The next day, after midday, Kishori's unconsciousness faded. She found herself lying on the ground amidst the thickets of a dense forest, and saw Kundan and several other people nearby. Poor Kishori, in just these few days, had already fallen into all manner of troubles; in fact, from the very moment she had left her home, she had not known a single moment of happiness, as though happiness was simply not her fate. If she escaped one calamity, she fell into another; freed from the second, she was ensnared by a third. Even now, she found herself in a wretched state. Though Kundan sat before her, she had not the slightest hope of any kindness from her. Moreover, seeing several other men there, and finding herself regaining consciousness after a spell of faintness, she became convinced that Kundan had betrayed her. The events of the night came back to her like a dream, and even now she could not be certain what sort of treatment awaited her.

For a while, she brooded over her misfortunes and prayed to God for death. At last, she was roused from her despair when Dhanpati (Kundan) called out to her, "Kishori, do not be afraid, no harm shall come to you."

Kishori: "I do not understand what you are saying. What you have already done—what greater harm could there be than that?"

Dhanpati: "Your life will not be taken; rather, wherever you are kept, you will be given every comfort."

Kishori: "Will Indrajit Singh be there as well?"

Dhanpati: "Yes, if you wish it."

Kishori (startled): "What did you say? If I wish it?"

Dhanpati: "Yes, that is the matter."

Kishori: "How?"

Dhanpati: "Write a letter addressed to Indrajit Singh and give it to me, and write in it whatever I tell you."

Kishori: "What must I write in it?"

Dhanpati: "Only this much—'If you care for me, then...'"

Without further thought, come with this man to me and give whatever is asked—otherwise, abandon all hope of meeting me again!"

Kishori (after thinking for a while): "I understand now what your intention is. No, that can never happen. I cannot write such a letter and put my beloved Indrajit Singh in danger."

Dhanpati: "Then you cannot escape by any means."

Kishori: "So be it."

Dhanpati: "In fact, you will lose your life as well."

Kishori: "So be it! For the sake of Indrajit Singh, I am ready to give my life."

Hearing this, Dhanpati (Kundan)'s face turned red with rage. Looking at her companions, she said, "Now I cannot let her go. I am helpless. Bind her hands and feet and give me a sword!" At her command, her companions cruelly tied up poor Kishori's hands and feet, and Dhanpati, taking a sword, advanced to behead Kishori. At that very moment, one of Dhanpati's companions said, "No, it would not be proper to kill her like this. We can quickly gather dry wood, pile it up, lay her on it, and burn her. She will be reduced to ashes, and even the wind will not carry any trace of her remains."

Dhanpati approved of this suggestion and ordered them to do so. The heartless scoundrels soon gathered a heap of dry wood from the forest. Kishori, helpless and bound hand and foot, was laid upon it. One of Dhanpati's companions took out a small torch from his pouch and lit it, handing it to Dhanpati. Kishori, her mouth gagged, saw, heard, and endured all this in silence. When Dhanpati, torch in hand, approached the pyre, Kishori cried out in a loud voice—

"O Agnidev, bear witness! For the love of Kunwar Indrajit Singh, I gladly give my life. I know well that your flames are not fiercer than the pain of separation from my beloved. I shall feel no suffering as my life leaves me. Dearest Indrajit! Do not grieve for me, but rather, forget me completely!"

Alas! Even these heart-rending words, spoken by poor Kishori, overflowing with love, could not soften the hearts of those cruel wretches. And the vile Kundan—no, Dhanpati—placed the torch upon the pyre.