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Vikram and the Vampire

by Sir Richard F. Burton

November, 2000  [Etext #2400]
[Most recently updated: October 8, 2009]


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      Captain Sir Richard F. Burton's
                      
           Vikram and The Vampire
                      
           Classic Hindu Tales of
       Adventure, Magic, and Romance
                      
             Edited by his Wife
               Isabel Burton
                      
"Les fables, loin de grandir les hommes, la Nature et Dieu,
             rapetssent tout."
        Lamartine (Milton)                 
                      
"One who had eyes saw it; the blind will not understand it.
A poet, who is a boy, he has perceived it; he who understands it
                  will be
  his sire's sire." - Rig-Veda (I.164.16).
                      

Contents

Preface
Preface to the First (1870) Edition
Introduction

THE VAMPIRE'S FIRST STORY.
In which a Man deceives a Woman

THE VAMPIRE'S SECOND STORY.
Of the Relative Villany of Men and Woman

THE VAMPIRE'S THIRD STORY.
Of a High-minded Family

THE VAMPIRE'S FOURTH STORY.
Of a Woman who told the Truth

THE VAMPIRE'S FIFTH STORY.
Of the Thief who Laughed and Wept

THE VAMPIRE'S SIXTH STORY.
In which Three Men dispute about a Woman

THE VAMPIRE'S SEVENTH STORY.
Showng the exceeding Folly of many wise Fools

THE VAMPIRE'S EIGHTH STORY.
Of the Use and Misuse of Magic Pills

THE VAMPIRE'S NINTH STORY.
Showing that a Man's Wife belongs not to his body but to his
Head

THE VAMPIRE'S TENTH STORY.
Of the Marvellous Delicacy of Three Queens

THE VAMPIRE'S ELEVENTH STORY.
Which puzzles Raja Vikram

Conclusion

PREFACE

The Baital-Pachisi, or Twenty-five Tales of a Baital is the history
of a huge Bat, Vampire, or Evil Spirit which inhabited and
animated dead bodies. It is an old, and thoroughly Hindu, Legend
composed in Sanskrit, and is the germ which culminated in the
Arabian Nights, and which inspired the "Golden Ass" of Apuleius,
Boccacio's "Decamerone," the "Pentamerone," and all that class of
facetious fictitious literature.

The story turns chiefly on a great king named Vikram, the King
Arthur of the East, who in pursuance of his promise to a Jogi or
Magician, brings to him the Baital (Vampire), who is hanging on a
tree. The difficulties King Vikram and his son have in bringing the
Vampire into the presence of the Jogi are truly laughable; and on
this thread is strung a series of Hindu fairy stories, which contain
much interesting information on Indian customs and manners. It
also alludes to that state, which induces Hindu devotees to allow
themselves to be buried alive, and to appear dead for weeks or
months, and then to return to life again; a curious state of
mesmeric catalepsy, into which they work themselves by
concentrating the mind and abstaining from food   - a specimen of
which I have given a practical illustration in the Life of Sir Richard
Burton.

The following translation is rendered peculiarly; valuable and
interesting by Sir Richard Burton's intimate knowledge of the
language. To all who understand the ways of the East, it is as
witty, and as full of what is popularly called "chaff" as it is
possible to be. There is not a dull page in it, and it will especially
please those who delight in the weird and supernatural, the
grotesque, and the wild life.

My husband only gives eleven of the best tales, as it was thought
the translation would prove more interesting in its abbreviated
form.

ISABEL BURTON.

August 18th, 1893.


PREFACE TO THE FIRST (1870) EDITION.

"THE genius of Eastern nations," says an established and
respectable authority, "was, from the earliest times, much turned
towards invention and the love of fiction. The Indians, the
Persians, and the Arabians, were all famous for their fables.
Amongst the ancient Greeks we hear of the Ionian and Milesian
tales, but they have now perished, and, from every account we hear
of them, appear to have been loose and indelicate." Similarly, the
classical dictionaries define "Milesiae fabulae" to be "licentious
themes," "stories of an amatory or mirthful nature," or "ludicrous
and indecent plays." M. Deriege seems indeed to confound them
with the "Moeurs du Temps" illustrated with artistic gouaches,
when he says, "une de ces fables milesiennes, rehaussees de
peintures, que la corruption romaine recherchait alors avec une
folle ardeur."

My friend, Mr. Richard Charnock, F.A.S.L., more correctly
defines Milesian fables to have been originally " certain tales or
novels, composed by Aristides of Miletus "; gay in matter and
graceful in manner. "They were translated into Latin by the
historian Sisenna, the friend of Atticus, and they had a great
success at Rome. Plutarch, in his life of Crassus, tells us that after
the defeat of Carhes (Carrhae?) some Milesiacs were found in the
baggage of the Roman prisoners. The Greek text; and the Latin
translation have long been lost. The only surviving fable is the tale
of Cupid and Psyche,[FN#1] which Apuleius calls 'Milesius
sermo,' and it makes us deeply regret the disappearance of the
others." Besides this there are the remains of Apollodorus and
Conon, and a few traces to be found in Pausanias, Athenaeus, and
the scholiasts.

I do not, therefore, agree with Blair, with the dictionaries, or with
M. Deriege. Miletus, the great maritime city of Asiatic Ionia, was
of old the meeting-place of the East and the West. Here the
Phoenician trader from the Baltic would meet the Hindu
wandering to Intra, from Extra, Gangem; and the Hyperborean
would step on shore side by side with the Nubian and the Aethiop.
Here was produced and published for the use of the then civilized
world, the genuine Oriental apologue, myth and tale combined,
which, by amusing narrative and romantic adventure, insinuates a
lesson in morals or in humanity, of which we often in our days
must fail to perceive the drift. The book of Apuleius, before
quoted, is subject to as many discoveries of recondite meaning as
is Rabelais. As regards the licentiousness of the Milesian fables,
this sign of semi-civilization is still inherent in most Eastern books
of the description which we call "light literature," and the ancestral
tale-teller never collects a larger purse of coppers than when he
relates the worst of his "aurei." But this looseness, resulting from
the separation of the sexes, is accidental, not necessary. The
following collection will show that it can be dispensed with, and
that there is such a thing as comparative purity in Hindu literature.
The author, indeed, almost always takes the trouble to marry his
hero and his heroine, and if he cannot find a priest, he generally
adopts an exceedingly left-hand and Caledonian but legal rite
called "gandharbavivaha.[FN#2]"

The work of Apuleius, as ample internal evidence shows, is
borrowed from the East. The groundwork of the tale is the
metamorphosis of Lucius of Corinth into an ass, and the strange
accidents which precede his recovering the human form.

Another old Hindu story-book relates, in the popular fairy-book
style, the wondrous adventures of the hero and demigod, the great
Gandharba-Sena. That son of Indra, who was also the father of
Vikramajit, the subject of this and another collection, offended the
ruler of the firmament by his fondness for a certain nymph, and
was doomed to wander over earth under the form of a donkey.
Through the interposition of the gods, however, he was permitted
to become a man during the hours of darkness, thus comparing
with the English legend  -

          Amundeville is lord by day,
          But the monk is lord by night.

Whilst labouring under this curse, Gandharba-Sena persuaded the
King of Dhara to give him a daughter in marriage, but it
unfortunately so happened that at the wedding hour he was unable
to show himself in any but asinine shape. After bathing, however,
he proceeded to the assembly, and, hearing songs and music, he
resolved to give them a specimen of his voice.

The guests were filled with sorrow that so beautiful a virgin should
be married to a donkey. They were afraid to express their feelings
to the king, but they could not refrain from smiling, covering their
mouths with their garments. At length some one interrupted the
general silence and said:

"O king, is this the son of Indra? You have found a fine
bridegroom; you are indeed happy; don't delay the marriage; delay
is improper in doing good; we never saw so glorious a wedding! It
is true that we once heard of a camel being married to a jenny-ass;
when the ass, looking up to the camel, said, 'Bless me, what a
bridegroom!' and the camel, hearing the voice of the ass,
exclaimed, 'Bless me, what a musical voice!' In that wedding,
however, the bride and the bridegroom were equal; but in this
marriage, that such a bride should have such a bridegroom is truly
wonderful."

Other Brahmans then present said:

"O king, at the marriage hour, in sign of joy the sacred shell is
blown, but thou hast no need of that" (alluding to the donkey's
braying).

The women all cried out:

"O my mother![FN#3] what is this? at the time of marriage to have
an ass! What a miserable thing! What! will he give that angelic girl
in wedlock to a donkey?"

At length Gandharba-Sena, addressing the king in Sanskrit, urged
him to perform his promise. He reminded his future father-in-law
that there is no act more meritorious than speaking truth; that the
mortal frame is a mere dress, and that wise men never estimate the
value of a person by his clothes. He added that he was in that
shape from the curse of his sire, and that during the night he had
the body of a man. Of his being the son of Indra there could be no
doubt.

Hearing the donkey thus speak Sanskrit, for it was never known
that an ass could discourse in that classical tongue, the minds of
the people were changed, and they confessed that, although he had
an asinine form he was unquestionably the son of Indra. The king,
therefore, gave him his daughter in marriage.[FN#4] The
metamorphosis brings with it many misfortunes and strange
occurrences, and it lasts till Fate in the author's hand restores the
hero to his former shape and honours.

Gandharba-Sena is a quasi-historical personage, who lived in the
century preceding the Christian era. The story had, therefore,
ample time to reach the ears of the learned African Apuleius, who
was born A.D. 130.

The Baital-Pachisi, or Twenty-five (tales of a) Baital[FN#5]  - a
Vampire or evil spirit which animates dead bodies  -  is an old and
thoroughly Hindu repertory. It is the rude beginning of that
fictitious history which ripened to the Arabian Nights'
Entertainments, and which, fostered by the genius of Boccaccio,
produced the romance of the chivalrous days, and its last
development, the novel  -  that prose-epic of modern Europe.

Composed in Sanskrit, "the language of the gods," alias the Latin
of India, it has been translated into all the Prakrit or vernacular and
modern dialects of the great peninsula. The reason why it has not
found favour with the Moslems is doubtless the highly polytheistic
spirit which pervades it; moreover, the Faithful had already a
specimen of that style of composition. This was the Hitopadesa, or
Advice of a Friend, which, as a line in its introduction informs us,
was borrowed from an older book, the Panchatantra, or Five
Chapters. It is a collection of apologues recited by a learned
Brahman, Vishnu Sharma by name, for the edification of his
pupils, the sons of an Indian Raja. They have been adapted to or
translated into a number of languages, notably into Pehlvi and
Persian, Syriac and Turkish, Greek and Latin, Hebrew and Arabic.
And as the Fables of Pilpay,[FN#6] are generally known, by name
at least, to European litterateurs. . Voltaire remarks,[FN#7]
"Quand on fait reflexion que presque toute la terre a ete infatuee de
pareils comes, et qu'ils ont fait l'education du genre humain, on
trouve les fables de Pilpay, Lokman, d'Esope bien raisonnables."
These tales, detached, but strung together by artificial means -
pearls with a thread drawn through them - are manifest precursors
of the Decamerone, or Ten Days. A modern Italian critic describes
the now classical fiction as a collection of one hundred of those
novels which Boccaccio is believed to have read out at the court of
Queen Joanna of Naples, and which later in life were by him
assorted together by a most simple and ingenious contrivance. But
the great Florentine invented neither his stories nor his " plot," if
we may so call it. He wrote in the middle of the fourteenth century
(1344-8) when the West had borrowed many things from the East,
rhymes[FN#8] and romance, lutes and drums, alchemy and
knight-errantry. Many of the "Novelle" are, as Orientalists well
know, to this day sung and recited almost textually by the
wandering tale-tellers, bards, and rhapsodists of Persia and Central
Asia.

The great kshatriya,(soldier) king Vikramaditya,[FN#9] or
Vikramarka, meaning the "Sun of Heroism," plays in India the part
of King Arthur, and of Harun al-Rashid further West. He is a
semi-historical personage. The son of Gandharba-Sena the donkey
and the daughter of the King of Dhara, he was promised by his
father the strength of a thousand male elephants. When his sire
died, his grandfather, the deity Indra, resolved that the babe should
not be born, upon which his mother stabbed herself. But the tragic
event duly happening during the ninth month, Vikram came into
the world by himself, and was carried to Indra, who pitied and
adopted him, and gave him a good education.

The circumstances of his accession to the throne, as will presently
appear, are differently told. Once, however, made King of Malaya,
the modern Malwa, a province of Western Upper India, he so
distinguished himself that the Hindu fabulists, with their usual
brave kind of speaking, have made him "bring the whole earth
under the shadow of one umbrella,"

The last ruler of the race of Mayura, which reigned 318 years, was
Raja-pal. He reigned 25 years, but giving himself up to
effeminacy, his country was invaded by Shakaditya, a king from
the highlands of Kumaon. Vikramaditya, in the fourteenth year of
his reign, pretended to espouse the cause of Raja-pal, attacked and
destroyed Shakaditya, and ascended the throne of Delhi. His
capital was Avanti, or Ujjayani, the modern Ujjain. It was 13 kos
(26 miles) long by 18 miles wide, an area of 468 square miles, but
a trifle in Indian History. He obtained the title of Shakari, "foe of
the Shakas," the Sacae or Scythians, by his victories over that
redoubtable race. In the Kali Yug, or Iron Age, he stands highest
amongst the Hindu kings as the patron of learning. Nine persons
under his patronage, popularly known as the "Nine Gems of
Science," hold in India the honourable position of the Seven Wise
Men of Greece.

These learned persons wrote works in the eighteen original dialects
from which, say the Hindus, all the languages of the earth have
been derived.[FN#10] Dhanwantari enlightened the world upon the
subjects of medicine and of incantations. Kshapanaka treated the
primary elements. Amara-Singha compiled a Sanskrit dictionary
and a philosophical treatise. Shankubetalabhatta composed
comments, and Ghatakarpara a poetical work of no great merit.
The books of Mihira are not mentioned. Varaha produced two
works on astrology and one on arithmetic. And Bararuchi
introduced certain improvements in grammar, commented upon
the incantations, and wrote a poem in praise of King Madhava.

But the most celebrated of all the patronized ones was Kalidasa.
His two dramas, Sakuntala,[FN#11] and Vikram and
Urvasi,[FN#12] have descended to our day; besides which he
produced a poem on the seasons, a work on astronomy, a poetical
history of the gods, and many other books.[FN#13]

Vikramaditya established the Sambat era, dating from A.C. 56.
After a long, happy, and glorious reign, he lost his life in a war
with Shalivahana, King of Pratisthana. That monarch also left
behind him an era called the " Shaka," beginning with A.D. 78. It
is employed, even now, by the Hindus in recording their births,
marriages, and similar occasions.

King Vikramaditya was succeeded by his infant son
Vikrama-Sena, and father and son reigned over a period of 93
years. At last the latter was supplanted by a devotee named
Samudra-pala, who entered into his body by miraculous means.
The usurper reigned 24 years and 2 months, and the throne of
Delhi continued in the hands of his sixteen successors, who
reigned 641 years and 3 months. Vikrama-pala, the last, was slain
in battle by Tilaka-chandra, King of Vaharannah[FN#14].

It is not pretended that the words of these Hindu tales are
preserved to the letter. The question about the metamorphosis of
cats into tigers, for instance, proceeded from a Gem of Learning in
a university much nearer home than Gaur. Similarly the learned
and still living Mgr. Gaume (Traite du Saint-Esprit, p.. 81) joins
Camerarius in the belief that serpents bite women rather than men.
And he quotes (p.. 192) Cornelius a Lapide, who informs us that
the leopard is the produce of a lioness with a hyena or a bard..

The merit of the old stories lies in their suggestiveness and in their
general applicability. I have ventured to remedy the conciseness of
their language, and to clothe the skeleton with flesh and blood.

                To My Uncle,
                      
       ROBERT BAGSHAW, OF DOVERCOURT,
                      
                These Tales,
    That Will Remind Him Of A Land Which
             He Knows So Well,
       Are Affectionately Inscribed.
                      

          VIKRAM AND THE VAMPIRE.

                INTRODUCTION

The sage Bhavabhuti -- Eastern teller of these tales -- after making
his initiatory and propitiatory conge to Ganesha, Lord of Incepts,
informs the reader that this book is a string of fine pearls to be
hung round the neck of human intelligence; a fragrant flower to be
borne on the turband of mental wisdom; a jewel of pure gold,
which becomes the brow of all supreme minds; and a handful of
powdered rubies, whose tonic effects will appear palpably upon
the mental digestion of every patient. Finally, that by aid of the
lessons inculcated in the following pages, man will pass happily
through this world into the state of absorption, where fables will be
no longer required.

He then teaches us how Vikramaditya the Brave became King of
Ujjayani.

Some nineteen centuries ago, the renowned city of Ujjayani
witnessed the birth of a prince to whom was given the gigantic
name Vikramaditya. Even the Sanskrit-speaking people, who are
not usually pressed for time, shortened it to "Vikram", and a little
further West it would infallibly have been docked down to "Vik".

Vikram was the second son of an old king Gandharba-Sena,
concerning whom little favourable has reached posterity, except
that he became an ass, married four queens, and had by them six
sons, each of whom was more learned and powerful than the other.
It so happened that in course of time the father died. Thereupon his
eldest heir, who was known as Shank, succeeded to the carpet of
Rajaship, and was instantly murdered by Vikram, his "scorpion",
the hero of the following pages.[FN#15]

By this act of vigour and manly decision, which all younger-
brother princes should devoutly imitate, Vikram having obtained
the title of Bir, or the Brave, made himself Raja. He began to rule
well, and the gods so favoured him that day by day his dominions
increased. At length he became lord of all India, and having firmly
established his government, he instituted an era--an uncommon
feat for a mere monarch, especially when hereditary.

The steps,[FN#16] says the historian, which he took to arrive at
that pinnacle of grandeur, were these:

The old King calling his two grandsons Bhartari-hari and
Vikramaditya, gave them good counsel respecting their future
learning. They were told to master everything, a certain way not to
succeed in anything. They were diligently to learn grammar, the
Scriptures, and all the religious sciences. They were to become
familiar with military tactics, international law, and music, the
riding of horses and elephants-- especially the latter--the driving of
chariots, and the use of the broadsword, the bow, and the mogdars
or Indian clubs. They were ordered to be skilful in all kinds of
games, in leaping and running, in besieging forts, in forming and
breaking bodies of troops; they were to endeavour to excel in
every princely quality, to be cunning in ascertaining the power of
an enemy, how to make war, to perform journeys, to sit in the
presence of the nobles, to separate the different sides of a question,
to form alliances, to distinguish between the innocent and the
guilty, to assign proper punishments to the wicked, to exercise
authority with perfect justice, and to be liberal. The boys were then
sent to school, and were placed under the care of excellent
teachers, where they became truly famous. Whilst under pupilage,
the eldest was allowed all the power necessary to obtain a
knowledge of royal affairs, and he was not invested with the regal
office till in these preparatory steps he had given full satisfaction
to his subjects, who expressed high approval of his conduct.

The two brothers often conversed on the duties of kings, when the
great Vikramaditya gave the great Bhartari-hari the following
valuable advice[FN#17]:

"As Indra, during the four rainy months, fills the earth with water,
so a king should replenish his treasury with money. As Surya the
sun, in warming the earth eight months, does not scorch it, so a
king, in drawing revenues from his people, ought not to oppress
them. As Vayu, the wind, surrounds and fills everything, so the
king by his officers and spies should become acquainted with the
affairs and circumstances of his whole people. As Yama judges
men without partiality or prejudice, and punishes the guilty, so
should a king chastise, without favour, all offenders. As Varuna,
the regent of water, binds with his pasha or divine noose his
enemies, so let a king bind every malefactor safely in prison. As
Chandra,[FN#18] the moon, by his cheering light gives pleasure to
all, thus should a king, by gifts and generosity, make his people
happy. And as Prithwi, the earth, sustains all alike, so should a
king feel an equal affection and forbearance towards every one."

Become a monarch, Vikram meditated deeply upon what is said of
monarchs:--"A king is fire and air; he is both sun and moon; he is
the god of criminal justice; he is the genius of wealth; he is the
regent of water; he is the lord of the firmament; he is a powerful
divinity who appears in human shape." He reflected with some
satisfaction that the scriptures had made him absolute, had left the
lives and properties of all his subjects to his arbitrary will, had
pronounced him to be an incarnate deity, and had threatened to
punish with death even ideas derogatory to his honour.

He punctually observed all the ordinances laid down by the author
of the Niti, or institutes of government. His night and day were
divided into sixteen pahars or portions, each one hour and a half,
and they were disposed of as follows:-- 

Before dawn Vikram was awakened by a servant appointed to this
special duty. He swallowed-- a thing allowed only to a khshatriya
or warrior-- Mithridatic every morning on the saliva[FN#19], and
he made the cooks taste every dish before he ate of it. As soon as
he had risen, the pages in waiting repeated his splendid qualities,
and as he left his sleeping-room in full dress, several Brahmans
rehearsed the praises of the gods. Presently he bathed, worshipped
his guardian deity, again heard hymns, drank a little water, and
saw alms distributed to the poor. He ended this watch by auditing
his accounts.

Next entering his court, he placed himself amidst the assembly. He
was always armed when he received strangers, and he caused even
women to be searched for concealed weapons. He was surrounded
by so many spies and so artful, that of a thousand, no two ever told
the same tale. At the levee, on his right sat his relations, the
Brahmans, and men of distinguished birth. The other castes were
on the left, and close to him stood the ministers and those whom he
delighted to consult. Afar in front gathered the bards chanting the
praises of the gods and of the king; also the charioteers,
elephanteers, horsemen, and soldiers of valour. Amongst the
learned men in those assemblies there were ever some who were
well instructed in all the scriptures, and others who had studied in
one particular school of philosophy, and were acquainted only with
the works on divine wisdom, or with those on justice, civil and
criminal, on the arts, mineralogy or the practice of physic; also
persons cunning in all kinds of customs; riding-masters, dancing-
masters, teachers of good behaviour, examiners, tasters, mimics,
mountebanks, and others, who all attended the court and awaited
the king's commands. He here pronounced judgment in suits of
appeal. His poets wrote about him:

               The lord of lone splendour an instant suspends
               His course at mid~noon, ere he westward descends;
               And brief are the moments our young monarch knows,
               Devoted to pleasure or paid to repose!

Before the second sandhya,[FN#20] or noon, about the beginning
of the third watch, he recited the names of the gods, bathed, and
broke his fast in his private room; then rising from food, he was
amused by singers and dancing girls. The labours of the day now
became lighter. After eating he retired, repeating the name of his
guardian deity, visited the temples, saluted the gods conversed
with the priests, and proceeded to receive and to distribute
presents. Fifthly, he discussed political questions with his
ministers and councillors.

On the announcement of the herald that it was the sixth watch--
about 2 or 3 P.M.--Vikram allowed himself to follow his own
inclinations, to regulate his family, and to transact business of a
private and personal nature.

After gaining strength by rest, he proceeded to review his troops,
examining the men, saluting the officers, and holding military
councils. At sunset he bathed a third time and performed the five
sacraments of listening to a prelection of the Veda; making
oblations to the manes; sacrificing to Fire in honour of the deities;
giving rice to dumb creatures; and receiving guests with due
ceremonies. He spent the evening amidst a select company of wise,
learned, and pious men, conversing on different subjects, and
reviewing the business of the day.

The night was distributed with equal care. During the first portion
Vikram received the reports which his spies and envoys, dressed in
every disguise, brought to him about his enemies. Against the
latter he ceased not to use the five arts, namely--dividing the
kingdom, bribes, mischief-making, negotiations, and brute-force--
especially preferring the first two and the last. His forethought and
prudence taught him to regard all his nearest neighbours and their
allies as hostile. The powers beyond those natural enemies he
considered friendly because they were the foes of his foes. And all
the remoter nations he looked upon as neutrals, in a transitional or
provisional state as it were, till they became either his neighbours'
neighbours, or his own neighbours, that is to say, his friends or his
foes.

This important duty finished he supped, and at the end of the third
watch he retired to sleep, which was not allowed to last beyond
three hours. In the sixth watch he arose and purified himself. The
seventh was devoted to holding private consultations with his
ministers, and to furnishing the officers of government with
requisite instructions. The eighth or last watch was spent with the
Purohita or priest, and with Brahmans, hailing the dawn with its
appropriate rites; he then bathed, made the customary offerings,
and prayed in some unfrequented place near pure water.

And throughout these occupations he bore in mind the duty of
kings, namely--to pursue every object till it be accomplished; to
succour all dependents, and hospitably to receive guests, however
numerous. He was generous to his subjects respecting taxes, and
kind of speech; yet he was inexorable as death in the punishment
of offenses. He rarely hunted, and he visited his pleasure gardens
only on stated days. He acted in his own dominions with justice;
he chastised foreign foes with rigour; he behaved generously to
Brahmans, and he avoided favouritism amongst his friends. In war
he never slew a suppliant, a spectator, a person asleep or
undressed, or anyone that showed fear. Whatever country he
conquered, offerings were presented to its gods, and effects and
money were given to the reverends. But what benefited him most
was his attention to the creature comforts of the nine Gems of
Science: those eminent men ate and drank themselves into fits of
enthusiasm, and ended by immortalizing their patron's name.

Become Vikram the Great he established his court at a delightful
and beautiful location rich in the best of water. The country was
difficult of access, and artificially made incapable of supporting a
host of invaders, but four great roads met near the city. The capital
was surrounded with durable ramparts, having gates of defence,
and near it was a mountain fortress, under the especial charge of a
great captain.

The metropolis was well garrisoned and provisioned, and it
surrounded the royal palace, a noble building without as well as
within. Grandeur seemed embodied there, and Prosperity had made
it her own. The nearer ground, viewed from the terraces and
pleasure pavilions, was a lovely mingling of rock and mountain,
plain and valley, field and fallow, crystal lake and glittering
stream. The banks of the winding Lavana were fringed with meads
whose herbage, pearly with morning dew, afforded choicest
grazing for the sacred cow, and were dotted with perfumed clumps
of Bo-trees, tamarinds, and holy figs: in one place Vikram planted
100,000 in a single orchard and gave them to his spiritual advisers.
The river valley separated the stream from a belt of forest growth
which extended to a hill range, dark with impervious jungle, and
cleared here and there for the cultivator's village. Behind it, rose
another sub-range, wooded with a lower bush and already blue
with air, whilst in the background towered range upon range, here
rising abruptly into points and peaks, there ramp-shaped or wall-
formed, with sheer descents, and all of light azure hue adorned
with glories of silver and gold.

After reigning for some years, Vikram the Brave found himself at
the age of thirty, a staid and sober middle-aged man, He had
several sons--daughters are naught in India--by his several wives,
and he had some paternal affection for nearly all--except of course,
for his eldest son, a youth who seemed to conduct himself as
though he had a claim to the succession. In fact, the king seemed
to have taken up his abode for life at Ujjayani, when suddenly he
bethought himself, "I must visit those countries of whose names I
am ever hearing." The fact is, he had determined to spy out in
disguise the lands of all his foes, and to find the best means of
bringing against them his formidable army.

      *     *     *     *     *     *

We now learn how Bhartari Raja becomes Regent of Ujjayani.

Having thus resolved, Vikram the Brave gave the government into
the charge of a younger brother, Bhartari Raja, and in the garb of a
religious mendicant, accompanied by Dharma Dhwaj, his second
son, a youth bordering on the age of puberty, he began to travel
from city to city, and from forest to forest.

The Regent was of a settled melancholic turn of mind, having lost
in early youth a very peculiar wife. One day, whilst out hunting, he
happened to pass a funeral pyre, upon which a Brahman's widow
had just become Sati (a holy woman) with the greatest fortitude.
On his return home he related the adventure to Sita Rani, his
spouse, and she at once made reply that virtuous women die with
their husbands, killed by the fire of grief, not by the flames of the
pile. To prove her truth the prince, after an affectionate farewell,
rode forth to the chase, and presently sent back the suite with his
robes torn and stained, to report his accidental death. Sita perished
upon the spot, and the widower remained inconsolable--for a time.

He led the dullest of lives, and took to himself sundry spouses, all
equally distinguished for birth, beauty, and modesty. Like his
brother, he performed all the proper devoirs of a Raja, rising
before the day to finish his ablutions, to worship the gods, and to
do due obeisance to the Brahmans. He then ascended the throne, to
judge his people according to the Shastra, carefully keeping in
subjection lust, anger, avarice, folly, drunkenness, and pride;
preserving himself from being seduced by the love of gaming and
of the chase; restraining his desire for dancing, singing, and
playing on musical instruments, and refraining from sleep during
daytime, from wine, from molesting men of worth, from dice, from
putting human beings to death by artful means, from useless
travelling, and from holding any one guilty without the
commission of a crime. His levees were in a hall decently
splendid, and he was distinguished only by an umbrella of
peacock's feathers; he received all complainants, petitioners, and
presenters of offenses with kind looks and soft words. He united to
himself the seven or eight wise councillors, and the sober and
virtuous secretary that formed the high cabinet of his royal brother,
and they met in some secret lonely spot, as a mountain, a terrace, a
bower or a forest, whence women, parrots, and other talkative
birds were carefully excluded.

And at the end of this useful and somewhat laborious day, he
retired to his private apartments, and, after listening to spiritual
songs and to soft music, he fell asleep. Sometimes he would
summon his brother's "Nine Gems of Science," and give ear to
their learned discourses. But it was observed that the viceroy
reserved this exercise for nights when he was troubled with
insomnia--the words of wisdom being to him an infallible remedy
for that disorder.

Thus passed onwards his youth, doing nothing that it could desire,
forbidden all pleasures because they were unprincely, and working
in the palace harder than in the pauper's hut. Having, however,
fortunately for himself, few predilections and no imagination, he
began to pride himself upon being a philosopher. Much business
from an early age had dulled his wits, which were never of the
most brilliant; and in the steadily increasing torpidity of his spirit,
he traced the germs of that quietude which forms the highest
happiness of man in this storm of matter called the world. He
therefore allowed himself but one friend of his soul. He retained, I
have said, his brother's seven or eight ministers; he was constant in
attendance upon the Brahman priests who officiated at the palace,
and who kept the impious from touching sacred property; and he
was courteous to the commander-in-chief who directed his
warriors, to the officers of justice who inflicted punishment upon
offenders, and to the lords of towns, varying in number from one
to a thousand. But he placed an intimate of his own in the high
position of confidential councillor, the ambassador to regulate war
and peace.

Mahi-pala was a person of noble birth, endowed with shining
abilities, popular, dexterous in business, acquainted with foreign
parts, famed for eloquence and intrepidity, and as Menu the
Lawgiver advises, remarkably handsome.

Bhartari Raja, as I have said, became a quietist and a philosopher.
But Kama,[FN#21] the bright god who exerts his sway over the
three worlds, heaven and earth and grewsome Hades,[FN#22] had
marked out the prince once more as the victim of his blossom-
tipped shafts and his flowery bow. How, indeed, could he hope to
escape the doom which has fallen equally upon Brahma the
Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and dreadful Shiva the Three-eyed
Destroyer[FN#23]?

By reason of her exceeding beauty, her face was a full moon
shining in the clearest sky; her hair was the purple cloud of autumn
when, gravid with rain, it hangs low over earth; and her
complexion mocked the pale waxen hue of the large-flowered
jasmine. Her eyes were those of the timid antelope; her lips were
as red as those of the pomegranate's bud, and when they opened,
from them distilled a fountain of ambrosia. Her neck was like a
pigeon's; her hand the pink lining of the conch-shell; her waist a
leopard's; her feet the softest lotuses. In a word, a model of grace
and loveliness was Dangalah Rani, Raja Bhartari's last and
youngest wife.

The warrior laid down his arms before her; the politician spoke out
every secret in her presence. The religious prince would have
slaughtered a cow--that sole unforgivable sin--to save one of her
eyelashes: the absolute king would not drink a cup of water
without her permission; the staid philosopher, the sober quietist, to
win from her the shadow of a smile, would have danced before her
like a singing-girl. So desperately enamoured became Bhartari
Raja.

It is written, however, that love, alas! breeds not love; and so it
happened to the Regent. The warmth of his affection, instead of
animating his wife, annoyed her; his protestations wearied her; his
vows gave her the headache; and his caresses were a colic that
made her blood run cold. Of course, the prince perceived nothing,
being lost in wonder and admiration of the beauty's coyness and
coquetry. And as women must give away their hearts, whether
asked or not, so the lovely Dangalah Rani lost no time in lavishing
all the passion of her idle soul upon Mahi-pala, the handsome
ambassador of peace and war. By this means the three were happy
and were contented; their felicity, however, being built on a rotten
foundation, could not long endure. It soon ended in the following
extraordinary way.

In the city of Ujjayani,[FN#24] within sight of the palace, dwelt a
Brahman and his wife, who, being old and poor, and having
nothing else to do, had applied themselves to the practice of
austere devotion.[FN#25] They fasted and refrained from drink,
they stood on their heads and held their arms for weeks in the air;
they prayed till their knees were like pads; they disciplined
themselves with scourges of wire; and they walked about unclad in
the cold season, and in summer they sat within a circle of flaming
wood, till they became the envy and admiration of all the plebeian
gods that inhabit the lower heavens. In fine, as a reward for their
exceeding piety, the venerable pair received at the hands of a
celestial messenger an apple of the tree Kalpavriksha-- a fruit
which has the virtue of conferring eternal life upon him that tastes
it.

Scarcely had the god disappeared, when the Brahman, opening his
toothless mouth, prepared to eat the fruit of immortality. Then his
wife addressed him in these words, shedding copious tears the
while:

"To die, O man, is a passing pain; to be poor is an interminable
anguish. Surely our present lot is the penalty of some great crime
committed by us in a past state of being.[FN#26] Callest thou this
state life? Better we die at once, and so escape the woes of the
world!"

Hearing these words, the Brahman sat undecided, with open jaws
and eyes fixed upon the apple. Presently he found tongue: "I have
accepted the fruit, and have brought it here; but having heard thy
speech, my intellect hath wasted away; now I will do whatever
thou pointest out."

The wife resumed her discourse, which had been interrupted by a
more than usually copious flow of tears. "Moreover, O husband,
we are old, and what are the enjoyments of the stricken in years?
Truly quoth the poet-- 

               Die loved in youth, not hated in age.

If that fruit could have restored thy dimmed eyes, and deaf ears,
and blunted taste, and warmth of love, I had not spoken to thee
thus."

After which the Brahman threw away the apple, to the great joy of
his wife, who felt a natural indignation at the prospect of seeing
her goodman become immortal, whilst she still remained subject to
the laws of death; but she concealed this motive in the depths of
her thought, enlarging, as women are apt to do, upon everything
but the truth. And she spoke with such success, that the priest was
about to toss in his rage the heavenly fruit into the fire,
reproaching the gods as if by sending it they had done him an
injury. Then the wife snatched it out of his hand, and telling him it
was too precious to be wasted, bade him arise and gird his loins
and wend him to the Regent's palace, and offer him the fruit--as
King Vikram was absent--with a right reverend brahmanical
benediction. She concluded with impressing upon her unworldly
husband the necessity of requiring a large sum of money as a
return for his inestimable gift. "By this means, "she said, "thou
mayst promote thy present and future welfare.[FN#27]"

Then the Brahman went forth, and standing in the presence of the
Raja, told him all things touching the fruit, concluding with "O,
mighty prince! vouchsafe to accept this tribute, and bestow wealth
upon me. I shall be happy in your living long!"

Bhartari Raja led the supplicant into an inner strongroom, where
stood heaps of the finest gold-dust, and bade him carry away all
that he could; this the priest did, not forgetting to fill even his
eloquent and toothless mouth with the precious metal. Having
dismissed the devotee groaning under the burden, the Regent
entered the apartments of his wives, and having summoned the
beautiful Queen Dangalah Rani, gave her the fruit, and said, "Eat
this, light of my eyes! This fruit--joy of my heart!--will make thee
everlastingly young and beautiful."

The pretty queen, placing both hands upon her husband's bosom,
kissed his eyes and lips, and sweetly smiling on his face--for great
is the guile of women--whispered, "Eat it thyself, dear one, or at
least share it with me; for what is life and what is youth without
the presence of those we love?" But the Raja, whose heart was
melted by these unusual words, put her away tenderly, and, having
explained that the fruit would serve for only one person, departed.

Whereupon the pretty queen, sweetly smiling as before, slipped the
precious present into her pocket. When the Regent was transacting
business in the hall of audience she sent for the ambassador who
regulated war and peace, and presented him with the apple in a
manner at least as tender as that with which it had been offered to
her.

Then the ambassador, after slipping the fruit into his pocket also,
retired from the presence of the pretty queen, and meeting Lakha,
one of the maids of honour, explained to her its wonderful power,
and gave it to her as a token of his love. But the maid of honour,
being an ambitious girl, determined that the fruit was a fit present
to set before the Regent in the absence of the King. Bhartari Raja
accepted it, bestowed on her great wealth, and dismissed her with
many thanks.

He then took up the apple and looked at it with eyes brimful of
tears, for he knew the whole extent of his misfortune. His heart
ached, he felt a loathing for the world, and he said with sighs and
groans[FN#28]:

"Of what value are these delusions of wealth and affection, whose
sweetness endures for a moment and becomes eternal bitterness?
Love is like the drunkard's cup: delicious is the first drink, palling
are the draughts that succeed it, and most distasteful are the dregs.
What is life but a restless vision of imaginary pleasures and of real
pains, from which the only waking is the terrible day of death? The
affection of this world is of no use, since, in consequence of it, we
fall at last into hell. For which reason it is best to practice the
austerities of religion, that the Deity may bestow upon us hereafter
that happiness which he refuses to us here!"

Thus did Bhartari Raja determine to abandon the world. But before
setting out for the forest, he could not refrain from seeing the
queen once more, so hot was the flame which Kama had kindled in
his heart. He therefore went to the apartments of his women, and
having caused Dangalah Rani to be summoned, he asked her what
had become of the fruit which he had given to her. She answered
that, according to his command, she had eaten it. Upon which the
Regent showed her the apple, and she beholding it stood aghast,
unable to make any reply. The Raja gave careful orders for her
beheading; he then went out, and having had the fruit washed, ate
it. He quitted the throne to be a jogi, or religious mendicant, and
without communicating with any one departed into the jungle.
There he became such a devotee that death had no power over him,
and he is wandering still. But some say that he was duly absorbed
into the essence of the Deity.

      *     *     *     *     *     *

We are next told how the valiant Vikram returned to his own
country.

Thus Vikram's throne remained empty. When the news reached
King Indra, Regent of the Lower Firmament and Protector of
Earthly Monarchs, he sent Prithwi Pala, a fierce giant,[FN#29] to
defend the city of Ujjayani till such time as its lawful master might
reappear, and the guardian used to keep watch and ward night and
day over his trust.

In less than a year the valorous Raja Vikram became thoroughly
tired of wandering about the woods half dressed: now suffering
from famine, then exposed to the attacks of wild beasts, and at all
times very ill at ease. He reflected also that he was not doing his
duty to his wives and children; that the heir-apparent would
probably make the worst use of the parental absence; and finally,
that his subjects, deprived of his fatherly care, had been left in the
hands of a man who, for ought he could say, was not worthy of the
high trust. He had also spied out all the weak points of friend and
foe. Whilst these and other equally weighty considerations were
hanging about the Raja's mind, he heard a rumour of the state of
things spread abroad; that Bhartari, the regent, having abdicated
his throne, had gone away into the forest. Then quoth Vikram to
his son,"We have ended our wayfarings, now let us turn our steps
homewards!"

The gong was striking the mysterious hour of midnight as the king
and the young prince approached the principal gate. And they were
pushing through it when a monstrous figure rose up before them
and called out with a fearful voice, "Who are ye, and where are ye
going ? Stand and deliver your names!"

"I am Raja Vikram," rejoined the king, half choked with rage, "and
I am come to mine own city. Who art thou that darest to stop or
stay me?"

"That question is easily answered," cried Prithwi Pala the giant, in
his roaring voice; "the gods have sent me to protect Ujjayani. If
thou be really Raja Vikram, prove thyself a man: first fight with
me, and then return to thine own."

The warrior king cried "Sadhu!" wanting nothing better. He girt his
girdle tight round his loins, summoned his opponent into the empty
space beyond the gate, told him to stand on guard, and presently
began to devise some means of closing with or running in upon
him. The giant's fists were large as watermelons, and his knotted
arms whistled through the air like falling trees, threatening fatal
blows. Besides which the Raja's head scarcely reached the giant's
stomach, and the latter, each time he struck out, whooped so
abominably loud, that no human nerves could remain unshaken.

At last Vikram's good luck prevailed. The giant's left foot slipped,
and the hero, seizing his antagonist's other leg, began to trip him
up. At the same moment the young prince, hastening to his parent's
assistance, jumped viciously upon the enemy's naked toes. By their
united exertions they brought him to the ground, when the son sat
down upon his stomach, making himself as weighty as he well
could, whilst the father, climbing up to the monster's throat, placed
himself astride upon it, and pressing both thumbs upon his eyes,
threatened to blind him if he would not yield.

Then the giant, modifying the bellow of his voice, cried out-- 

"O Raja, thou hast overthrown me, and I grant thee thy life."

"Surely thou art mad, monster," replied the king, in jeering tone,
half laughing, half angry. "To whom grantest thou life? If I desire
it I can kill thee; how, then, cost thou talk about granting me my
life?"

"Vikram of Ujjayani," said the giant, "be not too proud! I will save
thee from a nearly impending death. Only hearken to the tale
which I have to tell thee, and use thy judgment, and act upon it. So
shalt thou rule the world free from care, and live without danger,
and die happily."

"Proceed," quoth the Raja, after a moment's thought, dismounting
from the giant's throat, and beginning to listen with all his ears.

The giant raised himself from the ground, and when in a sitting
posture, began in solemn tones to speak as follows:

"In short, the history of the matter is, that three men were born in
this same city of Ujjayani, in the same lunar mansion, in the same
division of the great circle described upon the ecliptic, and in the
same period of time. You, the first, were born in the house of a
king. The second was an oilman's son, who was slain by the third,
a jogi, or anchorite, who kills all he can, wafting the sweet scent of
human sacrifice to the nostrils of Durga, goddess of destruction.
Moreover, the holy man, after compassing the death of the
oilman's son, has suspended him head downwards from a mimosa
tree in a cemetery. He is now anxiously plotting thy destruction.
He hath murdered his own child-- "

"And how came an anchorite to have a child?" asked Raja Vikram,
incredulously.

"That is what I am about to tell thee," replied the giant. "In the
good days of thy generous father, Gandharba-Sena, as the court
was taking its pleasure in the forest, they saw a devotee, or rather a
devotee's head, protruding from a hole in the ground. The white
ants had surrounded his body with a case of earth, and had made
their home upon his skin. All kinds of insects and small animals
crawled up and down the face, yet not a muscle moved. Wasps had
hung their nests to its temples, and scorpions wandered in and out
of the matted and clotted hair; yet the hermit felt them not. He
spoke to no one; he received no gifts; and had it not been for the
opening of his nostrils, as he continually inhaled the pungent
smoke of a thorn fire, man would have deemed him dead. Such
were his religious austerities.

"Thy father marvelled much at the sight, and rode home in
profound thought. That evening, as he sat in the hall of audience,
he could speak of nothing but the devotee; and his curiosity soon
rose to such a pitch, that he proclaimed about the city a reward of
one hundred gold pieces to any one that could bring to court this
anchorite of his own free will.

"Shortly afterwards, Vasantasena, a singing and dancing girl more
celebrated for wit and beauty than for sagesse or discretion,
appeared before thy sire, and offered for the petty inducement of a
gold bangle to bring the anchorite into the palace, carrying a baby
on his shoulder.

"The king hearing her speak was astonished, gave her a betel leaf
in token that he held her to her promise, and permitted her to
depart, which she did with a laugh of triumph.

"Vasantasena went directly to the jungle, where she found the
pious man faint with thirst, shriveled with hunger, and half dead
with heat and cold. She cautiously put out the fire. Then, having
prepared a confection, she approached from behind and rubbed
upon his lips a little of the sweetmeat, which he licked up with
great relish. Thereupon she made more and gave it to him. After
two days of this generous diet he gained some strength, and on the
third, as he felt a finger upon his mouth, he opened his eyes and
said, "Why hast thou come here?"

"The girl, who had her story in readiness, replied: "I am the
daughter of a deity, and have practiced religious observances in the
heavenly regions. I have now come into this forest!" And the
devotee, who began to think how much more pleasant is such
society than solitude, asked her where her hut was, and requested
to be led there.

"Then Vasantasena, having unearthed the holy man and compelled
him to purify himself, led him to the abode which she had caused
to be built for herself in the wood. She explained its luxuries by the
nature of her vow, which bound her to indulge in costly apparel, in
food with six flavours, and in every kind of indulgence.[FN#30] In
course of time the hermit learned to follow her example; he gave
up inhaling smoke, and he began to eat and drink as a daily
occupation.

"At length Kama began to trouble him. Briefly the saint and
saintess were made man and wife, by the simple form of
matrimony called the Gandharba-vivaha,[FN#31] and about ten
months afterwards a son was born to them. Thus the anchorite
came to have a child.

"Remained Vasantasena's last feat. Some months passed: then she
said to the devotee her husband, 'Oh saint! let us now, having
finished our devotions, perform a pilgrimage to some sacred place,
that all the sins of our bodies may be washed away, after which we
will die and depart into everlasting happiness.' Cajoled by these
speeches, the hermit mounted his child upon his shoulder and
followed her where she went--directly into Raja Gandharba-Sena's
palace.

"When the king and the ministers and the officers and the courtiers
saw Vasantasena, and her spouse carrying the baby, they
recognized her from afar. The Raja exclaimed, 'Lo! this is the very
singing girl who went forth to bring back the devotee. 'And all
replied: 'O great monarch! thou speakest truly; this is the very
same woman. And be pleased to observe that whatever things she,
having asked leave to undertake, went forth to do, all these she
hath done!' Then gathering around her they asked her all manner of
questions, as if the whole matter had been the lightest and the most
laughable thing in the world.

"But the anchorite, having heard the speeches of the king and his
courtiers, thought to himself, 'They have done this for the purpose
of taking away the fruits of my penance.' Cursing them all with
terrible curses, and taking up his child, he left the hall. Thence he
went to the forest, slaughtered the innocent, and began to practice
austerities with a view to revenge that hour, and having slain his
child, he will attempt thy life. His prayers have been heard. In the
first place they deprived thee of thy father. Secondly, they cast
enmity between thee and thy brother, thus dooming him to an
untimely end. Thirdly, they are now working thy ruin. The
anchorite's design is to offer up a king and a king's son to his
patroness Durga, and by virtue of such devotional act he will
obtain the sovereignty of the whole world!

"But I have promised, O Vikram, to save thee, if such be the will
of Fortune, from impending destruction. Therefore hearken well
unto my words. Distrust them that dwell amongst the dead, and
remember that it is lawful and right to strike off his head that
would slay thee. So shalt thou rule the universal earth, and leave
behind thee an immortal name!"

Suddenly Prithwi Pala, the giant, ceased speaking, and
disappeared. Vikram and his son then passed through the city
gates, feeling their limbs to be certain that no bones were broken,
and thinking over the scene that had occurred.

      *     *     *     *     *     *

We now are informed how the valiant King Vikram met with the
Vampire.

It was the spring season when the Raja returned, and the Holi
festival[FN#32] caused dancing and singing in every house.
Ujjayani was extraordinarily happy and joyful at the return of her
ruler, who joined in her gladness with all his kingly heart. The
faces and dresses of the public were red and yellow with gulal and
abir,--perfumed powders,[FN#33]--which were sprinkled upon one
another in token of merriment. Musicians deafened the citizens'
ears, dancing girls performed till ready to faint with fatigue, the
manufacturers of comfits made their fortunes, and the Nine Gems
of Science celebrated the auspicious day with the most long-
winded odes. The royal hero, decked in regal attire, and attended
by many thousands of state palanquins glittering with their various
ornaments, and escorted by a suite of a hundred kingly personages,
with their martial array of the four hosts, of cavalry, elephants,
chariots, and infantry, and accompanied by Amazon girls, lovely
as the suite of the gods, himself a personification of majesty,
bearing the white parasol of dominion, with a golden staff and
tassels, began once more to reign.

After the first pleasures of return, the king applied himself
unremittingly to good government and to eradicating the abuses
which had crept into the administration during the period of his
wanderings.

Mindful of the wise saying, "if the Rajadid not punish the guilty,
the stronger would roast the weaker like a fish on the spit," he
began the work of reform with an iron hand. He confiscated the
property of a councillor who had the reputation of taking bribes; he
branded the forehead of a sudra or servile man whose breath smelt
of ardent spirits, and a goldsmith having been detected in fraud he
ordered him to be cut in shreds with razors as the law in its mercy
directs. In the case of a notorious evil-speaker he opened the back
of his head and had his tongue drawn through the wound. A few
murderers he burned alive on iron beds, praying the while that
Vishnu might have mercy upon their souls. His spies were ordered,
as the shastra called "The Prince" advises, to mix with robbers and
thieves with a view of leading them into situations where they
might most easily be entrapped, and once or twice when the
fellows were too wary, he seized them and their relations and
impaled them all, thereby conclusively proving, without any
mistake, that he was king of earth.

With the sex feminine he was equally severe. A woman convicted
of having poisoned an elderly husband in order to marry a younger
man was thrown to the dogs, which speedily devoured her. He
punished simple infidelity by cutting off the offender's nose--an
admirable practice, which is not only a severe penalty to the
culprit, but also a standing warning to others, and an efficient
preventative to any recurrence of the fault. Faithlessness combined
with bad example or brazen-facedness was further treated by being
led in solemn procession through the bazar mounted on a
diminutive and crop-eared donkey, with the face turned towards
the crupper. After a few such examples the women of Ujjayani
became almost modest; it is the fault of man when they are not
tolerably well behaved in one point at least.

Every day as Vikram sat upon the judgment-seat, trying causes and
punishing offenses, he narrowly observed the speech, the gestures,
and the countenances of the various criminals and litigants and
their witnesses. Ever suspecting women, as I have said, and
holding them to be the root of all evil, he never failed when some
sin or crime more horrible than usual came before him, to ask the
accused, "Who is she?" and the suddenness of the question often
elicited the truth by accident. For there can be nothing thoroughly
and entirely bad unless a woman is at the bottom of it; and,
knowing this, Raja Vikram made certain notable hits under the
most improbable circumstances, which had almost given him a
reputation for omniscience. But this is easily explained: a man
intent upon squaring the circle will see squares in circles wherever
he looks, and sometimes he will find them.

In disputed cases of money claims, the king adhered strictly to
established practice, and consulted persons learned in the law. He
seldom decided a cause on his own judgment, and he showed great
temper and patience in bearing with rough language from irritated
plaintiffs and defendants, from the infirm, and from old men
beyond eighty. That humble petitioners might not be baulked in
having access to the "fountain of justice," he caused an iron box to
be suspended by a chain from the windows of his sleeping
apartment. Every morning he ordered the box to be opened before
him, and listened to all the placets at full length. Even in this
simple process he displayed abundant cautiousness. For, having
forgotten what little of the humanities he had mastered in his
youth, he would hand the paper to a secretary whose business it
was to read it out before him; after which operation the man of
letters was sent into an inner room, and the petition was placed in
the hands of a second scribe. Once it so happened by the bungling
of the deceitful kayasths(clerks) that an important difference was
found to occur in the same sheet. So upon strict inquiry one
secretary lost his ears and the other his right hand. After this
petitions were rarely if ever falsified.

The Raja Vikram also lost no time in attacking the cities and towns
and villages of his enemies, but the people rose to a man against
him, and hewing his army to pieces with their weapons,
vanquished him. This took place so often that he despaired of
bringing all the earth under the shadow of his umbrella.

At length on one occasion when near a village he listened to a
conversation of the inhabitants. A woman having baked some
cakes was giving them to her child, who leaving the edges would
eat only the middle. On his asking for another cake, she cried,
"This boy's way is like Vikram's in his attempt to conquer the
world!" On his inquiring "Mother, why, what am I doing; and what
has Vikram done?" " Thou, my boy," she replied, "throwing away
the outside of the cake eatest the middle only. Vikram also in his
ambition, without subduing the frontiers before attacking the
towns, invades the heart of the country and lays it waste. On that
account, both the townspeople and others rising, close upon him
from the frontiers to the centre, and destroy his army. That is his
folly."

Vikram took notice of the woman's words. He strengthened his
army and resumed his attack on the provinces and cities, beginning
with the frontiers, reducing the outer towns and stationing troops
in the intervals. Thus he proceeded regularly with his invasions.
After a respite, adopting the same system and marshalling huge
armies, he reduced in regular course each kingdom and province
till he became monarch of the whole world.

It so happened that one day as Vikram the Brave sat upon the
judgment-seat, a young merchant, by name Mal Deo, who had
lately arrived at Ujjayani with loaded camels and elephants, and
with the reputation of immense wealth, entered the palace court.
Having been received with extreme condescension, he gave into
the king's hand a fruit which he had brought in his own, and then
spreading a prayer carpet on the floor he sat down. Presently, after
a quarter of an hour, he arose and went away. When he had gone
the king reflected in his mind: "Under this disguise, perhaps, is the
very man of whom the giant spoke." Suspecting this, he did not eat
the fruit, but calling the master of the household he gave the
present to him, ordering him to keep it in a very careful manner.
The young merchant, however, continued every day to court the
honour of an interview, each time presenting a similar gift.

By chance one morning Raja Vikram went, attended by his
ministers, to see his stables. At this time the young merchant also
arrived there, and in the usual manner placed a fruit in the royal
hand. As the king was thoughtfully tossing it in the air, it
accidentally fell from his fingers to the ground. Then the monkey,
who was tethered amongst the horses to draw calamities from their
heads,[FN#34] snatched it up and tore it to pieces. Whereupon a
ruby of such size and water came forth that the king and his
ministers, beholding its brilliancy, gave vent to expressions of
wonder.

Quoth Vikram to the young merchant severely--for his suspicions
were now thoroughly roused--"Why hast thou given to us all this
wealth?"

"O great king," replied Mal Deo, demurely, "it is written in the
scriptures (shastra) 'Of Ceremony' that 'we must not go empty-
handed into the presence of the following persons, namely, Rajas,
spiritual teachers, judges, young maidens, and old women whose
daughters we would marry.' But why, O Vikram, cost thou speak
of one ruby only, since in each of the fruits which I have laid at thy
feet there is a similar jewel?" Having heard this speech, the king
said to the master of his household, "Bring all the fruits which I
have entrusted to thee." The treasurer, on receiving the royal
command, immediately brought them, and having split them, there
was found in each one a ruby, one and all equally perfect in size
and water. Raja Vikram beholding such treasures was excessively
pleased. Having sent for a lapidary, he ordered him to examine the
rubies, saying, "We cannot take anything with us out of this world.
Virtue is a noble quality to possess here below--so tell justly what
is the value of each of these gems.[FN#35]"

To so moral a speech the lapidary replied, " Maha-Raja[FN#36]!
thou hast said truly; whoever possesses virtue, possesses
everything; virtue indeed accompanies us always, and is of
advantage in both worlds. Hear, O great king! each gem is perfect
in colour, quality and beauty. If I were to say that the value of each
was ten million millions of suvarnas (gold pieces), even then thou
couldst not understand its real worth. In fact, each ruby would buy
one of the seven regions into which the earth is divided."

The king on hearing this was delighted, although his suspicions
were not satisfied; and, having bestowed a robe of honour upon the
lapidary, dismissed him. Thereon, taking the young merchant's
hand, he led him into the palace, seated him upon his own carpet in
presence of the court, and began to say, "My entire kingdom is not
worth one of these rubies: tell me how it is that thou who buyest
and sellest hast given me such and so many pearls?"

Mal Deo replied: "O great king, the speaking of matters like the
following in public is not right; these things--prayers, spells, drugs,
good qualities, household affairs, the eating of forbidden food, and
the evil we may have heard of our neighbour--should not be
discussed in full assembly. Privately I will disclose to thee my
wishes. This is the way of the world; when an affair comes to six
ears, it does not remain secret; if a matter is confided to four ears it
may escape further hearing; and if to two ears even Brahma the
Creator does not know it; how then can any rumour of it come to
man?"

Having heard this speech, Raja Vikram took Mal Deo aside, and
began to ask him, saying, "O generous man! you have given me so
many rubies, and even for a single day you have not eaten food
with me; I am exceedingly ashamed, tell me what you desire."

"Raja," said the young merchant, "I am not Mal Deo, but Shanta-
Shil,[FN#37] a devotee. I am about to perform spells, incantations
and magical rites on the banks of the river Godavari, in a large
smashana, a cemetery where bodies are burned. By this means the
Eight Powers of Nature will all become mine. This thing I ask of
you as alms, that you and the young prince Dharma Dhwaj will
pass one night with me, doing my bidding. By you remaining near
me my incantations will be successful."

The valiant Vikram nearly started from his seat at the word
cemetery, but, like a ruler of men, he restrained his face from
expressing his feelings, and he presently replied, "Good, we will
come, tell us on what day!"

"You are to come to me," said the devotee, "armed, but without
followers, on the Monday evening the 14th of the dark half of the
month Bhadra.[FN#38]" The Raja said: "Do you go your ways, we
will certainly come." In this manner, having received a promise
from the king, and having taken leave, the devotee returned to his
house: thence he repaired to the temple, and having made
preparations, and taken all the necessary things, he went back into
the cemetery and sat down to his ceremonies.

The valiant Vikram, on the other hand, retired into an inner
apartment, to consult his own judgment about an adventure with
which, for fear of ridicule, he was unwilling to acquaint even the
most trustworthy of his ministers.

In due time came the evening moon's day, the 14th of the dark half
of the month Bhadra. As the short twilight fell gloomily on earth,
the warrior king accompanied by his son, with turband-ends tied
under their chins, and with trusty blades tucked under their arms
ready for foes, human, bestial, or devilish, slipped out unseen
through the palace wicket, and took the road leading to the
cemetery on the river bank.

Dark and drear was the night. Urged by the furious blast of the
lingering winter-rains, masses of bistre-coloured cloud, like the
forms of unwieldy beasts, rolled heavily over the firmament plain.
Whenever the crescent of the young moon, rising from an horizon
sable as the sad Tamala's hue,[FN#39] glanced upon the wayfarers,
it was no brighter than the fine tip of an elephant's tusk protruding
from the muddy wave. A heavy storm was impending; big drops
fell in showers from the forest trees as they groaned under the
blast, and beneath the gloomy avenue the clayey ground gleamed
ghastly white. As the Raja and his son advanced, a faint ray of
light, like the line of pure gold streaking the dark surface of the
touchstone, caught their eyes, and directed their footsteps towards
the cemetery.

When Vikram came upon the open space on the riverbank where
corpses were burned, he hesitated for a moment to tread its impure
ground. But seeing his son undismayed, he advanced boldly,
trampling upon remnants of bones, and only covering his mouth
with his turband-end.

Presently, at the further extremity of the smashana, or burning
ground, appeared a group. By the lurid flames that flared and
flickered round the half-extinguished funeral pyres, with remnants
of their dreadful loads, Raja Vikram and Dharma Dhwaj could
note the several features of the ill-omened spot. There was an outer
circle of hideous bestial forms; tigers were roaring, and elephants
were trumpeting; wolves, whose foul hairy coats blazed with
sparks of bluish phosphoric light, were devouring the remnants of
human bodies; foxes, jackals, and hyenas were disputing over their
prey; whilst bears were chewing the livers of children. The space
within was peopled by a multitude of fiends. There were the subtle
bodies of men that had escaped their grosser frames prowling
about the charnel ground, where their corpses had been reduced to
ashes, or hovering in the air, waiting till the new bodies which they
were to animate were made ready for their reception. The spirits of
those that had been foully slain wandered about with gashed limbs;
and skeletons, whose mouldy bones were held together by bits of
blackened sinew, followed them as the murderer does his victim.
Malignant witches with shriveled skins, horrid eyes and distorted
forms, crawled and crouched over the earth; whilst spectres and
goblins now stood motionless, and tall as lofty palm trees; then, as
if in fits, leaped, danced, and tumbled before their evocator. The
air was filled with shrill and strident cries, with the fitful moaning
of the storm-wind, with the hooting of the owl, with the jackal's
long wild cry, and with the hoarse gurgling of the swollen river,
from whose banks the earth-slip thundered in its fall.

In the midst of all, close to the fire which lit up his evil
countenance, sat Shanta-Shil, the jogi, with the banner that denoted
his calling and his magic staff planted in the ground behind him.
He was clad in the ochre-coloured loin-wrap of his class; from his
head streamed long tangled locks of hair like horsehair; his black
body was striped with lines of chalk, and a girdle of thighbones
encircled his waist. His face was smeared with ashes from a
funeral pyre, and his eyes, fixed as those of a statue, gleamed from
this mask with an infernal light of hate. His cheeks were shaven,
and he had not forgotten to draw the horizontal sectarian mark. But
this was of blood; and Vikram, as he drew near saw that he was
playing upon a human skull with two shank bones, making music
for the horrid revelry.

Now Raja Vikram, as has been shown by his encounter with
Indra's watchman, was a bold prince, and he was cautious as he
was brave. The sight of a human being in the midst of these terrors
raised his mettle; he determined to prove himself a hero, and
feeling that the critical moment was now come, he hoped to rid
himself and his house forever of the family curse that hovered over
them.

For a moment he thought of the giant's words, "And remember that
it is lawful and right to strike off his head that would slay thee." A
stroke with his good sword might at once and effectually put an
end to the danger. But then he remembered that he had passed his
royal word to do the devotee's bidding that night. Besides, he felt
assured that the hour for action had not yet sounded.

These reflections having passed through his mind with the rapid
course of a star that has lost its honours,[FN#40] Vikram
courteously saluted Shanta-Shil. The jogi briefly replied, "Come
sit down, both of ye." The father and son took their places, by no
means surprised or frightened by the devil dances before and
around them. Presently the valiant Raja reminded the devotee that
he was come to perform his promise, and lastly asked, "What
commands are there for us?"

The jogi replied, "O king, since you have come, just perform one
piece of business. About two kos[FN#41] hence, in a southerly
direction, there is another place where dead bodies are burned; and
in that place is a mimosa tree, on which a body is hanging. Bring it
to me immediately."

Raja Vikram took his son's hand, unwilling to leave him in such
company; and, catching up a fire-brand, went rapidly away in the
proper direction. He was now certain that Shanta-Shil was the
anchorite who, enraged by his father, had resolved his destruction;
and his uppermost thought was a firm resolve "to breakfast upon
his enemy, ere his enemy could dine upon him." He muttered this
old saying as he went, whilst the tom-toming of the anchorite upon
the skull resounded in his ears, and the devil-crowd, which had
held its peace during his meeting with Shanta-Shil, broke out again
in an infernal din of whoops and screams, yells and laughter.

The darkness of the night was frightful, the gloom deepened till it
was hardly possible to walk. The clouds opened their fountains,
raining so that you would say they could never rain again.
Lightning blazed forth with more than the light of day, and the roar
of the thunder caused the earth to shake. Baleful gleams tipped the
black cones of the trees and fitfully scampered like fireflies over
the waste. Unclean goblins dogged the travellers and threw
themselves upon the ground in their path and obstructed them in a
thousand different ways. Huge snakes, whose mouths distilled
blood and black venom, kept clinging around their legs in the
roughest part of the road, till they were persuaded to loose their
hold either by the sword or by reciting a spell. In fact, there were
so many horrors and such a tumult and noise that even a brave man
would have faltered, yet the king kept on his way.

At length having passed over, somehow or other, a very difficult
road, the Raja arrived at the smashana, or burning place pointed
out by the jogi. Suddenly he sighted the tree where from root to top
every branch and leaf was in a blaze of crimson flame. And when
he, still dauntless, advanced towards it, a clamour continued to be
raised, and voices kept crying, "Kill them! kill them! seize them!
seize them! take care that they do not get away! let them scorch
themselves to cinders! let them suffer the pains of Patala.[FN#42]"

Far from being terrified by this state of things the valiant Raja
increased in boldness, seeing a prospect of an end to his adventure.
Approaching the tree he felt that the fire did not burn him, and so
he sat there for a while to observe the body, which hung, head
downwards, from a branch a little above him.

Its eyes, which were wide open, were of a greenish-brown, and
never twinkled; its hair also was brown,[FN#43] and brown was its
face--three several shades which, notwithstanding, approached one
another in an unpleasant way, as in an over-dried cocoa-nut. Its
body was thin and ribbed like a skeleton or a bamboo framework,
and as it held on to a bough, like a flying fox,[FN#44] by the toe-
tips, its drawn muscles stood out as if they were ropes of coin.
Blood it appeared to have none, or there would have been a
decided determination of that curious juice to the head; and as the
Raja handled its skin it felt icy cold and clammy as might a snake.
The only sign of life was the whisking of a ragged little tail much
resembling a goat's.

Judging from these signs the brave king at once determined the
creature to be a Baital--a Vampire. For a short time he was puzzled
to reconcile the appearance with the words of the giant, who
informed him that the anchorite had hung the oilman's son to a
tree. But soon he explained to himself the difficulty, remembering
the exceeding cunning of jogis and other reverend men, and
determining that his enemy, the better to deceive him, had
doubtless altered the shape and form of the young oilman's body.

With this idea, Vikram was pleased, saying, "My trouble has been
productive of fruit." Remained the task of carrying the Vampire to
Shanta-Shil the devotee. Having taken his sword, the Raja
fearlessly climbed the tree, and ordering his son to stand away
from below, clutched the Vampire's hair with one hand, and with
the other struck such a blow of the sword, that the bough was cut
and the thing fell heavily upon the ground. Immediately on falling
it gnashed its teeth and began to utter a loud wailing cry like the
screams of an infant in pain. Vikram having heard the sound of its
lamentations, was pleased, and began to say to himself, "This devil
must be alive." Then nimbly sliding down the trunk, he made a
captive of the body, and asked " Who art thou?"

Scarcely, however, had the words passed the royal lips, when the
Vampire slipped through the fingers like a worm, and uttering a
loud shout of laughter, rose in the air with its legs uppermost, and
as before suspended itself by its toes to another bough. And there it
swung to and fro, moved by the violence of its cachinnation.

"Decidedly this is the young oilman!" exclaimed the Raja, after he
had stood for a minute or two with mouth open, gazing upwards
and wondering what he should do next. Presently he directed
Dharma Dhwaj not to lose an instant in laying hands upon the
thing when it next might touch the ground, and then he again
swarmed up the tree. Having reached his former position, he once
more seized the Baital's hair, and with all the force of his arms--for
he was beginning to feel really angry--he tore it from its hold and
dashed it to the ground, saying, "O wretch, tell me who thou art?"

Then, as before, the Raja slid deftly down the trunk, and hurried to
the aid of his son, who in obedience to orders, had fixed his grasp
upon the Vampire's neck. Then, too, as before, the Vampire,
laughing aloud, slipped through their fingers and returned to its
dangling-place.

To fail twice was too much for Raja Vikram's temper, which was
right kingly and somewhat hot. This time he bade his son strike the
Baital's head with his sword. Then, more like a wounded bear of
Himalaya than a prince who had established an era, he hurried up
the tree, and directed a furious blow with his sabre at the
Vampire's lean and calfless legs. The violence of the stroke made
its toes loose their hold of the bough, and when it touched the
ground, Dharma Dhwaj's blade fell heavily upon its matted brown
hair. But the blows appeared to have lighted on iron-wood--to
judge at least from the behaviour of the Baital, who no sooner
heard the question, "O wretch, who art thou?" than it returned in
loud glee and merriment to its old position.

Five mortal times did Raja Vikram repeat this profitless labour.
But so far from losing heart, he quite entered into the spirit of the
adventure. Indeed he would have continued climbing up that tree
and taking that corpse under his arm--he found his sword useless--
and bringing it down, and asking it who it was, and seeing it slip
through his fingers, six times sixty times, or till the end of the
fourth and present age,[FN#45] had such extreme resolution been
required.

However, it was not necessary. On the seventh time of falling, the
Baital, instead of eluding its capturer's grasp, allowed itself to be
seized, merely remarking that "even the gods cannot resist a
thoroughly obstinate man."[FN#46] And seeing that the stranger,
for the better protection of his prize, had stripped off his waistcloth
and was making it into a bag, the Vampire thought proper to seek
the most favourable conditions for himself, and asked his
conqueror who he was, and what he was about to do?

"Vile wretch," replied the breathless hero, "know me to be Vikram
the Great, Raja of Ujjayani, and I bear thee to a man who is
amusing himself by drumming to devils on a skull."

"Remember the old saying, mighty Vikram!" said the Baital, with
a sneer, "that many a tongue has cut many a throat. I have yielded
to thy resolution and I am about to accompany thee, bound to thy
back like a beggar's wallet. But hearken to my words, ere we set
out upon the way. I am of a loquacious disposition, and it is well
nigh an hour's walk between this tree and the place where thy
friend sits, favouring his friends with the peculiar music which
they love. Therefore, I shall try to distract my thoughts, which
otherwise might not be of the most pleasing nature, by means of
sprightly tales and profitable reflections. Sages and men of sense
spend their days in the delights of light and heavy literature,
whereas dolts and fools waste time in sleep and idleness. And I
purpose to ask thee a number of questions, concerning which we
will, if it seems fit to thee, make this covenant:

"Whenever thou answerest me, either compelled by Fate or
entrapped by my cunning into so doing, or thereby gratifying thy
vanity and conceit, I leave thee and return to my favourite place
and position in the siras-tree, but when thou shalt remain silent,
confused, and at a loss to reply, either through humility or thereby
confessing thine ignorance, and impotence, and want of
comprehension, then will I allow thee, of mine own free will, to
place me before thine employer. Perhaps I should not say so; it
may sound like bribing thee, but--take my counsel, and mortify thy
pride, and assumption, and arrogance, and haughtiness, as soon as
possible. So shalt thou derive from me a benefit which none but
myself can bestow."

Raja Vikram hearing these rough words, so strange to his royal
ear, winced; then he rejoiced that his heir apparent was not near;
then he looked round at his son Dharma Dhwaj, to see if he was
impertinent enough to be amused by the Baital. But the first glance
showed him the young prince busily employed in pinching and
screwing the monster's legs, so as to make it fit better into the
cloth. Vikram then seized the ends of the waistcloth, twisted them
into a convenient form for handling, stooped, raised the bundle
with a jerk, tossed it over his shoulder, and bidding his son not to
lag behind, set off at a round pace towards the western end of the
cemetery.

The shower had ceased, and, as they gained ground, the weather
greatly improved.

The Vampire asked a few indifferent questions about the wind and
the rain and the mud. When he received no answer, he began to
feel uncomfortable, and he broke out with these words: "O King
Vikram, listen to the true story which I am about to tell thee."


         THE VAMPIRE'S FIRST STORY.

      In which a man deceives a woman.

In Benares once reigned a mighty prince, by name Pratapamukut,
to whose eighth son Vajramukut happened the strangest adventure.

One morning, the young man, accompanied by the son of his
father's pradhan or prime minister, rode out hunting, and went far
into the jungle. At last the twain unexpectedly came upon a
beautiful "tank [FN#47]" of a prodigious size. It was surrounded
by short thick walls of fine baked brick; and flights and ramps of
cut-stone steps, half the length of each face, and adorned with
turrets, pendants, and finials, led down to the water. The
substantial plaster work and the masonry had fallen into disrepair,
and from the crevices sprang huge trees, under whose thick shade
the breeze blew freshly, and on whose balmy branches the birds
sang sweetly; the grey squirrels [FN#48] chirruped joyously as
they coursed one another up the gnarled trunks, and from the
pendent llianas the longtailed monkeys were swinging sportively.
The bountiful hand of Sravana [FN#49] had spread the earthen
rampart with a carpet of the softest grass and many-hued wild
flowers, in which were buzzing swarms of bees and myriads of
bright winged insects; and flocks of water fowl, wild geese,
Brahmini ducks, bitterns, herons, and cranes, male and female,
were feeding on the narrow strip of brilliant green that belted the
long deep pool, amongst the broad-leaved lotuses with the lovely
blossoms, splashing through the pellucid waves, and basking
happily in the genial sun.

The prince and his friend wondered when they saw the beautiful
tank in the midst of a wild forest, and made many vain conjectures
about it. They dismounted, tethered their horses, and threw their
weapons upon the ground; then, having washed their hands and
faces, they entered a shrine dedicated to Mahadeva, and there
began to worship the presiding deity.

Whilst they were making their offerings, a bevy of maidens,
accompanied by a crowd of female slaves, descended the opposite
flight of steps. They stood there for a time, talking and laughing
and looking about them to see if any alligators infested the waters.
When convinced that the tank was safe, they disrobed themselves
in order to bathe. It was truly a splendid spectacle  

"Concerning which the less said the better," interrupted
Raja Vikram in an offended tone.[FN#50]

--but did not last long. The Raja's daughter -- for the principal
maiden was a princess -- soon left her companions, who were
scooping up water with their palms and dashing it over one
another's heads, and proceeded to perform the rites of purification,
meditation, and worship. Then she began strolling with a friend
under the shade of a small mango grove.

The prince also left his companion sitting in prayer, and walked
forth into the forest. Suddenly the eyes of the Raja's son and the
Raja's daughter met. She started back with a little scream. He was
fascinated by her beauty, and began to say to himself, " O thou vile
Karma,[FN#51] why worriest thou me?"

Hearing this, the maiden smiled encouragement, but the poor
youth, between palpitation of the heart and hesitation about what
to say, was so confused that his tongue crave to his teeth. She
raised her eyebrows a little. There is nothing which women despise
in a man more than modesty, [FN#52] for mo-des-ty -- 

A violent shaking of the bag which hung behind Vikram's royal
back broke off the end of this offensive sentence. And the warrior
king did not cease that discipline till the Baital promised him to
preserve more decorum in his observations.

Still the prince stood before her with downcast eyes and suffused
cheeks: even the spur of contempt failed to arouse his energies.
Then the maiden called to her friend, who was picking jasmine
flowers so as not to witness the scene, and angrily asked why that
strange man was allowed to stand and stare at her? The friend, in
hot wrath, threatened to call the slave, and throw Vajramukut into
the pond unless he instantly went away with his impudence. But as
the prince was rooted to the spot, and really had not heard a word
of what had been said to him, the two women were obliged to
make the first move.

As they almost reached the tank, the beautiful maiden turned her
head to see what the poor modest youth was doing.

Vajramukut was formed in every way to catch a woman's eye. The
Raja's daughter therefore half forgave him his offence of mod ----.
Again she sweetly smiled, disclosing two rows of little opals. Then
descending to the water's edge, she stooped down and plucked a
lotus. This she worshipped; next she placed it in her hair, then she
put it in her ear, then she bit it with her teeth, then she trod upon it
with her foot, then she raised it up again, and lastly she stuck it in
her bosom. After which she mounted her conveyance and went
home to her friends; whilst the prince, having become thoroughly
desponding and drowned in grief at separation from her, returned
to the minister's son.

"Females!" ejaculated the minister's son, speaking to himself in a
careless tone, when, his prayer finished, he left the temple, and sat
down upon the tank steps to enjoy the breeze. He presently drew a
roll of paper from under his waist-belt, and in a short time was
engrossed with his study. The women seeing this conduct, exerted
themselves in every possible way of wile to attract his attention
and to distract his soul. They succeeded only so far as to make him
roll his head with a smile, and to remember that such is always the
custom of man's bane; after which he turned over a fresh page of
manuscript. And although he presently began to wonder what had
become of the prince his master, he did not look up even once
from his study.

He was a philosopher, that young man. But after all, Raja Vikram,
what is mortal philosophy? Nothing but another name for
indifference! Who was ever philosophical about a thing truly loved
or really hated? -- no one! Philosophy, says Shankharacharya, is
either a gift of nature or the reward of study. But I, the Baital, the
devil, ask you, what is a born philosopher, save a man of cold
desires? And what is a bred philosopher but a man who has
survived his desires? A young philosopher? - a cold-blooded
youth! An elderly philosopher? --a leuco-phlegmatic old man!
Much nonsense, of a verity, ye hear in praise of nothing from your
Rajaship's Nine Gems of Science, and from sundry other such wise
fools.

Then the prince began to relate the state of his case, saying, " O
friend, I have seen a damsel, but whether she be a musician from
Indra's heaven, a maiden of the sea, a daughter of the serpent
kings, or the child of an earthly Raja, I cannot say."

"Describe her," said the statesman in embryo.

"Her face," quoth the prince, "was that of the full moon, her hair
like a swarm of bees hanging from the blossoms of the acacia, the
corners of her eyes touched her ears, her lips were sweet with lunar
ambrosia, her waist was that of a lion, and her walk the walk of a
king goose. [FN#53] As a garment, she was white; as a season, the
spring; as a flower, the jasmine; as a speaker, the kokila bird; as a
perfume, musk; as a beauty, Kamadeva; and as a being, Love. And
if she does not come into my possession I will not live; this I have
certainly determined upon."

The young minister, who had heard his prince say the same thing
more than once before, did not attach great importance to these
awful words. He merely remarked that, unless they mounted at
once, night would surprise them in the forest. Then the two young
men returned to their horses, untethered them, drew on their
bridles, saddled them, and catching up their weapons, rode slowly
towards the Raja's palace. During the three hours of return hardly a
word passed between the pair. Vajramukut not only avoided
speaking; he never once replied till addressed thrice in the loudest
voice.

The young minister put no more questions, "for," quoth he to
himself, "when the prince wants my counsel, he will apply for it."
In this point he had borrowed wisdom from his father, who held in
peculiar horror the giving of unasked- for advice. So, when he saw
that conversation was irksome to his master, he held his peace and
meditated upon what he called his "day-thought." It was his
practice to choose every morning some tough food for reflection,
and to chew the cud of it in his mind at times when, without such
employment, his wits would have gone wool-gathering. You may
imagine, Raja Vikram, that with a few years of this head work, the
minister's son became a very crafty young person.

After the second day the Prince Vajramukut, being restless from
grief at separation, fretted himself into a fever. Having given up
writing, reading, drinking, sleeping, the affairs entrusted to him by
his father, and everything else, he sat down, as he said, to die. He
used constantly to paint the portrait of the beautiful lotus gatherer,
and to lie gazing upon it with tearful eyes; then he would start up
and tear it to pieces and beat his forehead, and begin another
picture of a yet more beautiful face.

At last, as the pradhan's son had foreseen, he was summoned by
the young Raja, whom he found upon his bed, looking yellow and
complaining bitterly of headache. Frequent discussions upon the
subject of the tender passion had passed between the two youths,
and one of them had ever spoken of it so very disrespectfully that
the other felt ashamed to introduce it. But when his friend, with a
view to provoke communicativeness, advised a course of boiled
and bitter herbs and great attention to diet, quoting the hemistich
attributed to the learned physician Charndatta  

      A fever starve, but feed a cold,

the unhappy Vajramukut's fortitude abandoned him; he burst into
tears, and exclaimed," Whosoever enters upon the path of love
cannot survive it; and if (by chance) he should live, what is life to
him but a prolongation of his misery?"

"Yea," replied the minister's son, "the sage hath said -- 

The road of love is that which hath no beginning nor end;
Take thou heed of thyself, man I ere thou place foot upon it.

And the wise, knowing that there are three things whose effect
upon himself no man can foretell --namely, desire of woman, the
dice-box, and the drinking of ardent spirits - find total abstinence
from them the best of rules. Yet, after all, if there is no cow, we
must milk the bull."

The advice was, of course, excellent, but the hapless lover could
not help thinking that on this occasion it came a little too late.
However, after a pause he returned to the subject and said, "I have
ventured to tread that dangerous way, be its end pain or pleasure,
happiness or destruction." He then hung down his head and sighed
from the bottom of his heart.

"She is the person who appeared to us at the tank?" asked the
pradhan's son, moved to compassion by the state of his master.

The prince assented.

"O great king," resumed the minister's son, "at the time of going
away had she said anything to you? or had you said anything to
her?"

"Nothing!" replied the other laconically, when he found his friend
beginning to take an interest in the affair.

"Then," said the minister's son, "it will be exceedingly difficult to
get possession of her."

"Then," repeated the Raja's son, "I am doomed to death; to an early
and melancholy death!"

"Humph!" ejaculated the young statesman rather impatiently, "did
she make any sign, or give any hint? Let me know all that
happened: half confidences are worse than none."

Upon which the prince related everything that took place by the
side of the tank, bewailing the false shame which had made him
dumb, and concluding with her pantomime.

The pradhan's son took thought for a while. He thereupon seized
the opportunity of representing to his master all the evil effects of
bashfulness when women are concerned, and advised him, as he
would be a happy lover, to brazen his countenance for the next
interview.

Which the young Raja faithfully promised to do.

"And, now," said the other, "be comforted, O my master! I know
her name and her dwelling-place. When she suddenly plucked the
lotus flower and worshipped it, she thanked the gods for having
blessed her with a sight of your beauty."

Vajramukut smiled, the first time for the last month.

"When she applied it to her ear, it was as if she would have
explained to thee, 'I am a daughter of the Carnatic: [FN#54] and
when she bit it with her teeth, she meant to say that 'My father is
Raja Dantawat, [FN#55]' who, by-the-bye, has been, is, and ever
will be, a mortal foe to thy father."

Vajramukut shuddered.

"When she put it under her foot it meant, 'My name is Padmavati.
[FN#56]'"

Vajramukut uttered a cry of joy.

"And when she placed it in her bosom, 'You are truly dwelling in
my heart' was meant to be understood."

At these words the young Raja started up full of new life, and after
praising with enthusiasm the wondrous sagacity of his dear friend,
begged him by some contrivance to obtain the permission of his
parents, and to conduct him to her city. The minister's son easily
got leave for Vajramukut to travel, under pretext that his body
required change of water, and his mind change of scene. They both
dressed and armed themselves for the journey, and having taken
some jewels, mounted their horses and followed the road in that
direction in which the princess had gone.

Arrived after some days at the capital of the Carnatic, the
minister's son having disguised his master and himself in the garb
of travelling traders, alighted and pitched his little tent upon a clear
bit of ground in one of the suburbs. He then proceeded to inquire
for a wise woman, wanting, he said, to have his fortune told. When
the prince asked him what this meant, he replied that elderly dames
who professionally predict the future are never above ministering
to the present, and therefore that, in such circumstances, they are
the properest persons to be consulted.

"Is this a treatise upon the subject of immorality, devil?"
demanded the King Vikram ferociously. The Baital declared that it
was not, but that he must tell his story.

The person addressed pointed to an old woman who, seated before
the door of her hut, was spinning at her wheel. Then the young
men went up to her with polite salutations and said, "Mother, we
are travelling traders, and our stock is coming after us; we have
come on in advance for the purpose of finding a place to live in. If
you will give us a house, we will remain there and pay you
highly."

The old woman, who was a physiognomist as well as a
fortune-teller, looked at the faces of the young men and liked
them, because their brows were wide, and their mouths denoted
generosity. Having listened to their words, she took pity upon them
and said kindly, "This hovel is yours, my masters, remain here as
long as you please." Then she led them into an inner room, again
welcomed them, lamented the poorness of her abode, and begged
them to lie down and rest themselves.

After some interval of time the old woman came to them once
more, and sitting down began to gossip. The minister's son upon
this asked her, "How is it with thy family, thy relatives, and
connections; and what are thy means of subsistence?" She replied,
``My son is a favourite servant in the household of our great king
Dantawat, and your slave is the wet-nurse of the Princess
Padmavati, his eldest child. From the coming on of old age," she
added, "I dwell in this house, but the king provides for my eating
and drinking. I go once a day to see the girl, who is a miracle of
beauty and goodness, wit and accomplishments, and returning
thence, I bear my own griefs at home. [FN#57]''

In a few days the young Vajramukut had, by his liberality, soft
speech, and good looks, made such progress in nurse Lakshmi's
affections that, by the advice of his companion, he ventured to
broach the subject ever nearest his heart. He begged his hostess,
when she went on the morrow to visit the charming Padmavati,
that she would be kind enough to slip a bit of paper into the
princess's hand.

"Son," she replied, delighted with the proposal -- and what old
woman would not be? --"there is no need for putting off so urgent
an affair till the morrow. Get your paper ready, and I will
immediately give it."

Trembling with pleasure, the prince ran to find his friend, who was
seated in the garden reading, as usual, and told him what the old
nurse had engaged to do. He then began to debate about how he
should write his letter, to cull sentences and to weigh phrases;
whether "light of my eyes" was not too trite, and "blood of my
liver" rather too forcible. At this the minister's son smiled, and
bade the prince not trouble his head with composition. He then
drew his inkstand from his waist shawl, nibbed a reed pen, and
choosing a piece of pink and flowered paper, he wrote upon it a
few lines. He then folded it, gummed it, sketched a lotus flower
upon the outside, and handing it to the young prince, told him to
give it to their hostess, and that all would be well.

The old woman took her staff in her hand and hobbled straight to
the palace. Arrived there, she found the Raja's daughter sitting
alone in her apartment. The maiden, seeing her nurse, immediately
arose, and making a respectful bow, led her to a seat and began the
most affectionate inquiries. After giving her blessing and sitting
for some time and chatting about indifferent matters, the nurse
said, " O daughter! in infancy I reared and nourished thee, now the
Bhagwan (Deity) has rewarded me by giving thee stature, beauty,
health, and goodness. My heart only longs to see the happiness of
thy womanhood, [FN#58] after which I shall depart in peace. I
implore thee read this paper, given to me by the handsomest and
the properest young man that my eyes have ever seen."

The princess, glancing at the lotus on the outside of the note,
slowly unfolded it and perused its contents, which were as follows:

                     1.

                 She was to me the pearl that clings
                      To sands all hid from mortal
sight,
                 Yet fit for diadems of kings,
                      The pure and lovely light.

                     2.

                 She was to me the gleam of sun
                      That breaks the gloom of wintry
day;
                 One moment shone my soul upon,
                      Then passed --how soon! - away.

                     3.

                 She was to me the dreams of bliss
                      That float the dying eyes before,
                 For one short hour shed happiness,
                      And fly to bless no more.

                     4.

                 O light, again upon me shine;
                      O pearl, again delight my eyes;
                 O dreams of bliss, again be mine! --
                      No! earth may not be Paradise.

I must not forget to remark, parenthetically, that the minister's son,
in order to make these lines generally useful, had provided them
with a last stanza in triplicate. "For lovers," he said sagely," are
either in the optative mood, the desperative, or the exultative."
This time he had used the optative. For the desperative he would
substitute:

                     4.

                 The joys of life lie dead, lie dead,
                      The light of day is quenched in
gloom
                 The spark of hope my heart hath fled
--
                      What now witholds me from the
tomb?

And this was the termination exultative, as he called it:

                     4.

                 O joy I the pearl is mine again,
                      Once more the day is bright and
clear,
                 And now 'tis real, then 'twas vain,
                      My dream of bliss - O heaven is
here!

The Princess Padmavati having perused this doggrel with a
contemptuous look, tore off the first word of the last line, and said
to the nurse, angrily, "Get thee gone, O mother of Yama, [FN#59]
O unfortunate creature, and take back this answer" --giving her the
scrap of paper -- "to the fool who writes such bad verses. I wonder
where he studied the humanities. Begone, and never do such an
action again!"

The old nurse, distressed at being so treated, rose up and returned
home. Vajramukut was too agitated to await her arrival, so he went
to meet her on the way. Imagine his disappointment when she gave
him the fatal word and repeated to him exactly what happened, not
forgetting to describe a single look! He felt tempted to plunge his
sword into his bosom; but Fortune interfered, and sent him to
consult his confidant.

"Be not so hasty and desperate, my prince," said the pradhan's son,
seeing his wild grief; "you have not understood her meaning. Later
in life you will be aware of the fact that, in nine cases out of ten, a
woman's 'no' is a distinct 'yes.' This morning's work has been good;
the maiden asked where you learnt the humanities, which being
interpreted signifies 'Who are you?"'

On the next day the prince disclosed his rank to old Lakshmi, who
naturally declared that she had always known it. The trust they
reposed in her made her ready to address Padmavati once more on
the forbidden subject. So she again went to the palace, and having
lovingly greeted her nursling, said to her, "The Raja's son, whose
heart thou didst fascinate on the brim of the tank, on the fifth day
of the moon, in the light half of the month Yeth, has come to my
house, and sends this message to thee: "Perform what you
promised; we have now come"; and I also tell thee that this prince
is worthy of thee: just as thou art beautiful, so is he endowed with
all good qualities of mind and body."

When Padmavati heard this speech she showed great anger, and,
rubbing sandal on her beautiful hands, she slapped the old
woman's cheeks, and cried, "Wretch, Daina (witch)! get out of my
house; did I not forbid thee to talk such folly in my presence?"

The lover and the nurse were equally distressed at having taken the
advice of the young minister, till he explained what the crafty
damsel meant. "When she smeared the sandal on her ten fingers,"
he explained, "and struck the old woman on the face, she signified
that when the remaining ten moonlight nights shall have passed
away she will meet you in the dark." At the same time he warned
his master that to all appearances the lady Padmavati was far too
clever to make a comfortable wife. The minister's son especially
hated talented, intellectual, and strong-minded women; he had been
heard to describe the torments of Naglok [FN#60] as the
compulsory companionship of a polemical divine and a learned
authoress, well stricken in years and of forbidding aspect, as such
persons mostly are. Amongst womankind he admired --
theoretically, as became a philosopher --the small, plump,
laughing, chattering, unintellectual, and material-minded. And
therefore --excuse the digression, Raja Vikram --he married an old
maid, tall, thin, yellow, strictly proper, cold-mannered, a
conversationist, and who prided herself upon spirituality. But more
wonderful still, after he did marry her, he actually loved her --what
an incomprehensible being is man in these matters!

To return, however. The pradhan's son, who detected certain
symptoms of strong-mindedness in the Princess Padmavati,
advised his lord to be wise whilst wisdom availed him. This sage
counsel was, as might be guessed, most ungraciously rejected by
him for whose benefit it was intended. Then the sensible young
statesman rated himself soundly for having broken his father's rule
touching advice, and atoned for it by blindly forwarding the views
of his master.

After the ten nights of moonlight had passed, the old nurse was
again sent to the palace with the usual message. This time
Padmavati put saffron on three of her fingers, and again left their
marks on the nurse's cheek. The minister's son explained that this
was to crave delay for three days, and that on the fourth the lover
would have access to her.

When the time had passed the old woman again went and inquired
after her health and well-being. The princess was as usual very
wroth, and having personally taken her nurse to the western gate,
she called her "Mother of the elephant's trunk, [FN#61]'' and drove
her out with threats of the bastinado if she ever came back. This
was reported to the young statesman, who, after a few minutes'
consideration, said, "The explanation of this matter is, that she has
invited you to-morrow, at nighttime, to meet her at this very gate.

"When brown shadows fell upon the face of earth, and here and
there a star spangled the pale heavens, the minister's son called
Vajramukut, who had been engaged in adorning himself at least
half that day. He had carefully shaved his cheeks and chin; his
mustachio was trimmed and curled; he had arched his eyebrows by
plucking out with tweezers the fine hairs around them; he had
trained his curly musk-coloured love-locks to hang gracefully
down his face; he had drawn broad lines of antimony along his
eyelids, a most brilliant sectarian mark was affixed to his forehead,
the colour of his lips had been heightened by chewing betel-nut --

"One would imagine that you are talking of a silly girl, not of a
prince, fiend!" interrupted Vikram, who did not wish his son to
hear what he called these fopperies and frivolities.

-- and whitened his neck by having it shaved (continued the Baital,
speaking quickly, as if determined not to be interrupted), and
reddened the tips of his ears by squeezing them, and made his teeth
shine by rubbing copper powder into the roots, and set off the
delicacy of his fingers by staining the tips with henna. He had not
been less careful with his dress: he wore a well-arranged turband,
which had taken him at least two hours to bind, and a rich suit of
brown stuff chosen for the adventure he was about to attempt, and
he hung about his person a number of various weapons, so as to
appear a hero -- which young damsels admire.

Vajramukut asked his friend how he looked, and smiled happily
when the other replied "Admirable!" His happiness was so great
that he feared it might not last, and he asked the minister's son how
best to conduct himself?

"As a conqueror, my prince!" answered that astute young man, "if
it so be that you would be one. When you wish to win a woman,
always impose upon her. Tell her that you are her master, and she
will forthwith believe herself to be your servant. Inform her that
she loves you, and forthwith she will adore you. Show her that you
care nothing for her, and she will think of nothing but you. Prove
to her by your demeanour that you consider her a slave, and she
will become your pariah. But above all things --excuse me if I
repeat myself too often  --beware of the fatal virtue which men call
modesty and women sheepishness. Recollect the trouble it has
given us, and the danger which we have incurred: all this might
have been managed at a tank within fifteen miles of your royal
father's palace. And allow me to say that you may still thank your
stars: in love a lost opportunity is seldom if ever recovered. The
time to woo a woman is the moment you meet her, before she has
had time to think; allow her the use of reflection and she may
escape the net. And after avoiding the rock of Modesty, fall not, I
conjure you, into the gulf of Security. I fear the lady Padmavati,
she is too clever and too prudent. When damsels of her age draw
the sword of Love, they throw away the scabbard of Precaution.
But you yawn  --I weary you --it is time for us to move."

Two watches of the night had passed, and there was profound
stillness on earth. The young men then walked quietly through the
shadows, till they reached the western gate of the palace, and
found the wicket ajar. The minister's son peeped in and saw the
porter dozing, stately as a Brahman deep in the Vedas, and behind
him stood a veiled woman seemingly waiting for somebody. He
then returned on tiptoe to the place where he had left his master,
and with a parting caution against modesty and security, bade him
fearlessly glide through the wicket. Then having stayed a short
time at the gate listening with anxious ear, he went back to the old
woman's house.

Vajramukut penetrating to the staircase, felt his hand grasped by
the veiled figure, who motioning him to tread lightly, led him
quickly forwards. They passed under several arches, through dim
passages and dark doorways, till at last running up a flight of stone
steps they reached the apartments of the princess.

Vajramukut was nearly fainting as the flood of splendour broke
upon him. Recovering himself he gazed around the rooms, and
presently a tumult of delight invaded his soul, and his body bristled
with joy. [FN#62] The scene was that of fairyland. Golden censers
exhaled the most costly perfumes, and gemmed vases bore the
most beautiful flowers; silver lamps containing fragrant oil
illuminated doors whose panels were wonderfully decorated, and
walls adorned with pictures in which such figures were formed that
on seeing them the beholder was enchanted. On one side of the
room stood a bed of flowers and a couch covered with brocade of
gold, and strewed with freshly-culled jasmine flowers. On the
other side, arranged in proper order, were attar holders,
betel-boxes, rose-water bottles, trays, and silver cases with four
partitions for essences compounded of rose leaves, sugar, and
spices, prepared sandal wood, saffron, and pods of musk. Scattered
about a stuccoed floor white as crystal, were coloured caddies of
exquisite confections, and in others sweetmeats of various
kinds.[FN#63] Female attendants clothed in dresses of various
colours were standing each according to her rank, with hands
respectfully joined. Some were reading plays and beautiful poems,
others danced and others performed with glittering fingers and
flashing arms on various instruments --the ivory lute, the ebony
pipe and the silver kettledrum. In short, all the means and
appliances of pleasure and enjoyment were there; and any
description of the appearance of the apartments, which were the
wonder of the age, is impossible.

Then another veiled figure, the beautiful Princess Padmavati, came
up and disclosed herself, and dazzled the eyes of her delighted
Vajramukut. She led him into an alcove, made him sit down,
rubbed sandal powder upon his body, hung a garland of jasmine
flowers round his neck, sprinkled rose-water over his dress, and
began to wave over his head a fan of peacock feathers with a
golden handle.

Said the prince, who despite all efforts could not entirely shake off
his unhappy habit of being modest, "Those very delicate hands of
yours are not fit to ply the pankha.[FN#64] Why do you take so
much trouble? I am cool and refreshed by the sight of you. Do give
the fan to me and sit down."

"Nay, great king!" replied Padmavati, with the most fascinating of
smiles, "you have taken so much trouble for my sake in coming
here, it is right that I perform service for you."

Upon which her favourite slave, taking the pankha from the hand
of the princess, exclaimed, "This is my duty. I will perform the
service; do you two enjoy yourselves!"

The lovers then began to chew betel, which, by the bye, they
disposed of in little agate boxes which they drew from their
pockets, and they were soon engaged in the tenderest conversation.

Here the Baital paused for a while, probably to take breath. Then
he resumed his tale as follows:

In the meantime, it became dawn; the princess concealed him; and
when night returned they again engaged in the same innocent
pleasures. Thus day after day sped rapidly by. Imagine, if you can,
the youth's felicity; he was of an ardent temperament, deeply
enamoured, barely a score of years old, and he had been strictly
brought up by serious parents. He therefore resigned himself
entirely to the siren for whom he willingly forgot the world, and he
wondered at his good fortune, which had thrown in his way a
conquest richer than all the mines of Meru.[FN#65] He could not
sufficiently admire his Padmavati's grace, beauty, bright wit, and
numberless accomplishments. Every morning, for vanity's sake, he
learned from her a little useless knowledge in verse as well as
prose, for instance, the saying of the poet -- 

     Enjoy the present hour, 'tis thine; be this, O man, thy law;
     Who e'er resew the yester? Who the morrow e'er foresaw?

And this highly philosophical axiom -- 

     Eat, drink, and love --the rest's not worth a fillip.

"By means of which he hoped, Raja Vikram!" said the demon, not
heeding his royal carrier's "ughs" and "poohs," "to become in
course of time almost as clever as his mistress."

Padmavati, being, as you have seen, a maiden of superior mind,
was naturally more smitten by her lover's dulness than by any
other of his qualities; she adored it, it was such a contrast to
herself.[FN#66] At first she did what many clever women do --she
invested him with the brightness of her own imagination. Still
water, she pondered, runs deep; certainly under this disguise must
lurk a brilliant fancy, a penetrating but a mature and ready
judgment --are they not written by nature's hand on that broad high
brow? With such lovely mustachios can he be aught but generous,
noble-minded, magnanimous? Can such eyes belong to any but a
hero? And she fed the delusion. She would smile upon him with
intense fondness, when, after wasting hours over a few lines of
poetry, he would misplace all the adjectives and barbarously
entreat the metre. She laughed with gratification, when, excited by
the bright sayings that fell from her lips, the youth put forth some
platitude, dim as the lamp in the expiring fire-fly. When he slipped
in grammar she saw malice under it, when he retailed a borrowed
jest she called it a good one, and when he used --as princes
sometimes will --bad language, she discovered in it a charming
simplicity.

At first she suspected that the stratagems which had won her heart
were the results of a deep-laid plot proceeding from her lover. But
clever women are apt to be rarely sharp-sighted in every matter
which concerns themselves. She frequently determined that a third
was in the secret. She therefore made no allusion to it. Before long
the enamoured Vajramukut had told her everything, beginning
with the diatribe against love pronounced by the minister's son,
and ending with the solemn warning that she, the pretty princess,
would some day or other play her husband a foul trick.

"If I do not revenge myself upon him," thought the beautiful
Padmavati, smiling like an angel as she listened to the youth's
confidence, "may I become a gardener's ass in the next birth!"

Having thus registered a vow, she broke silence, and praised to the
skies the young pradhan's wisdom and sagacity; professed herself
ready from gratitude to become his slave, and only hoped that one
day or other she might meet that true friend by whose skill her soul
had been gratified in its dearest desire. "Only," she concluded, "I
am convinced that now my Vajramukut knows every corner of his
little Padmavati's heart, he will never expect her to do anything but
love, admire, adore and kiss him!'' Then suiting the action to the
word, she convinced him that the young minister had for once been
too crabbed and cynic in his philosophy.

But after the lapse of a month Vajramukut, who had eaten and
drunk and slept a great deal too much, and who had not once
hunted, became bilious in body and in mind melancholic. His face
turned yellow, and so did the whites of his eyes; he yawned, as
liver patients generally do, complained occasionally of sick
headaches, and lost his appetite: he became restless and anxious,
and once when alone at night he thus thought aloud: "I have given
up country, throne, home, and everything else, but the friend by
means of whom this happiness was obtained I have not seen for the
long length of thirty days. What will he say to himself, and how
can I know what has happened to him?"

In this state of things he was sitting, and in the meantime the
beautiful princess arrived. She saw through the matter, and lost not
a moment in entering upon it. She began by expressing her
astonishment at her lover's fickleness and fondness for change, and
when he was ready to wax wroth, and quoted the words of the
sage, "A barren wife may be superseded by another in the eighth
year; she whose children all die, in the tenth; she who brings forth
only daughters, in the eleventh; she who scolds, without delay,"
thinking that she alluded to his love, she smoothed his temper by
explaining that she referred to his forgetting his friend. "How is it
possible, O my soul," she asked with the softest of voices, that
thou canst happiness here whilst thy heart is wandering there?
Why didst thou conceal this from me, O astute one? Was it for fear
of distressing me? Think better of thy wife than to suppose that she
would ever separate thee from one to whom we both owe so much!

"After this Padmavati advised, nay ordered, her lover to go forth
that night, and not to return till his mind was quite at ease, and she
begged him to take a few sweetmeats and other trifles as a little
token of her admiration and regard for the clever young man of
whom she had heard so much.

Vajramukut embraced her with a transport of gratitude, which so
inflamed her anger, that fearing lest the cloak of concealment
might fall from her countenance, she went away hurriedly to find
the greatest delicacies which her comfit boxes contained. Presently
she returned, carrying a bag of sweetmeats of every kind for her
lover, and as he rose up to depart, she put into his hand a little
parcel of sugar-plums especially intended for the friend; they were
made up with her own delicate fingers, and they would please, she
flattered herself, even his discriminating palate.

The young prince, after enduring a number of farewell embraces
and hopings for a speedy return, and last words ever beginning
again, passed safely through the palace gate, and with a relieved
aspect walked briskly to the house of the old nurse. Although it
was midnight his friend was still sitting on his mat.

The two young men fell upon one another's bosoms and embraced
affectionately. They then began to talk of matters nearest their
hearts. The Raja's son wondered at seeing the jaded and haggard
looks of his companion, who did not disguise that they were
caused by his anxiety as to what might have happened to his friend
at the hand of so talented and so superior a princess. Upon which
Vajramukut, who now thought Padmavati an angel, and his late
abode a heaven, remarked with formality -- and two blunders to
one quotation --that abilities properly directed win for a man the
happiness of both worlds.

The pradhan's son rolled his head.

"Again on your hobby-horse, nagging at talent whenever you find
it in others! " cried the young prince with a pun, which would have
delighted Padmavati. "Surely you are jealous of her!" he resumed,
anything but pleased with the dead silence that had received his
joke; "jealous of her cleverness, and of her love for me. She is the
very best creature in the world. Even you, woman-hater as you are,
would own it if you only knew all the kind messages she sent, and
the little pleasant surprise that she has prepared for you. There!
take and eat; they are made by her own dear hands!" cried the
young Raja, producing the sweetmeats. "As she herself taught me
to say -

         Thank God I am a man,
     Not a philosopher!"

"The kind messages she sent me! The pleasant surprise she has
prepared for me!" repeated the minister's son in a hard, dry tone.
"My lord will be pleased to tell me how she heard of my name?"

"I was sitting one night," replied the prince, "in anxious thought
about you, when at that moment the princess coming in and seeing
my condition, asked, 'Why are you thus sad? Explain the cause to
me.' I then gave her an account of your cleverness, and when she
heard it she gave me permission to go and see you, and sent these
sweetmeats for you: eat them and I shall be pleased."

"Great king!" rejoined the young statesman, "one thing vouchsafe
to hear from me. You have not done well in that you have told my
name. You should never let a woman think that your left hand
knows the secret which she confided to your right, much less that
you have shared it to a third person. Secondly, you did evil in
allowing her to see the affection with which you honour your
unworthy servant --a woman ever hates her lover's or husband's
friend."

"What could I do?" rejoined the young Raja, in a querulous tone of
voice. "When I love a woman I like to tell her everything --to have
no secrets from her --to consider her another self ----"

"Which habit," interrupted the pradhan's son, "you will lose when
you are a little older, when you recognize the fact that love is
nothing but a bout, a game of skill between two individuals of
opposite sexes: the one seeking to gain as much, and the other
striving to lose as little as possible; and that the sharper of the
twain thus met on the chessboard must, in the long run, win. And
reticence is but a habit. Practise it for a year, and you will find it
harder to betray than to conceal your thoughts. It hath its joy also.
Is there no pleasure, think you, when suppressing an outbreak of
tender but fatal confidence in saying to yourself, 'O, if she only
knew this?' 'O, if she did but suspect that?' Returning, however, to
the sugar-plums, my life to a pariah's that they are poisoned!"

"Impossible!" exclaimed the prince, horror-struck at the thought;
"what you say, surely no one ever could do. If a mortal fears not
his fellow-mortal, at least he dreads the Deity."

"I never yet knew," rejoined the other, "what a woman in love does
fear. However, prince, the trial is easy. Come here, Muti!" cried he
to the old woman's dog, "and off with thee to that three-headed
kinsman of thine, that attends upon his amiable-looking
master.[FN#67]"

Having said this, he threw one of the sweetmeats to the dog; the
animal ate it, and presently writhing and falling down, died.

"The wretch! O the wretch!" cried Vajramukut, transported with
wonder and anger. " And I loved her! But now it is all over. I dare
not associate with such a calamity!"

"What has happened, my lord, has happened!" quoth the minister's
son calmly. "I was prepared for something of this kind from so
talented a princess. None commit such mistakes, such blunders,
such follies as your clever women; they cannot even turn out a
crime decently executed. O give me dulness with one idea, one
aim, one desire. O thrice blessed dulness that combines with
happiness, power."

This time Vajramukut did not defend talent.

"And your slave did his best to warn you against perfidy. But now
my heart is at rest. I have tried her strength. She has attempted and
failed; the defeat will prevent her attempting again --just yet. But
let me ask you to put to yourself one question. Can you be happy
without her?"

"Brother!" replied the prince, after a pause, "I cannot"; and he
blushed as he made the avowal.

"Well," replied the other, "better confess then conceal that fact; we
must now meet her on the battle-field, and beat her at her own
weapons --cunning. I do not willingly begin treachery with
women, because, in the first place, I don't like it; and secondly, I
know that they will certainly commence practicing it upon me,
after which I hold myself justified in deceiving them. And
probably this will be a good wife; remember that she intended to
poison me, not you. During the last month my fear has been lest
my prince had run into the tiger's brake. Tell me, my lord, when
does the princess expect you to return to her?"

"She bade me," said the young Raja, "not to return till my mind
was quite at ease upon the subject of my talented friend."

"This means that she expects you back to-morrow night, as you
cannot enter the palace before. And now I will retire to my cot, as
it is there that I am wont to ponder over my plans. Before dawn my
thought shall mature one which must place the beautiful Padmavati
in your power."

"A word before parting," exclaimed the prince "you know my
father has already chosen a spouse for me; what will he say if I
bring home a second? "

"In my humble opinion," said the minister's son rising to retire,
"woman is a monogamous, man a polygamous, creature, a fact
scarcely established in physio- logical theory, but very observable
in every-day practice For what said the poet? -- 
          Divorce, friend! Re-wed thee! The spring draweth
near,[FN#68]
          And a wife's but an almanac --good for the year.

If your royal father say anything to you, refer him to what he
himself does."

Reassured by these words, Vajramukut bade his friend a cordial
good-night and sought his cot, where he slept soundly, despite the
emotions of the last few hours. The next day passed somewhat
slowly. In the evening, when accompanying his master to the
palace, the minister's son gave him the following directions.

"Our object, dear my lord, is how to obtain possession of the
princess. Take, then, this trident, and hide it carefully when you
see her show the greatest love and affection. Conceal what has
happened, and when she, wondering at your calmness, asks about
me, tell her that last night I was weary and out of health, that
illness prevented my eating her sweetmeats, but that I shall eat
them for supper to-night. When she goes to sleep, then, taking off
her jewels and striking her left leg with the trident, instantly come
away to me. But should she lie awake, rub upon your thumb a little
of this --do not fear, it is only a powder of grubs fed on verdigris --
and apply it to her nostrils. It would make an elephant senseless, so
be careful how you approach it to your own face."

Vajramukut embraced his friend, and passed safely through the
palace gate. He found Padmavati awaiting him; she fell upon his
bosom and looked into his eyes, and deceived herself, as clever
women will do. Overpowered by her joy and satisfaction, she now
felt certain that her lover was hers eternally, and that her treachery
had not been discovered; so the beautiful princess fell into a deep
sleep.

Then Vajramukut lost no time in doing as the minister's son had
advised, and slipped out of the room, carrying off Padmavati's
jewels and ornaments. His counsellor having inspected them, took
up a sack and made signs to his master to follow him. Leaving the
horses and baggage at the nurse's house, they walked to a
burning-place outside the city. The minister's son there buried his
dress, together with that of the prince, and drew from the sack the
costume of a religious ascetic: he assumed this himself, and gave
to his companion that of a disciple. Then quoth the guru (spiritual
preceptor) to his chela (pupil), "Go, youth, to the bazar, and sell
these jewels, remembering to let half the jewellers in the place see
the things, and if any one lay hold of thee, bring him to me."

Upon which, as day had dawned, Vajramukut carried the princess's
ornaments to the market, and entering the nearest goldsmith's shop,
offered to sell them, and asked what they were worth. As your
majesty well knows, gardeners, tailors, and goldsmiths are
proverbially dishonest, and this man was no exception to the rule.
He looked at the pupil's face and wondered, because he had
brought articles whose value he did not appear to know. A thought
struck him that he might make a bargain which would fill his
coffers, so he offered about a thousandth part of the price. This the
pupil rejected, because he wished the affair to go further. Then the
goldsmith, seeing him about to depart, sprang up and stood in the
door way, threatening to call the officers of justice if the young
man refused to give up the valuables which he said had lately been
stolen from his shop. As the pupil only laughed at this, the
goldsmith thought seriously of executing his threat, hesitating only
because he knew that the officers of justice would gain more than
he could by that proceeding. As he was still in doubt a shadow
darkened his shop, and in entered the chief jeweller of the city. The
moment the ornaments were shown to him he recognized them,
and said, "These jewels belong to Raja Dantawat's daughter; I
know them well, as I set them only a few months ago!" Then he
turned to the disciple, who still held the valuables in his hand, and
cried, "Tell me truly whence you received them?"

While they were thus talking, a crowd of ten or twenty persons had
collected, and at length the report reached the superintendent of the
archers. He sent a soldier to bring before him the pupil, the
goldsmith, and the chief jeweller, together with the ornaments.
And when all were in the hall of justice, he looked at the jewels
and said to the young man, "Tell me truly, whence have you
obtained these?"

"My spiritual preceptor," said Vajramukut, pretending great fear,
"who is now worshipping in the cemetery outside the town, gave
me these white stones, with an order to sell them. How know I
whence he obtained them? Dismiss me, my lord, for I am an
innocent man."

"Let the ascetic be sent for," commanded the kotwal.[FN#69]
Then, having taken both of them, along with the jewels, into the
presence of King Dantawat, he related the whole circumstances.

"Master," said the king on hearing the statement, "whence have
you obtained these jewels?"

The spiritual preceptor, before deigning an answer, pulled from
under his arm the hide of a black antelope, which he spread out
and smoothed deliberately before using it as an asan.[FN#70] He
then began to finger a rosary of beads each as large as an egg, and
after spending nearly an hour in mutterings and in rollings of the
head, he looked fixedly at the Raja, and repined:

"By Shiva! great king, they are mine own. On the fourteenth of the
dark half of the moon at night, I had gone into a place where dead
bodies are burned, for the purpose of accomplishing a witch's
incantation. After long and toilsome labour she appeared, but her
demeanour was so unruly that I was forced to chastise her. I struck
her with this, my trident, on the left leg, if memory serves me. As
she continued to be refractory, in order to punish her I took off all
her jewels and clothes, and told her to go where she pleased. Even
this had little effect upon her --never have I looked upon so
perverse a witch. In this way the jewels came into my possession."

Raja Dantawat was stunned by these words. He begged the ascetic
not to leave the palace for a while, and forthwith walked into the
private apartments of the women. Happening first to meet the
queen dowager, he said to her, "Go, without losing a minute, O my
mother, and look at Padmavati's left leg, and see if there is a mark
or not, and what sort of a mark!" Presently she returned, and
coming to the king said, "Son, I find thy daughter lying upon her
bed, and complaining that she has met with an accident; and
indeed Padmavati must be in great pain. I found that some sharp
instrument with three points had wounded her. The girl says that a
nail hurt her, but I never yet heard of a nail making three holes.
However, we must all hasten, or there will be erysipelas,
tumefaction, gangrene, mortification, amputation, and perhaps
death in the house," concluded the old queen, hurrying away in the
pleasing anticipation of these ghastly consequences.

For a moment King Dantawat's heart was ready to break. But he
was accustomed to master his feelings; he speedily applied the
reins of reflection to the wild steed of passion. He thought to
himself, "the affairs of one's household, the intentions of one's
heart, and whatever one's losses may be, should not be disclosed to
any one. Since Padmavati is a witch, she is no longer my daughter.
I will verily go forth and consult the spiritual preceptor."

With these words the king went outside, where the guru was still
sitting upon his black hide, making marks with his trident on the
floor. Having requested that the pupil might be sent away, and
having cleared the room, he said to the jogi, "O holy man! what
punishment for the heinous crime of witchcraft is awarded to a
woman in the Dharma- Shastra [FN#71]?"

"Great king!" replied the devotee, "in the Dharma Shastra it is thus
written: 'If a Brahman, a cow, a woman, a child, or any other
person whatsoever who may be dependent on us, should be guilty
of a perfidious act, their punishment is that they be banished the
country.' However much they may deserve death, we must not spill
their blood, as Lakshmi[FN#72] flies in horror from the deed."

Hearing these words the Raja dismissed the guru with many thanks
and large presents. He waited till nightfall and then ordered a band
of trusty men to seize Padmavati without alarming the household,
and to carry her into a distant jungle full of fiends, tigers, and
bears, and there to abandon her.

In the meantime, the ascetic and his pupil hurrying to the cemetery
resumed their proper dresses; they then went to the old nurse's
house, rewarded her hospitality till she wept bitterly, girt on their
weapons, and mounting their horses, followed the party which
issued from the gate of King Dantawat's palace. And it may easily
be believed that they found little difficulty in persuading the poor
girl to exchange her chance in the wild jungle for the prospect of
becoming Vajramukut's wife --lawfully wedded at Benares. She
did not even ask if she was to have a rival in the house, --a
question which women, you know, never neglect to put under
usual circumstances. After some days the two pilgrims of one love
arrived at the house of their fathers, and to all, both great and
small, excess in joy came.

"Now, Raja Vikram!" said the Baital, "you have not spoken much;
doubtless you are engrossed by the interest of a story wherein a
man beats a woman at her own weapon --deceit. But I warn you
that you will assuredly fall into Narak (the infernal regions) if you
do not make up your mind upon and explain this matter. Who was
the most to blame amongst these four? the lover[FN#73] the
lover's friend, the girl, or the father?"

"For my part I think Padmavati was the worst, she being at the
bottom of all their troubles," cried Dharma Dhwaj. The king said
something about young people and the two senses of seeing and
hearing, but his son's sentiment was so sympathetic that he at once
pardoned the interruption. At length, determined to do justice
despite himself, Vikram said, "Raja Dantawat is the person most at
fault."

"In what way was he at fault? " asked the Baital curiously.

King Vikram gave him this reply: "The Prince Vajramukut being
tempted of the love-god was insane, and therefore not responsible
for his actions. The minister's son performed his master's business
obediently, without considering causes or asking questions --a very
excellent quality in a dependent who is merely required to do as he
is bid. With respect to the young woman, I have only to say that
she was a young woman, and thereby of necessity a possible
murderess. But the Raja, a prince, a man of a certain age and
experience, a father of eight! He ought never to have been
deceived by so shallow a trick, nor should he, without reflection,
have banished his daughter from the country."

"Gramercy to you!" cried the Vampire, bursting into a discordant
shout of laughter, "I now return to my tree. By my tail! I never yet
heard a Raja so readily condemn a Raja." With these words he
slipped out of the cloth, leaving it to hang empty over the great
king's shoulder.

Vikram stood for a moment, fixed to the spot with blank dismay.
Presently, recovering himself, he retraced his steps, followed by
his son, ascended the sires-tree, tore down the Baital, packed him
up as before, and again set out upon his way.

Soon afterwards a voice sounded behind the warrior king's back,
and began to tell another true story.


        THE VAMPIRE'S SECOND STORY.

 Of the Relative Villany of Men and Women.

In the great city of Bhogavati dwelt, once upon a time, a young
prince, concerning whom I may say that he strikingly resembled
this amiable son of your majesty.

Raja Vikram was silent, nor did he acknowledge the Baital's
indirect compliment. He hated flattery, but he liked, when
flattered, to be flattered in his own person; a feature in their royal
patron's character which the Nine Gems of Science had turned to
their own account.

Now the young prince Raja Ram (continued the tale teller) had an
old father, concerning whom I may say that he was exceedingly
unlike your Rajaship, both as a man and as a parent. He was fond
of hunting, dicing, sleeping by day, drinking at night, and eating
perpetual tonics, while he delighted in the idleness of watching
nautch girls, and the vanity of falling in love. But he was adored
by his children because he took the trouble to win their hearts. He
did not lay it down as a law of heaven that his offspring would
assuredly go to Patala if they neglected the duty of bestowing upon
him without cause all their affections, as your moral, virtuous, and
highly respectable fathers are only too apt ----. Aie! Aie!

These sounds issued from the Vampire's lips as the warrior king,
speechless with wrath, passed his hand behind his back, and
viciously twisted up a piece of the speaker's skin. This caused the
Vampire to cry aloud, more however, it would appear, in derision
than in real suffering, for he presently proceeded with the same
subject.

Fathers, great king, may be divided into three kinds; and be it said
aside, that mothers are the same. Firstly, we have the parent of
many ideas, amusing, pleasant, of course poor, and the idol of his
children. Secondly, there is the parent with one idea and a half.
This sort of man would, in your place, say to himself, "That demon
fellow speaks a manner of truth. I am not above learning from him,
despite his position in life. I will carry out his theory, just to see
how far it goes"; and so saying, he wends his way home, and treats
his young ones with prodigious kindness for a time, but it is not
lasting. Thirdly, there is the real one-idea'd type of parent-yourself,
O warrior king Vikram, an admirable example. You learn in youth
what you are taught: for instance, the blessed precept that the green
stick is of the trees of Paradise; and in age you practice what you
have learned. You cannot teach yourselves anything before your
beards sprout, and when they grow stiff you cannot be taught by
others. If any one attempt to change your opinions you cry,

          What is new is not true,
          What is true is not new.

and you rudely pull his hand from the subject. Yet have you your
uses like other things of earth. In life you are good working camels
for the mill-track, and when you die your ashes are not worse
compost than those of the wise.

Your Rajaship will observe (continued the Vampire, as Vikram
began to show symptoms of ungovernable anger) that I have been
concise in treating this digression. Had I not been so, it would have
led me far indeed from my tale. Now to return.

When the old king became air mixed with air, the young king,
though he found hardly ten pieces of silver in the paternal treasury
and legacies for thousands of golden ounces, yet mourned his loss
with the deepest grief. He easily explained to himself the reckless
emptiness of the royal coffers as a proof of his dear kind parent's
goodness, because he loved him.

But the old man had left behind him, as he could not carry it off
with him, a treasure more valuable than gold and silver: one
Churaman, a parrot, who knew the world, and who besides
discoursed in the most correct Sanscrit. By sage counsel and wise
guidance this admirable bird soon repaired his young master's
shattered fortunes.

One day the prince said, "Parrot, thou knowest everything: tell me
where there is a mate fit for me. The shastras inform us, respecting
the choice of a wife, 'She who is not descended from his paternal
or maternal ancestors within the sixth degree is eligible by a high
caste man for nuptials. In taking a wife let him studiously avoid
the following families, be they ever so great, or ever so rich in
kine, goats, sheep, gold, or grain: the family which has omitted
prescribed acts of devotion; that which has produced no male
children; that in which the Veda (scripture) has not been read; that
which has thick hair on the body; and that in which members have
been subject to hereditary disease. Let a person choose for his wife
a girl whose person has no defect; who has an agreeable name;
who walks gracefully, like a young elephant; whose hair and teeth
are moderate in quantity and in size; and whose body is of
exquisite softness.'"

"Great king," responded the parrot Churaman, "there is in the
country of Magadh a Raja, Magadheshwar by name, and he has a
daughter called Chandravati. You will marry her; she is very
learned, and, what is better far, very fait. She is of yellow colour,
with a nose like the flower of the sesamum; her legs are taper, like
the plantain-tree; her eyes are large, like the principal leaf of the
lotus; her eye-brows stretch towards her ears; her lips are red, like
the young leaves of the mango-tree; her face is like the full moon;
her voice is like the sound of the cuckoo; her arms reach to her
knees; her throat is like the pigeon's; her flanks are thin, like those
of the lion; her hair hangs in curls only down to her waist; her teeth
are like the seeds of the pomegranate; and her gait is that of the
drunken elephant or the goose."

On hearing the parrot's speech, the king sent for an astrologer, and
asked him, "Whom shall I marry?" The wise man, having
consulted his art, replied, "Chandravati is the name of the maiden,
and your marriage with her will certainly take place." Thereupon
the young Raja, though he had never seen his future queen, became
incontinently enamoured of her. He summoned a Brahman, and
sent him to King Magadheshwar, saying, "If you arrange
satisfactorily this affair of our marriage we will reward you
amply"-a promise which lent wings to the priest.

Now it so happened that this talented and beautiful princess had a
jay,[FN#74] whose name was Madan-manjari or Love-garland.
She also possessed encyclopaedic knowledge after her degree, and,
like the parrot, she spoke excellent Sanscrit.

Be it briefly said, O warrior king-for you think that I am talking
fables--that in the days of old, men had the art of making birds
discourse in human language. The invention is attributed to a great
philosopher, who split their tongues, and after many generations
produced a selected race born with those members split. He altered
the shapes of their skulls by fixing ligatures behind the occiput,
which caused the sinciput to protrude, their eyes to become
prominent, and their brains to master the art of expressing thoughts
in words.

But this wonderful discovery, like those of great philosophers
generally, had in it a terrible practical flaw The birds beginning to
speak, spoke wisely and so well, they told the truth so persistently,
they rebuked their brethren of the featherless skins so openly, they
flattered them so little and they counselled them so much, that
mankind presently grew tired of hearing them discourse. Thus the
art gradually fell into desuetude, and now it is numbered with the
things that were.

One day the charming Princess Chandravati was sitting in
confidential conversation with her jay. The dialogue was not
remarkable, for maidens in all ages seldom consult their
confidantes or speculate upon the secrets of futurity, or ask to have
dreams interpreted, except upon one subject. At last the princess
said, for perhaps the hundredth time that month, "Where, O jay, is
there a husband worthy of me?"

"Princess," replied Madan-manjari, "I am happy at length to be
able as willing to satisfy your just curiosity. For just it is, though
the delicacy of our sex --"

"Now, no preaching!" said the maiden; "or thou shalt have salt
instead of sugar for supper."

Jays, your Rajaship, are fond of sugar. So the confidante retained a
quantity of good advice which she was about to produce, and
replied,

"I now see clearly the ways of Fortune. Raja Ram, king of
Bhogavati, is to be thy husband. He shall be happy in thee and thou
in him, for he is young and handsome, rich and generous,
good-tempered, not too clever, and without a chance of being an
invalid."

Thereupon the princess, although she had never seen her future
husband, at once began to love him. In fact, though neither had set
eyes upon the other, both were mutually in love.

"How can that be, sire?" asked the young Dharma Dhwaj of his
father. " I always thought that --"

The great Vikram interrupted his son, and bade him not to ask silly
questions. Thus he expected to neutralize the evil effects of the
Baital's doctrine touching the amiability of parents unlike himself.

Now, as both these young people (resumed the Baital) were of
princely family and well to do in the world, the course of their love
was unusually smooth. When the Brahman sent by Raja Ram had
reached Magadh, and had delivered his King's homage to the Raja
Magadheshwar, the latter received him with distinction, and agreed
to his proposal. The beautiful princess's father sent for a Brahman
of his own, and charging him with nuptial gifts and the customary
presents, sent him back to Bhogavati in company with the other
envoy, and gave him this order, "Greet Raja Ram, on my behalf,
and after placing the tilak or mark upon his forehead, return here
with all speed. When you come back I will get all things ready for
the marriage."

Raja Ram, on receiving the deputation, was greatly pleased, and
after generously rewarding the Brahmans and making all the
necessary preparations, he set out in state for the land of Magadha,
to claim his betrothed.

In due season the ceremony took place with feasting and bands of
music, fireworks and illuminations, rehearsals of scripture, songs,
entertainments, processions, and abundant noise. And hardly had
the turmeric disappeared from the beautiful hands and feet of the
bride, when the bridegroom took an affectionate leave of his new
parents - he had not lived long in the house - and receiving the
dowry and the bridal gifts, set out for his own country.

Chandravati was dejected by leaving her mother, and therefore she
was allowed to carry with her the jay, Madanmanian. She soon
told her husband the wonderful way in which she had first heard
his name, and he related to her the advantage which he had derived
from confabulation with Churaman, his parrot.

"Then why do we not put these precious creatures into one cage,
after marrying them according to the rites of the angelic marriage
(Gandharva-lagana)?" said the charming queen. Like most brides,
she was highly pleased to find an opportunity of making a match.

"Ay! why not, love ? Surely they cannot live happy in what the
world calls single blessedness," replied the young king. As
bridegrooms sometimes are for a short time, he was very warm
upon the subject of matrimony.

Thereupon, without consulting the parties chiefly concerned in
their scheme, the master and mistress, after being comfortably
settled at the end of their journey, caused a large cage to be
brought, and put into it both their favourites.

Upon which Churaman the parrot leaned his head on one side and
directed a peculiar look at the jay. But Madan- manjari raised her
beak high in the air, puffed through it once or twice, and turned
away her face in extreme disdain.

"Perhaps," quoth the parrot, at length breaking silence, "you will
tell me that you have no desire to be married?"

"Probably," replied the jay.

"And why?" asked the male bird.

"Because I don't choose," replied the female.

"Truly a feminine form of resolution this," ejaculated the parrot. "I
will borrow my master's words and call it a woman's reason, that is
to say, no reason at all. Have you any objection to be more
explicit?"

"None whatever," retorted the jay, provoked by the rude innuendo
into telling more plainly than politely exactly what she thought;
"none whatever, sir parrot. You he-things are all of you sinful,
treacherous, deceitful, selfish, devoid of conscience, and
accustomed to sacrifice us, the weaker sex, to your smallest desire
or convenience."

"Of a truth, fair lady," quoth the young Raja Ram to his bride, "this
pet of thine is sufficiently impudent."

"Let her words be as wind in thine ear, master," interrupted the
parrot. "And pray, Mistress Jay, what are you she-things but
treacherous, false, ignorant, and avaricious beings, whose only
wish in this world is to prevent life being as pleasant as it might
be?"

"Verily, my love," said the beautiful Chandravati to her
bridegroom, "this thy bird has a habit of expressing his opinions in
a very free and easy way."

"I can prove what I assert," whispered the jay in the ear of the
princess.

"We can confound their feminine minds by an anecdote,"
whispered the parrot in the ear of the prince.

Briefly, King Vikram, it was settled between the twain that each
should establish the truth of what it had advanced by an illustration
in the form of a story.

Chandravati claimed, and soon obtained, precedence for the jay.
Then the wonderful bird, Madan-manjari, began to speak as
follows:-

I have often told thee, O queen, that before coming to thy feet, my
mistress was Ratnawati, the daughter of a rich trader, the dearest,
the sweetest, the --- 

Here the jay burst into tears, and the mistress was sympathetically
affected. Presently the speaker resumed--- 

However, I anticipate. In the city of Ilapur there was a wealthy
merchant, who was without offspring; on this account he was
continually fasting and going on pilgrimage, and when at home he
was ever engaged in reading the Puranas and in giving alms to the
Brahmans.

At length, by favour of the Deity, a son was born to this merchant,
who celebrated his birth with great pomp and rejoicing, and gave
large gifts to Brahmans and to bards, and distributed largely to the
hungry, the thirsty, and the poor. When the boy was five years old
he had him taught to read, and when older he was sent to a guru,
who had formerly himself been a student, and who was celebrated
as teacher and lecturer.

In the course of time the merchant's son grew up. Praise be to
Brahma! what a wonderful youth it was, with a face like a
monkey's, legs like a stork's, and a back like a camel's. You know
the old proverb:-- 

          Expect thirty-two villanies from the limping, and eighty
from the one-eyed man,
          But when the hunchback comes, say "Lord defend us!"

Instead of going to study, he went to gamble with other
ne'er-do-weels, to whom he talked loosely, and whom he taught to
be bad-hearted as himself. He made love to every woman, and
despite his ugliness, he was not unsuccessful. For they are equally
fortunate who are very handsome or very ugly, in so far as they are
both remarkable and remarked. But the latter bear away the palm.
Beautiful men begin well with women, who do all they can to
attract them, love them as the apples of their eyes, discover them to
be fools, hold them to be their equals, deceive them, and speedily
despise them. It is otherwise with the ugly man, who, in
consequence of his homeliness, must work his wits and take pains
with himself, and become as pleasing as he is capable of being, till
women forget his ape's face, bird's legs, and bunchy back.

The hunchback, moreover, became a Tantri, so as to complete his
villanies. He was duly initiated by an apostate Brahman, made a
declaration that he renounced all the ceremonies of his old
religion, and was delivered from their yoke, and proceeded to
perform in token of joy an abominable rite. In company with eight
men and eight women-a Brahman female, a dancing girl, a
weaver's daughter, a woman of ill fame, a washerwoman, a
barber's wife, a milkmaid, and the daughter of a land-owner-
choosing the darkest time of night and the most secret part of the
house, he drank with them, was sprinkled and anointed, and went
through many ignoble ceremonies, such as sitting nude upon a
dead body. The teacher informed him that he was not to indulge
shame, or aversion to anything, nor to prefer one thing to another,
nor to regard caste, ceremonial cleanness or uncleanness, but
freely to enjoy all the pleasures of sense-that is, of course, wine
and us, since we are the representatives of the wife of Cupid, and
wine prevents the senses from going astray. And whereas holy
men, holding that the subjugation or annihilation of the passions is
essential to final beatitude, accomplish this object by bodily
austerities, and by avoiding temptation, he proceeded to blunt the
edge of the passions with excessive indulgence. And he jeered at
the pious, reminding them that their ascetics are safe only in
forests, and while keeping a perpetual fast; but that he could
subdue his passions in the very presence of what they most
desired.

Presently this excellent youth's father died, leaving him immense
wealth. He blunted his passions so piously and so vigorously, that
in very few years his fortune was dissipated. Then he turned
towards his neighbour's goods and prospered for a time, till being
discovered robbing, he narrowly escaped the stake. At length he
exclaimed, "Let the gods perish! the rascals send me nothing but ill
luck!" and so saying he arose and fled from his own country.

Chance led that villain hunchback to the city of Chandrapur,
where, hearing the name of my master Hemgupt, he recollected
that one of his father's wealthiest correspondents was so called.
Thereupon, with his usual audacity, he presented himself at the
house, walked in, and although he was clothed in tatters,
introduced himself, told his father's name and circumstances, and
wept bitterly.

The good man was much astonished, and not less grieved, to see
the son of his old friend in such woful plight. He rose up, however,
embraced the youth, and asked the reason of his coming.

"I freighted a vessel," said the false hunchback, "for the purpose of
trading to a certain land. Having gone there, I disposed of my
merchandise, and, taking another cargo, I was on my voyage
home. Suddenly a great storm arose, and the vessel was wrecked,
and I escaped on a plank, and after a time arrived here. But I am
ashamed, since I have lost all my wealth, and I cannot show my
face in this plight in my own city. My excellent father would have
consoled me with his pity. But now that I have carried him and my
mother to Ganges,[FN#75] every one will turn against me; they
will rejoice in my misfortunes, they will accuse me of folly and
recklessness -  alas! alas! I am truly miserable."

My dear master was deceived by the cunning of the wretch. He
offered him hospitality, which was readily enough accepted, and
he entertained him for some time as a guest. Then, having reason
to be satisfied with his conduct, Hemgupt admitted him to his
secrets, and finally made him a partner in his business. Briefly, the
villain played his cards so well, that at last the merchant said to
himself:

"I have had for years an anxiety and a calamity in my house. My
neighbours whisper things to my disadvantage, and those who are
bolder speak out with astonishment amongst themselves, saying,
'At seven or eight, people marry their daughters, and this indeed is
the appointment of the law: that period is long since gone; she is
now thirteen or fourteen years old, and she is very tall and lusty,
resembling a married woman of thirty. How can her father eat his
rice with comfort and sleep with satisfaction, whilst such a
disreputable thing exists in his house? At present he is exposed to
shame, and his deceased friends are suffering through his retaining
a girl from marriage beyond the period which nature has
prescribed.' And now, while I am sitting quietly at home, the
Bhagwan (Deity) removes all my uneasiness: by his favour such an
opportunity occurs. It is not right to delay. It is best that I shall
give my daughter in marriage to him. Whatever can be done to-day
is best; who knows what may happen to-morrow?

"Thus thinking, the old man went to his wife and said to her,
"Birth, marriage, and death are all under the direction of the gods;
can anyone say when they will be ours? We want for our daughter
a young man who is of good birth, rich and handsome, clever and
honourable. But we do not find him. If the bridegroom be faulty,
thou sayest, all will go wrong. I cannot put a string round the neck
of our daughter and throw her into the ditch. If, however, thou
think well of the merchant's son, now my partner, we will celebrate
Ratnawati's marriage with him."

The wife, who had been won over by the hunchback's hypocrisy,
was also pleased, and replied, "My lord! when the Deity so plainly
indicates his wish, we should do it; since, though we have sat
quietly at home, the desire of our hearts is accomplished. It is best
that no delay be made: and, having quickly summoned the family
priest, and having fixed upon a propitious planetary conjunction,
that the marriage be celebrated."

Then they called their daughter -- ah, me! what a beautiful being
she was, and worthy the love of a Gandharva (demigod). Her long
hair, purple with the light of youth, was glossy as the
bramra's[FN#76] wing; her brow was pure and clear as the agate;
the ocean-coral looked pale beside her lips, and her teeth were as
two chaplets of pearls. Everything in her was formed to be loved.
Who could look into her eyes without wishing to do it again? Who
could hear her voice without hoping that such music would sound
once more? And she was good as she was fair. Her father adored
her; her mother, though a middle-aged woman, was not envious or
jealous of her; her relatives doted on her, and her friends could
find no fault with her. I should never end were I to tell her precious
qualities. Alas, alas ! my poor Ratnawati!

So saying, the jay wept abundant tears; then she resumed:

When her parents informed my mistress of their resolution, she
replied, "Sadhu-it is well!" She was not like most young women,
who hate nothing so much as a man whom their seniors order them
to love. She bowed her head and promised obedience, although, as
she afterwards told her mother, she could hardly look at her
intended, on account of his prodigious ugliness. But presently the
hunchback's wit surmounted her disgust. She was grateful to him
for his attention to her father and mother; she esteemed him for his
moral and religious conduct; she pitied him for his misfortunes,
and she finished with forgetting his face, legs, and back in her
admiration of what she supposed to be his mind.

She had vowed before marriage faithfully to perform all the duties
of a wife, however distasteful to her they might be; but after the
nuptials, which were not long deferred, she was not surprised to
find that she loved her husband. Not only did she omit to think of
his features and figure; I verily believe that she loved him the more
for his repulsiveness. Ugly, very ugly men prevail over women for
two reasons. Firstly, we begin with repugnance, which in the
course of nature turns to affection; and we all like the most that
which, when unaccustomed to it, we most disliked. Hence the poet
says, with as much truth as is in the male:

          Never despair, O man! when woman's spite
          Detests thy name and sickens at thy sight:
          Sometime her heart shall learn to love thee more
          For the wild hatred which it felt before, &c.

Secondly, the very ugly man appears, deceitfully enough, to think
little of his appearance, and he will give himself the trouble to
pursue a heart because he knows that the heart will not follow after
him. Moreover, we women (said the jay) are by nature pitiful, and
this our enemies term a "strange perversity." A widow is generally
disconsolate if she loses a little, wizen-faced, shrunken shanked,
ugly, spiteful, distempered thing that scolded her and quarrelled
with her, and beat her and made her hours bitter; whereas she will
follow her husband to Ganges with exemplary fortitude if he was
brave, handsome, generous --- 

"Either hold your tongue or go on with your story," cried the
warrior king, in whose mind these remarks awakened disagreeable
family reflections.

"Hi! hi! hi!" laughed the demon; "I will obey your majesty, and
make Madan-manjari, the misanthropical jay, proceed."

Yes, she loved the hunchback; and how wonderful is our love!
quoth the jay. A light from heaven which rains happiness on this
dull, dark earth! A spell falling upon the spirit, which reminds us
of a higher existence! A memory of bliss! A present delight! An
earnest of future felicity! It makes hideousness beautiful and
stupidity clever, old age young and wickedness good, moroseness
amiable, and low-mindedness magnanimous, perversity pretty and
vulgarity piquant. Truly it is sovereign alchemy and excellent flux
for blending contradictions is our love, exclaimed the jay.

And so saying, she cast a triumphant look at the parrot, who only
remarked that he could have desired a little more originality in her
remarks.

For some months (resumed Madan-manjari), the bride and the
bridegroom lived happily together in Hemgupt's house. But it is
said:

          Never yet did the tiger become a lamb;

and the hunchback felt that the edge of his passions again wanted
blunting. He reflected, "Wisdom is exemption from attachment,
and affection for children, wife, and home." Then he thus
addressed my poor young mistress:

"I have been now in thy country some years, and I have heard no
tidings of my own family, hence my mind is sad, I have told thee
everything about myself; thou must now ask thy mother leave for
me to go to my own city, and, if thou wishest, thou mayest go with
me."

Ratnawati lost no time in saying to her mother, "My husband
wishes to visit his own country; will you so arrange that he may
not be pained about this matter?"

The mother went to her husband, and said, "Your son-in-law
desires leave to go to his own country."

Hemgupt replied, " Very well; we will grant him leave. One has no
power over another man's son. We will do what he wishes."

The parents then called their daughter, and asked her to tell them
her real desire-whether she would go to her father-in-law's house,
or would remain in her mother's home. She was abashed at this
question, and could not answer; but she went back to her husband,
and said, "As my father and mother have declared that you should
do as you like, do not leave me behind."

Presently the merchant summoned his son-in-law, and having
bestowed great wealth upon him, allowed him to depart. He also
bade his daughter farewell, after giving her a palanquin and a
female slave. And the parents took leave of them with wailing and
bitter tears; their hearts were like to break. And so was mine.

For some days the hunchback travelled quietly along with his wife,
in deep thought. He could not take her to his city, where she would
find out his evil life, and the fraud which he had passed upon her
father. Besides which, although he wanted her money, he by no
means wanted her company for life. After turning on many
projects in his evil-begotten mind, he hit upon the following:

He dismissed the palanquin-bearers when halting at a little shed in
the thick jungle through which they were travelling, and said to his
wife, "This is a place of danger; give me thy jewels, and I will hide
them in my waist-shawl. When thou reachest the city thou canst
wear them again." She then gave up to him all her ornaments,
which were of great value. Thereupon he inveigled the slave girl
into the depths of the forest, where he murdered her, and left her
body to be devoured by wild beasts. Lastly, returning to my poor
mistress, he induced her to leave the hut with him, and pushed her
by force into a dry well, after which exploit he set out alone with
his ill-gotten wealth, walking towards his own city.

In the meantime, a wayfaring man, who was passing through that
jungle, hearing the sound of weeping, stood still, and began to say
to himself, "How came to my ears the voice of a mortal's grief in
this wild wood?" then followed the direction of the noise, which
led him a pit, and peeping over the side, he saw a woman crying at
the bottom. The traveller at once loosened his gird cloth, knotted it
to his turband, and letting down the line pulled out the poor bride.
He asked her who she was and how she came to fall into that well.
She replied, "I am the daughter of Hemgupt, the wealthiest
merchant in the city of Chandrapur; and I was journeying with my
husband to his own country, when robbers set upon us and
surrounded us. They slew my slave girl, the threw me into a well,
and having bound my husband they took him away, together with
my jewels. I have no tidings of him, nor he of me." And so saying,
she burst into tears and lamentations.

The wayfaring man believed her tale, and conducted her to her
home, where she gave the same account of the accident which had
befallen her, ending with, "beyond this, I know not if they have
killed my husband, or have let him go." The father thus soothed
her grief "Daughter! have no anxiety; thy husband is alive, and by
the will of the Deity he will come to thee in a few days. Thieves
take men's money, not their lives." Then the parents presented her
with ornaments more precious than those which she had lost; and
summoning their relations and friends, they comforted her to the
best of their power.

And so did I. The wicked hunchback had, meanwhile, returned to
his own city, where he was excellently well received, because he
brought much wealth with him. His old associates flocked around
him rejoicing; and he fell into the same courses which had
beggared him before. Gambling and debauchery soon blunted his
passions, and emptied his purse. Again his boon companions,
finding him without a broken cowrie, drove him from their doors,
he stole and was flogged for theft; and lastly, half famished, he
fled the city. Then he said to himself, "I must go to my
father-in-law, and make the excuse that a grandson has been born
to him, and that I have come to offer him congratulations on the
event."

Imagine, however, his fears and astonishment, when, as he entered
the house, his wife stood before him. At first he thought it was a
ghost, and turned to run away, but she went out to him and said,
"Husband, be not troubled ! I have told my father that thieves came
upon us, and killed the slave girl and robbed me and threw me into
a well, and bound thee and carried thee off. Tell the same story,
and put away all anxious feelings. Come up and change thy
tattered garments-alas! some misfortune hath befallen thee. But
console thyself; all is now well, since thou art returned to me, and
fear not, for the house is thine, and I am thy slave."

The wretch, with all his hardness of heart, could scarcely refrain
from tears. He followed his wife to her room, where she washed
his feet, caused him to bathe, dressed him in new clothes, and
placed food before him. When her parents returned, she presented
him to their embrace, saying in a glad way, "Rejoice with me, O
my father and mother! the robbers have at length allowed him to
come back to us." Of course the parents were deceived, they are
mostly a purblind race; and Hemgupt, showing great favour to his
worthless son-in-law, exclaimed, "Remain with us, my son, and be
happy!"

For two or three months the hunchback lived quietly with his wife,
treating her kindly and even affectionately. But this did not last
long. He made acquaintance with a band of thieves, and arranged
his plans with them.

After a time, his wife one night came to sleep by his side, having
put on all her jewels. At midnight, when he saw that she was fast
asleep, he struck her with a knife so that she died. Then he
admitted his accomplices, who savagely murdered Hemgupt and
his wife; and with their assistance he carried off any valuable
article upon which he could lay his hands. The ferocious wretch!
As he passed my cage he looked at it, and thought whether he had
time to wring my neck. The barking of a dog saved my life; but my
mistress, my poor Ratnawati-ah, me! ah, me!-- 

"Queen," said the jay, in deepest grief, "all this have I seen with
mine own eyes, and have heard with mine own ears. It affected me
in early life, and gave me a dislike for the society of the other sex.
With due respect to you, I have resolved to remain an old maid.
Let your majesty reflect, what crime had my poor mistress
committed? A male is of the same disposition as a highway robber;
and she who forms friendship with such an one, cradles upon her
bosom a black and venomous snake."

"Sir Parrot," said the jay, turning to her wooer, "I have spoken. I
have nothing more to say, but that you he-things are all a
treacherous, selfish, wicked race, created for the express purpose
of working our worldly woe, and--"

"When a female, O my king, asserts that she has nothing more to
say, but," broke in Churaman, the parrot with a loud dogmatical
voice, "I know that what she has said merely whets her tongue for
what she is about to say. This person has surely spoken long
enough and drearily enough."

"Tell me, then, O parrot," said the king, "what faults there may be
in the other sex."

"I will relate," quoth Churaman, "an occurrence which in my early
youth determined me to live and to die an old bachelor."

When quite a young bird, and before my schooling began, I was
caught in the land of Malaya, and was sold to a very rich merchant
called Sagardati, a widower with one daughter, the lady Jayashri.
As her father spent all his days and half his nights in his
counting-house, conning his ledgers and scolding his writers, that
young woman had more liberty than is generally allowed to those
of her age, and a mighty bad use she made of it.

O king! men commit two capital mistakes in rearing the "domestic
calamity," and these are over-vigilance and under-vigilance. Some
parents never lose sight of their daughters, suspect them of all evil
intentions, and are silly enough to show their suspicions, which is
an incentive to evil-doing. For the weak-minded things do
naturally say, "I will be wicked at once. What do I now but suffer
all the pains and penalties of badness, without enjoying its
pleasures?" And so they are guilty of many evil actions; for,
however vigilant fathers and mothers may be, the daughter can
always blind their eyes.

On the other hand, many parents take no trouble whatever with
their charges: they allow them to sit in idleness, the origin of
badness; they permit them to communicate with the wicked, and
they give them liberty which breeds opportunity. Thus they also,
falling into the snares of the unrighteous, who are ever a more
painstaking race than the righteous, are guilty of many evil actions.

What, then, must wise parents do? The wise will study the
characters of their children, and modify their treatment
accordingly. If a daughter be naturally good, she will be treated
with a prudent confidence. If she be vicious, an apparent trust will
be reposed in her; but her father and mother will secretly ever be
upon their guard. The one-idea'd -- 

"All this parrot-prate, I suppose, is only intended to vex me," cried
the warrior king, who always considered himself, and very
naturally, a person of such consequence as ever to be uppermost in
the thoughts and minds of others. "If thou must tell a tale, then tell
one, Vampire! or else be silent, as I am sick to the death of thy
psychics."

"It is well, O warrior king," resumed the Baital.

After that Churaman the parrot had given the young Raja Ram a
golden mine full of good advice about the management of
daughters, he proceeded to describe Jayashri.

She was tall, stout, and well made, of lymphatic temperament, and
yet strong passions. Her fine large eyes had heavy and rather full
eyelids, which are to be avoided. Her hands were symmetrical
without being small, and the palms were ever warm and damp.
Though her lips were good, her mouth was somewhat underhung;
and her voice was so deep, that at times it sounded like that of a
man. Her hair was smooth as the kokila's plume, and her
complexion was that of the young jasmine; and these were the
points at which most persons looked. Altogether, she was neither
handsome nor ugly, which is an excellent thing in woman. Sita the
goddess[FN#77] was lovely to excess; therefore she was carried
away by a demon. Raja Bali was exceedingly generous, and he
emptied his treasury. In this way, exaggeration, even of good, is
exceedingly bad.

Yet must I confess, continued the parrot, that, as a rule, the
beautiful woman is more virtuous than the ugly. The former is
often tempted, but her vanity and conceit enable her to resist, by
the self-promise that she shall be tempted again and again. On the
other hand, the ugly woman must tempt instead of being tempted,
and she must yield, because her vanity and conceit are gratified by
yielding, not by resisting.

"Ho, there!" broke in the jay contemptuously. "What woman
cannot win the hearts of the silly things called men? Is it not said
that a pig-faced female who dwells in Landanpur has a lover?"

I was about to remark, my king! said the parrot, somewhat nettled,
if the aged virgin had not interrupted me, that as ugly women are
more vicious than handsome women, so they are most successful.
"We love the pretty, we adore the plain," is a true saying amongst
the worldly wise. And why do we adore the plain? Because they
seem to think less of themselves than of us-a vital condition of
adoration.

Jayashri made some conquests by the portion of good looks which
she possessed, more by her impudence, and most by her father's
reputation for riches. She was truly shameless, and never allowed
herself fewer than half a dozen admirers at the time. Her chief
amusement was to appoint interviews with them successively, at
intervals so short that she was obliged to hurry away one in order
to make room for another. And when a lover happened to be
jealous, or ventured in any way to criticize her arrangements, she
replied at once by showing him the door. Answer unanswerable!

When Jayashri had reached the ripe age of thirteen, the son of a
merchant, who was her father's gossip and neighbour, returned
home after a long sojourn in far lands, whither he had travelled in
the search of wealth. The poor wretch, whose name, by-the-bye,
was Shridat (Gift of Fortune), had loved her in her childhood; and
he came back, as men are apt to do after absence from familiar
scenes, painfully full of affection for house and home and all
belonging to it. From his cross, stingy old uncle to the snarling
superannuated beast of a watchdog, he viewed all with eyes of love
and melting heart. He could not see that his idol was greatly
changed, and nowise for the better; that her nose was broader and
more club-like, her eyelids fatter and thicker, her under lip more
prominent, her voice harsher, and her manner coarser. He did not
notice that she was an adept in judging of men's dress, and that she
looked with admiration upon all swordsmen, especially upon those
who fought upon horses and elephants. The charm of memory, the
curious faculty of making past time present caused all he viewed to
be enchanting to him.

Having obtained her father's permission, Shridat applied for
betrothal to Jayashri, who with peculiar boldness, had resolved that
no suitor should come to her through her parent. And she, after
leading him on by all the coquetries of which she was a mistress,
refused to marry him, saying that she liked him as a friend, but
would hate him as a husband.

You see, my king! there are three several states of feeling with
which women regard their masters, and these are love, hate, and
indifference. Of all, love is the weakest and the most transient,
because the essentially unstable creatures naturally fall out of it as
readily as they fall into it. Hate being a sister excitement will
easily become, if a man has wit enough to effect the change, love;
and hate-love may perhaps last a little longer than love-love. Also,
man has the occupation, the excitement, and the pleasure of
bringing about the change. As regards the neutral state, that poet
was not happy in his ideas who sang --

               Whene'er indifference appears, or scorn,
               Then, man, despair! then, hapless lover, mourn!

For a man versed in the Lila Shastra[FN#78] can soon turn a
woman's indifference into hate, which I have shown is as easily
permuted to love. In which predicament it is the old thing over
again, and it ends in the pure Asat[FN#79] or nonentity.

"Which of these two birds, the jay or the parrot, had dipped deeper
into human nature, mighty King Vikram?" asked the demon in a
wheedling tone of voice.

The trap was this time set too openly, even for the royal personage,
to fall into it. He hurried on, calling to his son, and not answering a
word. The Vampire therefore resumed the thread of his story at the
place where he had broken it off.

Shridat was in despair when he heard the resolve of his idol. He
thought of drowning himself, of throwing himself down from the
summit of Mount Girnar,[FN#80] of becoming a religious beggar;
in short, of a multitude of follies. But he refrained from all such
heroic remedies for despair, having rightly judged, when he
became somewhat calmer, that they would not be likely to further
his suit. He discovered that patience is a virtue, and he resolved
impatiently enough to practice it. And by perseverance he
succeeded. The worse for him! How vain are men to wish! How
wise is the Deity, who is deaf to their wishes!

Jayashri, for potent reasons best known to herself, was married to
Shridat six months after his return home. He was in raptures. He
called himself the happiest man in existence. He thanked and
sacrificed to the Bhagwan for listening to his prayers. He recalled
to mind with thrilling heart the long years which he had spent in
hopeless exile from all that was dear to him, his sadness and
anxiety, his hopes and joys, his toils and troubles his loyal love and
his vows to Heaven for the happiness of his idol, and for the
furtherance of his fondest desires.

For truly he loved her, continued the parrot, and there is something
holy in such love. It becomes not only a faith, but the best of
faiths-an abnegation of self which emancipates the spirit from its
straightest and earthliest bondage, the "I"; the first step in the
regions of heaven; a homage rendered through the creature to the
Creator; a devotion solid, practical, ardent, not as worship mostly
is, a cold and lifeless abstraction; a merging of human nature into
one far nobler and higher the spiritual existence of the supernal
world. For perfect love is perfect happiness, and the only
perfection of man; and what is a demon but a being without love?
And what makes man's love truly divine, is the fact that it is
bestowed upon such a thing as woman.

"And now, Raja Vikram," said the Vampire, speaking in his proper
person, "I have given you Madanmanjari the jay's and Churaman
the parrot's definitions of the tender passion, or rather their
descriptions of its effects. Kindly observe that I am far from
accepting either one or the other. Love is, according to me,
somewhat akin to mania, a temporary condition of selfishness, a
transient confusion of identity. It enables man to predicate of
others who are his other selves, that which he is ashamed to say
about his real self. I will suppose the beloved object to be ugly,
stupid, vicious, perverse, selfish, low minded, or the reverse; man
finds it charming by the same rule that makes his faults and foibles
dearer to him than all the virtues and good qualities of his
neighbours. Ye call love a spell, an alchemy, a deity. Why?
Because it deifies self by gratifying all man's pride, man's vanity,
and man's conceit, under the mask of complete unegotism. Who is
not in heaven when he is talking of himself? and, prithee, of what
else consists all the talk of lovers?"

It is astonishing that the warrior king allowed this speech to last as
long as it did. He hated nothing so fiercely, now that he was in
middle-age, as any long mention of the "handsome god.[FN#81]"
Having vainly endeavoured to stop by angry mutterings the course
of the Baital's eloquence, he stepped out so vigorously and so
rudely shook that inveterate talker, that the latter once or twice
nearly bit off the tip of his tongue. Then the Vampire became
silent, and Vikram relapsed into a walk which allowed the tale to
be resumed.

Jayashri immediately conceived a strong dislike for her husband,
and simultaneously a fierce affection for a reprobate who before
had been indifferent to her. The more lovingly Shridat behaved to
her, the more vexed end annoyed she was. When her friends talked
to her, she turned up her nose, raising her eyebrows (in token of
displeasure), and remained silent. When her husband spoke words
of affection to her, she found them disagreeable, and turning away
her face, reclined on the bed. Then he brought dresses and
ornaments of various kinds and presented them to her, saying,
"Wear these." Whereupon she would become more angry, knit her
brows, turn her face away, and in an audible whisper call him
"fool." All day she stayed out of the house, saying to her
companions, "Sisters, my youth is passing away, and I have not, up
to the present time, tasted any of this world's pleasures." Then she
would ascend to the balcony, peep through the lattice, and seeing
the reprobate going along, she would cry to her friend, "Bring that
person to me." All night she tossed and turned from side to side,
reflecting in her heart, "I am puzzled in my mind what I shall say,
and whither I shall go. I have forgotten sleep, hunger, and thirst;
neither heat nor cold is refreshing to me."

At last, unable any longer to support the separation from her
reprobate paramour, whom she adored, she resolved to fly with
him. On one occasion, when she thought that her husband was fast
asleep, she rose up quietly, and leaving him, made her way
fearlessly in the dark night to her lover's abode. A footpad, who
saw her on the way, thought to himself, "Where can this woman,
clothed in jewels, be going alone at midnight?" And thus he
followed her unseen, and watched her.

When Jayashri reached the intended place, she went into the house,
and found her lover lying at the door. He was dead, having been
stabbed by the footpad; but she, thinking that he had, according to
custom, drunk intoxicating hemp, sat upon the floor, and raising
his head, placed it tenderly in her lap. Then, burning with the fire
of separation from him, she began to kiss his cheeks, and to fondle
and caress him with the utmost freedom and affection.

By chance a Pisach (evil spirit) was seated in a large
fig-tree[FN#82] opposite the house, and it occurred to him, when
beholding this scene, that he might amuse himself in a
characteristic way. He therefore hopped down from his branch,
vivified the body, and began to return the woman's caresses. But as
Jayashri bent down to kiss his lips, he caught the end of her nose in
his teeth, and bit it clean off. He then issued from the corpse, and
returned to the branch where he had been sitting.

Jayashri was in despair. She did not, however, lose her presence of
mind, but sat down and proceeded to take thought; and when she
had matured her plan she arose, dripping with blood, and walked
straight home to her husband's house. On entering his room she
clapped her hand to her nose, and began to gnash her teeth, and to
shriek so violently, that all the members of the family were
alarmed. The neighbours also collected in numbers at the door,
and, as it was bolted inside, they broke it open and rushed in,
carrying lights. There they saw the wife sitting upon the ground
with her face mutilated, and the husband standing over her,
apparently trying to appease her.

"O ignorant, criminal, shameless, pitiless wretch!" cried the
people, especially the women; "why hast thou cut off her nose, she
not having offended in any way?"

Poor Shridat, seeing at once the trick which had been played upon
him, thought to himself: "One should put no confidence in a
changeful mind, a black serpent, or an armed enemy, and one
should dread a woman's doings. What cannot a poet describe?
What is there that a saint (jogi) does not know? What nonsense
will not a drunken man talk? What limit is there to a woman's
guile? True it is that the gods know nothing of the defects of a
horse, of the thundering of clouds, of a woman's deeds, or of a
man's future fortunes. How then can we know?" He could do
nothing but weep, and swear by the herb basil, by his cattle, by his
grain, by a piece of gold, and by all that is holy, that he had not
committed the crime.

In the meanwhile, the old merchant, Jayashri's father, ran off, and
laid a complaint before the kotwal, and the footmen of the police
magistrate were immediately sent to apprehend the husband, and to
carry him bound before the judge. The latter, after due
examination, laid the affair before the king. An example happening
to be necessary at the time, the king resolved to punish the offence
with severity, and he summoned the husband and wife to the court.

When the merchant's daughter was asked to give an account of
what had happened, she pointed out the state of her nose, and said,
"Maharaj! why inquire of me concerning what is so manifest?"
The king then turned to the husband, and bade him state his
defence. He said, "I know nothing of it," and in the face of the
strongest evidence he persisted in denying his guilt.

Thereupon the king, who had vainly threatened to cut off Shridat's
right hand, infuriated by his refusing to confess and to beg for
mercy, exclaimed, "How must I punish such a wretch as thou art?"
The unfortunate man answered, "Whatever your majesty may
consider just, that be pleased to do." Thereupon the king cried,
"Away with him, and impale him"; and the people, hearing the
command, prepared to obey it.

Before Shridat had left the court, the footpad, who had been
looking on, and who saw that an innocent man was about to be
unjustly punished, raised a cry for justice and, pushing through the
crowd, resolved to make himself heard. He thus addressed the
throne: "Great king, the cherishing of the good, and the
punishment of the bad, is the invariable duty of kings." The ruler
having caused him to approach, asked him who he was, and he
replied boldly, " Maharaj! I am a thief, and this man is innocent
and his blood is about to be shed unjustly. Your majesty has not
done what is right in this affair." Thereupon the king charged him
to tell the truth according to his religion; and the thief related
explicitly the whole circumstances, omitting of course, the murder.

"Go ye," said the king to his messengers, "and look in the mouth of
the woman's lover who has fallen dead. If the nose be there found,
then has this thief-witness told the truth, and the husband is a
guiltless man."

The nose was presently produced in court, and Shridat escaped the
stake. The king caused the wicked Jayashri's face to be smeared
with oily soot, and her head and eyebrows to be shaved; thus
blackened and disfigured, she was mounted upon a little
ragged-limbed ass and was led around the market and the streets,
after which she was banished for ever from the city. The husband
and the thief were then dismissed with betel and other gifts,
together with much sage advice which neither of them wanted.

"My king," resumed the misogyne parrot, "of such excellencies as
these are women composed. It is said that 'wet cloth will
extinguish fire and bad food will destroy strength; a degenerate son
ruins a family, and when a friend is in wrath he takes away life.
But a woman is an inflicter of grief in love and in hate, whatever
she does turns out to be for our ill. Truly the Deity has created
woman a strange being in this world.' And again, 'The beauty of
the nightingale is its song, science is the beauty of an ugly man,
forgiveness is the beauty of a devotee, and the beauty of a woman
is virtue-but where shall we find it?' And again, 'Among the sages,
Narudu; among the beasts, the jackal; among the birds, the crow;
among men, the barber; and in this world woman-is the most
crafty.'

"What I have told thee, my king, I have seen with mine own eyes,
and I have heard with mine own ears. At the time I was young, but
the event so affected me that I have ever since held female kind to
be a walking pest, a two-legged plague, whose mission on earth,
like flies and other vermin, is only to prevent our being too happy.
O, why do not children and young parrots sprout in crops from the
ground-from budding trees or vinestocks?"

"I was thinking, sire," said the young Dharma Dhwaj to the warrior
king his father, "what women would say of us if they could
compose Sanskrit verses!"

"Then keep your thoughts to yourself," replied the Raja, nettled at
his son daring to say a word in favour of the sex. "You always take
the part of wickedness and depravity--- "

"Permit me, your majesty," interrupted the Baital, "to conclude my
tale."

When Madan-manjari, the jay, and Churaman, the parrot, had
given these illustrations of their belief, they began to wrangle, and
words ran high. The former insisted that females are the salt of the
earth, speaking, I presume, figuratively. The latter went so far as to
assert that the opposite sex have no souls, and that their brains are
in a rudimental and inchoate state of development. Thereupon he
was tartly taken to task by his master's bride, the beautiful
Chandravati, who told him that those only have a bad opinion of
women who have associated with none but the vicious and the low,
and that he should be ashamed to abuse feminine parrots, because
his mother had been one.

This was truly logical.

On the other hand, the jay was sternly reproved for her mutinous
and treasonable assertions by the husband of her mistress, Raja
Ram, who, although still a bridegroom, had not forgotten the
gallant rule of his syntax-- 

               The masculine is more worthy than the feminine;

till Madan-manjari burst into tears and declared that her life was
not worth having. And Raja Ram looked at her as if he could have
wrung her neck.

In short, Raja Vikram, all the four lost their tempers, and with
them what little wits they had. Two of them were but birds, and the
others seem not to have been much better, being young, ignorant,
inexperienced, and lately married. How then could they decide so
difficult a question as that of the relative wickedness and villany of
men and women? Had your majesty been there, the knot of
uncertainty would soon have been undone by the trenchant edge of
your wit and wisdom, your knowledge and experience. You have,
of course, long since made up your mind upon the subject?

Dharma Dhwaj would have prevented his father's reply. But the
youth had been twice reprehended in the course of this tale, and he
thought it wisest to let things take their own way.

"Women," quoth the Raja, oracularly, "are worse than we are; a
man, however depraved he may be, ever retains some notion of
right and wrong, but a woman does not. She has no such regard
whatever."

"The beautiful Bangalah Rani for instance?" said the Baital, with a
demonaic sneer.

At the mention of a word, the uttering of which was punishable by
extirpation of the tongue, Raja Vikram's brain whirled with rage.
He staggered in the violence of his passion, and putting forth both
hands to break his fall, he dropped the bundle from his back. Then
the Baital, disentangling himself and laughing lustily, ran off
towards the tree as fast as his thin brown legs would carry him. But
his activity availed him little.

The king, puffing with fury, followed him at the top of his speed,
and caught him by his tail before he reached the siras-tree, hurled
him backwards with force, put foot upon his chest, and after
shaking out the cloth, rolled him up in it with extreme violence,
bumped his back half a dozen times against the stony ground, and
finally, with a jerk, threw him on his shoulder, as he had done
before.

The young prince, afraid to accompany his father whilst he was
pursuing the fiend, followed slowly in the rear, and did not join
him for some minutes.

But when matters were in their normal state, the Vampire, who had
endured with exemplary patience the penalty of his impudence,
began in honeyed accents,

"Listen, O warrior king, whilst thy servant recounts unto thee
another true tale."


         THE VAMPIRE'S THIRD STORY.

          Of a High-minded Family.

In the venerable city of Bardwan, O warrior king! (quoth the
Vampire) during the reign of the mighty Rupsen, flourished one
Rajeshwar, a Rajput warrior of distinguished fame. By his valour
and conduct he had risen from the lowest ranks of the army to
command it as its captain. And arrived at that dignity, he did not
put a stop to all improvements, like other chiefs, who rejoice to
rest and return thanks. On the contrary, he became such a reformer
that, to some extent, he remodelled the art of war.

Instead of attending to rules and regulations, drawn up in their
studies by pandits and Brahmans, he consulted chiefly his own
experience and judgment. He threw aside the systematic plans of
campaigns laid down in the Shastras or books of the ancients, and
he acted upon the spur of the moment. He displayed a skill in the
choice of ground, in the use of light troops, and in securing his
own supplies whilst he cut off those of the enemy, which
Kartikaya himself, God of War, might have envied. Finding that
the bows of his troops were clumsy and slow to use, he had them
all changed before compelled so to do by defeat; he also gave his
attention to the sword handles, which cramped the men's grasp but
which having been used for eighteen hundred years were
considered perfect weapons. And having organized a special corps
of warriors using fire arrows, he soon brought it to such perfection
that, by using it against the elephants of his enemies, he gained
many a campaign.

One instance of his superior judgment I am about to quote to thee,
O Vikram, after which I return to my tale; for thou art truly a
warrior king, very likely to imitate the innovations of the great
general Rajeshwar.

(A grunt from the monarch was the result of the Vampire's sneer.)

He found his master's armies recruited from Northern Hindustan,
and officered by Kshatriya warriors, who grew great only because
they grew old and - fat. Thus the energy and talent of the younger
men were wasted in troubles and disorders; whilst the seniors were
often so ancient that they could not mount their chargers unaided,
nor, when they were mounted, could they see anything a dozen
yards before them. But they had served in a certain obsolete
campaign, and until Rajeshwar gave them pensions and dismissals,
they claimed a right to take first part in all campaigns present and
future. The commander-in-chief refused to use any captain who
could not stand steady on his legs, or endure the sun for a whole
day. When a soldier distinguished himself in action, he raised him
to the powers and privileges of the warrior caste. And whereas it
had been the habit to lavish circles and bars of silver and other
metals upon all those who had joined in the war, whether they had
sat behind a heap of sand or had been foremost to attack the foe, he
broke through the pernicious custom, and he rendered the honour
valuable by conferring it only upon the deserving. I need hardly
say that, in an inordinately short space of time, his army beat every
king and general that opposed it.

One day the great commander-in-chief was seated in a certain
room near the threshold of his gate, when the voices of a number
of people outside were heard. Rajeshwar asked, "Who is at the
door, and what is the meaning of the noise I hear?" The porter
replied, "It is a fine thing your honour has asked. Many persons
come sitting at the door of the rich for the purpose of obtaining a
livelihood and wealth. When they meet together they talk of
various things: it is these very people who are now making this
noise."

Rajeshwar, on hearing this, remained silent.

In the meantime a traveller, a Rajput, Birbal by name, hoping to
obtain employment, came from the southern quarter to the palace
of the chief. The porter having listened to his story, made the
circumstance known to his master, saying, "O chief! an armed man
has arrived here, hoping to obtain employment, and is standing at
the door. If I receive a command he shall be brought into your
honour's presence."

"Bring him in," cried the commander-in-chief.

The porter brought him in, and Rajeshwar inquired, "O Rajput,
who and what art thou?"

Birbal submitted that he was a person of distinguished fame for the
use of weapons, and that his name for fidelity and valour had gone
forth to the utmost ends of Bharat-Kandha.[FN#83]

The chief was well accustomed to this style of self introduction,
and its only effect upon his mind was a wish to shame the man by
showing him that he had not the least knowledge of weapons. He
therefore bade him bare his blade and perform some feat.

Birbal at once drew his good sword. Guessing the thoughts which
were hovering about the chief's mind, he put forth his left hand,
extending the forefinger upwards, waved his blade like the arm of
a demon round his head, and, with a dexterous stroke, so shaved
off a bit of nail that it fell to the ground, and not a drop of blood
appeared upon the finger-tip.

"Live for ever!" exclaimed Rajeshwar in admiration. He then
addressed to the recruit a few questions concerning the art of war,
or rather concerning his peculiar views of it. To all of which Birbal
answered with a spirit and a judgment which convinced the hearer
that he was no common sworder.

Whereupon Rajeshwar bore off the new man at arms to the palace
of the king Rupsen, and recommended that he should be engaged
without delay.

The king, being a man of few words and many ideas, after hearing
his commander-in-chief, asked, "O Rajput, what shall I give thee
for thy daily expenditure?"

"Give me a thousand ounces of gold daily," said Birbal, "and then I
shall have wherewithal to live on."

"Hast thou an army with thee?" exclaimed the king in the greatest
astonishment.

"I have not," responded the Rajput somewhat stiffly. "I have first, a
wife; second, a son; third, a daughter; fourth, myself; there is no
fifth person with me."

All the people of the court on hearing this turned aside their heads
to laugh, and even the women, who were peeping at the scene,
covered their mouths with their veils. The Rajput was then
dismissed the presence.

It is, however, noticeable amongst you humans, that the world
often takes you at your own valuation. Set a high price upon
yourselves, and each man shall say to his neighbour, "In this man
there must be something." Tell everyone that you are brave, clever,
generous, or even handsome, and after a time they will begin to
believe you. And when thus you have attained success, it will be
harder to unconvince them than it was to convince them. Thus - -

"Listen not to him, sirrah," cried Raja Vikram to Dharma Dhwaj,
the young prince, who had fallen a little way behind, and was
giving ear attentively to the Vampire's ethics. "Listen to him not.
And tell me, villain, with these ignoble principles of thine, what
will become of modesty, humility, self-sacrifice, and a host of
other Guna or good qualities which - which are good qualities?"

"I know not," rejoined the Baital, "neither do I care. But my
habitually inspiriting a succession of human bodies has taught me
one fact. The wise man knows himself, and is, therefore, neither
unduly humble nor elated, because he had no more to do with
making himself than with the cut of his cloak, or with the fitness of
his loin-cloth. But the fool either loses his head by comparing
himself with still greater fools, or is prostrated when he finds
himself inferior to other and lesser fools. This shyness he calls
modesty, humility, and so forth. Now, whenever entering a corpse,
whether it be of man, woman, or child, I feel peculiarly modest; I
know that my tenement lately belonged to some conceited ass.
And --"

"Wouldst thou have me bump thy back against the ground?" asked
Raja Vikram angrily.

(The Baital muttered some reply scarcely intelligible about his
having this time stumbled upon a metaphysical thread of ideas, and
then continued his story.)

Now Rupsen, the king, began by inquiring of himself why the
Rajput had rated his services so highly. Then he reflected that if
this recruit had asked so much money, it must have been for some
reason which would afterwards become apparent. Next, he hoped
that if he gave him so much, his generosity might some day turn
out to his own advantage. Finally, with this idea in his mind, he
summoned Birbal and the steward of his household, and said to the
latter, "Give this Rajput a thousand ounces of gold daily from our
treasury."

It is related that Birbal made the best possible use of his wealth. He
used every morning to divide it into two portions, one of which
was distributed to Brahmans and Parohitas.[FN#84] Of the
remaining moiety, having made two parts, he gave one as alms to
pilgrims, to Bairagis or Vishnu's mendicants, and to Sanyasis or
worshippers of Shiva, whose bodies, smeared with ashes, were
hardly covered with a narrow cotton cloth and a rope about their
loins, and whose heads of artificial hair, clotted like a rope,
besieged his gate. With the remaining fourth, having caused food
to be prepared, he regaled the poor, while he himself and his
family ate what was left. Every evening, arming himself with
sword and buckler, he took up his position as guard at the royal
bedside, and walked round it all night sword in hand. If the king
chanced to wake and asked who was present, Birbal immediately
gave reply that "Birbal is here; whatever command you give, that
he will obey." And oftentimes Rupsen gave him unusual
commands, for it is said, "To try thy servant, bid him do things in
season and out of season: if he obey thee willingly, know him to be
useful; if he reply, dismiss him at once. Thus is a servant tried,
even as a wife by the poverty of her husband, and brethren and
friends by asking their aid."

In such manner, through desire of money, Birbal remained on
guard all night; and whether eating, drinking, sleeping, sitting,
going or wandering about, during the twenty-four hours, he held
his master in watchful remembrance. This, indeed, is the custom; if
a man sell another the latter is sold, but a servant by doing service
sells himself, and when a man has become dependent, how can he
be happy? Certain it is that however intelligent, clever, or learned a
man may be, yet, while he is in his master's presence, he remains
silent as a dumb man, and struck with dread. Only while he is
away from his lord can he be at ease. Hence, learned men say that
to do service aright is harder than any religious study.

On one occasion it is related that there happened to be heard at
night-time the wailing of a woman in a neighbouring cemetery.
The king on hearing it called out, "Who is in waiting?"

"I am here," replied Birbal; "what command is there?"

"Go," spoke the king, "to the place whence proceeds this sound of
woman's wail, and having inquired the cause of her grief, return
quickly."

On receiving this order the Rajput went to obey it; and the king,
unseen by him, and attired in a black dress, followed for the
purpose of observing his courage.

Presently Birbal arrived at the cemetery. And what sees he there?
A beautiful woman of a light yellow colour, loaded with jewels
from head to foot, holding a horn in her right and a necklace in her
left hand. Sometimes she danced, sometimes she jumped, and
sometimes she ran about. There was not a tear in her eye, but
beating her head and making lamentable cries, she kept dashing
herself on the ground.

Seeing her condition, and not recognizing the goddess born of sea
foam, and whom all the host of heaven loved,[FN#85] Birbal
inquired, "Why art thou thus beating thyself and crying out? Who
art thou? And what grief is upon thee?"

"I am the Royal-Luck," she replied.

"For what reason," asked Birbal, "art thou weeping?"

The goddess then began to relate her position to the Rajput. She
said, with tears, "In the king's palace Shudra (or low caste acts) are
done, and hence misfortune will certainly fall upon it, and I shall
forsake it. After a month has passed, the king, having endured
excessive affliction, will die. In grief for this, I weep. I have
brought much happiness to the king's house, and hence I am full of
regret that this my prediction cannot in any way prove untrue."

"Is there," asked Birbal, "any remedy for this trouble, so that the
king may be preserved and live a hundred years?"

"Yes," said the goddess, "there is. About eight miles to the east
thou wilt find a temple dedicated to my terrible sister Devi. Offer
to her thy son's head, cut off with thine own hand, and the reign of
thy king shall endure for an age." So saying Raj-Lakshmi
disappeared.

Birbal answered not a word, but with hurried steps he turned
towards his home. The king, still in black so as not to be seen,
followed him closely, and observed and listened to everything he
did.

The Rajput went straight to his wife, awakened her, and related to
her everything that had happened. The wise have said, "she alone
deserves the name of wife who always receives her husband with
affectionate and submissive words." When she heard the
circumstances, she at once aroused her son, and her daughter also
awoke. Then Birbal told them all that they must follow him to the
temple of Devi in the wood.

On the way the Rajput said to his wife, "If thou wilt give up thy
son willingly, I will sacrifice him for our master's sake to Devi the
Destroyer."

She replied, "Father and mother, son and daughter, brother and
relative, have I now none. You are everything to me. It is written
in the scripture that a wife is not made pure by gifts to priests, nor
by performing religious rites; her virtue consists in waiting upon
her husband, in obeying him and in loving him - yea! though he be
lame, maimed in the hands, dumb, deaf, blind, one eyed, leprous,
or humpbacked. It is a true saying that 'a son under one's authority,
a body free from sickness, a desire to acquire knowledge, an
intelligent friend, and an obedient wife; whoever holds these five
will find them bestowers of happiness and dispellers of affliction.
An unwilling servant, a parsimonious king, an insincere friend, and
a wife not under control; such things are disturbers of ease and
givers of trouble.'"

Then the good wife turned to her son and said "Child by the gift of
thy head, the king's life may be spared, and the kingdom remain
unshaken."

"Mother," replied that excellent youth, "in my opinion we should
hasten this matter. Firstly, I must obey your command; secondly, I
must promote the interests of my master; thirdly, if this body be of
any use to a goddess, nothing better can be done with it in this
world."

("Excuse me, Raja Vikram," said the Baital, interrupting himself,
"if I repeat these fair discourses at full length; it is interesting to
hear a young person, whose throat is about to be cut, talk so like a
doctor of laws.")

Then the youth thus addressed his sire: "Father, whoever can be of
use to his master, the life of that man in this world has been lived
to good purpose, and by reason of his usefulness he will be
rewarded in other worlds."

His sister, however, exclaimed, "If a mother should give poison to
her daughter, and a father sell his son, and a king seize the entire
property of his subjects, where then could one look for
protection?" But they heeded her not, and continued talking as they
journeyed towards the temple of Devi - the king all the while
secretly following them.

Presently they reached the temple, a single room, surrounded by a
spacious paved area; in front was an immense building capable of
seating hundreds of people. Before the image there were pools of
blood, where victims had lately been slaughtered. In the sanctum
was Devi, a large black figure with ten arms. With a spear in one
of her right hands she pierced the giant Mahisha; and with one of
her left hands she held the tail of a serpent, and the hair of the
giant, whose breast the serpent was biting. Her other arms were all
raised above her head, and were filled with different instruments of
war; against her right leg leaned a lion.

Then Birbal joined his hands in prayer, and with Hindu mildness
thus addressed the awful goddess: "O mother, let the king's life be
prolonged for a thousand years by the sacrifice of my son. O Devi,
mother! destroy, destroy his enemies! Kill! kill! Reduce them to
ashes! Drive them away! Devour them! devour them! Cut them in
two! Drink! drink their blood! Destroy them root and branch! With
thy thunderbolt, spear, scymitar, discus, or rope, annihilate them!
Spheng! Spheng!"

The Rajput, having caused his son to kneel before the goddess,
struck him so violent a blow that his head rolled upon the ground.
He then threw the sword down, when his daughter, frantic with
grief, snatched it up and struck her neck with such force that her
head, separated from her body, fell. In her turn the mother, unable
to survive the loss of her children, seized the weapon and
succeeded in decapitating herself. Birbal, beholding all this
slaughter, thus reflected: "My children are dead why, now, should
I remain in servitude, and upon whom shall I bestow the gold I
receive from the king?" He then gave himself so deep a wound in
the neck, that his head also separated from his body.

Rupsen, the king, seeing these four heads on the ground, said in his
heart, "For my sake has the family of Birbal been destroyed.
Kingly power, for the purpose of upholding which the destruction
of a whole household is necessary, is a mere curse, and to carry on
government in this manner is not just." He then took up the sword
and was about to slay himself, when the Destroying Goddess,
probably satisfied with bloodshed, stayed his hand, bidding him at
the same time ask any boon he pleased.

The generous monarch begged, thereupon, that his faithful servant
might be restored to life, together with all his high-minded family;
and the goddess Devi in the twinkling of an eye fetched from
Patala, the regions below the earth, a vase full of Amrita, the water
of immortality, sprinkled it upon the dead, and raised them all as
before. After which the whole party walked leisurely home, and in
due time the king divided his throne with his friend Birbal.

Having stopped for a moment, the Baital proceeded to remark, in a
sententious tone, "Happy the servant who grudges not his own life
to save that of his master! And happy, thrice happy the master who
can annihilate all greedy longing for existence and worldly
prosperity. Raja, I have to ask thee one searching question - Of
these five, who was the greatest fool?"

"Demon!" exclaimed the great Vikram, all whose cherished
feelings about fidelity and family affection, obedience, and
high-mindedness, were outraged by this Vampire view of the
question; "if thou meanest by the greatest fool the noblest mind, I
reply without hesitating Rupsen, the king."

"Why, prithee?" asked the Baital.

"Because, dull demon," said the king, "Birbal was bound to offer
up his life for a master who treated him so generously; the son
could not disobey his father, and the women naturally and
instinctively killed themselves, because the example was set to
them. But Rupsen the king gave up his throne for the sake of his
retainer, and valued not a straw his life and his high inducements
to live. For this reason I think him the most meritorious."

"Surely, mighty Vikram," laughed the Vampire, "you will be tired
of ever clambering up yon tall tree, even had you the legs and arms
of Hanuman[FN#86] himself."

And so saying he disappeared from the cloth, although it had been
placed upon the ground.

But the poor Baital had little reason to congratulate himself on the
success of his escape. In a short time he was again bundled into the
cloth with the usual want of ceremony, and he revenged himself by
telling another true story.


        THE VAMPIRE'S FOURTH STORY.
                      
       Of A Woman Who Told The Truth.

"Listen, great king!" again began the Baital.

An unimportant Baniya[FN#87] (trader), Hiranyadatt, had a
daughter, whose name was Madansena Sundari, the beautiful army
of Cupid. Her face was like the moon; her hair like the clouds; her
eyes like those of a muskrat; her eyebrows like a bent bow; her
nose like a parrot's bill; her neck like that of a dove; her teeth like
pomegranate grains; the red colour of her lips like that of a gourd;
her waist lithe and bending like the pards: her hands and feet like
softest blossoms; her complexion like the jasmine-in fact, day by
day the splendour of her youth increased.

When she had arrived at maturity, her father and mother began
often to resolve in their minds the subject of her marriage. And the
people of all that country side ruled by Birbar king of Madanpur
bruited it abroad that in the house of Hiranyadatt had been born a
daughter by whose beauty gods, men, and munis (sages) were
fascinated.

Thereupon many, causing their portraits to be painted, sent them
by messengers to Hiranyadatt the Baniya, who showed them all to
his daughter. But she was capricious, as beauties sometimes are,
and when her father said, "Make choice of a husband thyself," she
told him that none pleased her, and moreover she begged of him to
find her a husband who possessed good looks, good qualities, and
good sense.

At length, when some days had passed, four suitors came from
four different countries. The father told them that he must have
from each some indication that he possessed the required qualities;
that he was pleased with their looks, but that they must satisfy him
about their knowledge.

"I have," the first said, "a perfect acquaintance with the Shastras
(or Scriptures); in science there is none to rival me. As for my
handsome mien, it may plainly be seen by you."

The second exclaimed, "My attainments are unique in the
knowledge of archery. I am acquainted with the art of discharging
arrows and killing anything which though not seen is heard, and
my fine proportions are plainly visible to you."

The third continued, "I understand the language of land and water
animals, of birds and of beasts, and I have no equal in strength. Of
my comeliness you yourself may judge."

"I have the knowledge," quoth the fourth, "how to make a certain
cloth which can be sold for five rubies: having sold it I give the
proceeds of one ruby to a Brahman, of the second I make an
offering to a deity, a third I wear on my own person, a fourth I
keep for my wife; and, having sold the fifth, I spend it in giving
feasts. This is my knowledge, and none other is acquainted with it.
My good looks are apparent."

The father hearing these speeches began to reflect, "It is said that
excess in anything is not good. Sita[FN#88] was very lovely, but
the demon Ravana carried her away; and Bali king of Mahabahpur
gave much alms, but at length he became poor.[FN#89] My
daughter is too fair to remain a maiden; to which of these shall I
give her?"

So saying, Hiranyadatt went to his daughter, explained the
qualities of the four suitors, and asked, "To which shall I give
thee?" On hearing these words she was abashed; and, hanging
down her head, knew not what to reply.

Then the Baniya, having reflected, said to himself, "He who is
acquainted with the Shastras is a Brahman, he who could shoot an
arrow at the sound was a Kshatriya or warrior, and he who made
the cloth was a Shudra or servile. But the youth who understands
the language of birds is of our own caste. To him, therefore, will I
marry her." And accordingly he proceeded with the betrothal of his
daughter.

Meanwhile Madansena went one day, during the spring season into
the garden for a stroll. It happened, just before she came out, that
Somdatt, the son of the merchant Dharmdatt, had gone for pleasure
into the forest, and was returning through the same garden to his
home.

He was fascinated at the sight of the maiden, and said to his friend,
"Brother, if I can obtain her my life will be prosperous, and if I do
not obtain her my living in the world will be in vain."

Having thus spoken, and becoming restless from the fear of
separation, he involuntarily drew near to her, and seizing her hand,
said - "If thou wilt not form an affection for me, I will throw away
my life on thy account."

"Be pleased not to do this," she replied; "it will be sinful, and it
will involve me in the guilt and punishment of shedding blood;
hence I shall be miserable in this world and in that to be."

"Thy blandishments," he replied, "have pierced my heart, and the
consuming thought of parting from thee has burnt up my body, and
memory and understanding have been destroyed by this pain; and
from excess of love I have no sense of right or wrong. But if thou
wilt make me a promise, I will live again."

She replied, "Truly the Kali Yug (iron age) has commenced, since
which time falsehood has increased in the world and truth has
diminished; people talk smoothly with their tongues, but nourish
deceit in their hearts; religion is destroyed, crime has increased,
and the earth has begun to give little fruit. Kings levy fines,
Brahmans have waxed covetous, the son obeys not his sire's
commands, brother distrusts brother; friendship has departed from
amongst friends; sincerity has left masters; servants have given up
service; man has abandoned manliness; and woman has abandoned
modesty. Five days hence, my marriage is to be; but if thou slay
not thyself, I will visit thee first, and after that I will remain with
my husband."

Having given this promise, and having sworn by the Ganges, she
returned home. The merchant's son also went his way.

Presently the marriage ceremonies came on, and Hiranyadatt the
Baniya expended a lakh of rupees in feasts and presents to the
bridegroom. The bodies of the twain were anointed with turmeric,
the bride was made to hold in her hand the iron box for eye paint,
and the youth a pair of betel scissors. During the night before the
wedding there was loud and shrill music, the heads and limbs of
the young couple were rubbed with an ointment of oil, and the
bridegroom's head was duly shaved. The wedding procession was
very grand. The streets were a blaze of flambeaux and torches
carried in the hand, fireworks by the ton were discharged as the
people passed; elephants, camels, and horses richly caparisoned,
were placed in convenient situations; and before the procession
had reached the house of the bride half a dozen wicked boys and
bad young men were killed or wounded.[FN#90] After the
marriage formulas were repeated, the Baniya gave a feast or
supper, and the food was so excellent that all sat down quietly, no
one uttered a complaint, or brought dishonour on the bride's
family, or cut with scissors the garments of his neighbour.

The ceremony thus happily concluded, the husband brought
Madansena home to his own house. After some days the wife of
her husband's youngest brother, and also the wife of his eldest
brother, led her at night by force to her bridegroom, and seated her
on a bed ornamented with flowers.

As her husband proceeded to take her hand, she jerked it away, and
at once openly told him all that she had promised to Somdatt on
condition of his not killing himself.

"All things," rejoined the bridegroom, hearing her words, "have
their sense ascertained by speech; in speech they have their basis,
and from speech they proceed; consequently a falsifier of speech
falsifies everything. If truly you are desirous of going to him, go!

"Receiving her husband's permission, she arose and went off to the
young merchant's house in full dress. Upon the road a thief saw
her, and in high good humour came up and asked - 

"Whither goest thou at midnight in such darkness, having put on
all these fine clothes and ornaments?"

She replied that she was going to the house of her beloved.

"And who here," said the thief, "is thy protector?"

"Kama Deva," she replied, "the beautiful youth who by his fiery
arrows wounds with love the hearts of the inhabitants of the three
worlds, Ratipati, the husband of Rati,[FN#91] accompanied by the
kokila bird,[FN#92] the humming bee and gentle breezes." She
then told to the thief the whole story, adding - 

"Destroy not my jewels: I give thee a promise before I go, that on
my return thou shalt have all these ornaments."

Hearing this the thief thought to himself that it would be useless
now to destroy her jewels, when she had promised to give them to
him presently of her own good will. He therefore let her go, and
sat down and thus soliloquized:

"To me it is astonishing that he who sustained me in my mother's
womb should take no care of me now that I have been born and am
able to enjoy the good things of this world. I know not whether he
is asleep or dead. And I would rather swallow poison than ask man
for money or favour. For these six things tend to lower a man: --
friendship with the perfidious; causeless laughter; altercation with
women; serving an unworthy master; riding an ass, and speaking
any language but Sanskrit. And these five things the deity writes
on our fate at the hour of birth:-- first, age; secondly, action;
thirdly, wealth; fourthly, science; fifthly, fame. I have now done a
good deed, and as long as a man's virtue is in the ascendant, all
people becoming his servants obey him. But when virtuous deeds
diminish, even his friends become inimical to him."

Meanwhile Madansena had reached the place where Somdatt the
young trader had fallen asleep.

She awoke him suddenly, and he springing up in alarm quickly
asked her, "Art thou the daughter of a deity? or of a saint? or of a
serpent? Tell me truly, who art thou? And whence hast thou
come?"

She replied, "I am human-- Madansena, the daughter of the Baniya
Hiranyadatt. Dost thou not remember taking my hand in that
grove, and declaring that thou wouldst slay thyself if I did not
swear to visit thee first and after that remain with my husband?"

"Hast thou," he inquired, "told all this to thy husband or not?"

She replied, "I have told him everything; and he, thoroughly
understanding the whole affair, gave me permission."

"This matter," exclaimed Somdatt in a melancholy voice, "is like
pearls without a suitable dress, or food without clarified
butter,[FN#93] or singing without melody; they are all alike
unnatural. In the same way, unclean clothes will mar beauty, bad
food will undermine strength, a wicked wife will worry her
husband to death, a disreputable son will ruin his family, an
enraged demon will kill, and a woman, whether she love or hate,
will be a source of pain. For there are few things which a woman
will not do. She never brings to her tongue what is in her heart, she
never speaks out what is on her tongue, and she never tells what
she is doing. Truly the Deity has created woman a strange creature
in this world." He concluded with these words: "Return thou home
with another man's wife I have no concern."

Madansena rose and departed. On her way she met the thief, who,
hearing her tale, gave her great praise, and let her go
unplundered.[FN#94]

She then went to her husband, and related the whole matter to him.
But he had ceased to love her, and he said, "Neither a king nor a
minister, nor a wife, nor a person's hair nor his nails, look well out
of their places. And the beauty of the kokila is its note, of an ugly
man knowledge, of a devotee forgiveness, and of a woman her
chastity."

The Vampire having narrated thus far, suddenly asked the king,
"Of these three, whose virtue was the greatest?"

Vikram, who had been greatly edified by the tale, forgot himself,
and ejaculated, "The Thief's."

"And pray why?" asked the Baital.

"Because," the hero explained, "when her husband saw that she
loved another man, however purely, he ceased to feel affection for
her. Somdatt let her go unharmed, for fear of being punished by
the king. But there was no reason why the thief should fear the law
and dismiss her; therefore he was the best."

"Hi! hi! hi!" laughed the demon, spitefully. "Here, then, ends my
story."

Upon which, escaping as before from the cloth in which he was
slung behind the Raja's back, the Baital disappeared through the
darkness of the night, leaving father and son looking at each other
in dismay.

"Son Dharma Dhwaj," quoth the great Vikram, "the next time
when that villain Vampire asks me a question, I allow thee to take
the liberty of pinching my arm even before I have had time to
answer his questions. In this way we shall never, of a truth, end our
task."

"Your words be upon my head, sire," replied the young prince. But
he expected no good from his father's new plan, as, arrived under
the sires-tree, he heard the Baital laughing with all his might."

Surely he is laughing at our beards, sire," said the beardless prince,
who hated to be laughed at like a young person.

"Let them laugh that win," fiercely cried Raja Vikram, who hated
to be laughed at like an elderly person.

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The Vampire lost no time in opening a fresh story.


        THE VAMPIRE'S  FIFTH STORY.

     Of the Thief Who Laughed and Wept.

Your majesty (quoth the demon, with unusual politeness),  there is
a country called  Malaya, on the western coast of the  land of
Bharat--you see that I am particular in specifying  the place--and in
it was a city known as Chandrodaya,  whose king was named
Randhir.

This Raja, like most others of his semi-deified order, had been in
youth what is called a Sarva-rasi[FN#95]; that is, he ate and drank
and listened to music, and looked at dancers and made love much
more than he studied, reflected, prayed, or conversed with the
wise.  After the age of thirty he began to reform, and he brought
such zeal to the good cause, that in an incredibly short space of
time he came to be accounted and quoted as the paragon of correct
Rajas. This was very praiseworthy. Many of Brahma's viceregents
on earth, be it observed, have loved food and drink, and music and
dancing, and the worship of Kama, to the end of their days.

Amongst his officers was Gunshankar, a magistrate of police, who,
curious to say, was as honest as he was just. He administered
equity with as much care before as after dinner; he took no bribes
even in the matter of advancing his family; he was rather merciful
than otherwise to the poor, and he never punished the rich
ostentatiously, in order to display his and his law's disrespect for
persons.  Besides which, when sitting on the carpet of justice, he
did not, as some Kotwals do, use rough or angry language to those
who cannot reply; nor did he take offence when none was
intended.

All the people of the city Chandrodaya, in the province of Malaya,
on the western coast of Bharatland, loved and esteemed this
excellent magistrate; which did not, however, prevent thefts being
committed so frequently and so regularly, that no one felt his
property secure. At last the merchants who had suffered most from
these depredations went in a body before Gunshankar, and said to
him:

"O flower of the law! robbers have exercised great tyranny upon
us, so great indeed that we can no longer stay in this city."

Then the magistrate replied, "What has happened, has happened.
But in future you shall be free from annoyance. I will make due
preparation for these thieves."

Thus saying Gunshankar called together his various delegates, and
directed them to increase the number of their people. He pointed
out to them how they should keep watch by night; besides which
he ordered them to open registers of all arrivals and departures, to
make themselves acquainted by means of spies with the
movements of every suspected person in the city, and to raise a
body of paggis (trackers), who could follow the footprints of
thieves even when they wore thieving shoes,[FN#96] till they
came up with and arrested them. And lastly, he gave the patrols
full power, whenever they might catch a robber in the act, to slay
him without asking questions.

People in numbers began to mount guard throughout the city every
night, but, notwithstanding this, robberies continued to be
committed. After a time all the merchants having again met
together went before the magistrate, and said, "O incarnation of
justice! you have changed your officers, you have hired watchmen,
and you have established patrols: nevertheless the thieves have not
diminished, and plundering is ever taking place."

Thereupon Gunshankar carried them to the palace, and made them
lay their petition at the feet of the king Randhir. That Raja, having
consoled them, sent them home, saying, "Be ye of good cheer. I
will to-night adopt a new plan, which, with the blessing of the
Bhagwan, shall free ye from further anxiety."

Observe, O Vikram, that Randhir was one of those concerning
whom the poet sang--

              The unwise run from one end to the other.

Not content with becoming highly respectable, correct, and even
unimpeachable in point of character, he reformed even his
reformation, and he did much more than he was required to do.

When Canopus began to sparkle gaily in the southern skies, the
king arose and prepared for a night's work. He disguised his face
by smearing it with a certain paint, by twirling his moustachios up
to his eyes, by parting his beard upon his chin, and conducting the
two ends towards his ears, and by tightly tying a hair from a
horse's tail over his nose, so as quite to change its shape. He then
wrapped himself in a coarse outer garment, girt his loins, buckled
on his sword, drew his shield upon his arm, and without saying a
word to those within the palace, he went out into the streets alone,
and on foot.

It was dark, and Raja Randhir walked through the silent city for
nearly an hour without meeting anyone. As, however, he passed
through a back street in the merchants' quarter, he saw what
appeared to be a homeless dog, lying at the foot of a house-wall.
He approached it, and up leaped a human figure, whilst a loud
voice cried, "Who art thou?"

Randhir replied, "I am a thief; who art thou?"

"And I also am a thief," rejoined the other, much pleased at
hearing this; "come, then, and let us make together. But what art
thou, a high-loper or a lully-prigger[FN#97]?"

"A little more ceremony between coves in the lorst,[FN#98]"
whispered the king, speaking as a flash man, "were not out of
place. But, look sharp, mind old Oliver,[FN#99] or the lamb-skin
man[FN#100] will have the pull of us, and as sure as eggs is eggs
we shall be scragged as soon as lagged.[FN#101]"

"Well, keep your red rag[FN#102] quiet," grumbled the other, "and
let us be working."

Then the pair, king and thief, began work in right earnest. The
gang seemed to swarm in the street. They were drinking spirits,
slaying victims, rubbing their bodies with oil, daubing their eyes
with lamp-black, and repeating incantations to enable them to see
in the darkness; others were practicing the lessons of the god with
the golden spear,[FN#103] and carrying out the four modes of
breaching a house: 1. Picking out burnt bricks.  2.Cutting through
unbaked ones when old, when softened by recent damp, by
exposure to the sun, or by saline exudations.  3. Throwing water on
a mud wall; and 4. Boring through one of wood. The sons of
Skanda were making breaches in the shape of lotus blossoms, the
sun, the new moon, the lake, and the water jar, and they seemed to
be anointed with magic unguents, so that no eye could behold, no
weapon harm them.

At length having filled his bag with costly plunder, the thief said to
the king, "Now, my rummy cove, we'll be off to the flash ken,
where the lads and the morts are waiting to wet their whistles."

Randhir, who as a king was perfectly familiar with "thieves'
Latin," took heart, and resolved to hunt out the secrets of the den.
On the way, his companion, perfectly satisfied with the importance
which the new cove had attached to a rat-hole,[FN#104] and
convinced that he was a true robber, taught him the whistle, the
word, and the sign peculiar to the gang, and promised him that he
should smack the lit[FN#105] that night before "turning in."

So saying the thief rapped twice at the city gate, which was at once
opened to him, and preceding his accomplice led the way to a rock
about two kos (four miles) distant from the walls. Before entering
the dark forest at the foot of the eminence, the robber stood still for
a moment and whistled twice through his fingers with a shrill
scream that rang through the silent glades. After a few minutes the
signal was answered by the hooting of an owl, which the robber
acknowledged by shrieking like a jackal. Thereupon half a dozen
armed men arose from their crouching places in the grass, and one
advanced towards the new comers to receive the sign. It was given,
and they both passed on, whilst the guard sank, as it were, into the
bowels of the earth. All these things Randhir carefully remarked:
besides which he neglected not to take note of all the
distinguishable objects that lay on the road, and, when he entered
the wood, he scratched with his dagger all the tree trunks within
reach.

After a sharp walk the pair reached a high perpendicular sheet  of
rock, rising abruptly from a clear space in the jungle, and profusely
printed over with vermilion hands. The thief, having walked up to
it, and made his obeisance, stooped to the ground, and removed a
bunch of grass. The two then raised by their united efforts a heavy
trap door, through which poured a stream of light, whilst a
confused hubbub of voices was heard below.

"This is the ken," said the robber, preparing to descend a thin
ladder of bamboo, "follow me!" And he disappeared with his bag
of valuables.

The king did as he was bid, and the pair entered together a large
hall, or rather a cave, which presented a singular spectacle.  It was
lighted up by links fixed to the sombre walls, which threw a smoky
glare over the place, and the contrast after the deep darkness
reminded Randhir of his mother's descriptions of Patal-puri, the
infernal city. Carpets of every kind, from the choicest tapestry to
the coarsest rug, were spread upon the ground, and were strewed
with bags, wallets, weapons, heaps of booty, drinking cups, and all
the materials of debauchery.

Passing through this cave the thief led Randhir into another, which
was full of thieves, preparing for the pleasures of the night. Some
were changing garments, ragged and dirtied by creeping through
gaps in the houses: others were washing the blood from their hands
and feet; these combed out their long dishevelled, dusty hair: those
anointed their skins with perfumed cocoa-nut oil. There were all
manner of murderers present, a villanous collection of Kartikeya's
and Bhawani's[FN#106] crew. There were stabbers with their
poniards hung to lanyards lashed round their naked waists,
Dhaturiya- poisoners[FN#107] distinguished by the little bag slung
under the left arm, and Phansigars[FN#108] wearing their fatal
kerchiefs round their necks. And Randhir had reason to thank the
good deed in the last life that had sent him there in such strict
disguise, for amongst the robbers he found, as might be expected, a
number of his own people, spies and watchmen, guards and
patrols.

The thief, whose importance of manner now showed him to be the
chief of the gang, was greeted with applause as he entered the
robing room, and he bade all make salam to the new companion. A
number of questions concerning the success of the night's work
was quickly put and answered:  then the company, having got
ready for the revel, flocked into the first cave. There they sat down
each in his own place, and began to eat and drink and make merry.

After some hours the flaring torches began to burn out, and
drowsiness to overpower the strongest heads. Most of the robbers
rolled themselves up in the rugs, and covering their heads, went to
sleep. A few still sat with their backs to the wall, nodding drowsily
or leaning on one side, and too stupefied with opium and hemp to
make any exertion.

At that moment a servant woman, whom the king saw for the first
time, came into the cave, and looking at him exclaimed, "O Raja!
how came you with these wicked men? Do you run away as fast as
you can, or they will surely kill you when they awake."

"I do not know the way; in which direction am I to go?"  asked
Randhir.

The woman then showed him the road. He threaded the confused
mass of snorers, treading with the foot of a tiger-cat, found the
ladder, raised the trap-door by exerting all his strength, and
breathed once more the open air of heaven. And before plunging
into the depths of the wood he again marked the place where the
entrance lay and carefully replaced the bunch of grass.

Hardly had Raja Randhir returned to the palace, and removed the
traces of his night's occupation, when he received a second
deputation of the merchants, complaining bitterly and with the
longest faces about their fresh misfortunes.

"O pearl of equity!" said the men of money, "but yesterday you
consoled us with the promise of some contrivance by the blessing
of which our houses and coffers would be safe from theft; whereas
our goods have never yet suffered so severely as during the last
twelve hours."

Again Randhir dismissed them, swearing that this time he would
either die or destroy the wretches who had been guilty of such
violence.

Then having mentally prepared his measures, the Raja warned a
company of archers to hold themselves in readiness for secret
service, and as each one of his own people returned from the
robbers' cave he had him privily arrested and put to death--because
the deceased, it is said, do not, like Baitals, tell tales. About
nightfall, when he thought that the thieves, having finished their
work of  plunder, would meet together as usual for wassail and
debauchery, he armed himself, marched out his men, and led them
to the rock in the jungle.

But the robbers, aroused by the disappearance of the new
companion, had made enquiries and had gained intelligence of the
impending danger. They feared to flee during the daytime, lest
being tracked they should be discovered and destroyed in detail.
When night came they hesitated to disperse, from the certainty that
they would be captured in the morning. Then their captain, who
throughout had been of one opinion, proposed to them that they
should resist,  and promised them success if  they would hear his
words. The gang  respected him, for he was known to be brave:
they all listened to his advice, and they promised to be obedient.

As young night began to cast transparent shade upon the jungle
ground, the chief of the thieves mustered his men, inspected their
bows and arrows, gave them encouraging words, and led them
forth from the cave. Having placed them in ambush he climbed the
rock to espy the movements of the enemy, whilst others applied
their noses and ears to the level ground. Presently the moon shone
full upon Randhir and his band of archers, who were advancing
quickly and carelessly, for they expected to catch the robbers in
their cave. The captain allowed them to march nearly through the
line of ambush. Then he gave the signal, and at that moment the
thieves, rising suddenly from the bush fell upon the royal troops
and drove them back in confusion.

The king also fled, when the chief of the robbers shouted out,
"Hola! thou a Rajput and running away from combat?" Randhir
hearing this halted, and the two, confronting each other, bared their
blades and began to do battle with prodigious fury.

The king was cunning of fence, and so was the thief. They opened
the duel, as skilful swordsmen should, by bending almost double,
skipping in a circle, each keeping his eye well fixed upon the
other, with frowning brows and contemptuous lips; at the same
time executing divers gambados and measured leaps, springing
forward like frogs and backward like monkeys, and beating time
with their sabres upon their shields, which rattled like drums.

Then Randhir suddenly facing his antagonist, cut at his legs with a
loud cry, but the thief sprang in the air, and the blade whistled
harmlessly under him. Next moment the robber chief's sword,
thrice whirled round his head, descended like lightning in a
slanting direction towards the king's left shoulder: the latter,
however, received it upon his target and escaped all hurt, though
he staggered with the violence of the blow.

And thus they continued attacking each other, parrying and
replying, till their breath failed them and their hands and wrists
were numbed and cramped with fatigue. They were so well
matched in courage, strength, and address, that neither obtained the
least advantage, till the robber's right foot catching a stone slid
from under him, and thus he fell to the ground at the mercy of his
enemy. The thieves fled, and the Raja, himself on his prize, tied his
hands behind him, and brought him back to the city at the point of
his good sword.

The next morning Randhir visited his prisoner, whom he caused to
be bathed, and washed, and covered with fine clothes. He then had
him mounted on a camel and sent him on a circuit of the city,
accompanied by a crier proclaiming aloud: "Who hears! who
hears! who hears! the king commands! This is the thief who has
robbed and plundered the city of Chandrodaya. Let all men
therefore assemble themselves together this evening in the open
space outside the gate leading towards the sea. And let them
behold the penalty of evil deeds, and learn to be wise."

Randhir had condemned the thief to be crucified,[FN#109] nailed
and tied with his hands and feet stretched out at full length, in an
erect posture until death; everything he wished to eat was ordered
to him in order to prolong life and misery. And when death should
draw near, melted gold was to be poured down his throat till it
should burst from his neck and other parts of his body.

In the evening the thief was led out for execution, and by chance
the procession passed close to the house of a wealthy landowner.
He had a favourite daughter named Shobhani, who was in the
flower of her youth and very lovely; every day she improved, and
every moment added to her grace and beauty. The girl had been
carefully kept out of sight of mankind, never being allowed outside
the high walls of the garden, because her nurse, a wise woman
much trusted in the neighbourhood, had at the hour of death given
a solemn warning to her parents. The prediction was that the
maiden should be the admiration of the city, and should die a Sati-
widow[FN#110] before becoming a wife. From that hour Shobhani
was kept as a pearl in its casket by her father, who had vowed
never to survive her, and had even fixed upon the place and style
of his suicide.

But the shaft of Fate[FN#111] strikes down the vulture sailing
above the clouds, and follows the worm into the bowels of the
earth, and pierces the fish at the bottom of the ocean--how then can
mortal man expect to escape it? As the robber chief, mounted upon
the camel, was passing to the cross under the old householder's
windows, a fire breaking out in the women's apartments, drove the
inmates into the rooms looking upon the street.

The hum of many voices arose from the solid pavement of heads:
"This is the thief who has been robbing the whole city; let him
tremble now, for Randhir will surely crucify him!"

In beauty and bravery of bearing, as in strength and courage, no
man in Chandrodaya surpassed the robber, who, being
magnificently dressed, looked, despite his disgraceful cavalcade,
like the son of a king. He sat with an unmoved countenance, hardly
hearing in his pride the scoffs of the mob; calm and steady when
the whole city was frenzied with anxiety because of him. But as he
heard the word "tremble" his lips quivered, his eyes flashed fire,
and deep lines gathered between his eyebrows.

Shobhani started with a scream from the casement behind which
she had hid herself, gazing with an intense womanly curiosity into
the thoroughfare. The robber's face was upon a level with, and not
half a dozen feet from, her pale cheeks. She marked his handsome
features, and his look of wrath made her quiver as if it had been a
flash of lightning. Then she broke away from the fascination of his
youth and beauty, and ran breathless to her father, saying:

"Go this moment and get that thief released!

"The old housekeeper replied: "That thief has been pilfering and
plundering the whole city, and by his means the king's archers
were defeated; why, then, at my request, should our most gracious
Raja Randhir release him?"

Shobhani, almost beside herself, exclaimed: "If by giving up your
whole property, you can induce the Raja to release him, then
instantly so do; if he does not come to me, I must give up my life!"

The maiden then covered her head with her veil, and sat down in
the deepest despair, whilst her father, hearing her words, burst into
a cry of grief, and hastened to present himself before the Raja. He
cried out:

"O great king, be pleased to receive four lakhs of rupees, and to
release this thief."

But the king replied: "He has been robbing the whole city, and by
reason of him my guards have been destroyed. I cannot by any
means release him."

Then the old householder finding, as he had expected the Raja
inexorable, and not to be moved, either by tears or bribes, or by the
cruel fate of the girl, returned home with fire in his heart, and
addressed her:

 "Daughter, I have said and done all that is possible but it avails
me nought with the king. Now, then, we die."

In the mean time, the guards having led the thief all round the city,
took him outside the gates, and made him stand near the cross.
Then the messengers of death arrived from the palace, and the
executioners began to nail his limbs. He bore the agony with the
fortitude of the brave; but when he heard what had been done by
the old householder's daughter, he raised his voice and wept
bitterly, as though his heart had been bursting, and almost with the
same breath he laughed heartily as at a feast. All were startled by
his merriment; coming as it did at a time when the iron was
piercing his flesh, no man could see any reason for it.

When he died, Shobhani, who was married to him in the  spirit,
recited to herself these sayings:

"There are thirty-five millions of hairs on the human body. The
woman who ascends the pile with her husband will remain so
many years in heaven. As the snake-catcher draws the serpent
from his hole, so she, rescuing her husband from hell, rejoices with
him; aye, though he may have sunk to a  region of torment, be
restrained in dreadful bonds, have reached the place of anguish, be
exhausted of strength, and afflicted and tortured for his crimes. No
other effectual duty is known for virtuous women at any time after
the death of their lords, except casting themselves into the same
fire. As long as a woman in her successive transmigrations, shall
decline burning herself, like a faithful wife, in the same fire  with
her deceased lord, so long shall she not be exempted  from
springing again to life in the body of some female animal."

Therefore the beautiful Shobhani, virgin and wife, resolved to burn
herself, and to make the next life of the thief certain. She showed
her courage by thrusting her finger into a torch flame till it became
a cinder, and she solemnly bathed in the nearest stream.

A hole was dug in the ground, and upon a bed of green tree-trunks
were heaped hemp, pitch, faggots, and clarified butter, to form the
funeral pyre. The dead body, anointed, bathed, and dressed in new
clothes, was then laid upon the heap, which was some two feet
high. Shobhani prayed that as long as fourteen Indras reign, or as
many years as there are hairs in her head, she might abide in
heaven with her husband, and be waited upon by the heavenly
dancers. She then presented her ornaments and little gifts of corn
to her friends, tied some cotton round both wrists, put two new
combs in her hair, painted her forehead, and tied up in the end of
her body-cloth clean parched rice[FN#112] and cowrie-shells.
These she gave to the bystanders, as she walked seven times round
the funeral pyre, upon which lay the body. She then ascended the
heap of wood, sat down upon it, and taking the thief's head in her
lap, without cords or levers or upper layer or faggots, she ordered
the pile to be lighted. The crowd standing around set fire to it in
several places, drummed their drums, blew their conchs, and raised
a loud cry of "Hari bol! Hari bol! [FN#113]" Straw was thrown on,
and pitch and clarified butter were freely poured out. But
Shobhani's was a Sahamaran, a blessed easy death: no part of her
body was seen to move after the pyre was lighted--in fact, she
seemed to die before the flame touched her.

By the blessing of his daughter's decease, the old householder
beheaded himself.[FN#114] He caused an instrument to be made
in the shape of a half-moon with an edge like a razor, and fitting
the back of his neck. At both ends of it, as at the beam of a
balance, chains were fastened. He sat down with eyes closed; he
was rubbed with the purifying clay of the holy river,
Vaiturani[FN#115]; and he repeated the proper incantations. Then
placing his feet upon the extremities of the chains, he suddenly
jerked up his neck, and his severed head rolled from his body upon
the ground. What a happy death was this!

The Baital was silent, as if meditating on the fortunate
transmigration which the old householder had thus secured.

"But what could the thief have been laughing at, sire?" asked the
young prince Dharma Dhwaj of his father.

"At the prodigious folly of the girl, my son," replied the warrior
king, thoughtlessly.

"I am indebted once more to your majesty," burst out the Baital,
"for releasing me from this unpleasant position, but the Raja's
penetration is again at fault. Not to leave your royal son and heir
labouring under a false impression, before going I will explain
why the brave thief burst into tears, and why he laughed at such a
moment.

"He wept when he reflected that he could not requite her kindness
in being willing to give up everything she had in the world to save
his life; and this thought deeply grieved him.

Then it struck him as being passing strange that she had begun to
love him when the last sand of his life was well nigh run out; that
wondrous are the ways of the revolving heavens which bestow
wealth upon the niggard that cannot use it, wisdom upon the bad
man who will misuse it, a beautiful wife upon the fool who cannot
protect her, and fertilizing showers upon the stony hills. And
thinking over these things, the gallant and beautiful thief laughed
aloud.

"Before returning to my sires-tree," continued the Vampire, "as I
am about to do in virtue of your majesty's unintelligent reply, I
may remark that men may laugh and cry, or may cry and laugh,
about everything in this world, from their neighbours' deaths,
which, as a general rule, in no wise concern them, to their own
latter ends, which do concern them exceedingly. For my part, I am
in the habit of laughing at everything, because it animates the
brain, stimulates the lungs, beautifies the countenance, and--for the
moment, good-bye, Raja Vikram!

The warrior king, being forewarned this time, shifted the bundle
containing the Baital from his back to under his arm, where he
pressed it with all his might.

This proceeding, however, did not prevent the Vampire from
slipping back to his tree, and leaving an empty cloth with the Raja.

Presently the demon was trussed up as usual; a voice sounded
behind Vikram, and the loquacious thing again began to talk.


         THE VAMPIRE'S SIXTH STORY.

 In Which Three Men Dispute about a Woman.

On the lovely banks of Jumna's stream there was a city known as
Dharmasthal--the Place of Duty; and therein dwelt a certain
Brahman called Keshav. He was a very pious man, in the constant
habit of performing penance and worship upon the river Sidi. He
modelled his own clay images instead of buying them from others;
he painted holy stones red at the top, and made to them offerings
of flowers, fruit, water, sweetmeats, and fried peas. He had
become a learned man somewhat late in life, having, until twenty
years old, neglected his reading, and addicted himself to
worshipping the beautiful youth Kama-Deva[FN#116] and Rati his
wife, accompanied by the cuckoo, the humming-bee, and sweet
breezes.

One day his parents having rebuked him sharply for his
ungovernable conduct, Keshav wandered to a neighbouring
hamlet, and hid himself in the tall fig-tree which shadowed a
celebrated image of Panchanan.[FN#117] Presently an evil thought
arose in his head: he defiled the god, and threw him into the
nearest tank.

The next morning, when the person arrived whose livelihood
depended on the image, he discovered that his god was gone. He
returned into the village distracted, and all was soon in an uproar
about the lost deity.

In the midst of this confusion the parents of Keshav arrived,
seeking for their son; and a man in the crowd declared that he had
seen a young man sitting in Panchanan's tree, but what had become
of the god he knew not.

The runaway at length appeared, and the suspicions of the villagers
fell upon him as the stealer of Panchanan. He confessed the fact,
pointed out the place where he had thrown the stone, and added
that he had polluted the god. All hands and eyes were raised in
amazement at this atrocious crime, and every one present declared
that Panchanan would certainly punish the daring insult by
immediate death. Keshav was dreadfully frightened; he began to
obey his parents from that very hour, and applied to his studies so
sedulously that he soon became the most learned man of his
country.

Now Keshav the Brahman had a daughter whose name was the
Madhumalati or Sweet Jasmine. She was very beautiful. Whence
did the gods procure the materials to form so exquisite a face?
They took a portion of the most excellent part of the moon to form
that beautiful face? Does any one seek a proof of this? Let him
look at the empty places left in the moon. Her eyes resembled the
full-blown blue nymphaea; her arms the charming stalk of the
lotus; her flowing tresses the thick darkness of night.

When this lovely person arrived at a marriageable age, her mother,
father, and brother, all three became very anxious about her. For
the wise have said, "A daughter nubile but without a husband is
ever a calamity hanging over a house." And, "Kings, women, and
climbing plants love those who are near them." Also, "Who is
there that has not suffered from the sex? for a woman cannot be
kept in due subjection, either by gifts or kindness, or correct
conduct, or the greatest services, or the laws of morality, or by the
terror of punishment, for she cannot discriminate between good
and evil." 

It so happened that one day Keshav the Brahman went to the
marriage of a certain customer of his,[FN#118] and his son
repaired to the house of a spiritual preceptor in order to read.
During their absence, a young man came to the house, when the
Sweet Jasmine's mother, inferring his good qualities from his good
looks, said to him, "I will give to thee my daughter in marriage."
The father also had promised his daughter to a Brahman youth
whom he had met at the house of his employer; and the brother
likewise had betrothed his sister to a fellow student at the place
where he had gone to read.

After some days father and son came home, accompanied by these
two suitors, and in the house a third was already seated. The name
of the first was Tribikram, of the second Baman, and of the third
Madhusadan. The three were equal in mind and body, in
knowledge, and in age.

Then the father, looking upon them, said to himself, "Ho! there is
one bride and three bridegrooms; to whom shall I give, and to
whom shall I not give? We three have pledged our word to these
three. A strange circumstance has occurred; what must we do?" 

He then proposed to them a trial of wisdom, and made them agree
that he who should quote the most excellent saying of the wise
should become his daughter's husband.

Quoth Tribikram: "Courage is tried in war; integrity in the
payment of debt and interest; friendship in distress; and the
faithfulness of a wife in the day of poverty." 

Baman proceeded: "That woman is destitute of virtue who in her
father's house is not in subjection, who wanders to feasts and
amusements, who throws off her veil in the presence of men, who
remains as a guest in the houses of strangers, who is much devoted
to sleep, who drinks inebriating beverages, and who delights in
distance from her husband." 

"Let none," pursued Madhusadan, "confide in the sea, nor in
whatever has claws or horns, or who carries deadly weapons;
neither in a woman, nor in a king." 

Whilst the Brahman was doubting which to prefer, and rather
inclining to the latter sentiment, a serpent bit the beautiful girl, and
in a few hours she died.

Stunned by this awful sudden death, the father and the three suitors
sat for a time motionless. They then arose, used great exertions,
and brought all kinds of sorcerers, wise men and women who
charm away poisons by incantations. These having seen the girl
said, "She cannot return to life." The first declared, "A person
always dies who has been bitten by a snake on the fifth, sixth,
eighth, ninth, and fourteenth days of the lunar month.'' The second
asserted, "One who has been bitten on a Saturday or a Tuesday
does not survive." The third opined, "Poison infused during certain
six lunar mansions cannot be got under." Quoth the fourth, "One
who has been bitten in any organ of sense, the lower lip, the cheek,
the neck, or the stomach, cannot escape death." The fifth said, "In
this case even Brahma, the Creator, could not restore life--of what
account, then, are we? Do you perform the funeral rites; we will
depart." 

Thus saying, the sorcerers went their way. The mourning father
took up his daughter's corpse and caused it to be burnt, in the place
where dead bodies are usually burnt, and returned to his house.

After that the three young men said to one another, "We must now
seek happiness elsewhere. And what better can we do than obey
the words of Indra, the God of Air, who spake thus ?-- 

"'For a man who does not travel about there is no felicity, and a
good man who stays at home is a bad man. Indra is the friend of
him who travels. Travel! 

"'A traveller's legs are like blossoming branches, and he himself
grows and gathers the fruit. All his wrongs vanish, destroyed by
his exertion on the roadside. Travel! 

"'The fortune of a man who sits, sits also; it rises when he rises; it
sleeps when he sleeps; it moves well when he moves. Travel! 

"'A man who sleeps is like the Iron Age. A man who awakes is like
the Bronze Age. A man who rises up is like the Silver Age. A man
who travels is like the Golden Age. Travel! 

"'A traveller finds honey; a traveller finds sweet figs. Look at the
happiness of the sun, who travailing never tires. Travel!"' 

Before parting they divided the relics of the beloved one, and then
they went their way.

Tribikram, having separated and tied up the burnt bones, became
one of the Vaisheshikas, in those days a powerful sect. He
solemnly forswore the eight great crimes, namely: feeding at night;
slaying any animal; eating the fruit of trees that give milk, or
pumpkins or young bamboos: tasting honey or flesh; plundering
the wealth of others; taking by force a married woman; eating
flowers, butter, or cheese; and worshipping the gods of other
religions. He learned that the highest act of virtue is to abstain
from doing injury to sentient creatures; that crime does not justify
the destruction of life; and that kings, as the administrators of
criminal justice, are the greatest of sinners. He professed the five
vows of total abstinence from falsehood, eating flesh or fish, theft,
drinking spirits, and marriage. He bound himself to possess
nothing beyond a white loin-cloth, a towel to wipe the mouth, a
beggar's dish, and a brush of woollen threads to sweep the ground
for fear of treading on insects. And he was ordered to fear secular
affairs; the miseries of a future state; the receiving from others
more than the food of a day at once; all accidents; provisions, if
connected with the destruction of animal life; death and disgrace;
also to please all, and to obtain compassion from all.

He attempted to banish his love. He said to himself, "Surely it was
owing only to my pride and selfishness that I ever looked upon a
woman as capable of affording happiness; and I thought, 'Ah! ah!
thine eyes roll about like the tail of the water-wagtail, thy lips
resemble the ripe fruit, thy bosom is like the lotus bud, thy form is
resplendent as gold melted in a crucible, the moon wanes through
desire to imitate the shadow of thy face, thou resemblest the
pleasure-house of Cupid; the happiness of all time is concentrated
in thee; a touch from thee would surely give life to a dead image;
at thy approach a living admirer would be changed by joy into a
lifeless stone; obtaining thee I can face all the horrors of war; and
were I pierced by showers of arrows, one glance of thee would
heal all my wounds.' 

"My mind is now averted from the world. Seeing her I say, 'Is this
the form by which men are bewitched? This is a basket covered
with skin; it contains bones, flesh, blood, and impurities. The
stupid creature who is captivated by this--is there a cannibal
feeding in Currim a greater cannibal than he? These persons call a
thing made up of impure matter a face, and drink its charms as a
drunkard swallows the inebriating liquor from his cup. The blind,
infatuated beings! Why should I be pleased or displeased with this
body, composed of flesh and blood? It is my duty to seek Him who
is the Lord of this body, and to disregard everything which gives
rise either to pleasure or to pain.'"

Baman, the second suitor, tied up a bundle of his beloved one's
ashes, and followed--somewhat prematurely--the precepts of the
great lawgiver Manu. "When the father of a family perceives his
muscles becoming flaccid, and his hair grey, and sees the child of
his child, let him then take refuge in a forest. Let him take up his
consecrated fire and all his domestic implements for making
oblations to it, and, departing from the town to the lonely wood, let
him dwell in it with complete power over his organs of sense and
of action. With many sorts of pure food, such as holy sages used to
eat, with green herbs, roots, and fruit, let him perform the five
great sacraments, introducing them with due ceremonies. Let him
wear a black antelope-hide, or a vesture of bark; let him bathe
evening and morning; let him suffer the hair of his head, his beard
and his nails to grow continually. Let him slide backwards and
forwards on the ground; or let him stand a whole day on tiptoe; or
let him continue in motion, rising and sitting alternately; but at
sunrise, at noon, and at sunset, let him go to the waters and bathe.
In the hot season let him sit exposed to five fires, four blazing
around him, with the sun above; in the rains let him stand
uncovered, without even a mantle, where the clouds pour the
heaviest showers; in the cold season let him wear damp clothes,
and let him increase by degrees the austerity of his devotions.
Then, having reposited his holy fires, as the law directs, in his
mind, let him live without external fire, without a mansion, wholly
silent, feeding on roots and fruit." 

Meanwhile Madhusadan the third, having taken a wallet and
neckband, became a Jogi, and began to wander far and wide, living
on nothing but chaff, and practicing his devotions. In order to see
Brahma he attended to the following duties; 1. Hearing; 2.
Meditation; 3. Fixing the Mind; 4. Absorbing the Mind. He
combated the three evils, restlessness, injuriousness,
voluptuousness by settling the Deity in his spirit, by subjecting his
senses, and by destroying desire. Thus he would do away with the
illusion (Maya) which conceals all true knowledge. He repeated
the name of the Deity till it appeared to him in the form of a Dry
Light or glory. Though connected with the affairs of life, that is,
with affairs belonging to a body containing blood, bones, and
impurities; to organs which are blind, palsied, and full of weakness
and error; to a mind filled with thirst, hunger, sorrow, infatuation;
to confirmed habits, and to the fruits of former births: still he
strove not to view these things as realities. He made a companion
of a dog, honouring it with his own food, so as the better to think
on spirit. He practiced all the five operations connected with the
vital air, or air collected in the body. He attended much to
Pranayama, or the gradual suppression of breathing, and he
secured fixedness of mind as follows. By placing his sight and
thoughts on the tip of his nose he perceived smell; on the tip of his
tongue he realized taste, on the root of his tongue he knew sound,
and so forth. He practiced the eighty-four Asana or postures,
raising his hand to the wonders of the heavens, till he felt no longer
the inconveniences of heat or cold, hunger or thirst. He particularly
preferred the Padma or lotus-posture, which consists of bringing
the feet to the sides, holding the right in the left hand and the left in
the right. In the work of suppressing his breath he permitted its
respiration to reach at furthest twelve fingers' breadth, and
gradually diminished the distance from his nostrils till he could
confine it to the length of twelve fingers from his nose, and even
after restraining it for some time he would draw it from no greater
distance than from his heart. As respects time, he began by
retaining inspiration for twenty-six seconds, and he enlarged this
period gradually till he became perfect. He sat cross-legged,
closing with his fingers all the avenues of inspiration, and he
practiced Prityahara, or the power of restraining the members of
the body and mind, with meditation and concentration, to which
there are four enemies, viz., a sleepy heart, human passions, a
confused mind, and attachment to anything but the one Brahma.
He also cultivated Yama, that is, inoffensiveness, truth, honesty,
the forsaking of all evil in the world, and the refusal of gifts except
for sacrifice, and Nihama, i.e., purity relative to the use of water
after defilement, pleasure in everything whether in prosperity or
adversity, renouncing food when hungry, and keeping down the
body. Thus delivered from these four enemies of the flesh, he
resembled the unruffled flame of the lamp, and by Brahmagnana,
or meditating on the Deity, placing his mind on the sun, moon,
fire, or any other luminous body, or within his heart, or at the
bottom of his throat, or in the centre of his skull, he was enabled to
ascend from gross images of omnipotence to the works and the
divine wisdom of the glorious original.

One day Madhusadan, the Jogi, went to a certain house for food,
and the householder having seen him began to say, "Be so good as
to take your food here this day!" The visitor sat down, and when
the victuals were ready, the host caused his feet and hands to be
washed, and leading him to the Chauka, or square place upon
which meals are served, seated him and sat by him. And he quoted
the scripture: "No guest must be dismissed in the evening by a
housekeeper: he is sent by the returning sun, and whether he come
in fit season or unseasonably, he must not sojourn in the house
without entertainment: let me not eat any delicate food, without
asking my guest to partake of it: the satisfaction of a guest will
assuredly bring the housekeeper wealth, reputation, long life, and a
place in heaven." 

The householder's wife then came to serve up the food, rice and
split peas, oil, and spices, all cooked in a new earthen pot with
pure firewood. Part of the meal was served and the rest remained
to be served, when the woman's little child began to cry aloud and
to catch hold of its mother's dress. She endeavoured to release
herself, but the boy would not let go, and the more she coaxed the
more he cried, and was obstinate. On this the mother became
angry, took up the boy and threw him upon the fire, which
instantly burnt him to ashes.

Madhusadan, the Jogi, seeing this, rose up without eating. The
master of the house said to him, "Why eatest thou not?" He
replied, "I am ' Atithi,' that is to say, to be entertained at your
house, but how can one eat under the roof of a person who has
committed such a Rakshasa-like (devilish) deed? Is it not said, 'He
who does not govern his passions, lives in vain'? 'A foolish king, a
person puffed up with riches, and a weak child, desire that which
cannot be procured'? Also, 'A king destroys his enemies, even
when flying; and the touch of an elephant, as well as the breath of
a serpent, are fatal; but the wicked destroy even while laughing'?"

Hearing this, the householder smiled; presently he arose and went
to another part of the tenement, and brought back with him a book,
treating on Sanjivnividya, or the science of restoring the dead to
life. This he had taken from its hidden place, two beams almost
touching one another with the ends in the opposite wall. The
precious volume was in single leaves, some six inches broad by
treble that length, and the paper was stained with yellow orpiment
and the juice of tamarind seeds to keep away insects.

The householder opened the cloth containing the book, untied the
flat boards at the top and bottom, and took out from it a charm.
Having repeated this Mantra, with many ceremonies, he at once
restored the child to life, saying, "Of all precious things,
knowledge is the most valuable; other riches may be stolen, or
diminished by expenditure, but knowledge is immortal, and the
greater the expenditure the greater the increase; it can be shared
with none, and it defies the power of the thief." 

The Jogi, seeing this marvel, took thought in his heart, "If I could
obtain that book, I would restore my beloved to life, and give up
this course of uncomfortable postures and difficulty of breathing."
With this resolution he sat down to his food, and remained in the
house.

At length night came, and after a time, all, having eaten supper,
and gone to their sleeping-places, lay down. The Jogi also went to
rest in one part of the house, but did not allow sleep to close his
eyes. When he thought that a fourth part of the hours of darkness
had sped, and that all were deep in slumber, then he got up very
quietly, and going into the room of the master of the house, he
took down the book from the beam-ends and went his ways.

Madhusadan, the Jogi, went straight to the place where the
beautiful Sweet Jasmine had been burned. There he found his two
rivals sitting talking together and comparing experiences. They
recognized him at once, and cried aloud to him, "Brother! thou
also hast been wandering over the world; tell us this--hast thou
learned anything which can profit us?" He replied, "I have learned
the science of restoring the dead to life"; upon which they both
exclaimed, "If thou hast really learned such knowledge, restore our
beloved to life." 

Madhusadan proceeded to make his incantations, despite terrible
sights in the air, the cries of jackals, owls, crows, cats, asses,
vultures, dogs, and lizards, and the wrath of innumerable invisible
beings, such as messengers of Yama (Pluto), ghosts, devils,
demons, imps, fiends, devas, succubi, and others. All the three
lovers drawing blood from their own bodies, offered it to the
goddess Chandi, repeating the following incantation, "Hail!
supreme delusion! Hail! goddess of the universe! Hail! thou who
fulfillest the desires of all. May I presume to offer thee the blood
of my body; and wilt thou deign to accept it, and be propitious
towards me!"

They then made a burnt-offering of their flesh, and each one
prayed, "Grant me, O goddess! to see the maiden alive again, in
proportion to the fervency with which I present thee with mine
own flesh, invoking thee to be propitious to me. Salutation to thee
again and again, under the mysterious syllables any! any!"

Then they made a heap of the bones and the ashes, which had been
carefully kept by Tribikram and Baman. As the Jogi Madhusadan
proceeded with his incantation, a white vapour arose from the
ground, and, gradually condensing, assumed a perispiritual form--
the fluid envelope of the soul. The three spectators felt their blood
freeze as the bones and the ashes were gradually absorbed into the
before shadowy shape, and they were restored to themselves only
when the maiden Madhuvati begged to be taken home to her
mother.

Then Kama, God of Love, blinded them, and they began fiercely to
quarrel about who should have the beautiful maid. Each wanted to
be her sole master. Tribikram declared the bones to be the great
fact of the incantation; Baman swore by the ashes; and
Madhusadan laughed them both to scorn. No one could decide the
dispute; the wisest doctors were all nonplussed; and as for the
Raja--well! we do not go for wit or wisdom to kings. I wonder if
the great Raja Vikram could decide which person the woman
belonged to?

"To Baman, the man who kept her ashes, fellow!" exclaimed the
hero, not a little offended by the free remarks of the fiend.

"Yet," rejoined the Baital impudently, "if Tribikram had not
preserved her bones how could she have been restored to life? And
if Madhusadan had not learned the science of restoring the dead to
life how could she have been revivified? At least, so it seems to
me. But perhaps your royal wisdom may explain."

"Devil!" said the king angrily, "Tribikram, who preserved her
bones, by that act placed himself in the position of her son;
therefore he could not marry her. Madhusadan, who, restoring her
to life, gave her life, was evidently a father to her; he could not,
then, become her husband. Therefore she was the wife of Baman,
who had collected her ashes." 

"I am happy to see, O king," exclaimed the Vampire, "that in spite
of my presentiments, we are not to part company just yet. These
little trips I hold to be, like lovers' quarrels, the prelude to closer
union. With your leave we will still practice a little suspension." 

And so saying, the Baital again ascended the tree, and was
suspended there.

"Would it not be better," thought the monarch, after recapturing
and shouldering the fugitive, "for me to sit down this time and
listen to the fellow's story? Perhaps the double exercise of walking
and thinking confuses me." 

With this idea Vikram placed his bundle upon the ground, well tied
up with turband and waistband; then he seated himself
cross-legged before it, and bade his son do the same.

The Vampire strongly objected to this measure, as it was contrary,
he asserted, to the covenant between him and the Raja. Vikram
replied by citing the very words of the agreement, proving that
there was no allusion to walking or sitting.

Then the Baital became sulky, and swore that he would not utter
another word. But he, too, was bound by the chain of destiny.
Presently he opened his lips, with the normal prelude that he was
about to tell a true tale.


        THE VAMPIRE'S SEVENTH STORY.

Showing the Exceeding Folly of Many Wise Fools.

The Baital resumed.

Of all the learned Brahmans in the learnedest university of Gaur
(Bengal) none was so celebrated as Vishnu Swami. He could write
verse as well as prose in dead languages, not very correctly, but
still, better than all his fellows--which constituted him a
distinguished writer. He had history, theosophy, and the four
Vedas of Scriptures at his fingers' ends, he was skilled in the
argute science of Nyasa or Disputation, his mind was a mine of
Pauranic or cosmogonico-traditional lore, handed down from the
ancient fathers to the modern fathers: and he had written bulky
commentaries, exhausting all that tongue of man has to say, upon
the obscure text of some old philosopher whose works upon ethics,
poetry, and rhetoric were supposed by the sages of Gaur to contain
the germs of everything knowable. His fame went over all the
country; yea, from country to country. He was a sea of excellent
qualities, the father and mother of Brahmans, cows, and women,
and the horror of loose persons, cut-throats, courtiers, and
courtesans. As a benefactor he was equal to Karna, most liberal of
heroes. In regard to truth he was equal to the veracious king
Yudhishtira.

True, he was sometimes at a loss to spell a common word in his
mother tongue, and whilst he knew to a fingerbreadth how many
palms and paces the sun, the moon, and all the stars are distant
from the earth, he would have been puzzled to tell you where the
region called Yavana[FN#119] lies. Whilst he could enumerate, in
strict chronological succession, every important event that
happened five or six million years before he was born, he was
profoundly ignorant of those that occurred in his own day. And
once he asked a friend seriously, if a cat let loose in the jungle
would not in time become a tiger.

Yet did all the members of alma mater Kasi, Pandits[FN#120] as
well as students, look with awe upon Vishnu Swami's livid cheeks,
and lack-lustre eyes, grimed hands and soiled cottons.

Now it so happened that this wise and pious Brahmanic peer had
four sons, whom he brought up in the strictest and most serious
way. They were taught to repeat their prayers long before they
understood a word of them, and when they reached the age of
four[FN#121] they had read a variety of hymns and spiritual
songs. Then they were set to learn by heart precepts that inculcate
sacred duties, and arguments relating to theology, abstract and
concrete.

Their father, who was also their tutor, sedulously cultivated, as all
the best works upon education advise, their implicit obedience,
humble respect, warm attachment, and the virtues and sentiments
generally. He praised them secretly and reprehended them openly,
to exercise their humility. He derided their looks, and dressed them
coarsely, to preserve them from vanity and conceit. Whenever they
anticipated a "treat," he punctually disappointed them, to teach
them self-denial. Often when he had promised them a present, he
would revoke, not break his word, in order that discipline might
have a name and habitat in his household. And knowing by
experience how much stronger than love is fear, he frequently
threatened, browbeat, and overawed them with the rod and the
tongue, with the terrors of this world, and with the horrors of the
next, that they might be kept in the right way by dread of falling
into the bottomless pits that bound it on both sides.

At the age of six they were transferred to the Chatushpati[FN#122]
or school. Every morning the teacher and his pupils assembled in
the hut where the different classes were called up by turns. They
laboured till noon, and were allowed only two hours, a moiety of
the usual time, for bathing, eating, sleep, and worship, which took
up half the period. At 3 P.M. they resumed their labours, repeating
to the tutor what they had learned by heart, and listening to the
meaning of it: this lasted till twilight. They then worshipped, ate
and drank for an hour: after which came a return of study,
repeating the day's lessons, till 10 P.M.

In their rare days of ease--for the learned priest, mindful of the
words of the wise, did not wish to dull them by everlasting work--
they were enjoined to disport themselves with the gravity and the
decorum that befit young Samditats, not to engage in night frolics,
not to use free jests or light expressions, not to draw pictures on
the walls, not to eat honey, flesh, and sweet substances turned acid,
not to talk to little girls at the well-side, on no account to wear
sandals, carry an umbrella, or handle a die even for love, and by no
means to steal their neighbours' mangoes.

As they advanced in years their attention during work time was
unremittingly directed to the Vedas. Wordly studies were almost
excluded, or to speak more correctly, whenever wordly studies
were brought upon the carpet, they were so evil entreated, that they
well nigh lost all form and feature. History became "The Annals of
India on Brahminical Principles," opposed to the Buddhistical;
geography "The Lands of the Vedas," none other being deemed
worthy of notice; and law, "The Institutes of Manu," then almost
obsolete, despite their exceeding sanctity.

But Jatu-harini[FN#123] had evidently changed these children
before they were born; and Shani[FN#124] must have been in the
ninth mansion when they came to light.

Each youth as he attained the mature age of twelve was formally
entered at the University of Kasi, where, without loss of time, the
first became a gambler, the second a confirmed libertine, the third
a thief, and the fourth a high Buddhist, or in other words an utter
atheist.

Here King Vikram frowned at his son, a hint that he had better not
behave himself as the children of highly moral and religious
parents usually do. The young prince understood him, and briefly
remarking that such things were common in distinguished
Brahman families, asked the Baital what he meant by the word
"Atheist."

Of a truth (answered the Vampire) it is most difficult to explain.
The sages assign to it three or four several meanings: first, one
who denies that the gods exist secondly, one who owns that the
gods exist but denies that they busy themselves with human
affairs; and thirdly, one who believes in the gods and in their
providence, but also believes that they are easily to be set aside.
Similarly some atheists derive all things from dead and
unintelligent matter; others from matter living and energetic but
without sense or will: others from matter with forms and qualities
generable and conceptible; and others from a plastic and
methodical nature. Thus the Vishnu Swamis of the world have
invested the subject with some confusion. The simple, that is to
say, the mass of mortality, have confounded that confusion by
reproachfully applying the word atheist to those whose opinions
differ materially from their own.

But I being at present, perhaps happily for myself, a Vampire, and
having, just now, none of these human or inhuman ideas, meant
simply to say that the pious priest's fourth son being great at
second and small in the matter of first causes, adopted to their
fullest extent the doctrines of the philosophical Buddhas.[FN#125]
Nothing according to him exists but the five elements, earth, water,
fire, air (or wind), and vacuum, and from the last proceeded the
penultimate, and so forth. With the sage Patanjali, he held the
universe to have the power of perpetual progression.[FN#126] He
called that Matra (matter), which is an eternal and infinite
principle, beginningless and endless. Organization, intelligence,
and design, he opined, are inherent in matter as growth is in a tree.
He did not believe in soul or spirit, because it could not be detected
in the body, and because it was a departure from physiological
analogy. The idea "I am," according to him, was not the
identification of spirit with matter, but a product of the mutation of
matter in this cloud-like, error-formed world. He believed in
Substance (Sat) and scoffed at Unsubstance (Asat). He asserted the
subtlety and globularity of atoms which are uncreate. He made
mind and intellect a mere secretion of the brain, or rather words
expressing not a thing, but a state of things. Reason was to him
developed instinct, and life an element of the atmosphere affecting
certain organisms. He held good and evil to be merely
geographical and chronological expressions, and he opined that
what is called Evil is mostly an active and transitive form of Good.
Law was his great Creator of all things, but he refused a creator of
law, because such a creator would require another creator, and so
on in a quasi-interminable series up to absurdity. This reduced his
law to a manner of haphazard. To those who, arguing against it,
asked him their favourite question, How often might a man after he
had jumbled a set of letters in a bag fling them out upon the ground
before they would fall into an exact poem? he replied that the
calculation was beyond his arithmetic, but that the man had only to
jumble and fling long enough inevitably to arrive at that end. He
rejected the necessity as well as the existence of revelation, and he
did not credit the miracles of Krishna, because, according to him,
nature never suspends her laws, and, moreover, he had never seen
aught supernatural. He ridiculed the idea of Mahapralaya, or the
great destruction, for as the world had no beginning, so it will have
no end. He objected to absorption, facetiously observing with the
sage Jamadagni, that it was pleasant to eat sweetmeats, but that for
his part he did not wish to become the sweetmeat itself. He would
not believe that Vishnu had formed the universe out of the wax in
his ears. He positively asserted that trees are not bodies in which
the consequences of merit and demerit are received. Nor would he
conclude that to men were attached rewards and punishments from
all eternity. He made light of the Sanskara, or sacrament. He
admitted Satwa, Raja, and Tama,[FN#127] but only as properties
of matter. He acknowledged gross matter (Sthulasharir), and
atomic matter (Shukshma-sharir), but not Linga-sharir, or the
archetype of bodies. To doubt all things was the foundation of his
theory, and to scoff at all who would not doubt was the
corner-stone of his practice. In debate he preferred logical and
mathematical grounds, requiring a categorical "because" in answer
to his "why?" He was full of morality and natural religion, which
some say is no religion at all. He gained the name of atheist by
declaring with Gotama that there are innumerable worlds, that the
earth has nothing beneath it but the circumambient air, and that the
core of the globe is incandescent. And he was called a practical
atheist--a worse form apparently--for supporting the following
dogma: "that though creation may attest that a creator has been, it
supplies no evidence to prove that a creator still exists." On which
occasion, Shiromani, a nonplussed theologian, asked him, "By
whom and for what purpose werst thou sent on earth?" The youth
scoffed at the word "sent," and replied, "Not being thy Supreme
Intelligence, or Infinite Nihility, I am unable to explain the
phenomenon." Upon which he quoted--

               How sunk in darkness Gaur must be
               Whose guide is blind Shiromani!

At length it so happened that the four young men, having
frequently been surprised in flagrant delict, were summoned to the
dread presence of the university Gurus,[FN#128] who addressed
them as follows:--

"There are four different characters in the world: he who perfectly
obeys the commands; he who practices the commands, but follows
evil; he who does neither good nor evil; and he who does nothing
but evil. The third character, it is observed, is also an offender, for
he neglects that which he ought to observe. But ye all belong to the
fourth category."
 
Then turning to the elder they said:

"In works written upon the subject of government it is advised,
'Cut off the gambler's nose and ears, hold up his name to public
contempt, and drive him out of the country, that he may thus
become an example to others. For they who play must more often
lose than win; and losing, they must either pay or not pay. In the
latter case they forfeit caste, in the former they utterly reduce
themselves. And though a gambler's wife and children are in the
house, do not consider them to be so, since it is not known when
they will be lost.[FN#129] Thus he is left in a state of perfect
not-twoness (solitude), and he will be reborn in hell.' O young
man! thou hast set a bad example to others, therefore shalt thou
immediately exchange this university for a country life."

Then they spoke to the second offender thus :---

"The wise shun woman, who can fascinate a man in the twinkling
of an eye; but the foolish, conceiving an affection for her, forfeit in
the pursuit of pleasure their truthfulness, reputation, and good
disposition, their way of life and mode of thought, their vows and
their religion. And to such the advice of their spiritual teachers
comes amiss, whilst they make others as bad as themselves. For it
is said, 'He who has lost all sense of shame, fears not to disgrace
another; 'and there is the proverb, 'A wild cat that devours its own
young is not likely to let a rat escape; ' therefore must thou too, O
young man! quit this seat of learning with all possible expedition."

The young man proceeded to justify himself by quotations from
the Lila-shastra, his text-book, by citing such lines as--

               Fortune favours folly and force,

and by advising the elderly professors to improve their skill in the
peace and war of love. But they drove him out with execrations.

As sagely and as solemnly did the Pandits and the Gurus reprove
the thief and the atheist, but they did not dispense the words of
wisdom in equal proportions. They warned the former that petty
larceny is punishable with fine, theft on a larger scale with
mutilation of the hand, and robbery, when detected in the act, with
loss of life[FN#130]; that for cutting purses, or for snatching them
out of a man's waistcloth,[FN#131] 'the first penalty is chopping
off the fingers, the second is the loss of the hand, and the third is
death. Then they call him a dishonour to the college, and they said,
"Thou art as a woman, the greatest of plunderers; other robbers
purloin property which is worthless, thou stealest the best; they
plunder in the night, thou in the day," and so forth. They told him
that he was a fellow who had read his Chauriya Vidya to more
purpose then his ritual.[FN#132] And they drove him from the
door as he in his shamelessness began to quote texts about the four
approved ways of housebreaking, namely, picking out burnt
bricks, cutting through unbaked bricks, throwing water on a mud
wall, and boring one of wood with a centre-bit.

But they spent six mortal hours in convicting the atheist, whose
abominations they refuted by every possible argumentation: by
inference, by comparison, and by sounds, by Sruti and Smriti, i.e.,
revelational and traditional, rational and evidential, physical and
metaphysical, analytical and synthetical, philosophical and
philological, historical, and so forth. But they found all their
endeavours vain. "For," it is said, "a man who has lost all shame,
who can talk without sense, and who tries to cheat his opponent,
will never get tired, and will never be put down." He declared that
a non-ad was far more probable than a monad (the active
principle), or the duad (the passive principle or matter.) He
compared their faith with a bubble in the water, of which we can
never predicate that it does exist or it does not. It is, he said,
unreal, as when the thirsty mistakes the meadow mist for a pool of
water. He proved the eternity of sound.[FN#133] He impudently
recounted and justified all the villanies of the Vamachari or
left-handed sects. He told them that they had taken up an ass's load
of religion, and had better apply to honest industry. He fell foul of
the gods; accused Yama of kicking his own mother, Indra of
tempting the wife of his spiritual guide, and Shiva of associating
with low women. Thus, he said, no one can respect them. Do not
we say when it thunders awfully, "the rascally gods are dying!"
And when it is too wet, "these villain gods are sending too much
rain"? Briefly, the young Brahman replied to and harangued them
all so impertinently, if not pertinently, that they, waxing angry, fell
upon him with their staves, and drove him out of assembly.

Then the four thriftless youths returned home to their father, who
in his just indignation had urged their disgrace upon the Pandits
and Gurus, otherwise these dignitaries would never have resorted
to such extreme measures with so distinguished a house. He took
the opportunity of turning them out upon the world, until such time
as they might be able to show substantial signs of reform. "For," he
said, "those who have read science in their boyhood, and who in
youth, agitated by evil passions, have remained in the insolence of
ignorance, feel regret in their old age, and are consumed by the fire
of avarice." In order to supply them with a motive for the task
proposed, he stopped their monthly allowance But he added, if
they would repair to the neighbouring university of Jayasthal, and
there show themselves something better than a disgrace to their
family, he would direct their maternal uncle to supply them with
all the necessaries of food and raiment.

In vain the youths attempted, with sighs and tears and threats of
suicide, to soften the paternal heart. He was inexorable, for two
reasons. In the first place, after wondering away the wonder with
which he regarded his own failure, he felt that a stigma now
attached to the name of the pious and learned Vishnu Swami,
whose lectures upon "Management during Teens," and whose
"Brahman Young Man's Own Book,'' had become standard works.
Secondly, from a sense of duty, he determined to omit nothing that
might tend to reclaim the reprobates. As regards the monthly
allowance being stopped, the reverend man had become every year
a little fonder of his purse; he had hoped that his sons would have
qualified themselves to take pupils, and thus achieve for
themselves, as he phrased it, "A genteel independence"; whilst
they openly derided the career, calling it "an admirable provision
for the more indigent members of the middle classes." For which
reason he referred them to their maternal uncle, a man of known
and remarkable penuriousness.

The four ne'er-do-weals, foreseeing what awaited them at
Jayasthal, deferred it as a last resource; determining first to see a
little life, and to push their way in the world, before condemning
themselves to the tribulations of reform.

They tried to live without a monthly allowance, and notably they
failed; it was squeezing, as men say, oil from sand. The gambler,
having no capital, and, worse still, no credit, lost two or three
suvernas[FN#134] at play, and could not pay them; in consequence
of which he was soundly beaten with iron-shod staves, and was
nearly compelled by the keeper of the hell to sell himself into
slavery. Thus he became disgusted; and telling his brethren that
they would find him at Jayasthal, he departed, with the intention of
studying wisdom.

A month afterwards came the libertine's turn to be disappointed.
He could no longer afford fine new clothes; even a well-washed
coat was beyond his means. He had reckoned upon his handsome
face, and he had matured a plan for laying various elderly
conquests under contribution. Judge, therefore, his disgust when
all the women-- high and low, rich and poor, old and young, ugly
and beautiful--seeing the end of his waistcloth thrown empty over
his shoulder, passed him in the streets without even deigning a
look. The very shopkeepers' wives, who once had adored his
mustachio and had never ceased talking of his "elegant" gait,
despised him; and the wealthy old person who formerly supplied
his small feet with the choicest slippers, left him to starve. Upon
which he also in a state of repentance, followed his brother to
acquire knowledge.

"Am I not," quoth the thief to himself, "a cat in climbing, a deer in
running, a snake in twisting, a hawk in pouncing, a dog in
scenting?--keen as a hare, tenacious as a wolf, strong as a lion?--a
lamp in the night, a horse on a plain, a mule on a stony path, a boat
in the water, a rock on land[FN#135]?" The reply to his own
questions was of course affirmative. But despite all these fine
qualities, and notwithstanding his scrupulous strictness in
invocating the house-breaking tool and in devoting a due portion
of his gains to the gods of plunder,[FN#136] he was caught in a
store-room by the proprietor, who inexorably handed him over to
justice. As he belonged to the priestly caste,[FN#137] the fine
imposed upon him was heavy. He could not pay it, and therefore
he was thrown into a dungeon, where he remained for some time.
But at last he escaped from jail, when he made his parting bow to
Kartikeya,[FN#138] stole a blanket from one of the guards, and set
out for Jayasthal, cursing his old profession.

The atheist also found himself in a position that deprived him of all
his pleasures. He delighted in afterdinner controversies, and in
bringing the light troops of his wit to bear upon the unwieldy
masses of lore and logic opposed to him by polemical Brahmans
who, out of respect for his father, did not lay an action against him
for overpowering them in theological disputation.[FN#139] In the
strange city to which he had removed no one knew the son of
Vishnu Swami, and no one cared to invite him to the house. Once
he attempted his usual trick upon a knot of sages who, sitting
round a tank, were recreating themselves with quoting mystical
Sanskrit shlokas[FN#140] of abominable long-windedness. The
result was his being obliged to ply his heels vigorously in flight
from the justly incensed literati, to whom he had said "tush" and
"pish," at least a dozen times in as many minutes. He therefore also
followed the example of his brethren, and started for Jayasthal
with all possible expedition.

Arrived at the house of their maternal uncle, the young men, as by
one assent, began to attempt the unloosening of his purse-strings.
Signally failing in this and in other notable schemes, they
determined to lay in that stock of facts and useful knowledge
which might reconcile them with their father, and restore them to
that happy life at Gaur which they then despised, and which now
brought tears into their eyes.

Then they debated with one another what they should study

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *

That branch of the preternatural, popularly called "white magic,"
found with them favour.

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *

They chose a Guru or teacher strictly according to the orders of
their faith, a wise man of honourable family and affable
demeanour, who was not a glutton nor leprous, nor blind of one
eye, nor blind of both eyes, nor very short, nor suffering from
whitlows,[FN#141] asthma, or other disease, nor noisy and
talkative, nor with any defect about the fingers and toes, nor
subject to his wife.

   *     *     *     *     *     *     * 

A grand discovery had been lately made by a certain
physiologico-philosophico- psychologico-materialist, a
Jayasthalian. In investigating the vestiges of creation, the cause of
causes, the effect of effects, and the original origin of that Matra
(matter) which some regard as an entity, others as a non-entity,
others self-existent, others merely specious and therefore
unexistent, he became convinced that the fundamental form of
organic being is a globule having another globule within itself
After inhabiting a garret and diving into the depths of his self-
consciousness for a few score years, he was able to produce such
complex globule in triturated and roasted flint by means of--I will
not say what. Happily for creation in general, the discovery died a
natural death some centuries ago. An edifying spectacle, indeed,
for the world to see; a cross old man sitting amongst his gallipots
and crucibles, creating animalculae, providing the corpses of birds,
beasts, and fishes with what is vulgarly called life, and supplying
to epigenesis all the latest improvements!

In those days the invention, being a novelty, engrossed the
thoughts of the universal learned, who were in a fever of
excitement about it. Some believed in it so implicity that they saw
in every experiment a hundred things which they did not see.
Others were so sceptical and contradictory that they would not
preceive what they did see. Those blended with each fact their own
deductions, whilst these span round every reality the web of their
own prejudices. Curious to say, the Jayasthalians, amongst whom
the luminous science arose, hailed it with delight, whilst the
Gaurians derided its claim to be considered an important addition
to human knowledge.

Let me try to remember a few of their words.

"Unfortunate human nature," wrote the wise of Gaur against the
wise of Jayasthal, "wanted no crowning indignity but this! You
had already proved that the body is made of the basest element--
earth. You had argued away the immovability, the ubiquity, the
permanency, the eternity, and the divinity of the soul, for is not
your favourite axiom, ' It is the nature of limbs which thinketh in
man'? The immortal mind is, according to you, an ignoble viscus;
the god-like gift of reason is the instinct of a dog somewhat highly
developed. Still you left us something to hope. Still you allowed us
one boast. Still life was a thread connecting us with the Giver of
Life. But now, with an impious hand, in blasphemous rage ye have
rent asunder that last frail tie." And so forth.

"Welcome! thrice welcome! this latest and most admirable
development of human wisdom," wrote the sage Jayasthalians
against the sage Gaurians, "which has assigned to man his proper
state and status and station in the magnificent scale of being. We
have not created the facts which we have investigated, and which
we now proudly publish. We have proved materialism to be
nature's own system. But our philosophy of matter cannot overturn
any truth, because, if erroneous, it will necessarily sink into
oblivion; if real, it will tend only to instruct and to enlighten the
world. Wise are ye in your generation, O ye sages of Gaur, yet
withal wondrous illogical." And much of this kind.

Concerning all which, mighty king! I, as a Vampire, have only to
remark that those two learned bodies, like your Rajaship's Nine
Gems of Science, were in the habit of talking most about what they
least understood.

The four young men applied the whole force of their talents to
mastering the difficulties of the life-giving process; and in due
time, their industry obtained its reward.

Then they determined to return home. As with beating hearts they
approached the old city, their birthplace, and gazed with moistened
eyes upon its tall spires and grim pagodas, its verdant meads and
venerable groves, they saw a Kanjar,[FN#142] who, having tied up
in a bundle the skin and bones of a tiger which he had found dead,
was about to go on his way. Then said the thief to the gambler,
"Take we these remains with us, and by means of them prove the
truth of our science before the people of Gaur, to the offence of
their noses.[FN#143]" Being now possessed of knowledge, they
resolved to apply it to its proper purpose, namely, power over the
property of others. Accordingly, the wencher, the gambler, and the
atheist kept the Kanjar in conversation whilst the thief vivified a
shank bone; and the bone thereupon stood upright, and hopped
about in so grotesque and wonderful a way that the man, being
frightened, fled as if I had been close behind him.

Vishnu Swami had lately written a very learned commentary on
the mystical words of Lokakshi:

"The Scriptures are at variance--the tradition is at variance. He
who gives a meaning of his own, quoting the Vedas, is no
philosopher.

"True philosophy, through ignorance, is concealed as in the
fissures of a rock.

"But the way of the Great One--that is to be followed."

And the success of his book had quite effaced from the Brahman
mind the holy man's failure in bringing up his children. He
followed up this by adding to his essay on education a twentieth
tome, containing recipes for the "Reformation of Prodigals."

The learned and reverend father received his sons with open arms.
He had heard from his brother-in-law that the youths were
qualified to support themselves, and when informed that they
wished to make a public experiment of their science, he exerted
himself, despite his disbelief in it, to forward their views.

The Pandits and Gurus were long before they would consent to
attend what they considered dealings with Yama (the Devil). In
consequence, however, of Vishnu Swami's name and importunity,
at length, on a certain day, all the pious, learned, and reverend
tutors, teachers, professors, prolocutors, pastors, spiritual fathers,
poets, philosophers, mathematicians, schoolmasters, pedagogues,
bear-leaders, institutors, gerund-grinders, preceptors, dominies,
brushers, coryphaei, dry-nurses, coaches, mentors, monitors,
lecturers, prelectors, fellows, and heads of houses at the university
at Gaur, met together in a large garden, where they usually
diverted themselves out of hours with ball-tossing,
pigeon-tumbling, and kite-flying.

Presently the four young men, carrying their bundle of bones and
the other requisites, stepped forward, walking slowly with eyes
downcast, like shrinking cattle: for it is said, the Brahman must not
run, even when it rains.

After pronouncing an impromptu speech, composed for them by
their father, and so stuffed with erudition that even the writer
hardly understood it, they announced their wish to prove, by ocular
demonstration, the truth of a science upon which their
short-sighted rivals of Jayasthal had cast cold water, but which,
they remarked in the eloquent peroration of their discourse, the
sages of Gaur had welcomed with that wise and catholic spirit of
inquiry which had ever characterized their distinguished body.

Huge words, involved sentences, and the high-flown compliment,
exceedingly undeserved, obscured, I suppose, the bright wits of the
intellectual convocation, which really began to think that their
liberality of opinion deserved all praise.

None objected to what was being prepared, except one of the heads
of houses; his appeal was generally scouted, because his Sanskrit
style was vulgarly intelligible, and he had the bad name of being a
practical man. The metaphysician Rashik Lall sneered to Vaiswata
the poet, who passed on the look to the theo-philosopher
Vardhaman. Haridatt the antiquarian whispered the metaphysician
Vasudeva, who burst into a loud laugh; whilst Narayan,
Jagasharma, and Devaswami, all very learned in the Vedas, opened
their eyes and stared at him with well-simulated astonishment. So
he, being offended, said nothing more, but arose and walked home.

A great crowd gathered round the four young men and their father,
as opening the bundle that contained the tiger's remains, they
prepared for their task.

One of the operators spread the bones upon the ground and fixed
each one into its proper socket, not forgetting even the teeth and
tusks.

The second connected, by means of a marvellous unguent, the
skeleton with the muscles and heart of an elephant, which he had
procured for the purpose.

The third drew from his pouch the brain and eyes of a large
tom-cat, which he carefully fitted into the animal's skull, and then
covered the body with the hide of a young rhinoceros.

Then the fourth--the atheist--who had been directing the operation,
produced a globule having another globule within itself. And as
the crowd pressed on them, craning their necks, breathless with
anxiety, he placed the Principle of Organic Life in the tiger's body
with such effect that the monster immediately heaved its chest,
breathed, agitated its limbs, opened its eyes, jumped to its feet,
shook itself, glared around, and began to gnash its teeth and lick its
chops, lashing the while its ribs with its tail.

The sages sprang back, and the beast sprang forward. With a roar
like thunder during Elephanta-time,[FN#144] it flew at the nearest
of the spectators, flung Vishnu Swami to the ground and clawed
his four sons. Then, not even stopping to drink their blood, it
hurried after the flying herd of wise men. Jostling and tumbling,
stumbling and catching at one another's long robes, they rushed in
hottest haste towards the garden gate. But the beast, having the
muscles of an elephant as well as the bones of a tiger, made a few
bounds of eighty or ninety feet each, easily distanced them, and
took away all chance of escape. To be brief: as the monster was
frightfully hungry after its long fast, and as the imprudent young
men had furnished it with admirable implements of destruction, it
did not cease its work till one hundred and twenty-one learned and
highly distinguished Pandits and Gurus lay upon the ground
chawed, clawed, sucked dry, and in most cases stone-dead.
Amongst them, I need hardly say, were the sage Vishnu Swami
and his four sons.

Having told this story the Vampire hung silent for a time. Presently
he resumed--

"Now, heed my words, Raja Vikram! I am about to ask thee,
Which of all those learned men was the most finished fool? The
answer is easily found, yet it must be distasteful to thee. Therefore
mortify thy vanity, as soon as possible, or I shall be talking, and
thou wilt be walking through this livelong night, to scanty purpose.
Remember! science without understanding is of little use; indeed,
understanding is superior to science, and those devoid of
understanding perish as did the persons who revivified the tiger.
Before this, I warned thee to beware of thyself, and of thine own
conceit. Here, then, is an opportunity for self-discipline--which of
all those learned men was the greatest fool?"

The warrior king mistook the kind of mortification imposed upon
him, and pondered over the uncomfortable nature of the reply--in
the presence of his son.

Again the Baital taunted him.

"The greatest fool of all," at last said Vikram, in slow and by no
means willing accents, "was the father. Is it not said, 'There is no
fool like an old fool'?"

"Gramercy!" cried the Vampire, bursting out into a discordant
laugh, "I now return to my tree. By this head! I never before heard
a father so readily condemn a father." With these words he
disappeared, slipping out of the bundle.

The Raja scolded his son a little for want of obedience, and said
that he had always thought more highly of his acuteness--never
could have believed that he would have been taken in by so
shallow a trick. Dharma Dhwaj answered not a word to this, but
promised to be wiser another time.

Then they returned to the tree, and did what they had so often done
before.

And, as before, the Baital held his tongue for a time. Presently he
began as follows.


        THE VAMPIRE'S EIGHTH STORY.

   Of the Use and Misuse of Magic Pills.

The lady Chandraprabha, daughter of the Raja Subichar, was a
particularly beautiful girl, and marriage-able withal. One day as
Vasanta, the Spring, began to assert its reign over the world,
animate and inanimate, she went accompanied by her young
friends and companions to stroll about her father's pleasure-garden.

The fair troop wandered through sombre groves, where the dark
tamale-tree entwined its branches with the pale green foliage of the
nim, and the pippal's domes of quivering leaves contrasted with the
columnar aisles of the banyan fig. They admired the old monarchs
of the forest, bearded to the waist with hangings of moss, the
flowing creepers delicately climbing from the lower branches to
the topmost shoots, and the cordage of llianas stretching from
trunk to trunk like bridges for the monkeys to pass over. Then they
issued into a clear space dotted with asokas bearing rich crimson
fiowers, cliterias of azure blue, madhavis exhibiting petals virgin
white as the snows on Himalaya, and jasmines raining showers of
perfumed blossoms upon the grateful earth. They could not
sufficiently praise the tall and graceful stem of the arrowy areca,
contrasting with the solid pyramid of the cypress, and the more
masculine stature of the palm. Now they lingered in the trellised
walks closely covered over with vines and creepers; then they
stopped to gather the golden bloom weighing down the mango
boughs, and to smell the highly-scented flowers that hung from the
green fretwork of the chambela.

It was spring, I have said. The air was still except when broken by
the hum of the large black bramra bee, as he plied his task amidst
the red and orange flowers of the dak, and by the gushings of many
waters that made music as they coursed down their stuccoed
channels between borders of many coloured poppies and beds of
various flowers. From time to time the dulcet note of the kokila
bird, and the hoarse plaint of the turtle-dove deep hid in her leafy
bower, attracted every ear and thrilled every heart. The south
wind--"breeze of the south,[FN#145] the friend of love and spring"
blew with a voluptuous warmth, for rain clouds canopied the earth,
and the breath of the narcissus, the rose, and the citron, teemed
with a languid fragrance.

The charms of the season affected all the damsels. They amused
themselves in their privacy with pelting blossoms at one another,
running races down the smooth broad alleys, mounting the silken
swings that hung between the orange trees, embracing one another,
and at times trying to push the butt of the party into the fishpond.
Perhaps the liveliest of all was the lady Chandraprabha, who on
account of her rank could pelt and push all the others, without fear
of being pelted and pushed in return.

It so happened, before the attendants had had time to secure
privacy for the princess and her women, that Manaswi, a very
handsome youth, a Brahman's son, had wandered without
malicious intention into the garden. Fatigued with walking, and
finding a cool shady place beneath a tree, he had lain down there,
and had gone to sleep, and had not been observed by any of the
king's people. He was still sleeping when the princess and her
companions were playing together.

Presently Chandraprabha, weary of sport, left her friends, and
singing a lively air, tripped up the stairs leading to the
summer-house. Aroused by the sound of her advancing footsteps,
Manaswi sat up; and the princess, seeing a strange man, started.
But their eyes had met, and both were subdued by love--love
vulgarly called "love at first sight."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the warrior king, testily, "I can never
believe in that freak of Kama Deva." He spoke feelingly, for the
thing had happened to himself more than once, and on no occasion
had it turned out well.

"But there is such a thing, O Raja, as love at first sight," objected
the Baital, speaking dogmatically.

"Then perhaps thou canst account for it, dead one," growled the
monarch surlily.

"I have no reason to do so, O Vikram," retorted the Vampire,
"when you men have already done it. Listen, then, to the words of
the wise. In the olden time, one of your great philosophers
invented a fluid pervading all matter, strongly self-repulsive like
the steam of a brass pot, and widely spreading like the breath of
scandal. The repulsiveness, however, according to that wise man,
is greatly modified by its second property, namely, an energetic
attraction or adhesion to all material bodies. Thus every substance
contains a part, more or less, of this fluid, pervading it throughout,
and strongly bound to each component atom. He called it
'Ambericity,' for the best of reasons, as it has no connection with
amber, and he described it as an imponderable, which, meaning
that it could not be weighed, gives a very accurate and satisfactory
idea of its nature.

"Now, said that philosopher, whenever two bodies containing that
unweighable substance in unequal proportions happen to meet, a
current of imponderable passes from one to the other, producing a
kind of attraction, and tending to adhere. The operation takes place
instantaneously when the force is strong and much condensed.
Thus the vulgar who call things after their effects and not from
their causes, term the action of this imponderable love at first
sight; the wise define it to be a phenomenon of ambericity. As
regards my own opinion about the matter, I have long ago told it to
you, O Vikram! Silliness--"

"Either hold your tongue, fellow, or go on with your story," cried
the Raja, wearied out by so many words that had no manner of
sense.

Well! the effect of the first glance was that Manaswi, the
Brahman's son, fell back in a swoon and remained senseless upon
the ground where he had been sitting; and the Raja's daughter
began to tremble upon her feet, and presently dropped unconscious
upon the floor of the summer-house. Shortly after this she was
found by her companions and attendants, who, quickly taking her
up in their arms and supporting her into a litter, conveyed her
home.

Manaswi, the Brahman's son, was so completely overcome, that he
lay there dead to everything. Just then the learned, deeply read, and
purblind Pandits Muldev and Shashi by name, strayed into the
garden, and stumbled upon the body.

"Friend," said Muldev, "how came this youth thus to fall senseless
on the ground?"

"Man," replied Shashi, "doubtless some damsel has shot forth the
arrows of her glances from the bow of her eyebrows, and thence he
has become insensible!"

"We must lift him up then," said Muldev the benevolent.

"What need is there to raise him?" asked Shashi the misanthrope
by way of reply.

Muldev, however, would not listen to these words. He ran to the
pond hard by, soaked the end of his waistcloth in water, sprinkled
it over the young Brahman, raised him from the ground, and
placed him sitting against the wall. And perceiving, when he came
to himself, that his sickness was rather of the soul than of the body,
the old men asked him how he came to be in that plight.

"We should tell our griefs," answered Manaswi, "only to those
who will relieve us! What is the use of communicating them to
those who, when they have heard, cannot help us? What is to be
gained by the empty pity or by the useless condolence of men in
general?"

The Pandits, however, by friendly looks and words, presently
persuaded him to break silence, when he said, "A certain princess
entered this summer-house, and from the sight of her I have fallen
into this state. If I can obtain her, I shall live; if not, I must die."

"Come with me, young man!" said Muldev the benevolent: "I will
use every endeavour to obtain her, and if I do not succeed I will
make thee wealthy and independent of the world."

Manaswi rejoined: "The Deity in his beneficence has created many
jewels in this world, but the pearl, woman, is chiefest of all; and
for her sake only does man desire wealth. What are riches to one
who has abandoned his wife? What are they who do not possess
beautiful wives? they are but beings inferior to the beasts! wealth
is the fruit of virtue; ease, of wealth; a wife, of ease. And where no
wife is, how can there be happiness?" And the enamoured youth
rambled on in this way, curious to us, Raja Vikram, but perhaps
natural enough in a Brahman's son suffering under that endemic
malady--determination to marry.

"Whatever thou mayest desire," said Muldev, "shall by the
blessing of heaven be given to thee."

Manaswi implored him, saying most pathetically, ''O Pandit,
bestow then that damsel upon me!"

Muldev promised to do so, and having comforted the youth, led
him to his own house. Then he welcomed him politely, seated him
upon the carpet, and left him for a few minutes, promising him to
return. When he reappeared, he held in his hand two little balls or
pills, and showing them to Manaswi, he explained their virtues as
follows:

"There is in our house an hereditary secret, by means of which I
try to promote the weal of humanity. But in all cases my success
depends mainly upon the purity and the heartwholeness of those
that seek my aid. If thou place this in thy mouth, thou shalt be
changed into a damsel twelve years old, and when thou
withdrawest it again, thou shalt again recover thine original form.
Beware, however, that thou use the power for none but a good
purpose; otherwise some great calamity will befall thee. Therefore,
take counsel of thyself before undertaking this trial!"

What lover, O warrior king Vikram, would have hesitated, under
such circumstances, to assure the Pandit that he was the most
innocent, earnest, and well-intentioned being in the Three Worlds?

The Brahman's son, at least, lost no time in so doing. Hence the
simple-minded philosopher put one of the pills into the young
man's mouth, warning him on no account to swallow it, and took
the other into his own mouth. Upon which Manaswi became a
sprightly young maid, and Muldev was changed to a reverend and
decrepid senior, not fewer than eighty years old.

Thus transformed, the twain walked up to the palace of the Raja
Subichar, and stood for a while to admire the gate. Then passing
through seven courts, beautiful as the Paradise of Indra, they
entered, unannounced, as became the priestly dignity, a hall where,
surrounded by his courtiers, sat the ruler. The latter, seeing the
Holy Brahman under his roof, rose up, made the customary
humble salutation, and taking their right hands, led what appeared
to be the father and daughter to appropriate seats. Upon which
Muldev, having recited a verse, bestowed upon the Raja a blessing
whose beauty has been diffused over all creation.

"May that Deity[FN#146] who as a mannikin deceived the great
king Bali; who as a hero, with a monkey-host, bridged the Salt
Sea; who as a shepherd lifted up the mountain Gobarddhan in the
palm of his hand, and by it saved the cowherds and cowherdesses
from the thunders of heaven--may that Deity be thy protector!"

Having heard and marvelled at this display of eloquence, the Raja
inquired, "Whence hath your holiness come?"

"My country," replied Muldev, "is on the northern side of the great
mother Ganges, and there too my dwelling is. I travelled to a
distant land, and having found in this maiden a worthy wife for my
son, I straightway returned homewards. Meanwhile a famine had
laid waste our village, and my wife and my son have fled I know
not where. Encumbered with this damsel, how can I wander about
seeking them? Hearing the name of a pious and generous ruler, I
said to myself, ' I will leave her under his charge until my return.'
Be pleased to take great care of her."

For a minute the Raja sat thoughtful and silent. He was highly
pleased with the Brahman's perfect compliment. But he could not
hide from himself that he was placed between two difficulties: one,
the charge of a beautiful young girl, with pouting lips, soft speech,
and roguish eyes; the other, a priestly curse upon himself and his
kingdom. He thought, however, refusal the more dangerous; so he
raised his face and exclaimed, "O produce of Brahma's
head,[FN#147] I will do what your highness has desired of me."

Upon which the Brahman, after delivering a benediction of adieu
almost as beautiful and spirit-stirring as that with which he had
presented himself, took the betel[FN#148] and went his ways.

Then the Raja sent for his daughter Chandraprabha and said to her,
"This is the affianced bride of a young Brahman, and she has been
trusted to my protection for a time by her father-in-law. Take her
therefore into the inner rooms, treat her with the utmost regard,
and never allow her to be separated from thee, day or night, asleep
or awake, eating or drinking, at home or abroad."

Chandraprabha took the hand of Sita--as Manaswi had pleased to
call himself--and led the way to her own apartment. Once the seat
of joy and pleasure, the rooms now wore a desolate and
melancholy look. The windows were darkened, the attendants
moved noiselessly over the carpets, as if their footsteps would
cause headache, and there was a faint scent of some drug much
used in cases of deliquium. The apartments were handsome, but
the only ornament in the room where they sat was a large bunch of
withered flowers in an arched recess, and these, though possibly
interesting to some one, were not likely to find favour as a
decoration in the eyes of everybody.

The Raja's daughter paid the greatest attention and talked with
unusual vivacity to the Brahman's daughter-in-law, either because
she had roguish eyes, or from some presentiment of what was to
occur, whichever you please, Raja Vikram, and it is no matter
which. Still Sita could not help perceiving that there was a shade
of sorrow upon the forehead of her fair new friend, and so when
they retired to rest she asked the cause of it.

Then Chandraprabha related to her the sad tale: "One day in the
spring season, as I was strolling in the garden along with my
companions, I beheld a very handsome Brahman, and our eyes
having met, he became unconscious, and I also was insensible. My
companions seeing my condition, brought me home, and therefore
I know neither his name nor his abode. His beautiful form is
impressed upon my memory. I have now no desire to eat or to
drink, and from this distress my colour has become pale and my
body is thus emaciated." And the beautiful princess sighed a sigh
that was musical and melancholy, and concluded by predicting for
herself--as persons similarly placed often do--a sudden and
untimely end about the beginning of the next month.

"What wilt thou give me," asked the Brahman's daughter-in-law
demurely, "if I show thee thy beloved at this very moment?"

The Raja's daughter answered, "I will ever be the lowest of thy
slaves, standing before thee with joined hands."

Upon which Sita removed the pill from her mouth, and instantly
having become Manaswi, put it carefully away in a little bag hung
round his neck. At this sight Chandraprabha felt abashed, and hung
down her head in beautiful confusion. To describe--

"I will have no descriptions, Vampire!" cried the great Vikram,
jerking the bag up and down as if he were sweating gold in it. "The
fewer of thy descriptions the better for us all."

Briefly (resumed the demon), Manaswi reflected upon the eight
forms of marriage--viz., Bramhalagan, when a girl is given to a
Brahman, or man of superior caste, without reward; Daiva, when
she is presented as a gift or fee to the officiating priest at the close
of a sacrifice; Arsha, when two cows are received by the girl's
father in exchange for the bride[FN#149]; Prajapatya, when the
girl is given at the request of a Brahman, and the father says to his
daughter and her to betrothed, "Go, fulfil the duties of religion";
Asura, when money is received by the father in exchange for the
bride; Rakshasha, when she is captured in war, or when her
bridegroom overcomes his rival; Paisacha, when the girl is taken
away from her father's house by craft; and eighthly,
Gandharva-lagan, or the marriage that takes place by mutual
consent.[FN#150]

Manaswi preferred the latter, especially as by her rank and age the
princess was entitled to call upon her father for the Lakshmi
Swayambara wedding, in which she would have chosen her own
husband. And thus it is that Rama, Arjuna, Krishna, Nala, and
others, were proposed to by the princesses whom they married.

For five months after these nuptials, Manaswi never stirred out of
the palace, but remained there by day a woman, and a man by
night. The consequence was that he--I call him "he," for whether
Manaswi or Sita, his mind ever remained masculine--presently
found himself in a fair way to become a father.

Now, one would imagine that a change of sex every twenty-four
hours would be variety enough to satisfy even a man. Manaswi,
however, was not contented. He began to pine for more liberty,
and to find fault with his wife for not taking him out into the
world. And you might have supposed that a young person who,
from love at first sight, had fallen senseless upon the steps of a
summer-house, and who had devoted herself to a sudden and
untimely end because she was separated from her lover, would
have repressed her yawns and little irritable words even for a year
after having converted him into a husband. But no! Chandraprabha
soon felt as tired of seeing Manaswi and nothing but Manaswi, as
Manaswi was weary of seeing Chandraprabha and nothing but
Chandraprabha. Often she had been on the point of proposing
visits and out-of-door excursions. But when at last the idea was
first suggested by her husband, she at once became an injured
woman. She hinted how foolish it was for married people to
imprison themselves and to quarrel all day. When Manaswi
remonstrated, saying that he wanted nothing better than to appear
before the world with her as his wife, but that he really did not
know what her father might do to him, she threw out a cutting
sarcasm upon his effeminate appearance during the hours of light.
She then told him of an unfortunate young woman in an old
nursery tale who had unconsciously married a fiend that became a
fine handsome man at night when no eye could see him, and utter
ugliness by day when good looks show to advantage. And lastly,
when inveighing against the changeableness, fickleness, and
infidelity of mankind, she quoted the words of the poet--

               Out upon change! it tires the heart
                      And weighs the noble spirit down;
               A vain, vain world indeed thou art
                      That can such vile condition own
               The veil hath fallen from my eyes,
                      I cannot love where I despise....

You can easily, O King Vikram, continue for yourself and
conclude this lecture, which I leave unfinished on account of its
length.

Chandraprabha and Sita, who called each other the Zodiacal Twins
and Laughter Light,[FN#151] and All-consenters, easily persuaded
the old Raja that their health would be further improved by air,
exercise, and distractions. Subichar, being delighted with the
change that had taken place in a daughter whom he loved, and
whom he had feared to lose, told them to do as they pleased. They
began a new life, in which short trips and visits, baths and dances,
music parties, drives in bullock chariots, and water excursions
succeeded one another.

It so happened that one day the Raja went with his whole family to
a wedding feast in the house of his grand treasurer, where the
latter's son saw Manaswi in the beautiful shape of Sita. This was a
third case of love at first sight, for the young man immediately said
to a particular friend, "If I obtain that girl, I shall live; if not, I shall
abandon life."

In the meantime the king, having enjoyed the feast, came back to
his palace with his whole family. The condition of the treasurer's
son, however, became very distressing; and through separation
from his beloved, he gave up eating and drinking. The particular
friend had kept the secret for some days, though burning to tell it.
At length he found an excuse for himself in the sad state of his
friend, and he immediately went and divulged all that he knew to
the treasurer. After this he felt relieved.

The minister repaired to the court, and laid his case before the
king, saying, "Great Raja! through the love of that Brahman's
daughter-in-law, my son's state is very bad; he has given up eating
and drinking; in fact he is consumed by the fire of separation. If
now your majesty could show compassion, and bestow the girl
upon him, his life would be saved. If not----"

"Fool!" cried the Raja, who, hearing these words, had waxed very
wroth; "it is not right for kings to do injustice. Listen! when a
person puts any one in charge of a protector, how can the latter
give away his trust without consulting the person that trusted him?
And yet this is what you wish me to do."

The treasurer knew that the Raja could not govern his realm
without him, and he was well acquainted with his master's
character. He said to himself, "This will not last long;" but he
remained dumb, simulating hopelessness, and hanging down his
head, whilst Subichar alternately scolded and coaxed, abused and
flattered him, in order to open his lips. Then, with tears in his eyes,
he muttered a request to take leave; and as he passed through the
palace gates, he said aloud, with a resolute air, "It will cost me but
ten days of fasting!"

The treasurer, having returned home, collected all his attendants,
and went straightway to his son's room. Seeing the youth still
stretched upon his sleeping-mat, and very yellow for the want of
food. he took his hand, and said in a whisper, meant to be audible,
"Alas! poor son, I can do nothing but perish with thee."

The servants, hearing this threat, slipped one by one out of the
room, and each went to tell his friend that the grand treasurer had
resolved to live no longer. After which, they went back to the
house to see if their master intended to keep his word, and curious
to know, if he did intend to die, how, where, and when it was to be.
And they were not disappointed: I do not mean that the wished
their lord to die, as he was a good master to them but still there
was an excitement in the thing----

(Raja Vikram could not refrain from showing his anger at the
insult thus cast by the Baital upon human nature; the wretch,
however, pretending not to notice it, went on without interrupting
himself)

----which somehow or other pleased them.

When the treasurer had spent three days without touching bread or
water, all the cabinet council met and determined to retire from
business unless the Raja yielded to their solicitations. The treasurer
was their working man. "Besides which," said the cabinet council,
"if a certain person gets into the habit of refusing us, what is to be
the end of it, and what is the use of being cabinet councillors any
longer?"

Early on the next morning, the ministers went in a body before the
Raja, and humbly represented that "the treasurer's son is at the
point of death, the effect of a full heart and an empty stomach.
Should he die, the father, who has not eaten or drunk during the
last three days" (the Raja trembled to hear the intelligence, though
he knew it), "his father, we say, cannot be saved. If the father dies
the affairs of the kingdom come to ruin,--is he not the grand
treasurer? It is already said that half the accounts have been
gnawed by white ants, and that some pernicious substance in the
ink has eaten jagged holes through the paper, so that the other half
of the accounts is illegible. It were best, sire, that you agree to
what we represent."

The white ants and corrosive ink were too strong for the Raja's
determination. Still, wishing to save appearances, he replied, with
much firmness, that he knew the value of the treasurer and his son,
that he would do much to save them, but that he had passed his
royal word, and had undertaken a trust. That he would rather die a
dozen deaths than break his promise, or not discharge his duty
faithfully. That man's condition in this world is to depart from it,
none remaining in it; that one comes and that one goes, none
knowing when or where; but that eternity is eternity for happiness
or misery. And much of the same nature, not very novel, and not
perhaps quite to the purpose, but edifying to those who knew what
lay behind the speaker's words.

The ministers did not know their lord's character so well as the
grand treasurer, and they were more impressed by his firm
demeanour and the number of his words than he wished them to
be. After allowing his speech to settle in their minds, he did away
with a great part of its effect by declaring that such were the
sentiments and the principles--when a man talks of his principles,
O Vikram! ask thyself the reason why--instilled into his youthful
mind by the most honourable of fathers and the most virtuous of
mothers. At the same time that he was by no means obstinate or
proof against conviction. In token whereof he graciously permitted
the councillors to convince him that it was his royal duty to break
his word and betray his trust, and to give away another man's wife.

Pray do not lose your temper, O warrior king! Subichar, although a
Raja, was a weak man; and you know, or you ought to know, that
the wicked may be wise in their generation, but the weak never
can.

Well, the ministers hearing their lord's last words, took courage,
and proceeded to work upon his mind by the figure of speech
popularly called "rigmarole." They said: "Great king! that old
Brahman has been gone many days, and has not returned; he is
probably dead and burnt. It is therefore right that by giving to the
grand treasurer's son his daughter-in-law, who is only affianced,
not fairly married, you should establish your government firmly.
And even if he should return, bestow villages and wealth upon
him; and if he be not then content, provide another and a more
beautiful wife for his son, and dismiss him. A person should be
sacrificed for the sake of a family, a family for a city, a city for a
country, and a country for a king!"

Subichar having heard them, dismissed them with the remark that
as so much was to be said on both sides, he must employ the night
in thinking over the matter, and that he would on the next day
favour them with his decision. The cabinet councillors knew by
this that he meant that he would go and consult his wives. They
retired contented, convinced that every voice would be in favour of
a wedding, and that the young girl, with so good an offer, would
not sacrifice the present to the future.

That evening the treasurer and his son supped together.

The first words uttered by Raja Subichar, when he entered his
daughter's apartment, were an order addressed to Sita: "Go thou at
once to the house of my treasurer's son."

Now, as Chandraprabha and Manaswi were generally scolding
each other, Chandraprabha and Sita were hardly on speaking
terms. When they heard the Raja's order for their separation they
were--

--"Delighted?" cried Dharma Dhwaj, who for some reason took the
greatest interest in the narrative.

"Overwhelmed with grief, thou most guileless Yuva Raja (young
prince)!" ejaculated the Vampire.

Raja Vikram reproved his son for talking about thing of which he
knew nothing, and the Baital resumed.

They turned pale and wept, and they wrung their hands, and they
begged and argued and refused obedience. In fact they did
everything to make the king revoke his order.

"The virtue of a woman," quoth Sita, "is destroyed through too
much beauty; the religion of a Brahman is impaired by serving
kings; a cow is spoiled by distant pasturage, wealth is lost by
committing injustice, and prosperity departs from the house where
promises are not kept."

The Raja highly applauded the sentiment, but was firm as a rock
upon the subject of Sita marrying the treasurer's son.

Chandraprabha observed that her royal father, usually so
conscientious, must now be acting from interested motives, and
that when selfishness sways a man, right becomes left and left
becomes right, as in the reflection of a mirror.

Subichar approved of the comparison; he was not quite so
resolved, but he showed no symptoms of changing his mind.

Then the Brahman's daughter-in-law, with the view of gaining
time--a famous stratagem amongst feminines--said to the Raja:
"Great king, if you are determined upon giving me to the grand
treasurer's son, exact from him the promise that he will do what I
bid him. Only on this condition will I ever enter his house!"

"Speak, then," asked the king; "what will he have to do?"

She replied, "I am of the Brahman or priestly caste, he is the son of
a Kshatriya or warrior: the law directs that before we twain can
wed, he should perform Yatra (pilgrimage) to all the holy places."

"Thou hast spoken Veda-truth, girl," answered the Raja, not sorry
to have found so good a pretext for temporizing, and at the same
time to preserve his character for firmness, resolution,
determination.

That night Manaswi and Chandraprabha, instead of scolding each
other, congratulated themselves upon having escaped an imminent
danger--which they did not escape.

In the morning Subichar sent for his ministers, including his grand
treasurer and his love-sick son, and told them how well and wisely
the Brahman's daughter-in-law had spoken upon the subject of the
marriage. All of them approved of the condition; but the young
man ventured to suggest, that while he was a-pilgrimaging the
maiden should reside under his father's roof. As he and his father
showed a disposition to continue their fasts in case of the small
favour not being granted, the Raja, though very loath to separate
his beloved daughter and her dear friend, was driven to do it. And
Sita was carried off, weeping bitterly, to the treasurer's palace.
That dignitary solemnly committed her to the charge of his third
and youngest wife, the lady Subhagya-Sundari, who was about her
own age, and said, "You must both live together, without any kind
of wrangling or contention, and do not go into other people's
houses." And the grand treasurer's son went off to perform his
pilgrimages.

It is no less sad than true, Raja Vikram, that in less than six days
the disconsolate Sita waxed weary of being Sita, took the ball out
of her mouth, and became Manaswi. Alas for the infidelity of
mankind! But it is gratifying to reflect that he met with the
punishment with which the Pandit Muldev had threatened him.
One night the magic pill slipped down his throat. When morning
dawned, being unable to change himself into Sita, Manaswi was
obliged to escape through a window from the lady
Subhagya-Sundari's room. He sprained his ankle with the leap, and
he lay for a time upon the ground--where I leave him whilst
convenient to me.

When Muldev quitted the presence of Subichar, he resumed his old
shape, and returning to his brother Pandit Shashi, told him what he
had done. Whereupon Shashi, the misanthrope, looked black, and
used hard words and told his friend that good nature and
soft-heartedness had caused him to commit a very bad action--a
grievous sin. Incensed at this charge, the philanthropic Muldev
became angry, and said, "I have warned the youth about his purity;
what harm can come of it?"

"Thou hast," retorted Shashi, with irritating coolness, "placed a
sharp weapon in a fool's hand."

"I have not," cried Muldev, indignantly.

"Therefore," drawled the malevolent, "you are answerable for all
the mischief he does with it, and mischief assuredly he will do."

"He will not, by Brahma!" exclaimed Muldev.

"He will, by Vishnu!" said Shashi, with an amiability produced by
having completely upset his friend's temper; "and if within the
coming six months he does not disgrace himself, thou shalt have
the whole of my book-case; but if he does, the philanthropic
Muldev will use all his skill and ingenuity in procuring the
daughter of Raja Subichar as a wife for his faithful friend Shashi."

Having made this covenant, they both agreed not to speak of the
matter till the autumn.

The appointed time drawing near, the Pandits began to make
inquiries about the effect of the magic pills. Presently they found
out that Sita, alias Manaswi, had one night mysteriously
disappeared from the grand treasurer's house, and had not been
heard of since that time. This, together with certain other things
that transpired presently, convinced Muldev, who had cooled down
in six months, that his friend had won the wager. He prepared to
make honourable payment by handing a pill to old Shashi, who at
once became a stout, handsome young Brahman, some twenty
years old. Next putting a pill into his own mouth, he resumed the
shape and form under which he had first appeared before Raja
Subichar; and, leaning upon his staff, he led the way to the palace.

The king, in great confusion, at once recognized the old priest, and
guessed the errand upon which he and the youth were come.
However, he saluted them, and offered them seats, and receiving
their blessings, he began to make inquiries about their health and
welfare. At last he mustered courage to ask the old Brahman where
he had been living for so long a time.

"Great king," replied the priest, "I went to seek after my son, and
having found him, I bring him to your majesty. Give him his wife,
and I will take them both home with me.''

Raja Subichar prevaricated not a little; but presently, being hard
pushed, he related everything that had happened.

"What is this that you have done?" cried Muldev, simulating
excessive anger and astonishment. "Why have you given my son's
wife in marriage to another man? You have done what you wished,
and now, therefore, receive my Shrap (curse)!"

The poor Raja, in great trepidation, said, "O Vivinity! be not thus
angry! I will do whatever you bid me."

Said Muldev, "If through dread of my excommunication you will
freely give whatever I demand of you, then marry your daughter,
Chandraprabha, to this my son. On this condition I forgive you. To
me, now a necklace of pearls and a venomous krishna (cobra
capella); the most powerful enemy and the kindest friend, the most
precious gem and a clod of earth; the softest bed and the hardest
stone; a blade of grass and the loveliest woman--are precisely the
same. All I desire is that in some holy place, repeating the name of
God, I may soon end my days."

Subichar, terrified by this additional show of sanctity, at once
summoned an astrologer, and fixed upon the auspicious moment
and lunar influence. He did not consult the princess, and had he
done so she would not have resisted his wishes. Chandraprabha
had heard of Sita's escape from the treasurer's house, and she had
on the subject her own suspicions. Besides which she looked
forward to a certain event, and she was by no means sure that her
royal father approved of the Gandharba form of marriage--at least
for his daughter. Thus the Brahman's son receiving in due time the
princess and her dowry, took leave of the king and returned to his
own village.

Hardly, however, had Chandraprabha been married to Shashi the
Pandit, when Manaswi went to him, and began to wrangle, and
said, "Give me my wife!" He had recovered from the effects of his
fall, and having lost her he therefore loved her--very dearly.

But Shashi proved by reference to the astrologers, priests, and ten
persons as witnesses, that he had duly wedded her, and brought her
to his home; "therefore," said he, "she is my spouse."

Manaswi swore by all holy things that he had been legally married
to her, and that he was the father of her child that was about to be.
"How then," continued he, "can she be thy spouse?" He would
have summoned Muldev as a witness, but that worthy, after
remonstrating with him, disappeared. He called upon
Chandraprabha to confirm his statement, but she put on an
innocent face, and indignantly denied ever having seen the man.

Still, continued the Baital, many people believed Manaswi's story,
as it was marvellous and incredible. Even to the present day, there
are many who decidedly think him legally married to the daughter
of Raja Subichar.

"Then they are pestilent fellows!" cried the warrior king Vikram,
who hated nothing more than clandestine and runaway matches.
"No one knew that the villain, Manaswi, was the father of her
child; whereas, the Pandit Shashi married her lawfully, before
witnesses, and with all the ceremonies.[FN#152] She therefore
remains his wife, and the child will perform the funeral obsequies
for him, and offer water to the manes of his pitris (ancestors). At
least, so say law and justice."

"Which justice is often unjust enough!" cried the Vampire; "and
ply thy legs, mighty Raja; let me see if thou canst reach the
sires-tree before I do."

      *     *     *     *     *     *

"The next story, O Raja Vikram, is remarkably interesting."


         THE VAMPIRE'S NINTH STORY.
                      
Showing That a Man's Wife Belongs Not to His Body but to His
                   Head.

Far and wide through the lovely land overrun by the Arya from the
Western Highlands spread the fame of Unmadini, the beautiful
daughter of Haridas the Brahman. In the numberless odes, sonnets,
and acrostics addressed to her by a hundred Pandits and poets her
charms were sung with prodigious triteness. Her presence was
compared to light shining in a dark house; her face to the full
moon; her complexion to the yellow champaka flower; her curls to
female snakes; her eyes to those of the deer; her eyebrows to bent
bows; her teeth to strings of little opals; her feet to rubies and red
gems,[FN#153] and her gait to that of the wild goose. And none
forgot to say that her voice affected the author like the song of the
kokila bird, sounding from the shadowy brake, when the breeze
blows coolly, or that the fairy beings of Indra's heaven would have
shrunk away abashed at her loveliness.

But, Raja Vikram! all the poets failed to win the fair Unmadini's
love. To praise the beauty of a beauty is not to praise her. Extol her
wit and talents, which has the zest of novelty, then you may
succeed. For the same reason, read inversely, the plainer and
cleverer is the bosom you would fire, the more personal you must
be upon the subject of its grace and loveliness. Flattery you know,
is ever the match which kindles the Flame of love. True it is that
some by roughness of demeanour and bluntness in speech,
contrasting with those whom they call the "herd," have the art to
succeed in the service of the bodyless god.[FN#154] But even they
must--

The young prince Dharma Dhwaj could not help laughing at the
thought of how this must sound in his father's ear. And the Raja
hearing the ill-timed merriment, sternly ordered the Baital to cease
his immoralities and to continue his story.

Thus the lovely Unmadini, conceiving an extreme contempt for
poets and literati, one day told her father who greatly loved her,
that her husband must be a fine young man who never wrote
verses. Withal she insisted strongly on mental qualities and
science, being a person of moderate mind and an adorer of talent--
when not perverted to poetry.

As you may imagine, Raja Vikram, all the beauty's bosom friends,
seeing her refuse so many good offers, confidently predicted that
she would pass through the jungle and content herself with a bad
stick, or that she would lead ring-tailed apes in Patala.

At length when some time had elapsed, four suitors appeared from
four different countries, all of them claiming equal excellence in
youth and beauty, strength and understanding. And after paying
their respects to Haridas, and telling him their wishes, they were
directed to come early on the next morning and to enter upon the
first ordeal--an intellectual conversation.

This they did.

"Foolish the man," quoth the young Mahasani, "that seeks
permanence in this world--frail as the stem of the plantain-tree,
transient as the ocean foam.

"All that is high shall presently fall; all that is low must finally
perish.

"Unwillingly do the manes of the dead taste the tears shed by their
kinsmen: then wail not, but perform the funeral obsequies with
diligence."

"What ill-omened fellow is this?" quoth the fair Unmadini, who
was sitting behind her curtain;" besides, he has dared to quote
poetry! "There was little chance of success for that suitor.

"She is called a good woman, and a woman of pure descent,"
quoth the second suitor, "who serves him to whom her father and
mother have given her; and it is written in the scriptures that a
woman who in the lifetime of her husband, becoming a devotee,
engages in fasting, and in austere devotion, shortens his days, and
hereafter falls into the fire. For it is said--

               "A woman's bliss is found not in the smile
                Of father, mother, friend, nor in herself;
                Her husband is her only portion here,
                Her heaven hereafter."

The word "serve," which might mean "obey," was peculiarly
disagreeable to the fair one's ears, and she did not admire the check
so soon placed upon her devotion, or the decided language and
manner of the youth. She therefore mentally resolved never again
to see that person, whom she determined to be stupid as an
elephant.

"A mother," said Gunakar, the third candidate, "protects her son in
babyhood, and a father when his offspring is growing up. But the
man of warrior descent defends his brethren at all times. Such is
the custom of the world, and such is my state. I dwell on the heads
of the strong!"

Therefore those assembled together looked with great respect upon
the man of valour.

Devasharma, the fourth suitor, contented himself with listening to
the others, who fancied that he was overawed by their cleverness.
And when it came to his turn he simply remarked, "Silence is
better than speech." Being further pressed, he said, "A wise man
will not proclaim his age, nor a deception practiced upon himself,
nor his riches, nor the loss of riches, nor family faults, nor
incantations, nor conjugal love, nor medicinal prescriptions, nor
religious duties, nor gifts, nor reproach, nor the infidelity of his
wife."

Thus ended the first trial. The master of the house dismissed the
two former speakers, with many polite expressions and some
trifling presents. Then having given betel to them, scented their
garments with attar, and sprinkled rose-water over their heads, he
accompanied them to the door, showing much regret. The two
latter speakers he begged to come on the next day.

Gunakar and Devasharma did not fail. When they entered the
assembly-room and took the seats pointed out to them, the father
said, "Be ye pleased to explain and make manifest the effects of
your mental qualities. So shall I judge of them."

"I have made," said Gunakar, "a four-wheeled carriage, in which
the power resides to carry you in a moment wherever you may
purpose to go."

"I have such power over the angel of death," said Devasharma,
"that I can at all times raise a corpse, and enable my friends to do
the same."

Now tell me by thy brains, O warrior King Vikram, which of these
two youths was the fitter husband for the maid?

Either the Raja could not answer the question, or perhaps he would
not, being determined to break the spell which had already kept
him walking to and fro for so many hours. Then the Baital, who
had paused to let his royal carrier commit himself, seeing that the
attempt had failed, proceeded without making any further
comment.

The beautiful Unmadini was brought out, but she hung down her
head and made no reply. Yet she took care to move both her eyes
in the direction of Devasharma. Whereupon Haridas, quoting the
proverb that "pearls string with pearls," formally betrothed to him
his daughter.
The soldier suitor twisted the ends of his mustachios into his eyes,
which were red with wrath, and fumbled with his fingers about the
hilt of his sword. But he was a man of noble birth, and presently
his anger passed away.

Mahasani the poet, however, being a shameless person--and when
can we be safe from such?--forced himself into the assembly and
began to rage and to storm, and to quote proverbs in a loud tone of
voice. He remarked that in this world women are a mine of grief, a
poisonous root, the abode of solicitude, the destroyers of
resolution, the occasioners of fascination, and the plunderers of all
virtuous qualities. From the daughter he passed to the father, and
after saying hard things of him as a "Maha-Brahman,"[FN#155]
who took cows and gold and worshipped a monkey, he fell with a
sweeping censure upon all priests and sons of priests, more
especially Devasharma. As the bystanders remonstrated with him,
he became more violent, and when Haridas, who was a weak man,
appeared terrified by his voice, look, and gesture, he swore a
solemn oath that despite all the betrothals in the world, unless
Unmadini became his wife he would commit suicide, and as a
demon haunt the house and injure the inmates.

Gunakar the soldier exhorted this shameless poet to slay himself at
once, and to go where he pleased. But as Haridas reproved the
warrior for inhumanity, Mahasani nerved by spite, love, rage, and
perversity to an heroic death, drew a noose from his bosom, rushed
out of the house, and suspended himself to the nearest tree.

And, true enough, as the midnight gong struck, he appeared in the
form of a gigantic and malignant Rakshasa (fiend), dreadfully
frightened the household of Haridas, and carried off the lovely
Unmadini, leaving word that she was to he found on the topmost
peak of Himalaya.

The unhappy father hastened to the house where Devasharma
lived. There, weeping bitterly and wringing his hands in despair,
he told the terrible tale, and besought his intended son-in-law to be
up and doing.

The young Brahman at once sought his late rival, and asked his
aid. This the soldier granted at once, although he had been nettled
at being conquered in love by a priestling.

The carriage was at once made ready, and the suitors set out,
bidding the father be of good cheer, and that before sunset he
should embrace his daughter. They then entered the vehicle;
Gunakar with cabalistic words caused it to rise high in the air, and
Devasharma put to flight the demon by reciting the sacred
verse,[FN#156] "Let us meditate on the supreme splendour (or
adorable light) of that Divine Ruler (the sun) who may illuminate
our understandings. Venerable men, guided by the intelligence,
salute the divine sun (Sarvitri) with oblations and praise. Om!"

Then they returned with the girl to the house, and Haridas blessed
them, praising the sun aloud in the joy of his heart. Lest other
accidents might happen, he chose an auspicious planetary
conjunction, and at a fortunate moment rubbed turmeric upon his
daughter's hands.

The wedding was splendid, and broke the hearts of twenty-four
rivals. In due time Devasharma asked leave from his father-in-law
to revisit his home, and to carry with him his bride. This request
being granted, he set out accompanied by Gunakar the soldier, who
swore not to leave the couple before seeing them safe under their
own roof-tree.

It so happened that their road lay over the summits of the wild
Vindhya hills, where dangers of all kinds are as thick as shells
upon the shore of the deep. Here were rocks and jagged precipices
making the traveller's brain whirl when he looked into them. There
impetuous torrents roared and flashed down their beds of black
stone, threatening destruction to those who would cross them. Now
the path was lost in the matted thorny underwood and the pitchy
shades of the jungle, deep and dark as the valley of death. Then the
thunder-cloud licked the earth with its fiery tongue, and its voice
shook the crags and filled their hollow caves. At times, the sun was
so hot, that wild birds fell dead from the air. And at every moment
the wayfarers heard the trumpeting of giant elephants, the fierce
howling of the tiger, the grisly laugh of the foul hyaena, and the
whimpering of the wild dogs as they coursed by on the tracks of
their prey.

Yet, sustained by the five-armed god[FN#157] the little party
passed safely through all these dangers. They had almost emerged
from the damp glooms of the forest into the open plains which
skirt the southern base of the hills, when one night the fair
Unmadini saw a terrible vision.

She beheld herself wading through a sluggish pool of muddy
water, which rippled, curdling as she stepped into it, and which, as
she advanced, darkened with the slime raised by her feet. She was
bearing in her arms the semblance of a sick child, which struggled
convulsively and filled the air with dismal wails. These cries
seemed to be answered by a multitude of other children, some
bloated like toads, others mere skeletons lying upon the bank, or
floating upon the thick brown waters of the pond. And all seemed
to address their cries to her, as if she were the cause of their
weeping; nor could all her efforts quiet or console them for a
moment.

When the bride awoke, she related all the particulars of her
ill-omened vision to her husband; and the latter, after a short
pause, informed her and his friend that a terrible calamity was
about to befall them. He then drew from his travelling wallet a
skein of thread. This he divided into three parts, one for each, and
told his companions that in case of grievous bodily injury, the bit
of thread wound round the wounded part would instantly make it
whole. After which he taught them the Mantra,[FN#158] or
mystical word by which the lives of men are restored to their
bodies, even when they have taken their allotted places amongst
the stars, and which for evident reasons I do not want to repeat. It
concluded, however, with the three Vyahritis, or sacred syllables--
Bhuh, Bhuvah, Svar!

Raja Vikram was perhaps a little disappointed by this declaration.
He made no remark, however, and the Baital thus pursued:

As Devasharma foretold, an accident of a terrible nature did occur.
On the evening of that day, as they emerged upon the plain, they
were attacked by the Kiratas, or savage tribes of the
mountain.[FN#159] A small, black, wiry figure, armed with a bow
and little cane arrows, stood in their way, signifying by gestures
that they must halt and lay down their arms. As they continued to
advance, he began to speak with a shrill chattering, like the note of
an affrighted bird, his restless red eyes glared with rage, and he
waved his weapon furiously round his head. Then from the rocks
and thickets on both sides of the path poured a shower of shafts
upon the three strangers.

The unequal combat did not last long. Gunakar, the soldier,
wielded his strong right arm with fatal effect and struck down
some threescore of the foes. But new swarms came on like angry
hornets buzzing round the destroyer of their nests. And when he
fell, Devasharma, who had left him for a moment to hide his
beautiful wife in the hollow of a tree, returned, and stood fighting
over the body of his friend till he also, overpowered by numbers,
was thrown to the ground. Then the wild men, drawing their
knives, cut off the heads of their helpless enemies, stripped their
bodies of all their ornaments, and departed, leaving the woman
unharmed for good luck.

When Unmadini, who had been more dead than alive during the
affray, found silence succeed to the horrid din of shrieks and
shouts, she ventured to creep out of her refuge in the hollow tree.
And what does she behold? her husband and his friend are lying
upon the ground, with their heads at a short distance from their
bodies. She sat down and wept bitterly.

Presently, remembering the lesson which she had learned that very
morning, she drew forth from her bosom the bit of thread and
proceeded to use it. She approached the heads to the bodies, and
tied some of the magic string round each neck. But the shades of
evening were fast deepening, and in her agitation, confusion and
terror, she made a curious mistake by applying the heads to the
wrong trunks. After which, she again sat down, and having recited
her prayers, she pronounced, as her husband had taught her, the
life-giving incantation.

In a moment the dead men were made alive. They opened their
eyes, shook themselves, sat up and handled their limbs as if to feel
that all was right. But something or other appeared to them all
wrong. They placed their palms upon their foreheads, and looked
downwards, and started to their feet and began to stare at their
hands and legs. Upon which they scrutinized the very scanty
articles of dress which the wild men had left upon them, and lastly
one began to eye the other with curious puzzled looks.

The wife, attributing their gestures to the confusion which one
might expect to find in the brains of men who have just undergone
so great a trial as amputation of the head must be, stood before
them for a moment or two. She then with a cry of gladness flew to
the bosom of the individual who was, as she supposed, her
husband. He repulsed her, telling her that she was mistaken. Then,
blushing deeply in spite of her other emotions, she threw both her
beautiful arms round the neck of the person who must be, she
naturally concluded, the right man. To her utter confusion, he also
shrank back from her embrace.

Then a horrid thought flashed across her mind: she perceived her
fatal mistake, and her heart almost ceased to beat.

"This is thy wife!" cried the Brahman's head that had been fastened
to the soldier's body.

"No; she is thy wife!" replied the soldier's head which had been
placed upon the Brahman's body.

"Then she is my wife!" rejoined the first compound creature.

"By no means! she is my wife," cried the second.

"What then am I?" asked Devasharma-Gunakar.

"What do you think I am?" answered GunakarDevasharma, with
another question.

"Unmadini shall be mine," quoth the head.

"You lie, she shall be mine," shouted the body.

"Holy Yama,[FN#160] hear the villain," exclaimed both of them at
the same moment.

         *     *     *     *     *
                      
In short, having thus begun, they continued to quarrel violently,
each one declaring that the beautiful Unmadini belonged to him,
and to him only. How to settle their dispute Brahma the Lord of
creatures only knows. I do not, except by cutting off their heads
once more, and by putting them in their proper places. And I am
quite sure, O Raja Vikram! that thy wits are quite unfit to answer
the question, To which of these two is the beautiful Unmadini
wife? It is even said--amongst us Baitals --that when this pair of
half-husbands appeared in the presence of the Just King, a terrible
confusion arose, each head declaiming all the sins and peccadilloes
which its body had committed, and that Yama the holy ruler
himself hit his forefinger with vexation.[FN#161]

Here the young prince Dharma Dhwaj burst out laughing at the
ridiculous idea of the wrong heads. And the warrior king, who, like
single-minded fathers in general, was ever in the idea that his son
had a velleity for deriding and otherwise vexing him, began a
severe course of reproof. He reminded the prince of the common
saying that merriment without cause degrades a man in the opinion
of his fellows, and indulged him with a quotation extensively used
by grave fathers, namely, that the loud laugh bespeaks a vacant
mind. After which he proceeded with much pompousness to
pronounce the following opinion:

"It is said in the Shastras----"

"Your majesty need hardly display so much erudition! Doubtless it
comes from the lips of Jayudeva or some other one of your Nine
Gems of Science, who know much more about their songs and
their stanzas than they do about their scriptures," insolently
interrupted the Baital, who never lost an opportunity of carping at
those reverend men.

"It is said in the Shastras," continued Raja Vikram sternly, after
hesitating whether he should or should not administer a corporeal
correction to the Vampire, "that Mother Ganga[FN#162] is the
queen amongst rivers, and the mountain Sumeru[FN#163] is the
monarch among mountains, and the tree Kalpavriksha[FN#164] is
the king of all trees, and the head of man is the best and most
excellent of limbs. And thus, according to this reason, the wife
belonged to him whose noblest position claimed her."

"The next thing your majesty will do, I suppose," continued the
Baital, with a sneer, "is to support the opinions of the Digambara,
who maintains that the soul is exceedingly rarefied, confined to
one place, and of equal dimensions with the body, or the fancies of
that worthy philosopher Jaimani, who, conceiving soul and mind
and matter to be things purely synonymous, asserts outwardly and
writes in his books that the brain is the organ of the mind which is
acted upon by the immortal soul, but who inwardly and verily
believes that the brain is the mind, and consequently that the brain
is the soul or spirit or whatever you please to call it; in fact, that
soul is a natural faculty of the body. A pretty doctrine, indeed, for
a Brahman to hold. You might as well agree with me at once that
the soul of man resides, when at home, either in a vein in the
breast, or in the pit of his stomach, or that half of it is in a man's
brain and the other or reasoning half is in his heart, an organ of his
body."

"What has all this string of words to do with the matter, Vampire?"
asked Raja Vikram angrily.

"Only," said the demon laughing, "that in my opinion, as opposed
to the Shastras and to Raja Vikram, that the beautiful Unmadini
belonged, not to the head part but to the body part. Because the
latter has an immortal soul in the pit of its stomach, whereas the
former is a box of bone, more or less thick, and contains brains
which are of much the same consistence as those of a calf."

"Villain!" exclaimed the Raja, "does not the soul or conscious life
enter the body through the sagittal suture and lodge in the brain,
thence to contemplate, through the same opening, the divine
perfections?"

"I must, however, bid you farewell for the moment, O warrior
king, Sakadhipati-Vikramadityal[FN#165]! I feel a sudden and
ardent desire to change this cramped position for one more natural
to me."

The warrior monarch had so far committed himself that he could
not prevent the Vampire from flitting. But he lost no more time in
following him than a grain of mustard, in its fall, stays on a cow's
horn. And when he had thrown him over his shoulder, the king
desired him of his own accord to begin a new tale.

"O my left eyelid flutters," exclaimed the Baital in despair, "my
heart throbs, my sight is dim: surely now beginneth the end. It is as
Vidhata hath written on my forehead--how can it be
otherwise[FN#166]? Still listen, O mighty Raja, whilst I recount to
you a true story, and Saraswati[FN#167] sit on my tongue."


     THE VAMPIRE'S TENTH STORY.[FN#168]

Of the Marvellous Delicacy of Three Queens.

The Baital said, O king, in the Gaur country, Vardhman by name,
there is a city, and one called Gunshekhar was the Raja of that
land. His minister was one Abhaichand, a Jain, by whose teachings
the king also came into the Jain faith.

The worship of Shiva and of Vishnu, gifts of cows, gifts of lands,
gifts of rice balls, gaming and spirit-drinking, all these he
prohibited. In the city no man could get leave to do them, and as
for bones, into the Ganges no man was allowed to throw them, and
in these matters the minister, having taken orders from the king,
caused a proclamation to be made about the city, saying,
"Whoever these acts shall do, the Raja having confiscated, will
punish him and banish him from the city."

Now one day the Diwan[FN#169] began to say to the Raja, "O
great king, to the decisions of the Faith be pleased to give ear.
Whosoever takes the life of another, his life also in the future birth
is taken: this very sin causes him to be born again and again upon
earth and to die And thus he ever continues to be born again and to
die. Hence for one who has found entrance into this world to
cultivate religion is right and proper. Be pleased to behold! By
love, by wrath, by pain, by desire, and by fascination overpowered,
the gods Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahadeva (Shiva) in various ways
upon the earth are ever becoming incarnate. Far better than they is
the Cow, who is free from passion, enmity, drunkenness, anger,
covetousness, and inordinate affection, who supports mankind, and
whose progeny in many ways give ease and solace to the creatures
of the world These deities and sages (munis) believe in the
Cow.[FN#170]

"For such reason to believe in the gods is not good. Upon this earth
be pleased to believe in the Cow. It is our duty to protect the life of
everyone, beginning from the elephant, through ants, beasts, and
birds, up to man. In the world righteousness equal to that there is
none. Those who, eating the flesh of other creatures, increase their
own flesh, shall in the fulness of time assuredly obtain the fruition
of Narak [FN#17l]; hence for a man it is proper to attend to the
conversation of life. They who understand not the pain of other
creatures, and who continue to slay and to devour them, last but
few days in the land, and return to mundane existence, maimed,
limping, one-eyed, blind, dwarfed, hunchbacked, and imperfect in
such wise. Just as they consume the bodies of beasts and of birds,
even so they end by spoiling their own bodies. From drinking
spirits also the great sin arises, hence the consuming of spirits and
flesh is not advisable."

The minister having in this manner explained to the king the
sentiments of his own mind, so brought him over to the Jain faith,
that whatever he said, so the king did. Thus in Brahmans, in Jogis,
in Janganis, in Sevras, in Sannyasis,[FN#172] and in religious
mendicants, no man believed, and according to this creed the rule
was carried on.

Now one day, being in the power of Death, Raja Gunshekhar died.
Then his son Dharmadhwaj sat upon the carpet (throne), and began
to rule. Presently he caused the minister Abhaichand to be seized,
had his head shaved all but seven locks of hair, ordered his face to
be blackened, and mounting him on an ass, with drums beaten, had
him led all about the city, and drove him from the kingdom. From
that time he carried on his rule free from all anxiety.

It so happened that in the season of spring, the king Dharmadhwaj,
taking his queens with him, went for a stroll in the garden, where
there was a large tank with lotuses blooming within it. The Raja
admiring its beauty, took off his clothes and went down to bathe.

After plucking a flower and coming to the bank, he was going to
give it into the hands of one of his queens, when it slipped from his
fingers, fell upon her foot, and broke it with the blow. Then the
Raja being alarmed, at once came out of the tank, and began to
apply remedies to her.

Hereupon night came on, and the moon shone brightly: the falling
of its rays on the body of the second queen formed blisters And
suddenly from a distance the sound of a wooden pestle came out of
a householder's dwelling, when the third queen fainted away with a
severe pain in the head

Having spoken thus much the Baital said "O my king! of these
three which is the most delicate?" The Raja answered, "She indeed
is the most delicate who fainted in consequence of the headache."
The Baital hearing this speech, went and hung himself from the
very same tree, and the Raja, having gone there and taken him
down and fastened him in the bundle and placed him on his
shoulder, carried him away.


       THE VAMPIRE'S ELEVENTH STORY.

         Which Puzzles Raja Vikram.

There is a queer time coming, O Raja Vikram!--a queer time
coming (said the Vampire), a queer time coming. Elderly people
like you talk abundantly about the good old days that were, and
about the degeneracy of the days that are. I wonder what you
would say if you could but look forward a few hundred years.

Brahmans shall disgrace themselves by becoming soldiers and
being killed, and Serviles (Shudras) shall dishonour themselves by
wearing the thread of the twiceborn, and by refusing to be slaves;
in fact, society shall be all "mouth" and mixed castes.[FN#173]
The courts of justice shall be disused; the great works of peace
shall no longer be undertaken; wars shall last six weeks, and their
causes shall be clean forgotten; the useful arts and great sciences
shall die starved; there shall be no Gems of Science; there shall be
a hospital for destitute kings, those, at least, who do not lose their
heads, and no Vikrama----

A severe shaking stayed for a moment the Vampire's tongue.

He presently resumed. Briefly, building tanks feeding Brahmans;
lying when one ought to lie; suicide, the burning of widows, and
the burying of live children, shall become utterly unfashionable.

The consequence of this singular degeneracy, O mighty Vikram,
will be that strangers shall dwell beneath the roof tree in Bharat
Khanda (India), and impure barbarians shall call the land their
own. They come from a wonderful country, and I am most
surprised that they bear it. The sky which ought to be gold and
blue is there grey, a kind of dark white; the sun looks deadly pale,
and the moon as if he were dead.[FN#174] The sea, when not dirty
green, glistens with yellowish foam, and as you approach the
shore, tall ghastly cliffs, like the skeletons of giants, stand up to
receive or ready to repel. During the greater part of the sun's
Dakhshanayan (southern declination) the country is covered with a
sort of cold white stuff which dazzles the eyes; and at such times
the air is obscured with what appears to be a shower of white
feathers or flocks of cotton. At other seasons there is a pale glare
produced by the mist clouds which spread themselves over the
lower firmament. Even the faces of the people are white; the men
are white when not painted blue; the women are whiter, and the
children are whitest: these indeed often have white hair.

"Truly," exclaimed Dharma Dhwaj, "says the proverb, 'Whoso
seeth the world telleth many a lie.'"

At present (resumed the Vampire, not heeding the interruption),
they run about naked in the woods, being merely Hindu outcastes.
Presently they will change-- the wonderful white Pariahs! They
will eat all food indifferently, domestic fowls, onions, hogs fed in
the street, donkeys, horses, hares, and (most horrible!) the flesh of
the sacred cow. They will imbibe what resembles meat of
colocynth, mixed with water, producing a curious frothy liquid,
and a fiery stuff which burns the mouth, for their milk will be
mostly chalk and pulp of brains; they will ignore the sweet juices
of fruits and sugar-cane, and as for the pure element they will
drink it, but only as medicine, They will shave their beards instead
of their heads, and stand upright when they should sit down, and
squat upon a wooden frame instead of a carpet, and appear in red
and black like the children of Yama.[FN#175] They will never
offer sacrifices to the manes of ancestors, leaving them after their
death to fry in the hottest of places. Yet will they perpetually
quarrel and fight about their faith; for their tempers are fierce, and
they would burst if they could not harm one another. Even now the
children, who amuse themselves with making puddings on the
shore, that is to say, heaping up the sand, always end their little
games with "punching," which means shutting the hand and
striking one another's heads, and it is soon found that the children
are the fathers of the men.

These wonderful white outcastes will often be ruled by female
chiefs, and it is likely that the habit of prostrating themselves
before a woman who has not the power of cutting off a single
head, may account for their unusual degeneracy and uncleanness.
They will consider no occupation so noble as running after a
jackal; they will dance for themselves, holding on to strange
women, and they will take a pride in playing upon instruments,
like young music girls.

The women, of course, relying upon the aid of the female
chieftains, will soon emancipate themselves from the rules of
modesty. They will eat with their husbands and with other men,
and yawn and sit carelessly before them showing the backs of their
heads. They will impudently quote the words, "By confinement at
home, even under affectionate and observant guardians, women
are not secure, but those are really safe who are guarded by their
own inclinations "; as the poet sang--

               Woman obeys one only word, her heart.

They will not allow their husbands to have more than one wife,
and even the single wife will not be his slave when he needs her
services, busying herself in the collection of wealth, in ceremonial
purification, and feminine duty; in the preparation of daily food
and in the superintendence of household utensils. What said Rama
of Sita his wife?" If I chanced to be angry, she bore my impatience
like the patient earth without a murmur; in the hour of necessity
she cherished me as a mother does her child; in the moments of
repose she was a lover to me; in times of gladness she was to me
as a friend." And it is said, "a religious wife assists her husband in
his worship with a spirit as devout as his own. She gives her whole
mind to make him happy; she is as faithful to him as a shadow to
the body, and she esteems him, whether poor or rich, good or bad,
handsome or deformed. In his absence or his sickness she
renounces every gratification; at his death she dies with him, and
he enjoys heaven as the fruit of her virtuous deeds. Whereas if she
be guilty of many wicked actions and he should die first, he must
suffer much for the demerits of his wife."

But these women will talk aloud, and scold as the braying ass, and
make the house a scene of variance, like the snake with the
ichneumon, the owl with the crow, for they have no fear of losing
their noses or parting with their ears. They will (O my mother!)
converse with strange men and take their hands; they will receive
presents from them, and, worst of all, they will show their white
faces openly without the least sense of shame; they will ride
publicly in chariots and mount horses, whose points they pride
themselves upon knowing, and eat and drink in crowded places--
their husbands looking on the while, and perhaps even leading
them through the streets. And she will be deemed the pinnacle of
the pagoda of perfection, that most excels in wit and
shamelessness, and who can turn to water the livers of most men.
They will dance and sing instead of minding their children, and
when these grow up they will send them out of the house to shift
for themselves, and care little if they never see them
again.[FN#176] But the greatest sin of all will be this: when
widowed they will ever be on the look-out for a second husband,
and instances will be known of women fearlessly marrying three,
four, and five times.[FN#177] You would think that all this licence
satisfies them. But no! The more they have the more their weak
minds covet. The men have admitted them to an equality, they will
aim at an absolute superiority, and claim respect and homage; they
will eternally raise tempests about their rights, and if anyone
should venture to chastise them as they deserve, they would call
him a coward and run off to the judge.

The men will, I say, be as wonderful about their women as about
all other matters. The sage of Bharat Khanda guards the frail sex
strictly, knowing its frailty, and avoids teaching it to read and
write, which it will assuredly use for a bad purpose. For women
are ever subject to the god[FN#178] with the sugar-cane bow and
string of bees, and arrows tipped with heating blossoms, and to
him they will ever surrender man, dhan, tan--mind, wealth, and
body. When, by exceeding cunning, all human precautions have
been made vain, the wise man bows to Fate, and he forgets, or he
tries to forget, the past. Whereas this race of white Pariahs will
purposely lead their women into every kind of temptation, and,
when an accident occurs, they will rage at and accuse them, killing
ten thousand with a word, and cause an uproar, and talk scandal
and be scandalized, and go before the magistrate, and make all the
evil as public as possible. One would think they had in every way
done their duty to their women!

And when all this change shall have come over them, they will feel
restless and take flight, and fall like locusts upon the Aryavartta
(land of India). Starving in their own country, they will find
enough to eat here, and to carry away also. They will be
mischievous as the saw with which ornament-makers trim their
shells, and cut ascending as well as descending. To cultivate their
friendship will be like making a gap in the water, and their
partisans will ever fare worse than their foes. They will be selfish
as crows, which, though they eat every kind of flesh, will not
permit other birds to devour that of the crow.

In the beginning they will hire a shop near the mouth of mother
Ganges, and they will sell lead and bullion, fine and coarse
woollen cloths, and all the materials for intoxication. Then they
will begin to send for soldiers beyond the sea, and to enlist
warriors in Zambudwipa (India). They will from shopkeepers
become soldiers: they will beat and be beaten; they will win and
lose; but the power of their star and the enchantments of their
Queen Kompani, a daina or witch who can draw the blood out of a
man and slay him with a look, will turn everything to their good.
Presently the noise of their armies shall be as the roaring of the
sea; the dazzling of their arms shall blind the eyes like lightning;
their battle-fields shall be as the dissolution of the world; and the
slaughter-ground shall resemble a garden of plantain trees after a
storm. At length they shall spread like the march of a host of ants
over the land They will swear, "Dehar Ganga[FN#179]!" and they
hate nothing so much as being compelled to destroy an army, to
take and loot a city, or to add a rich slip of territory to their rule.
And yet they will go on killing and capturing and adding region to
region, till the Abode of Snow (Himalaya) confines them to the
north, the Sindhu-naddi (Incus) to the west, and elsewhere the sea.
Even in this, too, they will demean themselves as lords and
masters, scarcely allowing poor Samudradevta[FN#180] to rule his
own waves.

Raja Vikram was in a silent mood, otherwise he would not have
allowed such ill-omened discourse to pass uninterrupted. Then the
Baital, who in vain had often paused to give the royal carrier a
chance of asking him a curious question, continued his recital in a
dissonant and dissatisfied tone of voice.

By my feet and your head,[FN#181] O warrior king! it will fare
badly in those days for the Rajas of Hindustan, when the
red-coated men of Shaka[FN#182] shall come amongst them.
Listen to my words.

In the Vindhya Mountain there will be a city named Dharmapur,
whose king will be called Mahabul. He will be a mighty warrior,
well-skilled in the dhanur-veda (art of war)[FN#183], and will
always lead his own armies to the field. He will duly regard all the
omens, such as a storm at the beginning of the march, an
earthquake, the implements of war dropping from the hands of the
soldiery, screaming vultures passing over or walking near the
army, the clouds and the sun's rays waxing red, thunder in a clear
sky, the moon appearing small as a star, the dropping of blood
from the clouds, the falling of lightning bolts, darkness filling the
four quarters of the heavens, a corpse or a pan of water being
carried to the right of the army, the sight of a female beggar with
dishevelled hair, dressed in red, and preceding the vanguard, the
starting of the flesh over the left ribs of the commander-in-chief,
and the weeping or turning back of the horses when urged forward.

He will encourage his men to single combats, and will carefully
train them to gymnastics. Many of the wrestlers and boxers will be
so strong that they will often beat all the extremities of the
antagonist into his body, or break his back, or rend him into two
pieces. He will promise heaven to those who shall die in the front
of battle and he will have them taught certain dreadful expressions
of abuse to be interchanged with the enemy when commencing the
contest. Honours will be conferred on those who never turn their
backs in an engagement, who manifest a contempt of death, who
despise fatigue, as well as the most formidable enemies, who shall
be found invincible in every combat, and who display a courage
which increases before danger, like the glory of the sun advancing
to his meridian splendour.

But King Mahabul will be attacked by the white Pariahs, who, as
usual, will employ against him gold, fire, and steel. With gold they
will win over his best men, and persuade them openly to desert
when the army is drawn out for battle. They will use the terrible
"fire weapon,[FN#184]'' large and small tubes, which discharge
flame and smoke, and bullets as big as those hurled by the bow of
Bharata.[FN#185] And instead of using swords and shields, they
will fix daggers to the end of their tubes, and thrust with them like
lances.

Mahabul, distinguished by valour and military skill, will march out
of his city to meet the white foe. In front will be the ensigns, bells,
cows'-tails, and flags, the latter painted with the bird
Garura,[FN#186] the bull of Shiva, the Bauhinia tree, the
monkey-god Hanuman, the lion and the tiger, the fish, an
alms-dish, and seven palm-trees. Then will come the footmen
armed with fire-tubes, swords and shields, spears and daggers,
clubs, and bludgeons. They will be followed by fighting men on
horses and oxen, on camels and elephants. The musicians, the
water-carriers, and lastly the stores on carriages, will bring up the
rear.

The white outcastes will come forward in a long thin red thread,
and vomiting fire like the Jwalamukhi.[FN#187] King Mahabul
will receive them with his troops formed in a circle; another
division will be in the shape of a halfmoon; a third like a cloud,
whilst others shall represent a lion, a tiger, a carriage, a lily, a
giant, and a bull. But as the elephants will all turn round when they
feel the fire, and trample upon their own men, and as the cavalry
defiling in front of the host will openly gallop away; Mahabul,
being thus without resource, will enter his palanquin, and
accompanied by his queen and their only daughter, will escape at
night-time into the forest.

The unfortunate three will be deserted by their small party, and
live for a time on jungle food, fruits and roots; they will even be
compelled to eat game. After some days they will come in sight of
a village, which Mahabul will enter to obtain victuals. There the
wild Bhils, famous for long years, will come up, and surrounding
the party, will bid the Raja throw down his arms. Thereupon
Mahabul, skilful in aiming, twanging and wielding the bow on all
sides, so as to keep off the bolts of the enemy, will discharge his
bolts so rapidly, that one will drive forward another, and none of
the barbarians will be able to approach. But he will have failed to
bring his quiver containing an inexhaustible store of arms, some of
which, pointed with diamonds, shall have the faculty of returning
again to their case after they have done their duty. The conflict will
continue three hours, and many of the Bhils will be slain: at length
a shaft will cleave the king's skull, he will fall dead, and one of the
wild men will come up and cut off his head.

When the queen and the princess shall have seen that Mahabul fell
dead, they will return to the forest weeping and beating their
bosoms. They will thus escape the Bhils, and after journeying on
for four miles, at length they will sit down wearied, and revolve
many thoughts in their minds.

They are very lovely (continued the Vampire), as I see them with
the eye of clear-seeing. What beautiful hair! it hangs down like the
tail of the cow of Tartary, or like the thatch of a house; it is shining
as oil, dark as the clouds, black as blackness itself. What charming
faces! likest to water-lilies, with eyes as the stones in unripe
mangos, noses resembling the beaks of parrots, teeth like pearls set
in corals, ears like those of the redthroated vulture, and mouths
like the water of life. What excellent forms! breasts like boxes
containing essences, the unopened fruit of plantains or a couple of
crabs; loins the width of a span, like the middle of the viol; legs
like the trunk of an elephant, and feet like the yellow lotus.

And a fearful place is that jungle, a dense dark mass of thorny
shrubs, and ropy creepers, and tall canes, and tangled brake, and
gigantic gnarled trees, which groan wildly in the night wind's
embrace. But a wilder horror urges the unhappy women on; they
fear the polluting touch of the Bhils; once more they rise and
plunge deeper into its gloomy depths.

The day dawns. The white Pariahs have done their usual work,
They have cut off the hands of some, the feet and heads of others,
whilst many they have crushed into shapeless masses, or scattered
in pieces upon the ground. The field is strewed with corpses, the
river runs red, so that the dogs and jackals swim in blood; the birds
of prey sitting on the branches, drink man's life from the stream,
and enjoy the sickening smell of burnt flesh.

Such will be the scenes acted in the fair land of Bharat.

Perchance two white outcastes, father and son, who with a party of
men are scouring the forest and slaying everything, fall upon the
path which the women have taken shortly before. Their attention is
attracted by footprints leading towards a place full of tigers,
leopards, bears, wolves, and wild dogs. And they are utterly
confounded when, after inspection, they discover the sex of the
wanderers.

"How is it," shall say the father, "that the footprints of mortals are
seen in this part of the forest?"

The son shall reply, "Sir, these are the marks of women's feet: a
man's foot would not be so small."

"It is passing strange," shall rejoin the elder white Pariah, "but thou
speakest truth. Certainly such a soft and delicate foot cannot
belong to anyone but a woman."

"They have only just left the track," shall continue the son, "and
look! this is the step of a married woman. See how she treads on
the inside of her sole, because of the bending of her ankles." And
the younger white outcaste shall point to the queen's footprints.

"Come, let us search the forest for them," shall cry the father,
"what an opportunity of finding wives fortune has thrown in our
hands. But no! thou art in error," he shall continue, after examining
the track pointed out by his son, "in supposing this to be the sign
of a matron. Look at the other, it is much longer; the toes have
scarcely touched the ground, whereas the marks of the heels are
deep. Of a truth this must be the married woman." And the elder
white outcaste shall point to the footprints of the princess.

"Then," shall reply the son, who admires the shorter foot, "let us
first seek them, and when we find them, give to me her who has
the short feet, and take the other to wife thyself."

Having made this agreement they shall proceed on their way, and
presently they shall find the women lying on the earth, half dead
with fatigue and fear. Their legs and feet are scratched and torn by
brambles, their ornaments have fallen off, and their garments are in
strips. The two white outcastes find little difficulty, the first
surprise over, in persuading the unhappy women to follow them
home, and with great delight, conformably to their arrangement,
each takes up his prize on his horse and rides back to the tents. The
son takes the queen, and the father the princess.

In due time two marriages come to pass; the father, according to
agreement, espouses the long foot, and the son takes to wife the
short foot. And after the usual interval, the elder white outcaste,
who had married the daughter, rejoices at the birth of a boy, and
the younger white outcaste, who had married the mother, is
gladdened by the sight of a girl.

Now then, by my feet and your head, O warrior king Vikram,
answer me one question. What relationship will there be between
the children of the two white Pariahs?

Vikram's brow waxed black as a charcoal-burner's, when he again
heard the most irreverent oath ever proposed to mortal king. The
question presently attracted his attention, and he turned over the
Baital's words in his head, confusing the ties of filiality,
brotherhood, and relationship, and connection in general.

"Hem!" said the warrior king, at last perplexed, and remembering,
in his perplexity, that he had better hold his tongue--"ahem!"

"I think your majesty spoke? " asked the Vampire, in an inquisitive
and insinuating tone of voice.

"Hem!" ejaculated the monarch.

The Baital held his peace for a few minutes, coughing once or
twice impatiently. He suspected that the extraordinary nature of
this last tale, combined with the use of the future tense, had given
rise to a taciturnity so unexpected in the warrior king. He therefore
asked if Vikram the Brave would not like to hear another little
anecdote.

"This time the king did not even say "hem!" Having walked at an
unusually rapid pace, he distinguished at a distance the fire kindled
by the devotee, and he hurried towards it with an effort which left
him no breath wherewith to speak, even had he been so inclined.

"Since your majesty is so completely dumbfoundered by it,
perhaps this acute young prince may be able to answer my
question?" insinuated the Baital, after a few minutes of anxious
suspense.

But Dharma Dhwaj answered not a syllable.


                CONCLUSION.

At Raja Vikram's silence the Baital was greatly surprised, and he
praised the royal courage and resolution to the skies. Still he did
not give up the contest at once.

"Allow me, great king," pursued the Demon, in a dry tone of voice,
"to wish you joy. After so many failures you have at length
succeeded in repressing your loquacity. I will not stop to enquire
whether it was humility and self-restraint which prevented your
answering my last question, or whether Rajait was mere ignorance
and inability. Of course I suspect the latter, but to say the truth
your condescension in at last taking a Vampire's advice, flatters me
so much, that I will not look too narrowly into cause or motive."

Raja Vikram winced, but maintained a stubborn silence, squeezing
his lips lest they should open involuntarily.

"Now, however, your majesty has mortified, we will suppose, a
somewhat exacting vanity, I also will in my turn forego the
pleasure which I had anticipated in seeing you a corpse and in
entering your royal body for a short time, just to know how queer
it must feel to be a king. And what is more, I will now perform my
original promise, and you shall derive from me a benefit which
none but myself can bestow. First, however, allow me to ask you,
will you let me have a little more air?"

Dharma Dhwaj pulled his father's sleeve, but this time Raja
Vikram required no reminder: wild horses or the executioner's saw,
beginning at the shoulder, would not have drawn a word from him.
Observing his obstinate silence, the Baital, with an ominous smile,
continued:

"Now give ear, O warrior king, to what I am about to tell thee, and
bear in mind the giant's saying, 'A man is justified in killing one
who has a design to kill him.' The young merchant Mal Deo, who
placed such magnificent presents at your royal feet, and
Shanta-Shil the devotee saint, who works his spells, incantations,
and magical rites in a cemetery on the banks of the Godaveri river,
are, as thou knowest, one person--the terrible Jogi, whose wrath
your father aroused in his folly, and whose revenge your blood
alone can satisfy. With regard to myself, the oilman's son, the
same Jogi, fearing lest I might interfere with his projects of
universal dominion, slew me by the power of his penance, and has
kept me suspended, a trap for you, head downwards from the
sires-tree.

"That Jogi it was, you now know, who sent you to fetch me back to
him on your back. And when you cast me at his feet he will return
thanks to you and praise your valour, perseverance and resolution
to the skies. I warn you to beware. He will lead you to the shrine of
Durga, and when he has finished his adoration he will say to you,
'O great king, salute my deity with the eightlimbed reverence.' "

Here the Vampire whispered for a time and in a low tone, lest
some listening goblin might carry his words if spoken out loud to
the ears of the devotee Shanta-Shil.

At the end of the monologue a rustling sound was heard. It
proceeded from the Baital, who was disengaging himself from the
dead body in the bundle, and the burden became sensibly lighter
upon the monarch's back.

The departing Baital, however, did not forget to bid farewell to the
warrior king and to his son. He complimented the former for the
last time, in his own way, upon the royal humility and the
prodigious self-mortification which he had displayed--qualities, he
remarked, which never failed to ensure the proprietor's success in
all the worlds.

Raja Vikram stepped out joyfully, and soon reached the burning
ground. There he found the Jogi, dressed in his usual habit, a
deerskin thrown over his back, and twisted reeds instead of a
garment hanging round his loins. The hair had fallen from his
limbs and his skin was bleached ghastly white by exposure to the
elements. A fire seemed to proceed from his mouth, and the matted
locks dropping from his head to the ground were changed by the
rays of the sun to the colour of gold or saffron. He had the beard of
a goat and the ornaments of a king; his shoulders were high and his
arms long, reaching to his knees: his nails grew to such a length as
to curl round the ends of his fingers, and his feet resembled those
of a tiger. He was drumming upon a skull, and incessantly
exclaiming, "Ho, Kali! ho, Durga! ho, Devi!"

As before, strange beings were holding their carnival in the Jogi's
presence. Monstrous Asuras, giant goblins, stood grimly gazing
upon the scene with fixed eyes and motionless features. Rakshasas
and messengers of Yama, fierce and hideous, assumed at pleasure
the shapes of foul and ferocious beasts. Nagas and Bhutas, partly
human and partly bestial, disported themselves in throngs about
the upper air, and were dimly seen in the faint light of the dawn.
Mighty Daityas, Bramba-daityas, and Pretas, the size of a man's
thumb, or dried up like leaves, and Pisachas of terrible power
guarded the place. There were enormous goats, vivified by the
spirits of those who had slain Brahmans; things with the bodies of
men and the faces of horses, camels and monkeys; hideous worms
containing the souls of those priests who had drunk spirituous
liquors; men with one leg and one ear, and mischievous
blood-sucking demons, who in life had stolen church property.
There were vultures, wretches that had violated the beds of their
spiritual fathers, restless ghosts that had loved low-caste women,
shades for whom funeral rites had not been performed, and who
could not cross the dread Vaitarani stream,[FN#188] and vital
souls fresh from the horrors of Tamisra, or utter darkness, and the
Usipatra Vana, or the sword-leaved forest. Pale spirits, Alayas,
Gumas, Baitals, and Yakshas,[FN#189] beings of a base and
vulgar order, glided over the ground, amongst corpses and
skeletons animated by female fiends, Dakinis, Yoginis, Hakinis,
and Shankinis, which were dancing in frightful revelry. The air
was filled with supernatural sights and sounds, cries of owls and
jackals, cats and crows, dogs, asses, and vultures, high above
which rose the clashing of the bones with which the Jogi sat
drumming upon the skull before him, and tending a huge cauldron
of oil whose smoke was of blue fire. But as he raised his long lank
arm, silver-white with ashes, the demons fled, and a momentary
silence succeeded to their uproar. The tigers ceased to roar and the
elephants to scream; the bears raised their snouts from their foul
banquets, and the wolves dropped from their jaws the remnants of
human flesh. And when they disappeared, the hooting of the owl,
and ghastly "ha! ha!" of the curlew, and the howling of the jackal
died away in the far distance, leaving a silence still more
oppressive.

As Raja Vikram entered the burning-ground, the hollow sound of
solitude alone met his ear. Sadly wailed the wet autumnal blast.
The tall gaunt trees groaned aloud, and bowed and trembled like
slaves bending before their masters. Huge purple clouds and
patches and lines of glaring white mist coursed furiously across the
black expanse of firmament, discharging threads and chains and
lozenges and balls of white and blue, purple and pink lightning,
followed by the deafening crash and roll of thunder, the dreadful
roaring of the mighty wind, and the torrents of plashing rain. At
times was heard in the distance the dull gurgling of the swollen
river, interrupted by explosions, as slips of earth-bank fell
headlong into the stream. But once more the Jogi raised his arm
and all was still: nature lay breathless, as if awaiting the effect of
his tremendous spells.

The warrior king drew near the terrible man, unstrung his bundle
from his back, untwisted the portion which he held, threw open the
cloth, and exposed to Shanta-Shil's glittering eyes the corpse,
which had now recovered its proper form--that of a young child.
Seeing it, the devotee was highly pleased, and thanked Vikram the
Brave, extolling his courage and daring above any monarch that
had yet lived. After which he repeated certain charms facing
towards the south, awakened the dead body, and placed it in a
sitting position. He then in its presence sacrificed to his goddess,
the White One,[FN#190] all that he had ready by his side--betel
leaf and flowers, sandal wood and unbroken rice, fruits, perfumes,
and the flesh of man untouched by steel. Lastly, he half filled his
skull with burning embers, blew upon them till they shot forth
tongues of crimson light, serving as a lamp, and motioning the
Raja and his son to follow him, led the way to a little fane of the
Destroying Deity erected in a dark clump of wood, outside and
close to the burning ground.

They passed through the quadrangular outer court of the temple
whose piazza was hung with deep shade.[FN#191] In silence they
circumambulated the small central shrine, and whenever
Shanta-Shil directed, Raja Vikram entered the Sabha, or vestibule,
and struck three times upon the gong, which gave forth a loud and
warning sound.

They then passed over the threshold, and looked into the gloomy
inner depths. There stood Smashana-Kali,[FN#192] the goddess, in
her most horrid form. She was a naked and very black woman,
with half-severed head, partly cut and partly painted, resting on her
shoulder; and her tongue lolled out from her wide yawning
mouth[FN#193]; her eyes were red like those of a drunkard; and
her eyebrows were of the same colour: her thick coarse hair hung
like a mantle to her heels. She was robed in an elephant's hide,
dried and withered, confined at the waist with a belt composed of
the hands of the giants whom she had slain in war: two dead
bodies formed her earrings, and her necklace was of bleached
skulls. Her four arms supported a scimitar, a noose, a trident, and a
ponderous mace. She stood with one leg on the breast of her
husband, Shiva, and she rested the other on his thigh. Before the
idol lay the utensils of worship, namely, dishes for the offerings,
lamps, jugs, incense, copper cups, conches and gongs; and all of
them smelt of blood.

As Raja Vikram and his son stood gazing upon the hideous
spectacle, the devotee stooped down to place his skull-lamp upon
the ground, and drew from out his ochre-coloured cloth a sharp
sword which he hid behind his back.

"Prosperity to thine and thy son's for ever and ever, O mighty
Vikram!" exclaimed Shanta-Shil, after he had muttered a prayer
before the image. "Verily thou hast right royally redeemed thy
pledge, and by the virtue of thy presence all my wishes shall
presently be accomplished. Behold! the Sun is about to drive his
car over the eastern hills, and our task now ends. Do thou
reverence before this my deity, worshipping the earth through thy
nose, and so prostrating thyself that thy eight limbs may touch the
ground.[FN#194] Thus shall thy glory and splendour be great; the
Eight Powers[FN#195] and the Nine Treasures shall be thine, and
prosperity shall ever remain under thy roof-tree."

Raja Vikram, hearing these words, recalled suddenly to mind all
that the Vampire had whispered to him. He brought his joined
hands open up to his forehead, caused his two thumbs to touch his
brow several times, and replied with the greatest humility,

"O pious person! I am a king ignorant of the way to do such
obeisance. Thou art a spiritual preceptor: be pleased to teach me
and I will do even as thou desirest."

Then the Jogi, being a cunning man, fell into his own net. As he
bent him down to salute the goddess, Vikram, drawing his sword,
struck him upon the neck so violent a blow, that his head rolled
from his body upon the ground. At the same moment Dharma
Dhwaj, seizing his father's arm, pulled him out of the way in time
to escape being crushed by the image, which fell with the sound of
thunder upon the floor of the temple.

A small thin voice in the upper air was heard to cry, "A man is
justified in killing one who has the desire to kill him." Then glad
shouts of triumph and victory were heard in all directions. They
proceeded from the celestial choristers, the heavenly dancers, the
mistresses of the gods, and the nymphs of Indra's Paradise, who
left their beds of gold and precious stones, their seats glorious as
the meridian sun, their canals of crystal water, their perfumed
groves, and their gardens where the wind ever blows in softest
breezes, to applaud the valour and good fortune of the warrior
king.

At last the brilliant god, Indra himself, with the thousand eyes,
rising from the shade of the Parigat tree, the fragrance of whose
flowers fills the heavens, appeared in his car drawn by yellow
steeds and cleaving the thick vapours which surround the earth--
whilst his attendants sounded the heavenly drums and rained a
shower of blossoms and perfumes--bade the Vikramajit the Brave
ask a boon.

The Raja joined his hands and respectfully replied,

"O mighty ruler of the lower firmament, let this my history
become famous throughout the world!"

"It is well," rejoined the god. "As long as the sun and moon
endure, and the sky looks down upon the ground, so long shall this
thy adventure be remembered over all the earth. Meanwhile rule
thou mankind."

Thus saying, Indra retired to the delicious Amrawati[FN#196]
Vikram took up the corpses and threw them into the cauldron
which Shanta-Shil had been tending. At once two heroes started
into life, and Vikram said to them, "When I call you, come!"

With these mysterious words the king, followed by his son,
returned to the palace unmolested. As the Vampire had predicted,
everything was prosperous to him, and he presently obtained the
remarkable titles, Sakaro, or foe of the Sakas, and
Sakadhipati-Vikramaditya.

And when, after a long and happy life spent in bringing the world
under the shadow of one umbrella, and in ruling it free from care,
the warrior king Vikram entered the gloomy realms of Yama, from
whom for mortals there is no escape, he left behind him a name
that endured amongst men like the odour of the flower whose
memory remains long after its form has mingled with the
dust.[FN#197]

                 FOOTNOTES

[FN#1]  Metamorphoseon, seu de Asino Aureo, libri Xl. The well
known and beautiful episode is in the fourth. the fifth, and the sixth
books.

[FN#2]  This ceremony will be explained in a future page.

[FN#3]  A common exclamation of sorrow, surprise, fear, and
other emotions. It is especially used by women.

[FN#4]  Quoted from view of the Hindoos, by William Ward, of
Serampore (vol. i. p. 25).

[FN#5]  In Sanskrit, Vetala-pancha-Vinshati. "Baital" is the
modern form of " Vetala.

[FN#6]  In Arabic, Badpai el Hakim. 

[FN#7]  Dictionnaire philosophique sub v. " Apocryphes."

[FN#8]  I do not mean that rhymes were not known before the days
of Al-Islam, but that the Arabs popularized assonance and
consonance in Southern Europe.

[FN#9]  "Vikrama" means "valour " or " prowess."

[FN#10] Mr. Ward of Serampore is unable to quote the names of
more than nine out of the eighteen, namely: Sanskrit, Prakrit,
Naga, Paisacha, Gandharba, Rakshasa, Ardhamagadi, Apa, and
Guhyaka  - most of them being the languages of different orders of
fabulous beings. He tells us, however, that an account of these
dialects may be found in the work called Pingala.

[FN#11] Translated by Sir Wm. Jones, 1789; and by Professor
Williams, 1856.

[FN#12] Translated by Professor H. H. Wilson.

[FN#13] The time was propitious to savans. Whilst Vikramaditya
lived, Magha, another king, caused to be written a poem called
after his name For each verse he is said to have paid to learned
men a gold piece, which amounted to a total of 5,280l. - a large
sum in those days, which preceded those of Paradise Lost. About
the same period Karnata, a third king, was famed for patronizing
the learned men who rose to honour at Vikram's court. Dhavaka, a
poet of nearly the same period, received from King Shriharsha the
magnificent present of 10,000l. for a poem called the Ratna-Mala.

[FN#14]  Lieut. Wilford supports the theory that there were eight
Vikramadityas, the last of whom established the era. For further
particulars, the curious reader will consult Lassen's Anthologia,
and Professor H. H. Wilson's Essay on Vikram (New), As. Red..
ix. 117. 

[FN#15]  History tells us another tale. The god Indra and the King
of Dhara gave the kingdom to Bhartari-hari, another son of
Gandhar-ba-Sena, by a handmaiden. For some time, the brothers
lived together; but presently they quarrelled. Vikram being
dismissed from court, wandered from place to place in abject
poverty, and at one time hired himself as a servant to a merchant
living in Guzerat. At length, Bhartari-hari, disgusted with the
world on account of the infidelity of his wife, to whom he was
ardently attached, became a religious devotee, and left the
kingdom to its fate. In the course of his travels, Vikram came to
Ujjayani, and finding it without a head, assumed the sovereignty.
He reigned with great splendour, conquering by his arms Utkala,
Vanga, Kuch-bahar, Guzerat, Somnat, Delhi, and other places;
until, in his turn, he was conquered, and slain by Shalivahan.

[FN#16]  The words are found, says Mr. Ward, in the Hindu
History compiled by Mrityungaya.

[FN#17]  These duties of kings are thus laid down in the
Rajtarangini. It is evident, as Professor H. H. Wilson says, that the
royal status was by no means a sinecure. But the rules are
evidently the closet work of some pedantic, dogmatic Brahman,
teaching kingcraft to kings. He directs his instructions, not to
subordinate judges, but to the Raja as the chief magistrate, and
through him to all appointed for the administration of his justice.

[FN#18]  Lunus, not Luna.

[FN#19]  That is to say, "upon an empty stomach."

[FN#20]  There are three sandhyas amongst the Hindus--morning,
mid-day, and sunset; and all three are times for prayer.

[FN#21]  The Hindu Cupid.

[FN#22]  Patali, the regions beneath the earth.

[FN#23]  The Hindu Triad.

[FN#24]  Or Avanti, also called Padmavati. It is the first meridian
of the Hindus, who found their longitude by observation of lunar
eclipses, calculated for it and Lanka, or Ceylon. The clepsydra was
used for taking time.

[FN#25]  In the original only the husband ''practiced austere
devotion." For the benefit of those amongst whom the "pious wife"
is an institution, I have extended the privilege.

[FN#26]  A Moslem would say, "This is our fate." A Hindu refers
at once to metempsychosis, as naturally as a modern
Swedenborgian to spiritism.

[FN#27]  In Europe, money buys this world, and delivers you from
the pains of purgatory; amongst the Hindus, it furthermore opens
the gate of heaven.

[FN#28]  This part of the introduction will remind the reader of the
two royal brothers and their false wives in the introduction to the
Arabian Nights. The fate of Bhartari Raja, however, is historical.

[FN#29]  In the original, "Div"--a supernatural being god, or
demon. This part of the plot is variously told. According to some,
Raja Vikram was surprised, when entering the city to see a grand
procession at the house of a potter and a boy being carried off on
an elephant to the violent grief of his parents The King inquired
the reason of their sorrow, and was told that the wicked Div that
guarded the city was in the habit of eating a citizen per diem.
Whereupon the valorous Raja caused the boy to dismount; took his
place; entered the palace; and, when presented as food for the
demon, displayed his pugilistic powers in a way to excite the
monsters admiration.

[FN#30]  In India, there is still a monastic order the pleasant duty
of whose members is to enjoy themselves as much as possible. It
has been much the same in Europe. "Representez-vous le convent
de l'Escurial ou du Mont Cassin, ou les cenobites ont toutes sortes
de commodities, necessaires, utiles, delectables. superflues,
surabondantes, puisqu'ils ont les cent cinquante mille, les quatre
cent mille, les cinq cent mille ecus de rente; et jugez si monsieur
l'abbe a de quoi laisser dormir la meridienne a ceux qui
voudront."--Saint Augustin, de l'Ouvrage des Moines, by Le
Camus, Bishop of Belley, quoted by Voltaire, Dict. Phil., sub v.
"Apocalypse."

[FN#31]  This form of matrimony was recognized by the ancient
Hindus, and is frequent in books. It is a kind of Scotch wedding--
ultra-Caledonian--taking place by mutual consent, without any
form or ceremony. The Gandharbas are heavenly minstrels of
Indra's court, who are supposed to be witnesses.

[FN#32]  The Hindu Saturnalia.

[FN#33]  The powders are of wheaten flour, mixed with wild
ginger-root, sappan-wood, and other ingredients. Sometimes the
stuff is thrown in syringes.

[FN#34]  The Persian proverb is-- "Bala e tavilah bar sat i
maimun": "The woes of the stable be on the monkey's head!" In
some Moslem countries a hog acts prophylactic. Hence probably
Mungo Park's troublesome pig at Ludamar.

[FN#35]  So the moribund father of the "babes in the wood"
lectures his wicked brother, their guardian: 
               "To God and you I recommend
                    My children deare this day:
               But little while, be sure, we have
                    Within this world to stay."
 But, to appeal to the moral sense of a goldsmith!

[FN#36]  Maha (great) raja (king): common address even to those
who are not royal.

[FN#37]  The name means. "Quietistic Disposition."

[FN#38]   August. In the solar-lunar year of the Hindu the months
are divided into fortnights--light and dark.

[FN#39]  A flower, whose name frequently occurs in Sanskrit
poetry.

[FN#40]  The stars being men's souls raised to the sky for a time
pro portioned to their virtuous deeds on earth.

[FN#41]  A measure of length, each two miles.

[FN#42]  The warm region below.

[FN#43]  Hindus admire only glossy black hair; the "bonny brown
hair" loved by our ballads is assigned by them to low-caste men,
witches, and fiends.

[FN#44]  A large kind of bat; a popular and silly Anglo-Indian
name. It almost justified the irate Scotchman in calling "prodigious
leears" those who told him in India that foxes flew and tress were
tapped for toddy.

[FN#45]  The Hindus, like the European classics and other ancient
peoples, reckon four ages:--The Satya Yug, or Golden Age,
numbered 1,728,000 years: the second, or Treta Yug, comprised
1,296,000; the Dwapar Yug had 864,000 and the present, the Kali
Yug, has shrunk to 832,000 years.

[FN#46]  Especially alluding to prayer. On this point, Southey
justly remarks (Preface to Curse of Kehama): "In the religion of
the Hindoos there is one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers, penances,
and sacrifices are supposed to possess an inherent and actual value,
in one degree depending upon the disposition or motive of the
person who performs them. They are drafts upon heaven for which
the gods cannot refuse payment. The worst men, bent upon the
worst designs, have in this manner obtained power which has
made them formidable to the supreme deities themselves."
Moreover, the Hindu gods hear the prayers of those who desire the
evil of others. Hence when a rich man becomes poor, his friends
say, "See how sharp are men's teeth!" and, "He is ruined because
others could not bear to see his happiness!"

[FN#47]  A pond. natural or artificial; in the latter case often
covering an extent of ten to twelve acres.

[FN#48]   The Hindustani "gilahri," or little grey squirrel, whose
twittering cry is often mistaken for a bird's.

[FN#49]  The autumn or rather the rainy season personified - a
hackneyed Hindu prosopopoeia.

[FN#50]  Light conversation upon the subject of women is a
persona offence to serious-minded Hindus.

[FN#51]  Cupid in his two forms, Eros and Anteros.

[FN#52]  This is true to life in the East, women make the first
advances, and men do the begueules.

[FN#53]  Raja-hans, a large grey goose, the Hindu equivalent for
our swan.

[FN#54]  Properly Karnatak; karna in Sanskrit means an ear.

[FN#55]  Danta in Sanskrit is a tooth.

[FN#56]  Padma means a foot.

[FN#57]   A common Hindu phrase equivalent to our " I manage to
get on."

[FN#58]  Meaning marriage maternity, and so forth.

[FN#59]  Yama is Pluto; 'mother of Yama' is generally applied to
an old scold.

[FN#60]  Snake-land: the infernal region.

[FN#61]  A form of abuse given to Durga, who was the mother of
Ganesha (Janus); the latter had an elephant's head.

[FN#62]  Unexpected pleasure, according to the Hindus, gives a
bristly elevation to the down of the body.

[FN#63]   The Hindus banish " flasks,'' et hoc genus omne, from
these scenes, and perhaps they are right.

[FN#64]   The Pankha, or large common fan, is a leaf of the
Corypha umbraculifera, with the petiole cut to the length of about
five feet, pared round the edges and painted to look pretty. It is
waved by the servant standing behind a chair.

[FN#65]  The fabulous mass of precious stones forming the sacred
mountain of Hindu mythology.

[FN#66]  "I love my love with an 'S,' because he is stupid and not
pyschological."

[FN#67]  Hindu mythology has also its Cerberus, Trisisa, the "
three headed " hound that attends dreadful Yama (Pluto)

[FN#68]  Parceque c'est la saison des amours.

[FN#69]  The police magistrate, the Catual of Camoens.

[FN#70]  The seat of a Hindu ascetic.

[FN#71]  The Hindu scriptures.

[FN#72]  The Goddess of Prosperity.

[FN#73]  In the original the lover is not blamed; this would be the
Hindu view of the matter; we might be tempted to think of the old
injunction not to seethe a kid in the mother's milk.

[FN#74]  In the original a "maina "-the Gracula religiosa.

[FN#75]  As we should say, buried them.

[FN#76]  A large kind of black bee, common in India.

[FN#77]  The beautiful wife of the demigod Rama Chandra.

[FN#78]  The Hindu Ars Amoris.

[FN#79]  The old philosophers, believing in a " Sat " (xx xx),
postulated an Asat (xx xx xx) and made the latter the root of the
former.

[FN#80]  In Western India, a place celebrated for suicides.

[FN#81]  Kama Deva. "Out on thee, foul fiend, talk'st thou of
nothing but ladies?"

[FN#82]  The pipal or Ficus religiosa, a favourite roosting-place
for fiends.

[FN#83]  India.

[FN#84]  The ancient name of a priest by profession, meaning "
praepositus " or praeses. He was the friend and counsellor of a
chief, the minister of a king, and his companion in peace and war.
(M. Muller's Ancient Sanskrit Literature, p. 485).

[FN#85]  Lakshmi, the Goddess of Prosperity. Raj-Lakshmi would
mean the King's Fortune, which we should call tutelary genius.
Lakshichara is our " luckless," forming, as Mr. Ward says, an
extraordinary coincidence of sound and meaning in languages so
different. But the derivations are very distinct.

[FN#86]  The Monkey God.

[FN#87]  Generally written "Banyan."

[FN#88]  The daughter of Raja Janaka, married to Ramachandra.
The latter placed his wife under the charge of his brother
Lakshmana, and went into the forest to worship, when the demon
Ravana disguised himself as a beggar, and carried off the prize.

[FN#89]  This great king was tricked by the god Vishnu out of the
sway of heaven and earth, but from his exceeding piety he was
appointed to reign in Patala, or Hades.

[FN#90]   The procession is fair game, and is often attacked in the
dark with sticks and stones, causing serious disputes. At the supper
the guests confer the obligation by their presence, and are
exceedingly exacting.

[FN#91]  Rati is the wife of Kama, the God of Desire; and we
explain the word by "Spring personified."

[FN#92]  The Indian Cuckoo (Cucuius Indicus). It is supposed to
lay its eggs in the nest of the crow.

[FN#93]  This is the well-known Ghi or Ghee, the one sauce of
India which is as badly off in that matter as England.

[FN#94]  The European reader will observe that it is her purity
which carries the heroine through all these perils. Moreover, that
her :virtue is its own reward, as it loses to her the world.

[FN#95]  Literally, "one of all tastes"--a wild or gay man, we
should say.

[FN#96]  These shoes are generally made of rags and bits of
leather; they have often toes behind the foot, with other similar
contrivances, yet they scarcely ever deceive an experienced man.

[FN#97]  The high-toper is a swell-thief, the other is a low dog.

[FN#98]  Engaged in shoplifting.

[FN#99]  The moon.

[FN#100]  The judge.

[FN#101]  To be lagged is to be taken; scragging is hanging.

[FN#102]  The tongue.

[FN#103]  This is the god Kartikeya, a mixture of Mars and
Mercury, who revealed to a certain Yugacharya the scriptures
known as "Chauriya-Vidya"--Anglice, "Thieves' Manual."  The
classical robbers of the Hindu drama always perform according to
its precepts.  There is another work respected by thieves and called
the "Chora-Panchashila," because consisting of fifty lines.

[FN#104]  Supposed to be a good omen.

[FN#105]  Share the booty.

[FN#106]  Bhawani is one of the many forms of the destroying
goddess, the wife of Shiva.

[FN#107]  Wretches who kill with the narcotic seed of the
stramonium.

[FN#108]  Better know as "Thugs," which in India means simply
"rascals."

[FN#109]  Crucifixion, until late years, was common amongst the
Buddhists of the Burmese empire.  According to an eye-witness,
Mr. F. Carey, the puishment was inflicted in two ways. 
Sometimes criminals were crucified by their hands and feet being
nailed to a scaffold; others were merely tied up, and fed.  In these
cases the legs and feet of the patient began to swell and mortify at
the expiration fo three or four days; men are said to have lived in
this state for a fortnight, and at last they expired from fatigue and
mortification.  The sufferings from cramp also must be very
severe.  In India generally impalement was more common than
crucifixion.

[FN#110]  Our Suttee.  There is an admirable Hindu proverb,
which says, "No one knows the ways of woman; she kill her
husband and becomes a Sati."

[FN#111]  Fate and Destiny are rather Moslem than Hindu fancies.

[FN#112]  Properly speaking, the husbandman should plough with
not fewer than four bullocks; but few can afford this.  If he plough
with a cow or a bullock, and not with a bull, the rice produced by
his ground is unclean, and may not be used in any religious
ceremony.

[FN#113]  A shout of triumph, like our "Huzza" or "Hurrah!" of
late degraded into "Hooray."  "Hari bol" is of course religious,
meaning "Call upon Hari!" i.e. Krishna, i.e. Vishnu.

[FN#114]  This form of suicide is one of those recognized in India. 
So in Europe we read of fanatics who, with a suicidal ingenuity,
have succeeded in crucifying themselves.

[FN#115]  The river of Jaganath in Orissa; it shares the honours of
sanctity with some twenty-nine others, and in the lower regions it
represents the classical Styx.

[FN#116]  Cupid. His wife Rati is the spring personified. The
Hindu poets always unite love and spring, and perhaps
physiologically they are correct. 

[FN#117]  An incarnation of the third person of the Hindu Triad,
or Triumvirate, Shiva the God of Destruction, the Indian Bacchus.
The image has five faces, and each face has three eyes. In Bengal
it is found in many villages, and the women warn their children not
to touch it on pain of being killed. 

[FN#118]  A village Brahman on stated occasions receives fees
from all the villagers. 

[FN#119]  The land of Greece.

[FN#120]  Savans, professors. So in the old saying, "Hanta, Pandit
Sansara "--Alas! the world is learned! This a little antedates the
well-known schoolmaster.

[FN#121]  Children are commonly sent to school at the age of five.
Girls are not taught to read, under the common idea that they will
become widows if they do.

[FN#122]  Meaning the place of reading the four Shastras.

[FN#123]  A certain goddess who plays tricks with mankind. If a
son when grown up act differently from what his parents did,
people say that he has been changed in the womb.

[FN#124]  Shani is the planet Saturn, which has an exceedingly
baleful influence in India as elsewhere.

[FN#125]  The Eleatic or Materialistic school of Hindu
philosophy, which agrees to explode an intelligent soparate First
Cause.

[FN#126]  The writings of this school give an excellent view of the
"progressive system," which has popularly been asserted to be a
modern idea. But Hindu philosophy seems to have exhausted every
fancy that can spring from the brain of man.

[FN#127]  Tama is the natural state of matter, Raja is passion
acting upon nature, and Satwa is excellence These are the three
gunas or qualities of matter.

[FN#128]  Spiritual preceptors and learned men.

[FN#129]  Under certain limitations, gambling is allowed hy Hindu
law and the winner has power over the person and property of the
loser. No "debts of honour" in Hindustan!

[FN#130]  Quotations from standard works on Hindu criminal law,
which in some points at least is almost as absurd as our civilized
codes.

[FN#131]  Hindus carry their money tied up in a kind of sheet. which
is wound round the waist and thrown over the shoulder.

[FN#132]  A thieves' manual in the Sanskrit tongue; it aspires to the
dignity of a "Scripture."  

[FN#133]  All sounds, say the Hindus, are of similar origin, and they
do not die; if they did, they could not be remembered.

[FN#134]  Gold pieces.

[FN#135]   These are the qualifications specified by Hindu classical
authorities as necessary to make a distinguished thief.

[FN#136]  Every Hindu is in a manner born to a certain line of life,
virtuous or vicious, honest or dishonest and his Dharma, or religious
duty, consists in conforming to the practice and the worship of his
profession. The "Thug," for instance, worships Bhawani, who enables
him to murder successfully; and his remorse would arise from
neglecting to murder.

[FN#137]  Hindu law sensibly punishes, in theory at least, for the
same offence the priest more severely than the layman--a hint for him
to practice what he preaches.

[FN#138]  The Hindu Mercury, god of rascals.

[FN#139]  A penal offence in India. How is it that we English have
omitted to codify it? The laws of Manu also punish severely all
disdainful expressions, such as  "tush" or "pish," addressed during
argument to a priest.

[FN#140]  Stanzas, generally speaking, on serious subjects.

[FN#141]  Whitlows on the nails show that the sufferer, in the last
life, stole gold from a Brahman.

[FN#142]  A low caste Hindu, who catches and exhibits snakes and
performs other such mean offices.

[FN#143]  Meaning, in spite of themselves.

[FN#144]  When the moon is in a certain lunar mansion, at the
conclusion of the wet season.

[FN#145]  In Hindustan, it is the prevailing wind of the hot weather.

[FN#146]  Vishnu, as a dwarf, sank down into and secured in the
lower regions the Raja Bali, who by his piety and prayerfulness was
subverting the reign of the lesser gods; as Ramachandra he built a
bridge between Lanka (Ceylon) and the main land; and as Krishna he
defended, by holding up a hill as an umbrella for them, his friends the
shepherds and shepherdesses from the thunders of Indra, whose
worship they had neglected.

[FN#147]  The priestly caste sprang, as has been said, from the
noblest part of the Demiurgus; the three others from lower members.

[FN#148]  A chew of betel leaf and spices is offered by the master of
the house when dismissing a visitor.

[FN#149]  Respectable Hindus say that receiving a fee for a daughter
is like selling flesh.

[FN#150]  A modern custom amongst the low caste is for the bride
and bridegroom, in the presence of friends, to place a flower garland
on each other's necks, and thus declare themselves man and wife. The
old classical Gandharva-lagan has been before explained.

[FN#151]  Meaning that the sight of each other will cause a smile,
and that what one purposes the other will consent to.

[FN#152]  This would be the verdict of a Hindu jury.

[FN#153]  Because stained with the powder of Mhendi, or the
Lawsonia inermis shrub.

[FN#154]  Kansa's son: so called because the god Shiva, when struck
by his shafts, destroyed him with a fiery glance.

[FN#155]  "Great Brahman"; used contemptuously to priests who
officiate for servile men. Brahmans lose their honour by the
following things: By becoming servants to the king; by pursuing any
secular business; by acting priests to Shudras (serviles); by officiating
as priests for a whole village; and by neglecting any part of the three
daily services. Many violate these rules; yet to kill a Brahman is still
one of the five great Hindu sins. In the present age of the world, the
Brahman may not accept a gift of cows or of gold; of course he
despises the law. As regards monkey worship, a certain Rajah of
Nadiya is said to have expended 10,000L in marrying two monkeys
with all the parade and splendour of the Hindu rite.

[FN#156]  The celebrated Gayatri, the Moslem Kalmah.

[FN#157]  Kama again.  

[FN#158]  From "Man," to think; primarily meaning, what makes
man think.

[FN#159]  The Cirrhadae of classical writers.

[FN#160]  The Hindu Pluto; also called the Just King.

[FN#161]  Yama judges the dead. whose souls go to him in four
hours and forty minutes; therefore a corpse cannot be burned till after
that time. His residence is Yamalaya. and it is on the south side of the
earth; down South, as we say. (I, Sam. xxv. 1, and xxx. 15). The
Hebrews, like the Hindus, held the northern parts of the world to be
higher than the southern. Hindus often joke a man who is seen
walking in that direction, and ask him where he is going.

[FN#162]  The "Ganges," in heaven called Mandakini. I have no idea
why we still adhere to our venerable corruption of the word.

[FN#163]  The fabulous mountain supposed by Hindu geographers
to occupy the centre of the universe.

[FN#164]  The all-bestowing tree in Indra's Paradise which grants
everything asked of it. It is the Tuba of Al-Islam and is not unknown
to the Apocryphal New Testament.

[FN#165]  "Vikramaditya, Lord of the Saka." This is prevoyance on
the part of the Vampire; the king had not acquired the title.

[FN#166]  On the sixth day after the child's birth, the god Vidhata
writes all its fate upon its forehead. The Moslems have a similar idea,
and probably it passed to the Hindus.

[FN#167]  Goddess of eloquence. "The waters of the Saraswati " is
the classical Hindu phrase for the mirage.

[FN#168]  This story is perhaps the least interesting in the collection.
I have translated it literally, in order to give an idea of the original.
The reader will remark in it the source of our own nursery tale about
the princess who was so high born and delicately bred, that she could
discover the three peas laid beneath a straw mattress and four feather
beds. The Hindus, however, believe that Sybaritism can be carried so
far; I remember my Pandit asserting the truth of the story.

[FN#169]  A minister. The word, as is the case with many in this
collection, is quite modern Moslem, and anachronistic.

[FN#170]  The cow is called the mother of the gods, and is declared
by Brahma, the first person of the triad, Vishnu and Shiva being the
second and the third, to be a proper object of worship. "If a European
speak to the Hindu about eating the flesh of cows," says an old
missionary, "they immediately raise their hands to their ears; yet
milkmen, carmen, and farmers beat the cow as unmercifully as a
carrier of coals beats his ass in England."The Jains or Jainas (from ji,
to conquer; as subduing the passions) are one of the atheistical sects
with whom the Brahmans have of old carried on the fiercest religious
controversies, ending in many a sanguinary fight. Their tenets are
consequently exaggerated and ridiculed, as in the text. They believe
that there is no such God as the common notions on the subject point
out, and they hold that the highest act of virtue is to abstain from
injuring sentient creatures. Man does not possess an immortal spirit:
death is the same to Brahma and to a fly. Therefore there is no
heaven or hell separate from present pleasure or pain. Hindu
Epicureans!--"Epicuri de grege porci."

[FN#171]  Narak is one of the multitudinous places of Hindu
punishment, said to adjoin the residence of Ajarna. The less
cultivated Jains believe in a region of torment. The illuminati,
however, have a sovereign contempt for the Creator, for a future
state, and for all religious ceremonies. As Hindus, however, they
believe in future births of mankind, somewhat influenced by present
actions. The "next birth" in the mouth of a Hindu, we are told, is the
same as "to-morrow" in the mouth of a Christian. The
metempsychosis is on an extensive scale: according to some, a person
who loses human birth must pass through eight millions of successive
incarnations--fish, insects, worms, birds, and beasts--before he can
reappear as a man.

[FN#172]  Jogi, or Yogi, properly applies to followers of the Yoga or
Patanjala school, who by ascetic practices acquire power over the
elements. Vulgarly, it is a general term for mountebank vagrants,
worshippers of Shiva. The Janganis adore the same deity, and carry
about a Linga. The Sevras are Jain beggars, who regard their chiefs
as superior to the gods of other sects. The Sannyasis are mendicant
followers of Shiva; they never touch metals or fire, and. in religious
parlance, they take up the staff They are opposed to the Viragis,
worshippers of Vishnu, who contend as strongly against the
worshippers of gods who receive bloody offerings. as a Christian
could do against idolatry.

[FN#173]  The Brahman, or priest, is supposed to proceed from the
mouth of Brahma, the creating person of the Triad; the Khshatriyas
(soldiers) from his arms; the Vaishyas (enterers into business) from
his thighs; and the Shudras, "who take refuge in the Brahmans," from
his feet. Only high caste men should assume the thread at the age of
puberty.

[FN#174]  Soma. the moon, I have said, is masculine in India.

[FN#175]  Pluto.

[FN#176]  Nothing astonishes Hindus so much as the apparent want
of affection between the European parent and child.

[FN#177]  A third marriage is held improper and baneful to a Hindu
woman. Hence. before the nuptials they betroth the man to a tree,
upon which the evil expends itself, and the tree dies.

[FN#178]  Kama

[FN#179]  An oath. meaning, "From such a falsehood preserve me,
Ganges!"

[FN#180]  The Indian Neptune.

[FN#181]  A highly insulting form of adjuration.

[FN#182]  The British Islands--according to Wilford.

[FN#183]  Literally the science (veda) of the bow (dhanush). This
weapon, as everything amongst the Hindus, had a divine origin: it
was of three kinds--the common bow, the pellet or stone bow, and the
crossbow or catapult.

[FN#184]  It is a disputed point whether the ancient Hindus did or did
not know the use of gunpowder.

[FN#185]  It is said to have discharged balls, each 6,400 pounds in
weight.

[FN#186]  A kind of Mercury, a god with the head and wings of a
bird, who is the Vahan or vehicle of the second person of the Triad,
Vishnu.

[FN#187]  The celebrated burning springs of Baku, near the Caspian,
are so called. There are many other "fire mouths."

[FN#188]  The Hindu Styx.

[FN#189]  From Yaksha, to eat; as Rakshasas are from Raksha, to
preserve.--See Hardy's Manual of Buddhism, p. 57.

[FN#190]  Shiva is always painted white, no one knows why. His
wife Gauri has also a European complexion. Hence it is generally
said that the sect popularly called "Thugs," who were worshippers of
these murderous gods. spared Englishmen, the latter being supposed
to have some rapport with their deities.

[FN#191]  The Hindu shrine is mostly a small building, with two
inner compartments. the vestibule and the Garbagriha, or adytum, in
which stands the image.

[FN#192]  Meaning Kali of the cemetery (Smashana); another form
of Durga.

[FN#193]  Not being able to find victims, this pleasant deity, to
satisfy her thirst for the curious juice, cut her own throat that the
blood might spout up into her mouth. She once found herself dancing
on her husband, and was so shocked that in surprise she put out her
tongue to a great length, and remained motionless. She is often
represented in this form.

[FN#194]  This ashtanga, the most ceremonious of the five forms of
Hindu salutation, consists of prostrating and of making the eight parts
of the body--namely, the temples, nose and chin, knees and hands--
touch the ground.

[FN#195]  "Sidhis," the personified Powers of Nature. At least, so we
explain them: but people do not worship abstract powers.

[FN#196]  The residence of Indra, king of heaven, built by Wishwa-
Karma, the architect of the gods.

[FN#197]  In other words, to the present day, whenever a Hindu
novelist, romancer, or tale writer seeks a peg upon which to suspend
the texture of his story, he invariably pitches upon the glorious, pious,
and immortal memory of that Eastern King Arthur, Vikramaditya,
shortly called Vikram.




End of Project Gutenberg's etext, Vikram and the Vampire, by
Sir Richard F. Burton