Chapter II: Part 2

"To this proposal he will be sure to agree, and you may go to his house without fear, for I will accompany you, disguised as a woman, and will manage to kill that wretch, without danger to you or myself, after which there will be no obstacle to our marriage; for, when I ask your father, he will certainly consent, seeing the great love between us, for he has shown great regard for me, and knows my property and connections. But you must tell him now what has been arranged between us, that he may be induced to spread abroad the report about the demon, and to consent to your going to Dâruvarma's house."

Bâlachandrika was delighted with my plan, and promised to do her best to carry it out. She had full confidence in my courage and skill, and felt sure that I should succeed in what I had undertaken. Then, reluctantly leaving me, and looking back again and again, she walked slowly home.

After quitting her I returned to her father, who was well satisfied with the result of his observations, and told me that he had ascertained that after thirty days I should meet you; and we walked together to his house, talking over the matter.

After a few days, Bâlachandrika informed me that Dâruvarma, undeterred by the report which was now spread about the city, that she was haunted by a demon, had continued his importunities, and that she had consented to go to his house that evening.

Meanwhile I had secretly made my preparations, and concealed in a lonely place everything required for my disguise. At the proper time, when it was quite dark, I went there, changed my dress, met the lady, and accompanied her to the house of the prince, who received us with great respect; and not having the slightest suspicion of my being other than what I seemed to be, sent away all his attendants, and conducted us to a room in a small detached building. There he seated her on a beautiful soft couch, inlaid with jewels, and expressing his great delight at seeing her, brought forth and offered to us both very handsome presents of dresses, ornaments, perfumes, &c. After some conversation--as if no longer able to restrain himself--he sat down beside her, and, regardless of my presence, threw his arms round her, and kissed her again and again.

This was more than I could bear; suddenly seizing him by the throat, I threw him on the ground, and despatched him with blows of hand, foot, and knee, before he could call out or give an alarm.

Then we both screamed out loudly, and I rushed forth, as if in a great fright, calling out, "Help! help! the horrible demon is killing the prince!"

Hearing this, and seeing my apparent agitation, the attendants and guards hastened in great confusion to the room, where they found the prince dead, and the lady so agitated that she was unable to give an account of what had happened; the demon had of course disappeared.

Some police were in attendance, suspicious of fraud, but even they did not imagine two women to be capable of such an act of violence, and the general opinion was that the story of the demon was founded on truth, and that the prince well deserved the fate he had met with. Bâlachandrika was therefore suffered to leave: I had already escaped in the first alarm and confusion, had changed my dress, and reached home in safety.

No further inquiry was made, and no suspicion fell on me; I duly married my beloved, and as no harm happened to me, the demon was supposed to have been propitiated.

The day indicated by my wife's father having arrived, I came here, fully expecting to see you, and now my happiness is complete.

When Râjavâhana had heard this story, he again related his own adventures; after which he took leave of Somadatta, saying, "Come to me as soon as possible, when you have paid your devotions at Mahâkâla, and have taken your wife and her attendants home;" and he then accompanied Pushpodbhava into the city of Avanti.

There he was hospitably received in the house of his friend, who introduced him by his real name to Bandhupâla, but gave out in the city that he was a young brahman, worthy of all honour for his learning and ability; and the prince remained for some time in that city, treated with great respect and consideration by all who became acquainted with him.

* * * * *

MARRIAGE OF AVANTISUNDARI.

During the stay of Râjavâhana at Avanti, the season of spring arrived, when the great festival of Kâma is celebrated. The trees, breaking into flower, were filled with the song of birds and the hum of bees, and their branches were waved by the soft south wind, blowing, loaded with perfume, from the sandal groves of Malaya. The lakes and pools were thickly covered with lotus blossoms, among which innumerable water-birds were sporting, and the feelings of all were influenced by the charms of the season, and prepared for the worship of the god of love.

On the day of the festival, the parks and gardens were crowded with people, some engaged in various sports, some walking about or sitting under the trees, looking at the players.

Among them was the Princess Avantisundari, who was sitting on a sandy spot, under a large tree, attended by her women, especially by her dear friend Bâlachandrika, and making offerings to the god of various perfumes and flowers.

The prince also walked in the park with his friend Pushpodbhava; and wishing to see the princess, of whose grace and beauty he had already heard, contrived to approach; and being encouraged by Bâlachandrika with a gesture of the hand, came and stood very near her.

Then, indeed, having an opportunity of observing her, he was struck by her exceeding beauty. She seemed to him as if formed by the god of love with everything most beautiful in the world; and, as he gazed, he felt more and more entranced, till almost unconsciously he was deeply in love.

She, indeed, seeing him beautiful as Kâma himself, was almost equally affected, and, pervaded by strong feeling, trembled like the branch of a creeping plant agitated by a gentle wind.

Then he thought, "Never have I seen anything so lovely. She must have been formed by some singular accident, for there is no one like her in the world."

She, indeed, ashamed to look openly at him, and half concealing herself among her attendants, looked at him stealthily from time to time, and while he had all his thoughts fixed on her, was saying to herself, "Who can he be? Where does he come from? Happy the maidens whose eyes are delighted with such beauty! happy the mother who has such a son! What can I do? how can I find out who he is?"

Meanwhile Bâlachandrika, quick in discrimination, perceived the impression they had made on each other; and not thinking it desirable to declare his name and rank before the other attendants, or in such a public place, introduced him to the princess, saying, "This is a very learned and clever young brahman, a friend of my husband, worthy of your notice. Allow me to recommend him to your favourable consideration."

The princess, delighted at heart, but concealing her feelings, motioned to the prince to sit down near her, and gave him betel, flowers, perfumes, &c., through one of her attendants.

Then Râjavâhana, more deeply in love even than the princess, thought to himself, "There surely must be some reason for this very sudden attraction which I feel towards her. She must have been my beloved wife in a former existence. Perhaps a curse was laid upon us; and now that is removed. If so, the recognition ought to be mutual; at all events I will try what I can do to produce the same feeling in her which exists in my mind."

While he was considering how this might be accomplished, a swan approached the princess, as if expecting to be fed or caressed; and in sport, she desired Bâlachandrika to catch it.

Inspired by this circumstance with a happy thought, Râjavâhana said to the princess, "Will you allow me to tell you a short story? There was formerly a king called Samba. When walking one day together with his beloved wife at the side of a small lake in the pleasure-grounds, he saw a swan asleep, just under the bank. Having caught it, he tied its legs together, put it down again on the ground, and saying to his wife, 'This bird sits as quiet as a muni; let him go where he likes,' amused himself with laughing at its awkward attempts to walk. Then the swan suddenly spoke: 'O king, though in the form of a swan, I am a devout brahman; and since you have thus, without cause, ill-treated me while sitting quiet here, engaged in meditation, I lay my curse upon you, and you shall endure the pain of separation from your beloved wife.'

"Hearing this, the king, alarmed and distressed, bowed respectfully to the ground, and said, 'O mighty sage, forgive an act done through ignorance.'

"Then that holy person, having his anger appeased, answered, 'My words cannot be made of no effect. I will, however, so far modify the curse that it will not take place during your present existence; but in a future birth, when you are united to the same lady in another body, you must endure the misery of separation from her for two months, though you will afterwards enjoy very great happiness with her; and I will also confer on you both the power of recognising each other in your next existence,'--I beg of you therefore not to tie this bird which you were wishing to catch."

The princess, hearing this story, was quite ready to believe it; and from her own feelings was convinced that it really referred to a previous existence of herself, now brought to her recollection; and that the love which she felt springing up in her heart was directed towards one who had formerly been her husband. With a sweet smile, she answered: "Doubtless Samba tied the bird in that way on purpose to obtain the power of recognition in another birth; and it was very cleverly managed by him."

From that moment they seemed perfectly to understand each other, and sat without speaking, their hearts full of happiness.

Presently the mother of the princess--the queen of the ex-king Mânasâra, who had also come with her attendants into the park, joined her daughter; and Bâlachandrika having seen her approaching, made a sign to the prince, upon which he and his friend slipped on one side, and hid themselves behind some leafy bushes.

After the queen had stayed a short time talking to her daughter and looking at the games, she set out to return, and the princess accompanied her.

Before going, she turned round, as if addressing the swan, but intending the speech for the prince, who was anxiously watching her from his hiding-place, "Though you came near me so lovingly just now, I may not stay longer with you: I must leave you and follow my mother: do not forget me or imagine that I neglect you, for I am still fond of you."

With these words she walked slowly away, looking with longing eyes in the direction of her lover.

On their return to the palace, the princess heard from Bâlachandrika a full account of Râjavâhana and his adventures, through which she was even more in love than before; and having no opportunity of seeing him again, became listless and indifferent to her usual occupations, lost her appetite, wasted away, and at last lay on her bed, burning with fever.

In vain did her devoted attendants use all their efforts to diminish the heat by means of cold water, fanning, and other remedies; and she, seeing their distress, said to her faithful Bâlachandrika: "Ah, dear friend, all you can do is to no purpose; they call Kâma the god with five arrows; but surely this is a wrong name, for I feel as if pierced by him with hundreds of arrows. They call the wind from Malaya cooling; but to me it only increases the fever, as if blowing up the fire which consumes me: my own necklace, the contact of which was formerly agreeable, now feels as if smeared with the poison of serpents. Give up your exertions; the prince is the only physician who can cure me; and how can he come to me here?"

Then Bâlachandrika thought to herself: "Something must be done, and that without delay, or this violent passion of love will surely cause her death. I will at least see the prince, and try if it is possible to bring about a meeting."

Having thus resolved, she begged the princess to write a few lines to her lover; and committing her to the care of the other attendants, she went to the house of her husband. There she found Râjavâhana almost in the same state as the princess, burning with fever, throwing himself about restlessly on his couch, and bemoaning his hard fate to his friend.

On seeing Bâlachandrika, he started up, saying, "Oh, how welcome is the sight of you! I am sure you must be the bearer of good news. Sit down here and tell me about my darling."

She answered: "The princess is suffering like yourself, longing to see you; and has now sent me with this letter."

Eagerly opening it, he read--

"Beloved--Having seen your beauty, delicate as a flower, faultless, unrivalled in the world, my heart is full of longing. Do you likewise make your heart soft."

Having read this, he said: "Your coming here is refreshing to me as water to a withered plant; you are the wife of my very dear friend, Pushpodbhava, and I know how attached you are to my darling, therefore I can speak freely to you. Tell her that when she left the grove that day she carried off my heart with her, and that I long to see her even more than she longs for me; tell her only not to despond; the entrance to her apartments is indeed difficult, but I will contrive to see her by some means or other. Come back soon, and, having thought over the matter, I will tell you what is to be done." With this message, Bâlachandrika went to rejoice her friend; and the prince, though much comforted, could not remain quiet, but walked to the park, to have the pleasure of seeing at least the place where he had first met his charmer. There he stayed a long time together with his friend, looking at her footsteps in the sand, the withered flowers which she had gathered and thrown down, the place where she had sat, and the shrubs from which he had watched her, and listening to the murmur of the wind among the leaves, the hum of the bees and the song of the birds. Presently, they saw approaching them a brahman, splendidly dressed, followed by a servant. He, coming up to the prince, saluted him; and the prince, returning the salute, asked who he was. He answered "My name is Vidyeswara. I am a famous conjurer, and travel about exhibiting my skill for the amusement of kings and nobles. I have now come to Oujein, to show off my skill before the king." Then, with a knowing smile, he added, "But what makes you look so pale?"

Pushpodbhava, thinking to himself this is just the man to help us, answered, "There is something in your appearance which induces me to look on you as a friend, and you know how sometimes intimate friendship arises from a very short acquaintance; I will therefore tell you why my friend is thus sad. Not long ago, he, the son of a king, met the Princess Avantisundari on this very spot, and they fell in love with each other. From the impossibility of meeting, both are suffering, and the prince is brought into this condition which you see."

Vidyeswara, in reply, looking at the prince, said, with a smile, "To such as you, with me for an ally, nothing is impossible. I will, through my skill, contrive that you shall marry the princess in the presence of her father and his court; but you must follow my directions exactly, and she must be informed of her part in the affair through some trusty female friend."

Then, having given the necessary directions, the conjurer went his way. Râjavâhana also returned to the house, and when he had given Bâlachandrika, who came again in the evening, the directions received from the conjurer, and a loving message of encouragement for the princess, he anxiously awaited the morrow, unable to sleep from the thought of the expected happiness, and fluctuating between alternate hopes and fears. In the morning, Vidyeswara, having collected a large troop of followers, went to the palace and announced himself to the doorkeeper, saying, "Tell the king the great conjurer is arrived." Mânasâra, who had heard of his great skill, and was desirous of seeing it, ordered him to be immediately admitted, and, after the usual salutations, the performance began.

First, while the band was playing, peacocks' tails were waving, and singers imitating the plaintive notes of birds, to excite the feelings and distract the attention of the hearers, the conjurer turned round violently several times, with his eyes half-closed, and caused great hooded serpents to appear and vultures to come down from the sky to seize them.

After this, he represented the scene of Vishnu killing Hiranyakasipu, chief of the Asuras, to the great astonishment of the spectators; then, turning to the king, he said, "It is desirable that the performance should end with something auspicious; I propose, therefore, to represent a royal marriage, and one of my people will act as your daughter, another as a prince, endowed with all good qualities. But first I must apply to your eyes this ointment, which will give you preternatural clearness of vision." To all this the king consented.

Meanwhile, the princess had contrived to slip out unobserved, and stood among the conjurer's people. Râjavâhana also stood ready, and the performance began. Thus, under the disguise of a piece of acting, the conjurer, being a brahman, was able to complete the marriage with all proper rites and ceremonies without any suspicion on the part of the king that it was his own daughter whom he saw before him; and the others, also unsuspecting, only admired the skill of the conjurer in making the actress so like the lady whom she represented. When the performance was ended, the conjurer, having been liberally rewarded by the king, dismissed his hired attendants and departed.

In the confusion and excitement caused by the conjurer's performance, Râjavâhana and the princess slipped unnoticed into her apartments, where he was safe, for the present at least, her attendants being all devoted to her, and careful to keep the secret.

He was thus able to enjoy the society of his bride without interruption; to give her a full account of his life and adventures, and to teach her many things of which she was ignorant; so that she became more and more attached to him, and admired his knowledge and eloquence as much as she had before admired his beauty.

* * * * *

FURTHER ADVENTURES OF RÂJAVÂHANA.

Thus the princess, listening with delight and astonishment to the sweet and eloquent words of her husband, and he never tired of contemplating her beauty and enjoying her caresses, lived for some time in the greatest happiness, without care or anxiety for the future.

One night, when both were sleeping, the prince had a remarkable dream. He seemed to see an old swan, whose legs were tied together with lotus fibre, approach the bedside; at that moment he awoke with a feeling of pressure on his feet, and found himself bound with a slender silver chain, bright as the rays of the moon. The princess awoke at the same time, and seeing her husband thus fettered, screamed out loudly in her fright. The attendants in the adjoining apartments, hearing the scream, thought something dreadful must have happened. They rushed into the room, added their cries to hers, and forgetting all their former precautions, left the doors open, so that the guards outside, hearing the clamour, entered and saw the prince.

When about to seize him, they were awed by his dignity, and contented themselves with giving information to the regent, Chandavarma, who, on receiving it, came immediately to the place.

Looking at the prince with eyes burning with the fire of anger, he began to recollect him, and said, "So! this is that conceited brahman who has been deceiving the people; making them believe that he is wonderfully clever; the friend of that fellow the husband of the wicked Bâlachandrika, the cause of my brother's death. How is it possible that the princess should have fallen in love with such a paltry wretch, overlooking a man like me? She is a disgrace to her family, and shall soon see her husband impaled on a stake."

Then, with his forehead disfigured by a fearful frown, he continued to abuse the prince; and having tied his hands behind him, dragged him from the room.

Râjavâhana, naturally brave, and encouraged by belief in that former existence the remembrance of which had so wonderfully arisen in his mind, bore all the insults with firmness, and saying to the princess, "Remember that speech of the swan, have patience for two months, and all will be well," submitted quietly to the imprisonment.

When the ex-king and queen were informed of what had happened, they were greatly distressed on their daughter's account, and exerted themselves to save the life of their son-in-law; but the regent, in whom all authority was vested, resisted their entreaties; and only on condition of their resigning some of the few privileges which still remained to them did he consent to defer the execution till he had communicated with Darpasâra, and learned his pleasure on the subject. He confiscated the property of Pushpodbhava, and threw him and his family into prison; and being about to march against the King of Anga, and unwilling to leave the prince behind, lest he should be liberated by the old king, he caused a wooden cage to be made, in which his prisoner was shut up and carried with the army.

Treated thus like some wild beast, roughly shaken and neglected, Râjavâhana would have suffered greatly had he not been protected by the magic jewel given to him in Pâtâla, and which he had contrived to conceal in his hair.

Chandavarma had some time before this asked in marriage Ambâlika, the daughter of Sinhavarma, King of Anga, and, indignant at a refusal, was now marching against him, to take vengeance for the insult, and get possession of the princess. Advancing therefore with a large army, he prepared to besiege Champa, the capital city.

Sinhavarma, being of a very impatient and impetuous disposition, would not wait for the arrival of the allies who had been summoned to his assistance, and were then on the march; but throwing open the gates, went forth to meet the enemy.

A terrible battle ensued, in which both kings performed prodigies of valour. At last Sinhavarma was taken prisoner, and his army so completely defeated, that the conqueror entered and took possession of the city without opposition.

Chandavarma, having now the princess in his power, determined to make her his wife at once: he therefore treated her father with more consideration than he would otherwise have done, though he put him in confinement, and caused it to be proclaimed throughout the city that the wedding would be celebrated with much splendour the next morning.

Just then a messenger arrived from Kailâsa, bringing a letter from Darpasâra, in which he had written, "O fool! should there be any pity for the violator of the harem? If the old king, my father, now in his dotage, was foolish enough to favour the criminal for the sake of his worthless daughter, you had no need of his permission, and ought not to have been influenced by him. Let that vile seducer be immediately put to death by torture, and his paramour be shut up in prison till I come."

Chandavarma, who had intended to march against the allies advancing for the assistance of his captive, on receiving these commands, gave orders to his attendants, saying, "To-morrow morning take that vile wretch from his cage, and set him at the palace gate. Have ready, also, a fierce elephant, suitably equipped, which I shall mount immediately after the wedding, to overtake my army in march against the enemy; and as I set out, I will make the elephant trample the life out of that criminal."

Accordingly, the next morning, the prince was brought by the guards to the gate of the palace, and the elephant placed near him.

While he stood there, calmly awaiting death, which now seemed inevitable, he suddenly felt his feet free, and a beautiful lady appeared before him.

She humbly bowing down said: "Let my lord pardon his servant for the injury which she has unconsciously caused. I am an Apsaras, born from the rays of the moon. One day, as I was flying through the air, wearing a white dress, a swan, mistaking me for a lotus flower, attacked me. While struggling to keep off the bird, the string of my necklace broke, and the pearls fell on the grey head of a very holy rishi, bathing, in the clear water of a Himâlayan lake.

"In his anger, he cursed me, saying: 'O wicked one, for this offence you are condemned to be changed into a piece of unconscious metal.'

"When, however, I entreated forgiveness, he was so far appeased, that he modified the curse, and granted that I should still retain consciousness, and remain as a fetter on your feet for two months only.

"The change took place immediately, and I fell to the ground, turned into a silver chain.

"About this time, Vírasekhara, a Vidyâdhara, partly of human descent, had become acquainted with Darpasâra, then performing penance on the great mountain; and thinking he might get assistance from him in a feud in which he was involved, had made an alliance with him, and engaged to marry his sister, the Princess Avantisundari.

"Being desirous of visiting his intended bride, he flew through the air to Avanti. On his way he saw the silver fetter, descended to the ground, picked it up, and continued his flight.

"Having made himself invisible, he entered without difficulty the apartment of the princess, and was astonished and enraged on finding her lying in your arms. His first impulse was to kill you; but some irresistible influence restrained him, so that he contented himself with putting the silver fetter on your feet, and departed without otherwise disturbing you.

"You have, in consequence, suffered all this misery. Now my transformation is ended, and you are so far free; tell me what I can do for you in atonement for the suffering which I have caused?"

The prince, not thinking of himself, said only, "Go at once to her who is dearer to me than life, and comfort her with news of me."

At that moment a great clamour was heard, and some persons, rushing from the interior of the palace, called out, loudly, "Help! help! Chandavarma is murdered! killed by an assassin, who stabbed him as he was about to take the hand of the princess; and that man is now moving about the palace, cutting down all who attempt to seize him."

Râjavâhana, when he heard this, without losing a moment, and before the guards had perceived his feet to be unfettered, with a sudden spring leapt on the elephant intended for his destruction; and having thrust off the driver, urged the beast at a rapid pace, pushing aside the crowd right and left as he went.

Having got into the courtyard, he shouted with a loud voice, "Who is the brave man that has done this great deed, hardly to be accomplished by a mere mortal? Let him come forth and join me; we two united are a match for a whole army."

The slayer of Chandavarma hearing this, came out of the palace, and quickly mounting the elephant, who held down his trunk to receive him, placed himself behind the prince.

Great was their mutual astonishment and joy when they recognised each other, the prince exclaiming, "Is it possible? Is it really you, my dear friend Apahâravarma, who have done this deed?" and the other saying, "Do I indeed see my Lord Râjavâhana?" Having thus recognised and embraced each other, they turned the elephant round, and passing through the crowd in the courtyard, went into the main street, now thronged by soldiers. Through these they forced their way, employing with good effect the weapons placed on the elephant for the use of Chandavarma.

Before, however, they had gone far, they heard the noise of battle at a distance, and saw the soldiers in front of them scattered in all directions.

Soon they saw coming towards them a very well-dressed, handsome man, riding on a swift elephant. On reaching them, he made obeisance to the prince, saying, "I am sure this is my Lord Râjavâhana;" and then turning to Apahâravarma, said, "I have followed your directions exactly, and hastened on the advancing allies. We have just now encountered and utterly defeated the enemy, so that there is no fear of any further resistance."

Then Apahâravarma introduced the stranger to the prince, saying, "This is my dear friend Dhanamittra, well worthy of your respect and consideration; for he is as brave and clever as he is handsome. With your permission, he will liberate the King of Anga, and re-establish the former authorities; meanwhile, we will go on to a quiet place, and wait there for him and the princes who have come so opportunely to our assistance."

Râjavâhana agreed to this. They went a little further, and dismounted at a pleasant cool bank, shaded by a large banian tree, and close to the Ganges.

When they had been for some time seated there, Dhanamittra returned, accompanied by Upahâravarma, Pramati, Mitragupta, Mantragupta, Visruta, Prahâravarma King of Mithila, Kâmapâla lord of Benâres, and Sinhavarma King of Anga.

The prince, astonished and delighted at such an unexpected meeting, warmly embraced his young friends, and very respectfully saluted, as a son, the elder men introduced by them. Many questions were asked on both sides. After some conversation, Râjavâhana told them his own adventures, and those of Somadatta and Pushpodbhava, and then begged his friends to relate theirs.

Apahâravarma spoke first.

* * * * *

ADVENTURES OF APAHÂRAVARMA.

My Lord, when you had gone away with the brahman, and we were unable to find you, I wandered about searching for you like the rest of your friends.

One day I heard by chance of a very famous muni, living in a forest on the banks of the Ganges, not far from Champa, who was said to have supernatural knowledge of past and future events.

Hoping to obtain some information about you, I determined to seek him out, and accordingly came here for that purpose. Having found the way to his dwelling, I saw there a miserable-looking man, very unlike the holy devotee whom I had pictured to myself. Sitting down, however, beside this person, I said, "I have come a long way to consult the celebrated rishi Mâríchi, having heard that he is possessed of very wonderful knowledge. Can you tell me where to find him?"

Deeply sighing, he answered: "There was, not long ago, such a person in this place; but he is changed--he is no longer what he was."

"How can that be?" I asked.

"One day," he replied, "while that muni was engaged in prayer and meditation, he was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a famous actress and dancer, called Kâmamanjari, who, with dishevelled hair and eyes full of tears, threw herself at his feet.

"Before he had time to ask the meaning of this, a confused crowd of her companions came up, headed by an old woman, the mother of Kâmamanjari, apparently in great agitation and distress.

"When they were all a little quieted, he asked the girl the meaning of her tears, and for what purpose she had come to him.

"She answered, apparently with great respect and bashfulness, 'O reverend sir, I have heard of your great wisdom, and your kindness to those who are willing to give up the pleasures of this world for the sake of the next. I am tired of the disgraceful life I am leading, and wish to renounce it.' Upon this, her mother, with her loose grey hairs touching the ground, interrupted her, and said, 'Worthy sir, this daughter of mine would make it appear that I am to blame, but indeed I have done my duty, and have carefully prepared her for that profession for which, by birth, she was intended. From earliest childhood I have bestowed the greatest care upon her, doing everything in my power to promote her health and beauty. As soon as she was old enough, I had her carefully instructed in the arts of dancing, acting, playing on musical instruments, singing, painting, preparing perfumes and flowers, in writing and conversation, and even to some extent in grammar, logic, and philosophy. She was taught to play various games with skill and dexterity, and how to dress well, and show herself off to the greatest advantage in public; I hired persons to go about praising her skill and beauty, and to applaud her when she performed in public, and I did many other things to promote her success, and to secure for her liberal remuneration; yet, after all the time, trouble, and money which I have spent upon her, just when I was beginning to reap the fruit of my labours, the ungrateful girl has fallen in love with a stranger, a young brahman, without property, and wishes to marry him and give up her profession, notwithstanding all my entreaties, and representations of the poverty and distress to which all her family will be reduced if she persists in her purpose; and because I oppose this marriage, she declares that she will renounce the world, and become a devotee.'

"The muni compassionately said to the girl: 'You will never be able to endure the hardships of such a life as you propose to lead--a life so different from that to which you have been accustomed. Heaven may be attained by all who duly perform the duties of their station; take my advice then, give up all thoughts of an undertaking which you will never accomplish, comply with your mother's wishes, return with her, and be content with that way of life in which you have been brought up.'

"With many tears, she replied: 'If you will not receive me I will put an end to my wretched life.'

"Finding her so determined, the muni, after some reflection, said to the mother and her companions: 'Go away for the present; come back after a few days; I will give her good advice, and you will no doubt find her tired of living here, and quite ready to return.'

"Thereupon they all went away, and she was left alone with the muni. At first she kept at a distance from him, taking care not to interrupt him in his meditations, but waiting on him unobtrusively, rendering him many little services, watering his favourite trees, and gathering sacred grass, and flowers for offerings to the gods. Then, as he became more accustomed to her, she would amuse him with songs and dances, and at last began to sit near him and talk of the pleasures of love.

"One day, as if in all simplicity, she said 'Surely people are very wrong in reckoning virtue, wealth and pleasure as the three great objects of life?'

"'Tell me,' he answered, 'how far do you regard virtue as superior to the other two?'

"'A very wise man like you,' she replied, 'can hardly learn anything from an ignorant woman like me; but since you ask, I will tell you what I think. There is no real acquisition of happiness or wealth without virtue; but the latter is quite independent of the other two. Without it, a man is nothing; but if he fully possesses it, he is so purified by it that he may indulge in pleasures occasionally, and any sin connected with them will no more adhere to him than dust to a cloud. Look at all the stories of the amours of the gods. Are they the less worshipped on that account? I think, therefore, that virtue is a hundred times superior to the other two.' With many such specious arguments as these, and by her winning ways, she contrived to make him madly in love; so that, forgetting all his religious duties and former austerities, he thought only how to please her.

"When she perceived this, she said to him 'Let us stay no longer in the forest, but go to my house in the town, where we can have many more enjoyments.' Utterly infatuated, he was ready to do her bidding; and she, having procured a covered carriage, took him in the evening to her own house.

"The next day there was a great festival, at which the king was accustomed to appear in public and converse familiarly with his subjects. On such occasions he would often be surrounded by actresses and dancing girls.

"On that day Kâmamanjari persuaded the muni to put on a gay dress and accompany her to the park where the festival was held; and he, thinking only of her, and miserable if she were away from him even for a short time, consented to go. On their arrival there, she walked with him towards the king, who, seeing her, said, with a smile: 'Sit down here with that reverend man.' And all eyes were directed towards him.

"Presently one of the ladies rose up, and, making a low obeisance to the king, said: 'My lord; I must confess myself beaten by that lady; I have lost my wager and must now pay the penalty.'

"Then a great shout of laughter arose; the king congratulated Kâmamanjari, and presented her with handsome ornaments.

"After this she walked away with the astonished muni, followed by a great crowd, shouting applause.

"Before reaching her own house, she turned round to him with a low obeisance, and said: 'Reverend sir, you have favoured me with your company a long time; it will be well for you to attend now to your own affairs.'

"Not having his eyes yet opened, he started as if thunderstruck, and said: 'My dear, what does all this mean? What has become of the great love which you professed for me?'

"She smilingly answered: 'I will explain it all.'

"'One day, that lady whom you saw in the park had a dispute with me as to which was the most attractive. At last she said: "You boast of your powers, forsooth; go and try them on Mâríchi. If you can persuade him to accompany you here, then indeed you may triumph; I will acknowledge myself your inferior."

"'This was the reason of my coming to you; the trick has been successful; I have won my wager, and have now no further occasion for you.'

"Bowed down by shame and remorse, the unhappy man slunk back to his hermitage, miserable and degraded, bitterly lamenting his folly and infatuation, but resolved to atone for it by deep repentance and severe penance.

"I am that wretched man; you see, therefore, that I am now quite unable to assist you. But do not go away; remain in Champa. After a time I shall recover my former power."

While he was telling me this sad story, the sun set, and I remained with him that night. The next morning, at sunrise, I took leave of him, and walked towards the city. On my way thither, as I passed a Buddhist monastery, I was struck by the appearance of a man sitting at the side of the road near it. He was extraordinarily ugly; his body naked, with the exception of a rag round his waist; and his face so covered with dirt, that the tears he was shedding left furrows as they rolled down his cheeks.

Moved by compassion, I sat down near him, and inquired the reason of his distress, at the same time adding, "If it is a secret, I do not wish to intrude upon you."

"'My misfortunes are well known,' he answered; 'I can have no objection to telling you if you wish to hear them.' Then he began:

"My name is Vasupâlika; but from my ugliness I am generally known as Virúpaka,--the deformed. I am the son of a man of some importance here, who left me a large fortune.

"Among my acquaintance there was a person called Sundaraka, remarkably handsome, but poor. Between us two some mischievous persons strove to excite a rivalry, pitting my money against his beauty and accomplishments.

"One day, in a large assembly, having got up a dispute between us, they said: 'It is not beauty or wealth, but the approbation of the ladies, which stamps the worth of a man; therefore, let the famous actress, Kâmamanjari, decide between you, and agree that she shall say who is the best man.' To this we both assented, and she, having been previously prepared for the part which she was to perform, was brought into the room, and passing by my rival with scorn, sat down by my side, and, taking a garland from her own head, placed it on mine.

"Greatly flattered and delighted by this preference, and blinded by a mad love for her, which I had not ventured to express, I most readily gave myself up to her seductions, and in a very short time she obtained such an influence over me that everything I possessed was at her disposal. Before long, she had so plundered me, and led me into such extravagance, that I was reduced to the most abject poverty, and had nothing I could call my own but this miserable rag which you now see me wear.

"Cast off by her, blamed and reproached by the elder men, laughed at and despised by those who had been my companions in prosperity, I knew not where to turn; and as a last resource I entered this Buddhist monastery, where I obtain a bare subsistence.

"Distressed by the cutting off of my long hair, and by numerous restrictions as to eating, drinking, and sleeping, like a newly-caught elephant; and hearing every day abuse of those gods whom I used to worship; filled with remorse for my departure from the religion of my ancestors; I am utterly miserable and only wish for death."

Having heard this pitiable story, I did what I could to comfort him, and said, "Do not despair; I have heard already of that wicked woman, and think I shall be able to find some means of making her restore to you a part at least of your property."

After leaving him, I went into the city, and finding, from popular report, that it was full of rich misers, I resolved to bring them to their proper condition by taking away their useless wealth.

Occupied by this thought, I went into a gaming-house, where I was much interested and amused by watching the players and observing their tricks, their sleight-of-hand, their bullying or cringing behaviour to each other; the reckless profusion of the winners, the muttering despair of those who had lost.

While overlooking a game of chess, I smiled and made some remark about a bad move of one of the players, upon which his opponent, turning to me with a sneer, said "No doubt you think yourself very clever, but wait till I have finished off this stupid fellow, and I will play you for any stake you like."

When the game was over, accepting his challenge, I sat down to play, and won altogether sixteen thousand dínars. Half of this sum I kept for myself, and half I divided between the gaming-house keeper and the players who were present. The latter were loud in praise of my generosity, and of the skill which I had shown in beating that boaster; the former asked me to dine with him, and I often went to his house and became very intimate with him, and obtained from him much information, especially such as had reference to my purpose.

One very dark night, fully directed by him, I set out, determined on robbery, equipped with a dark dress, a short sword, a spade, a crowbar, a pair of pincers, a wooden man's head,[4] a magic candle, a rope and grappling-iron, a box with a bee in it,[5] and some other implements.

Selecting a house where I knew there was much money, I made a hole in the wall, and finding all quiet, enlarged it, entered boldly, and carried off much booty.

As I was returning, looking cautiously about me, I came suddenly upon a young woman, who was much alarmed at seeing me. Perceiving her agitation, I spoke to her kindly, and assured her that I would much rather assist than injure her.

Encouraged by my words, she told me her story: "My name is Kulapâlika; I am the daughter of a rich merchant in this city, and was from childhood engaged to the son of another rich man, named Dhanamittra: he, however, being of a very generous disposition, when he had succeeded to his father's property was preyed on by pretended friends and reduced to comparative poverty. Seeing this, my father refused his consent to our marriage, and, in spite of my reluctance, is determined to give me to a rich man, called Arthapati. To escape this marriage, I have slipped out from home by a secret passage, rarely used, and am going to the house of my lover, who is expecting me and will take me away to some other country; pray do not detain me, but accept this." So saying, she put one of her ornaments into my hand. I did not refuse it, but walked by her side, intending to escort her to her destination.

We had, however, only gone a few steps, when I saw coming towards us, at no great distance, a large body of the citizen guard. Without losing a moment, I said to the trembling girl, "Don't be alarmed; say that I have been bitten by a serpent, and I will manage the rest."

By the time they reached us I had thrown myself on the ground, and lay as if insensible, and she stood over me, crying. On being questioned, she answered, with many tears, and in evident distress: "My husband and I, coming from the country, lost our way, and have only lately entered the city. Just now he was bitten by a serpent, and is all but dead. Is there any one among you skilled in charms who can recover him?"

Among the guard there chanced to be a very conceited man, who had often boasted of his skill, and was now delighted to have an opportunity of displaying it. He stood over me while the others waited, and, with many gesticulations, muttered various charms supposed to be efficacious in such a case; but finding all of no avail, said at last, "Ah! it is too late; the poor man is past all remedies: what a pity I did not see him sooner!" Then, joining his companions, who were impatient to be off, he turned to the sobbing girl and said: "He was evidently fated to die; who can prevail over fate? It is useless to lament; nothing more can be done now; wait a little while, and when we come back we will remove the body."

As soon as they were out of sight I rose up, took her to the house of Dhanamittra, and said to him: "I met this lady just now; I have brought her safely here, and now restore the ornament which she gave me in her fright; for, though I am a robber, I would not steal from one like her."

Delighted at seeing her, he answered: "O, sir, you have indeed rendered me a great service in bringing this dear one in safety here; such conduct is very extraordinary in a man of your way of life, and I am quite unable to understand your motives for acting thus. At all events, I am under very great obligation to you; command my services in future."

After some further talk, I asked him: "Friend, what do you now intend to do?"

"It will be impossible," he answered, "for me to live here if I marry her without her father's consent; I propose, therefore, to leave the town with her this very night."

"A clever man," I replied, "is at home in any place. Wherever he goes he may say this is my country. But, in travelling, many hardships must be endured--hunger, thirst, fatigue, and dangers from men and wild beasts;--how will this tender girl be able to bear them?

"You seem to be wanting in wisdom and forethought in thus abandoning home and country. Take courage! be guided by me, and you shall marry her and live comfortably here. But first we must take her back to her father's house."

To this he consented without hesitation, and we set out at once. Guided by her, we entered through the secret passage, carried off everything of value, and got away without exciting alarm.

Having hidden our booty in some old ruins, we were going home, when we fell in with some of the city guard. Fortunately, there chanced to be an elephant tied up at the side of the road. We quickly, therefore, unfastened the rope, mounted him, and urged him at full speed; and before the watchmen could recover from their confusion, were out of sight. Halting the elephant close to the wall of a deserted garden, we got over it with the help of the trees growing there, escaped on the other side, and reached home undetected, where we bathed and went to bed.

The next day we walked out carefully dressed, and were amused at hearing an exaggerated account of our adventures of the preceding night, which had caused much alarm and excitement in the city.

I had hoped, by robbing the old man, to prevent the marriage of his daughter with Arthapati. But this hope was frustrated; for the latter was not only willing to take Kulapâlika without a dowry, but even made presents to her father; and it was settled that the marriage should take place at the end of a month.

Finding this to be the case, I felt that something more must be done; and having hit upon a plan which I thought would be effectual, I gave Dhanamittra directions how to act.

Accordingly, a few days afterwards, he went to the king, to whom he was previously known, and having asked for a private audience, said: "A very wonderful thing has happened to me, of which it seems right that your majesty should be informed. You have known me as Dhanamittra, the son of a very rich man. During my prosperity, I was engaged to the daughter of a wealthy merchant; but when I was reduced to poverty, he refused his consent to our marriage, and is now about to give her to another.

"Driven to despair by the double loss of fortune and wife, I went into a wood near the city, intending to put an end to my wretched life.

"There, when in the act of cutting my throat, I was stopped by a very aged devotee, who asked the cause of the rash act.

"'Poverty, and contempt,' I answered.

"'There is nothing more foolish and sinful than suicide,' he replied. 'A man of sense will endure adversity rather than escape from it in such a manner. Wealth, when lost, may be regained in many ways; but life in none. A broken fortune may be repaired; a cut throat can never be joined again. But why should I preach to you thus? Here is a remedy for your misfortunes. This leather bag will give you abundant wealth. I have used it for assisting the deserving; but now I am old and infirm, and am not long for this world. I give it to you.

"'Go home; if you possess anything wrongfully acquired, restore it to the right owner, and give away the rest of your property to brahmans and the poor. When this has been done, put away the purse carefully; and in the morning it will be found full of gold. Remember that whoever possesses it must comply with these conditions, and that it will yield its treasures only to a merchant like yourself, or to an actress.'

"With these words, he handed me the purse, and immediately disappeared.

"I have now brought the purse to your majesty, to know your pleasure concerning it."