Chapter II: Part 2

When they had seated themselves, the rest of the company did likewise, remaining, however, at a distance, and separated by a cord.

Now Thomana was very learned in astrology, having read and thought deeply on that subject, and he knew as soon as he saw the Prince seat himself on the red cloth that he would become King upon that very day.

It was a brilliant assembly, every one clad in delicate silks of all hues, and glittering with jewels. The feast lasted long, it seemed, indeed, as if the constant succession of dishes was to be an endless one. All were in the best of spirits, and laughed and talked greatly.

When the Prince had finished his repast, he was shown into an inner tent, where a couch of the same royal colour had been placed, and in front was a slightly raised platform of bamboo, draped with violet and rose-pink satin, richly worked and lighted with lamps, that shed a subdued radiance round and about the little graceful figures of several dancing girls who had been bidden to dance for his royal highness.

Their dresses were so formed as to represent armour, and on their heads were similar coverings. They performed peculiar, dreamy, kind of movements, amidst a mist of varying hues. The Prince was much interested, and postponed retiring until late.

Thomana, having bidden his royal master good-night, felt disinclined for sleep, so, strolling into a park-like demesne that was adjacent, he seated himself under a large tree, whose branches spread for a considerable way, and became lost in thought.

It was a glorious night, with not a sound in the air save the soft whirr of some purpled-eyed or golden-winged insect as it floated by in the darkness. As he sat there musing on the events of the evening and the future of the Prince, two large leaves fell from above into his hand: one was old and withered, the other was fresh and green. "Ah," he murmured, as he looked at them, "in the same way as an old and a young leaf drops from the tree, so may a man full of years and one who is in the morning of life die at the same time."

In the midst of his meditations, which lasted long, he became a rahan,[3] and was taken from the garden to the Gandremadana Mountains. At the same time a chariot of pearl, drawn by four pure white horses with trappings of gold, was on its way to the Prince to carry him back, as his father had died that day. Following the chariot came four ministers and a train of Court officials, accompanied by soldiers.

[3] "Rahan," _i.e._, one possessed of supernatural powers.

They awakened the sleeping Prince and acquainted him with their news. Then, when he was prepared, he stepped into the chariot that was waiting, and was borne with all speed to the palace, where he was proclaimed King the following day with the utmost pomp, ceremony, and rejoicings.

In his new life, and amidst his many duties and responsibilities, he entirely forgot the existence of his attendant, who had been his constant companion for three years; therefore his absence passed unrecorded and unnoticed; for what the King forgets the courtiers must never be unwise enough to remember.

At the end of thirty years, when the King was getting old, he remembered Thomana, and wondered greatly where he might be. Whereupon he immediately caused it to be made known throughout his dominions that he would give a lac of rupees to any one who should give him any news of his lost servant.

Now Thomana, owing to his great piety and powers of clairvoyance, became aware immediately of the fact that his old master had recollected him, and desired his presence. Therefore he went at once to the garden where he had been seated before he attained his rahanship so many years before. Close by the tree, under whose branches he had sat, were four shepherd boys, their flocks grazing near, while they themselves talked together of the big reward that the King had offered for news of his old servant.

Thomana, coming through the leafy aisles, heard them, and accosted them, declaring that he was the person whom the King desired. They rose and glanced at him doubtingly.

"Let two of you," he said, "go to the palace and tell His Majesty, that I await him here." To which they assented.

A short while passed, and then an immense carriage, glittering like gold and silver in the sun, and followed by others less imposing, could be seen coming rapidly along the white winding road. Pulling up at the entrance, the King himself alighted, and came through the gates, that were all brazen and blazoned, straight towards Thomana, his arms outstretched to embrace him; but he whom he would have greeted so cordially stopped him, saying--

"I am now a rahan; with men, their feelings, their passions, their brief triumphs, and sorrows, likes and dislikes, I have no affinity." Then he folded his arms and stood in silence.

His face was very cold and still.

The King, looking at him, saw that he was poorly clad, and bent, and thin, and pressed him to return to the Court, where he promised him money and many wives.

But the rahan answered--

"I do not need wealth, nor any of the poor fleeting pleasures that this world can offer. Let your Majesty come with me instead, and visit my abode of rest."

"What is it like, this place," inquired the King in wonder, "that it can render its inhabitants indifferent to what we esteem the most desirable of all things in this life?"

"It is situated far from here," replied Thomana, "and the approach to it is a broad, long avenue of gorgeous blossoms, such as you have never dreamed of, that bloom for ever, with a perfume that is at once dreamy, drowsy, and infinitely sweet; vast sprays of water spring from the mouths of silver dragons; over head the branches of trees interlace, showing but a strip of blue sky through their quivering leaves. For hours can you wander amongst these mazes of roses, this wonder of colour and beauty. At the end of the grove is situated an immense tree, larger than aught that you have seen and higher than any eye could reach. It is surrounded by columns of marble that glow like jewels. Here the nāts and fairies dwell, with nothing to disturb their seclusion and solitude save the sound of falling waters and the song of birds. While over all is cast such a spell as this life does not hold. Ah! beside the perfection of that world, how poor and valueless are the things of this! There one talks with the gods and dwells in worlds beyond the sun. There is no room for regrets or for desires. There every one is beautiful, therefore we do not covet beauty. There wealth is common to all, therefore we do not desire it. There all are equal, and love and goodness are the aim and end of all things. Come and see for yourself," he added.

And the King, marvelling greatly at what he had heard, went. And there, in the midst of those divine surroundings, with naught to disturb the mind from the good, he wandered, awed and silent, but not afraid. In those cool, wide halls of bliss, all memories of grosser things and ways faded into nothingness. He forgot his kingdom, and was by it forgot.

THE PRIEST'S PETITION.

It was the custom for the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Ava to be placed, while young, in a monastery with the priests, to be instructed in a manner suitable to the position that he was destined to occupy. Prince Min Goung, while a boy, was put under the special care of the Phoongyee Shin Ah Tah Thaya--a prudent and learned man, who gave all his time and wisdom to his pupil.

Min Goung was of a proud and wilful nature, and one who would not willingly bend his haughty head to any yoke, however light and silken.

One day his reverend teacher punished him, for persistent bad writing, somewhat severely--an act which he regretted afterwards, thinking, perhaps, that he had been over harsh.

Time passed away. The King died, and the young Prince was crowned. Then the priest began to fear that his former pupil might do him some harm, for he imagined that he had never forgiven him the liberty he had taken in chastising him. So he quitted his retreat, and fled to Prome for safety. Disliking his enforced banishment, he determined to write and crave for pardon; and in the course of his long appeal, written on palm leaves, was the following story:--

"There was a king of Bayanathee, learned and merciful, who had a hundred sons, each of whom, when old enough, was given into the hands of a carefully selected instructor to be taught those subjects for which he had the greatest taste. When each was grown up and had completed his education, he was appointed a governor of a portion of the royal dominions; and so ninety-nine of the Princes had been educated and been presented to the King and received their appointments. Prince Thanwara was the youngest of them, and was taken care of by a distinguished minister, who began and continued his instruction in a way that was very suitable to the quick natural intelligence of the boy; and when the time came for Thanwara to go to his father, his teacher accompanied him.

"When they came before the King--who was seated on a throne of silver and agate, with golden doors behind him--he asked his son if he had learnt and completed the same course of studies as his elder brothers, and the young Prince answered him--

"'I am sufficiently qualified, sire, to take upon me the same duties and responsibilities as those of my brothers who have gone before.'

"The King was satisfied with the reply; and then, after a while, the Prince and his tutor returned to their home.

"Talking to the tutor before he slept, Thanwara said--

"'If the King my father offers me the same position as he has bestowed on my brothers, will it be well with me to accept it?'

"The teacher made answer thus--

"'If a man, O Prince, desires to partake of the Bandaya fruit, which only grows in Nirvana, can he obtain it from its tree from the distance of a hundred yujanas (eight hundred miles), or would he rather not stand under the tree and take the fruit with a hooked bamboo? In the same way, if you wish to sit on the throne it is best for you not to go from here, but to remain in the shadow of the palace.'

"The prince listened, and then, when he had heard to the end, he said--

"'Then, my teacher, when to-morrow I go before my father, and he asks me my desires, what shall I make reply?'

"'Ask of him to bestow on you the rents of the bazaars and the produce or the royal gardens within the city gates.'

"'Of what benefit would such be to me?'

"'The greatest benefit, my son. For those who have money have power, of which truth I will give you an illustration:--

"'A timid doe in the forest, when it once sees a leopard, will fly, and hiding carefully, will not venture to stir out again for many days and nights; but on the other hand, retiring as it is by nature, it will, if a person constantly feed it, so far lose its timidity as to approach him and take from his hand. Therefore, my son, if you give presents often to the favourites and the advisers of the King, you will gain their confidence and their liking.'

"On the following day, when the Prince reached the palace, and his father asked him to name the province that he wished to govern, he answered thus:--

"'My brothers have all gone from you to distant parts of the world to guard over your vast possessions; let me then remain here to be your Majesty's attendant, and render you that care and assistance in sickness, in health, and in trouble, or any other trial, that affection can alone offer.'

"The old King was pleased, and granted unhesitatingly what he was asked.

"From that day forth Thanwara received the rents and profits of the bazaars and gardens, and took up his residence near the throne, in the white palace of his father.

"Gradually his winning manners, his deference to his elders, his many thoughtful and beautiful gifts, and, lastly, his own piety and learning, gained for him the first place in the hearts of those who were about the Court.

"So the years fled away, and were counted with the past.

"But when the tenth year was young, the King's health failed him; he felt that the sands of his life were nearly run. So about him he gathered his ministers and advisers. After they had expressed their sympathy and regret at finding him ill, they inquired which of all his sons he would best like to wear his crown when he was gone.

"The dying King raised himself from the low couch on which he was reclining, and, propped by many cushions, answered their question in this wise:

"'A hermit was one day coming from his lonely Himalayan abode through a forest. Over his head, as a sunshade, he had an enormous flower, called the kakayu mala, which is found, as you are aware, only in the Nāt Country, and its fragrance reached to the distance of one yujana (eight miles). On his way he encountered four fairies, each of whom saw and coveted the blossom. They all in turn asked him for it, but he said, in reply to their request, "I can only give it to the most virtuous and the most excellent of you all."

"'Whereupon each protested, all contending for the honour.

"'But the hermit, who was discreet and prudent, said, "How can I, who have no means to judge, decide? To me you all seem worthy of it, equally charming, and deserving in all respects, therefore had I four flowers I would divide them gladly between you; but as there is but one, and that one incapable of division, we will refer the matter to the King of the Nāt Country, who has the all-discerning eye."

"'So they went.

"'They had not to travel far before they came to his green and gracious kingdom.

"'They made straight for the beautiful ivory palace where the King dwelt, and were ushered into where he sat on his throne, composed entirely of the very flowers.

"'He inquired what brought them before him.

"'They told him. Then he thought for a little time, while they waited at a distance. When he called them to him and said--

"'"There is a rahan residing in the Kisokok Mountains to whom I will present a golden pineapple; then the four of you shall go and seek him and ask him for it. The person whom he shall give the golden apple to, that person shall be the most worthy in every way to be the recipient of the flower."

"'They thanked him, withdrew, and started for the Kisokok Mountains.

"'When they arrived there the rahan requested each fairy to take up her position according to the four directions of the earth--north, south, east and west--which they did, while each clamoured for the prize.

"'Then the rahan asked them their names, to which the eldest replied, "Thada" ("Charity"); the second, "Thati" ("Peace"); the third, "Hiri" ("Modesty"); the fourth, "Ootoppa" ("Virtue").

"'When the rahan heard he gave the golden apple into the hands of Ootoppa, saying, as her name represented, she was the most deserving. Then she went to the hermit, who presented her with the beautiful flower, and from that moment she was esteemed the most virtuous and most excellent of all women in the Nāt Country.

"'Therefore,' continued the old King, addressing the ministers around him, 'you must be the hermit in this case.'

"Before that day was over he was dead, and was interred with great honours and many lamentations.

"Then the advisers, with no delay and no hesitation, elected Prince Thanwara to succeed his father; but when the news reached the other sons in their distant territories they were filled with wrath. The second sent to his elder brother a letter, in which he said that the ministers of their late father were weak and corrupt, and very wanting in foresight in allowing themselves to be persuaded into placing the youngest of all on the throne, thereby disregarding the principle of the ancient rule of succession; for (continued he) in the Ahrottaya Country there was a King who had three children, two sons and a daughter, born of the chief Queen. When the eldest son was sixteen years of age the Queen died. The second Queen thereupon became chief, by whom the King had a son, and when that son reached eight years of age the King was bitten by a snake, a fact which frightened him greatly. The Queen, however, who was quick to think and very brave, sucked the poison from the bite. The King, being filled with gratitude, asked her to make any request that she liked, which he would grant, whereupon she immediately begged that her son might be selected as the heir to the throne, and to her inexpressible satisfaction the King gave his consent.

"A while later his Majesty sent for Narada, a soothsayer, who was asked to calculate his term of life. Narada told him that he would live twelve more years. The King then sent for his three children by the dead queen and acquainted them with the soothsayer's prophecy, telling them at the same time that they must quit the Court and find a home elsewhere for twelve years.

"Sorrowing greatly, they obeyed. After nine years the King died of grief for the absence of the children that he had sent from him.

"The Queen lost no time in scheming to put the crown upon her son's head. But the chief minister opposed her, saying that the eldest boy still lived and could not be put aside.

"Then he took the crown and all the insignia of royalty, and with many attendants and great state travelled to where the eldest son resided, and offered the throne to him.

"The Prince met him with the argument that the King's commands extended to twelve years, and that, as only nine had elapsed, his step-brother must reign for three years. Then he gave the minister a pair of slippers, worked with wheat, to give to his half-brother, with the direction that they were to be placed on the judgment-seat, declaring, as he did so, that if any decision is illegal or contrary to the right, the slippers would of themselves rise and touch each other as a protest.

"'Wherefore,' continued the brother's epistle, 'as the ministers have not paid you the respect of deferring to you in the matter, we should prepare to go to war with Thanwara.' The elder brother, on receiving the above, addressed a letter to his youngest brother, in which he requested him to surrender the crown or to prepare for hostilities.

"Prince Thanwara sought the advice of his chief minister in his perplexity, and he told him that, according to religion, he must not oppose his elder brother.

"'Then,' asked Thanwara, 'what am I to do?'

"The chief minister answered: 'Divide all the property in the kingdom into one hundred shares, and give each equally.'

"And it was accordingly done, upon which the eldest brother, being quite content, left the youngest in the possession of the throne, saying that a hundred kings could not reign in one country, and that, if they tried, it would be for the woe of the people.

"So all the brothers went back to their own in peace and amity."

* * * * *

When the King of Ava read the priest's letter, he was so well pleased with the narrative that he sent a messenger to him, and appointed him head of the ecclesiastical body, with a residence near the palace.

THE COMMAND OF THE KING.

There was a King of Amarapoora, who reigned in a time long past.

He was young and beloved, and fair of form and face, and his people lived but to obey his lightest wish. He dwelt in a palace of crystal, surrounded by gardens, of whose beauty no tongue could tell. He had money and lands and gems, and beautiful wives and unnumbered treasures, gathered from all lands.

He could have whatsoever he willed, and go wheresoever he listed. His days and nights were one long dream of gladness.

No enemies plagued him; no troubles of any sort visited him; his coffers were well filled, and his ministers were faithful and wise; and yet, in spite of all, he was weary of everything, more weary than he could say.

He drank from a goblet of gold, rimmed with a band of pearls, and his clothes were studded with rubies and emeralds; he was flattered and courted and envied as no monarch had ever been envied before, and he was more discontented than the poorest subject in his realms.

Above and around and about him was all that is most conducive to happiness, but within him were fatigue and desolation.

All that he had ever wished for had been given unto him; never had the gods left unanswered his prayers; other and better men's they turned a deaf ear to, but not so this King's, and now he had nothing more left to crave for.

He had supreme power vested in his hands, but he was indifferent to it; he owned everything that the heart could desire, and those very possessions were killing him.

For the trail of the serpent of satiety lay over his garden of Eden.

Never had his eyes rested on disease or want or poverty, or anything that could distress his mind.

All gifts and graces had been showered upon him; his sins were buried in oblivion, or cited more admiringly than the virtues of others.

When he went abroad on his white elephant, with its trappings of scarlet and silver, the very air was perfumed with otto of rose, while the people bowed and kissed the dust through which he passed.

Attached to the palace were many hundreds of officials, players, dancers, jugglers, and clowns; for the King sought only one thing, and that was--Amusement; of which, in no matter what form it was presented to him, he soon tired.

Constantly was the country being searched for some one with a ready wit, an inventive tongue, or a nimble foot, to pass the hours for the Lord of the City of Gems.

Tellers of marvellous stories, more wonderful than the Arabian Nights, had come, and tried their little best to please.

There were those who travelled specially to other countries, but to return and tell him of all that they had seen, and of how inferior all lands and rulers were when compared with their own.

Dancing women, with the classic limbs and straight black brows of Egypt, sought his favour.

Eyes that were as loadstars in their brilliancy wooed him with a thousand glances.

Circassian women, with sun-flecked tresses, were his willing slaves.

Men of great learning asked nothing better than to gain his ear awhile, but all fatigued him soon.

And, like a child, he cried for something new.

Then one day a stranger from India presented himself at the great gates of the palace, saying that he brought a game called Chess to teach the King. They who loitered round the entrance bade him scornfully to "begone." What would he of the Golden Feet do with red and white figures like that? they contemptuously asked.

But the Indian protested, craving humbly to be granted an audience. Then one, who was more kindly than the rest, led him through the green, silent gardens, with their aisles of gorgeous roses; by spray-splashing fountains, fringed with the lotus-flower; up a flight of marble steps on to a terrace where peacocks strolled; through carved doors, from which stretched an endless vista of halls and rooms filled with numerous attendants, who formed a mass of marvellous colour; carpets and rugs of velvet-like softness were strewn about; ivory of wonderful workmanship; things of all precious metals, together with stuffs of delicate hues and lovely texture; to a chamber handsomer than any that had gone before, where at one end, seated on a couch, clad in an odd, rich fashion, and shaded by a large umbrella, was the King, his bare feet resting on a stool; to his right was a golden spittoon, while to his left stood a slave holding a jewelled betel box and some green cigars.

The Burmese prostrated himself almost full length, motioning the Indian to do likewise, explaining at the same time the object of their presence.

His royal master received them graciously, inquired into the merits of the game, finally declaring that he would be taught it there and then.

From that time forth he devoted himself to play with an eagerness entirely foreign to his nature. He paused for nothing, never going without the palace. The days seemed not half long enough. The courtiers were inclined to congratulate themselves on having at last found something that seemed likely to continue a favourite with the King, until they saw how high the Indian was rising in his favour, being loaded with money and presents, and thereby becoming a cause of bitter envy and jealousy on the part of the Burmese ministers.

Nor did his haughty, overbearing manner tend to soften their resentment. Many were the plans that they made to cause his downfall, but in vain. Every one of the plots failed, while he whom they conspired against seemed to grow but dearer to the Lord of the Rising Sun.

Time passed.

Then one came called Nicomar from a great distance, who brought painted cards and dice wherewith to amuse the monarch, the like of which had never been seen before. And the King, like a spoilt baby, was delighted with this new toy, and thrust away the chess from his sight with disdain.

And those round about were so glad of the change that they hardly grudged the new-comer the honours that their royal master began to speedily heap upon him.

The days went by, and His Majesty did nothing but recline on his crimson and golden cushions, playing and rattling the dice-box.

Then, after awhile, he took to enlivening the game by hazarding large bets with his teacher--bets which generally meant the performance of impossible feats by Nicomar, with many penalties attached to their non-accomplishment.

Often and sorely was Nicomar's subtle mind perplexed to devise means of circumventing his master's wagers, and of distracting his attention to other and more entertaining matters. Nicomar lived always in fear of losing his place at the palace. Inwardly, he hated this unreasoning and unreasonable monarch, whom nothing pleased for long; outwardly, he was the most docile, obedient, and fawning of servants.

Carefully did he veil his night-like eyes, lest the hatred that shone in them sometimes might be read by those around.

Prostrate before the King, he seemingly lived but for his smile.

The burning days and the sultry nights he devoted to his service; while others slept he sat wakeful, thinking out new forms of amusement, new ways to distract the King, and enable him to retain that place which to him, hitherto most poor and friendless, was as the sorcerer's golden apple.

For Nicomar there was but one god--and that god was wealth.

He laboured and strove for and endlessly desired it.

A year went by, and still he remained the favourite, and he began to feel a little more secure and at ease....

"Nicomar," cried the King one day, as they sat together in the sunset glow, "I have resolved that you shall put milk where the sea now is. I have tired of water, and I desire instead an ocean of milk."

Nicomar stared in dismay.

"That which your Majesty wishes is impossible," he made answer.

The King frowned.

"Impossible is no word between you and me. That which I command must never be impossible," he exclaimed angrily. "Hitherto you have obeyed my orders; do so now."

The Indian trembled, but dared not protest.

"Fill up the sea with milk in fourteen days from now and your reward shall be all that even you can desire;--fail to do so and you shall die by all the tortures possible within an hour. Do as I say and your place shall be the very highest here: your power shall be well-nigh limitless, your name shall be on all lips; men shall crouch at your feet; you shall have a finer palace and greater wealth than any in the land. Save myself, you shall be great and free, while those whom you love shall be raised also."

Nicomar salaamed silently.

The King continued:

"You have known what it is to be lowly and despised; you have been mocked and reviled at,--what greater or sweeter vengeance then to see those very people bow down before you your slaves? I desire this thing so much that any price you like to name I am prepared to give."

The Indian answered never a word.

He knew of old that once the King commanded it was useless to do aught but comply.

This reward, great as it was, could never be his, for to earn it was beyond anybody's power.

"Begone, now," continued His Majesty, "and return in fourteen days' time to claim your prize, or----" and his gesture was more eloquent than words.

Nicomar, with sorrowful, halting gait, went from his august presence.

He sought without delay the quietude of his own rooms. He was well-nigh distracted. From many difficult predicaments he had with consummate tact and skill extricated himself, but from this there seemed no escape.

He beat his breast and tore his hair. He consulted the wise men and the stars; looked for this sign and for that; prayed long and fervently, and propitiated the gods in many ways, but all to no purpose.

He took no food or rest; he dared not think of what awaited him in the near future.

So a week went by, and he was no nearer finding a loophole through which to escape.

On the seventh day he sought the King, and craved humbly to know if he had understood him aright, or had he been but jesting with him.

He lingered but a short while in doubt.

His Majesty was deeply incensed at being questioned, and let the full torrent of his displeasure fall upon the head of his luckless servitor.

Swearing many oaths by the sacred hairs of Buddha that his will should be obeyed, he had him thrust ignominiously from his presence.

Then Nicomar went from out the palace and the city far into the lonely country, seeking he knew not what. For days he wandered wearily through thick jungle and silent forest ways, stepping but slowly in the long, dank grass.

He suffered greatly, and suffered without hope.

On the fifth day he came to where a broad river flowed and sparkled between high green banks.

Some Burmese, driving bullocks, were resting beside it, while in the distance were a few mud huts.

Nicomar, who was footsore and faint, sank down at the foot of a banana tree.

His garments were torn by branches and brambles, his sight was blinded by the sun, his mouth parched with thirst.

Idly he watched the Burmese from where he sat.

Soon it became apparent that they desired to cross that glittering expanse of water, but evidently knew not how to accomplish it.

Nicomar, tired of thinking of his own miseries, grew unconsciously interested.

Three of them twisted their silk pasohs up about their waists, and tried to wade the river; but it was too deep, and they returned, seemingly much perplexed.

Then they consulted together; whereupon one among them--evidently against the desire of his companions, as their gestures betokened--took the rope of his bullock between his teeth, and diving into the river, with a good imitation of swimming reached the other side.

His fellows watched the performance with open-eyed wonder, but could not be induced to follow his example.

Nicomar, looking on, thought that the young man must have a mind full of resource, and so determined to seek him and consult with him. He could not have told what was exactly the impulse that urged him to this course, but he rose, and staggering a little because he was faint, made his way to the river bank.

The young fellow leant a very interested and attentive ear to the strange story that Nicomar told to him. When he had finished he took him to his hut and gave him a meal of rice, then bade him go over the tale once more in all its details.

Whereupon he asked at the conclusion--

"If I, poor and ignorant, satisfy the King that his command can be performed, what will you give unto me?"

Nicomar, trembling with joy and incredulity, promised him one half of what he had and the hand of his daughter in marriage.

Then the Burman said--

"To-morrow we will seek the King." More he would not say, but sat in the dusky gloom of the coming evening, smoking.

Nicomar, with the great weight of his troubles somewhat lightened, slept heavily.

* * * * *

On the morning of the fourteenth day Nicomar prostrated himself before his master.

"Well," asked the King, "come you to claim your reward?"

The Indian bowed his head in grave deferential assent.

"And so you have obeyed my order?"

"I but wait for your Majesty to perform your part first, then I will without delay do my share."

The King hastened to ask the meaning of such an answer.

"Your Majesty commanded me," replied the Indian, "to fill up the sea with milk, which I am quite ready to do; but your Majesty did not command me to take the water from the ocean, and until that is done it is impossible to fill it anew. If your Majesty," continued Nicomar, "will but dispose of the water----." Then he paused timidly, waiting the King's response. He had done as the Burman had instructed him, and he feared the result.

For a long while there was silence, and those round about trembled with apprehension, for they guessed not in what wise their master would take such a reply.

At last he smiled, for although he had many grave faults, he was not unkindly or averse to owning himself baffled.

Then he said--

"Nicomar, thou art cleverer than I thought."

At which words hearts that had stood still from fear beat once more.

"The sea exists," said his Majesty, after a pause, looking round on his Court, "as it existed before we were, as it will exist when we have all passed away and our names have been forgotten."

UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Italics shown with underscores, _like this_.

Small caps capitalized LIKE THIS.

The following misprints have been corrected:

p. 69 repeated "in a" corrected.

p. 85 comma added after "who was the father of King Theebaw"

p. 100 "seleced" changed to "selected"

p. 119 "him" appended to last word of "All gifts and graces had been
showered upon;"

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