When the king of Vatsa had heard this wonderful story from Vasantaka, he was exceedingly delighted and so was the queen Vásavadattá. And the king was never weary day or night of contemplating the moon-like face of the pregnant queen. And as days went on, there were born to all of his ministers in due course sons with auspicious marks, who heralded approaching good fortune. First there was born to Yaugandharáyana, the chief minister, a son Marubhúti by name. Then Rumanvat had a son called Harisikha, and to Vasantaka there was born a son named Tapantaka. And to the head-warder called Nityodita, whose other title was Ityaka, [359] there was born a son named Gomukha. And after they were born a great feast took place, and during it a bodiless voice was heard from heaven--"These ministers shall crush the race of the enemies of the son of the king of Vatsa here, the future universal emperor. And as days went by, the time drew near for the birth of the child, with which the queen Vásavadattá was destined to present the king of Vatsa, and she repaired to the ornamented lying-in-chamber, which was prepared by matrons having sons, and the windows of which were covered with arka and samí plants. The room was hung with various weapons, rendered auspicious by being mixed with the gleam of jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze [360] able to protect the child; and secured by conjurers who went through innumerable charms and spells and other incantations, so that it became a fortress of the matrons hard for calamity to storm, and there she brought forth in good time a prince of lovely aspect, as the heaven brings forth the moon from which stream pure nectarous rays. The child, when born, not only irradiated that room, but the heart also of that mother from which the darkness of grief had departed; then, as the delight of the inmates of the harem was gradually extended, the king heard of the birth of a son from the people who were admitted to it; the reason he did not give his kingdom in his delight to the person, who announced it, was, that he was afraid of committing an impropriety, not that he was avaricious. And so the king, suddenly coming to the harem with longing mind, beheld his son, and his hope bore fruit after a long delay. The child had a long red lower lip like a leaf, beautiful flowing hair like wool, and his whole face was like the lotus, which the goddess of the Fortune of empire carries for her delight. He was marked on his soft feet with umbrellas and chowries, as if the Fortunes of other kings had beforehand abandoned their badges in his favour, out of fear. Then, while the king shed with tearful eye, that swelled with the pressure of the fulness of the weight of his joy, drops that seemed to be drops of paternal affection, [361] and the ministers with Yaugandharáyana at their head rejoiced, a voice was heard from heaven at that time to the following effect: