her name, but could not find her.

When he could not find her, his grief became unbearable. “O moon-faced Lavanyavati, where have you gone?” he cried. “The moon’s rays that were pleasant before now strike me like poisoned arrows.”

The whole night passed in lamentation, but the pain of separation did not pass with it. Morning came and the sun spread its light across the world, yet Harisvami remained lost in grief. His relatives gathered around him and tried to give him courage. “She is not dead,” they told him. “Do not lose hope. Search for her.”

After some days, Harisvami gave away all his wealth to Brahmins and decided to wander from one sacred place to another. “I shall go to the holy places,” he thought. Leaving his former life behind, he set out as a poor pilgrim.

He travelled for a long time, and at last the terrible heat of summer came upon the land. The sun burned fiercely overhead, ponds dried beneath its heat, and the trees stood stripped of leaves. Harisvami continued on, worn down by the heat, the long road and his sorrow for Lavanyavati.

One day, weak with hunger and exhaustion, he reached a village. At the house of a Brahmin who performed Vedic sacrifices, many Brahmins were seated and eating their meal. Harisvami came to the doorway and stood there silently. He was so tired that he could do little more than wait.

The Brahmin’s wife saw him standing at the door and gave him a plate of payasa, rich with milk and ghee. “Take this and eat it beside the tank,” she said.

Harisvami thanked her and carried the food to a nearby tank, where a banyan tree stood upon the bank. He placed the plate beneath the tree and went down to the water. There he drank, washed his hands and performed achamana before returning to his meal.

In the banyan tree above was a black snake. While Harisvami was away washing, poison fell from the snake’s mouth into the payasa. Harisvami did not notice what had happened.

Tormented by hunger, he ate the payasa. Soon a terrible burning spread through his body, and he understood that he had been poisoned. “When fate turns against a man, what will not turn against him?” he cried.

Stumbling back to the Brahmin’s house, Harisvami found the woman who had fed him. “O Brahmani,” he said, “the food you gave me has poisoned me. Quickly bring someone who knows the mantras that cure poison. Otherwise, the sin of killing a Brahmin will fall upon you.”

The woman immediately tried to find someone who could save him. Before help could be brought, however, the poison overcame Harisvami and he died. Her husband believed that his guest had died because of the food his wife had given him. In anger, he drove her from the house, and she went away to sacred places and devoted herself to penance.

When he had finished the tale, Vethala asked Vikramaditya, “O King, Harisvami died from poison after receiving food at the Brahmin’s house. Tell me, then: upon whom does the sin of his death fall? If you know the answer and remain silent, your head shall split into a hundred pieces.”

Vikramaditya replied, “The fault belongs to the one who knowingly accuses any of these innocent people. None of them was guilty of Harisvami’s death.”

As soon as Vikramaditya had spoken, Vethala slipped from his shoulder and returned to the Shishapa tree. Vikramaditya turned back and went after him once again.