When the goblin had told this long, strange story, he said to the king: "O King, tell me. Which was the more self-sacrificing, Cloud-chariot or Shell-crest? If you know and do not tell, then the curse I mentioned before will be fulfilled."
And the king said: "There was nothing remarkable in what Cloud-chariot did. He was prepared for it by the experiences of many past lives. But Shell-crest deserves praise. He was saved from death. His enemy had another victim, and was far away. Yet he ran after and offered his body to Garuda."
When the goblin heard this, he went back to the sissoo tree. And the king returned to catch him again.
The King who died for Love of his General's Wife; the General follows him in Death. Which is the more worthy?
Then the king went back under the sissoo tree, put the goblin on his shoulder as before, and started. And the goblin said to him: "O King, I will tell you another little story to relieve your weariness. Listen."
Long ago there was a city named Golden City on the bank of the Ganges, where a quarter of the old perfect virtue still lingers in these evil days. There was a king named Glorious, and he deserved the name. His bravery kept the world from being overflowed, like the shore of the sea.
In this king's city lived a great merchant, who had a daughter named Passion. Everyone who saw her fell in love and went mad with passion.
When she grew to be a young woman, the virtuous merchant went to King Glorious and said: "Your Majesty, I have a daughter, the gem of the three worlds, and she is old enough to marry. I could not give her to anyone without consulting your Majesty. For you are the master of all gems in the world. Pray marry her and thus lay me under obligations."
So the king sent his own Brahmans to examine her qualities. But when the Brahmans saw her supreme loveliness, they were troubled and thought: "If the king should marry her, his kingdom would be ruined. He would think only of her, and would doubtless neglect his kingdom. Therefore we must not report her good qualities to the king."
So they returned to the king and said: "Your Majesty, she has bad qualities." So the king did not marry the merchant's daughter. But he bade the merchant give his daughter to a general named Force. And she lived happily with her husband in his house.
After a time the lion of spring came dancing through the forest and slew the elephant of winter. And King Glorious went forth on the back of an elephant to see the spring festival. And the drum was beaten to warn virtuous women to stay within doors. Otherwise they would have fallen in love with his beauty, and love-sickness might be expected.
But when Passion heard the drum, she did not like to be left alone. She went out on the balcony, that the king might see her. She seemed like the flame of love which the spring-time was fanning with southern breezes. And the king saw her, and his whole being was shaken. He felt her beauty sinking deep in his heart like a victorious arrow of Love, and he fainted.
His servants brought him back to consciousness, and he returned to the city. There he made inquiries and learned that this was Passion whom he had rejected before. So he banished from the country the Brahmans who had said that she had bad qualities, and he thought longingly of her every day.
And as he thought of her, he burned over the flame of love, and wasted away day and night. And though from shame he tried to conceal it, he finally told the reason of his anguish to responsible people who asked him.
They said: "Do not suffer. Why do you not seize her?" But the virtuous king would not do it.
Then General Force heard the story. He came and bowed at the feet of the king and said: "Your Majesty, she is the wife of your slave, therefore she is your slave. I give her to you of my own accord. Pray take my wife. Or better yet, I will leave her here in the palace. Then you cannot be blamed if you marry her." And the general begged and insisted.
But the king became angry and said: "I am a king. How can I do such a wicked thing? If I should transgress, who would be virtuous? You are devoted to me. Why do you urge me to a sin which is pleasant for the moment, but causes great sorrow in the next world? If you abandon your wedded wife, I shall not pardon you. How could a man in my position overlook such a transgression? It is better to die." Thus the king argued against it. For the truly great throw away life rather than virtue. And when all the citizens came together and urged him, he was steadfast and refused.
So he slowly shrivelled away over the fever-flame of love and died. There was nothing left of King Glorious except his glory. And the general could not endure the death of his king. He burned himself alive. The actions of devoted men are blameless.
When the goblin on the king's shoulder had told this story, he asked the king: "O King, which of these two, the king and the general, was the more deserving? Remember the curse before you answer."
The king said: "I think the king was the more deserving."
And the goblin said reproachfully: "O King, why was not the general better? He offered the king a wife like that, whose charms he knew from a long married life. And when his king died, he burned himself like a faithful man. But the king gave her up without really knowing her attractions."
Then the king laughed and said: "True enough, but not surprising. The general was a gentleman born, and acted as he did from devotion to his superior. For servants must protect their masters even at the cost of their own lives. But kings are like mad elephants who cannot be goaded into obedience, who break the binding-chain of virtue. They are insolent, and their judgment trickles from them with the holy water of consecration. Their eyes are blinded by the hurricane of power, and they do not see the road. From the most ancient times, even the kings who conquered the world have been maddened by love and have fallen into misfortune. But this king, though he ruled the whole world, though he was maddened by the girl Passion, preferred to die rather than set his foot on the path of iniquity. He was a hero. He was the better of the two."
Then the goblin escaped by magic from the king's shoulder and went back. And the king pursued him, undiscouraged. No great man stops in the middle of the hardest undertaking.
The Youth who went through the Proper Ceremonies. Why did he fail to win the magic spell?
Then the king went back through the night to the cemetery filled with ghouls, terrible with funeral piles that seemed like ghosts with wagging tongues of flame. But when he came to the sissoo tree, he was surprised to see a great many bodies hanging on the tree. They were all alike, and in each was a goblin twitching its limbs.
And the king thought: "Ah, what does this mean? Why does that magic goblin keep wasting my time? For I do not know which of all these I ought to take. If I should not succeed in this night's endeavour, then I would burn myself alive rather than become a laughing-stock."
But the goblin understood the king's purpose, and was pleased with his character. So he gave up his magic arts. Then the king saw only one goblin in one body. He took him down as before, put him on his shoulder, and started once more.
And as he walked along, the goblin said: "O King, if you have no objections, I will tell you a story. Listen."
There is a city called Ujjain, whose people delight in noble happiness, and feel no longing for heaven. In that city there is real darkness at night, real intelligence in poetry, real madness in elephants, real coolness in pearls, sandal, and moonlight.
There lived a king named Moonshine. He had as counsellor a famous Brahman named Heaven-lord, rich in money, rich in piety, rich in learning. And the counsellor had a son named Moon-lord.
This son went one day to a great resort of gamblers to play. There the dice, beautiful as the eyes of gazelles, were being thrown constantly. And Calamity seemed to be looking on, thinking: "Whom shall I embrace?" And the loud shouts of angry gamblers seemed to suggest the question: "Who is there that would not be fleeced here, were he the god of wealth himself?"
This hall the youth entered, and played with dice. He staked his clothes and everything else, and the gamblers won it all. Then he wagered money he did not have, and lost that. And when they asked him to pay, he could not. So the gambling-master caught him and beat him with clubs.
When he was bruised all over by the clubs, the Brahman youth became motionless like a stone, and pretended to be dead, and waited. After he had lain thus for two or three days, the heartless gambling-master said to the gamblers: "He lies like a stone. Take him somewhere and throw him into a blind well. I will pay you the money he owes."
So the gamblers picked Moon-lord up and went far into the forest, looking for a well. Then one old gambler said to the others: "He is as good as dead. What is the use of throwing him into a well now? We will leave him here and go back and say we have left him in a well." And all the rest agreed, and left him there, and went back.
When they were gone, Moon-lord rose and entered a deserted temple to Shiva. When he had rested a little there, he thought in great anguish: "Ah, I trusted the rascally gamblers, and they cheated me. Where shall I go now, naked and dusty as I am? What would my father say if he saw me now, or any relative, or any friend? I will stay here for the present, and at night I will go out and try to find food somehow to appease my hunger."
While he reflected in weariness and nakedness, the sun grew less hot and disappeared. Then a terrible hermit named Stake came there, and he had smeared his body with ashes. When he had seen Moon-lord and asked who he was and heard his story, he said, as the youth bent low before him: "Sir, you have come to my hermitage, a guest fainting with hunger. Rise, bathe, and partake of the meal I have gained by begging."
Then Moon-lord said to him: "Holy sir, I am a Brahman. How can I partake of such a meal?"
Then the hermit-magician went into his hut and out of tenderness to his guest he thought of a magic spell which grants all desires. And the spell appeared in bodily form, and said: "What shall I do?" And the hermit said: "Treat that man as an honoured guest."
Then Moon-lord was astonished to see a golden palace rise before him and a grove with women in it. They came to him from the palace and said: "Sir, rise, come, bathe, eat, and meet our mistress." So they led him in and gave him a chance to bathe and anoint himself and dress. Then they led him to another room.
There the youth saw a woman of wonderful beauty, whom the Creator must have made to see what he could do. She rose and offered him half of her seat. And he ate heavenly food and various fruits and chewed betel leaves and sat happily with her on the couch.
In the morning he awoke and saw the temple to Shiva, but the heavenly creature was gone, and the palace, and the women in it. So he went out in distress, and the hermit in his hut smiled and asked him how he had spent the night. And he said: "Holy sir, through your kindness I spent a happy night, but I shall die without that heavenly creature."
Then the hermit laughed and said: "Stay here. You shall have the same happiness again to-night." So Moon-lord enjoyed those delights every night through the favour of the hermit.
Finally Moon-lord came to see what a mighty spell that was. So, driven on by his fate, he respectfully begged the hermit: "Holy sir, if you really feel pity for a poor suppliant like me, teach me that spell which has such power."
And when he insisted, the hermit said: "You could never win the spell. One has to stand in the water to win it. And it weaves a net of magic to bewilder the man who is repeating the words, so that he cannot win it. For as he mumbles it, he seems to lead another life, first a baby, then a boy, then a youth, then a husband, then a father. And he falsely imagines that such and such people are his friends, such and such his enemies. He forgets his real life and his desire to win the spell. But if a man mumbles it constantly for twenty-four years, and remembers his own life, and is not deceived by the network of magic, and then at the end burns himself alive, he comes out of the water, and has real magic power. It comes only to a good pupil, and if a teacher tries to teach it to a bad pupil, the teacher loses it too. Now you have the real benefit through my magic power. Why insist on more? If I lost my powers, then your happiness would go too."
But Moon-lord said: "I can do anything. Do not fear, holy sir." And the hermit promised to teach him the spell. What will holy men not do out of regard to those who seek aid?
So the hermit went to the river bank, and said: "My son, mumble the words of the spell. And while you are leading an imaginary life, you will at last be awakened by my magic. Then plunge into the magic fire which you will see. I will stand here on the bank while you mumble it."
So he purified himself and purified Moon-lord and made him sip water, and then he taught him the magic spell. And Moon-lord bowed to his teacher on the bank, and plunged into the river.
And as he mumbled the words of the spell in the water, he was bewildered by its magic. He forgot all about his past life, and went through another life. He was born in another city as the son of a Brahman. Then he grew up, was consecrated, and went to school. Then he took a wife, and after many experiences half pleasant, half painful, he found himself the father of a family. Then he lived for some years with his parents and his relatives, devoted to wife and children, and interested in many things.
While he was experiencing all these labours of another life, the hermit took pity on him and repeated magic words to enlighten him. And Moon-lord was enlightened in the midst of his new life. He remembered himself and his teacher, and saw that the other life was a network of magic. So he prepared to enter the fire in order to win magic power.
But older people and reliable people and his parents and his relatives tried to prevent him. In spite of them he hankered after heavenly pleasures, and went to the bank of a river where a funeral pile had been made ready. And his relatives went with him. But when he got there he saw that his old parents and his wife and his little children were weeping.
And he was perplexed, and thought: "Alas! If I enter the fire, all these my own people will die. And I do not know whether my teacher's promise will come true or not. Shall I go into the fire, or go home? No, no. How could a teacher with such powers promise falsely? Indeed, I must enter the fire." And he did.
And he was astonished the feel the fire as cool as snow, and lost his fear of it. Then he came out of the water of the river, and found himself on the bank. He saw his teacher standing there, and fell at his feet, and told him the whole story, ending with the blazing funeral pile.
Then his teacher said: "My son, I think you must have made some mistake. Otherwise, why did the fire seem cool to you? That never happens in the winning of this magic spell."
And Moon-lord said: "Holy sir, I do not remember making any mistake." Then his teacher was eager to know about it, so he tried to remember the spell himself. But it would not come to him or to his pupil. So they went away sad, having lost their magic.
When the goblin had told this story, he asked the king: "O King, explain the matter to me. Why did they lose their magic, when everything had been done according to precept?"
Then the king said: "O magic creature, I see that you are only trying to waste my time. Still, I will tell you. Magic powers do not come to a man because he does things that are hard, but because he does things with a pure heart. The Brahman youth was defective at that point. He hesitated even when his mind was enlightened. Therefore he failed to win the magic. And the teacher lost his magic because he taught it to an unworthy pupil."
Then the goblin went back to his home. And the king ran to find him, never hesitating.
The Boy whom his Parents, the King, and the Giant conspired to Kill. Why did he laugh at the moment of death?
Then the king went to the sissoo tree, put the goblin on his shoulder as before, and started in silence. And the goblin on his shoulder saw that he was silent and said: "O King, why are you so obstinate? Go home. Spend the night in rest. You ought not to take me to that rascally monk. But if you insist, then I will tell you another story. Listen."
There is a city called Brilliant-peak. There lived a glorious king named Moon, who delighted the eyes of his subjects. Wise men said that he was brave, generous, and the very home of beauty. But in spite of all his wealth, he was very sad at heart. For he found no wife worthy of him.
One day this king went with soldiers on horseback into a great wood, to hunt there and forget his sorrow. There he split open many boars with his arrows as the sun splits the black darkness, and made fierce lions into cushions for his arrows, and slew mountainous monsters with his terrible darts.
As he hunted, he spurred his horse and beat him terribly. And the horse was so hurt by the spur and the whip that he could not tell rough from smooth. He dashed off quicker than the wind, and in a moment carried the king into another forest a hundred miles away.
There the king lost his way, and as he wandered about wearily, he saw a great lake. He stopped there, unsaddled his horse, let him bathe and drink, and found him some grass in the shade of the trees. Then he bathed and drank himself, and when he had rested, he looked all about him.
And he saw a hermit's daughter of marvellous beauty under an ashoka tree with another girl. She had no ornaments but flowers. She was charming even in a dress of bark. She was particularly attractive because of her thick masses of hair arranged in a girlish way.
And the king fell in love with her and thought: "Who is she? Is she a goddess come to bathe in these waters? Or Gauri, separated from her husband Shiva, leading a hard life to win him again? Or the lovely moon, taking a human form, and trying to be attractive in the daytime? I will go to her and find out."
So he drew near to her. And when she saw him coming, she was astonished at his beauty and dropped her hands, which had been weaving a garland of flowers. And she thought: "Who can he be in this forest? Some fairy perhaps. Blessed are my eyes this day."
So she rose, modestly looking another way, and started to go away, though her limbs failed her. Then the king approached and said: "Beautiful maiden, I have come a long distance, and you never saw me before. I ask only to look at you, and you should welcome me. Is this hermit manners, to run away?"
Then her clever friend made the king sit down and treated him as an honoured guest. And the king respectfully asked her: "My good girl, what happy family does your friend adorn? What are the syllables of her name, which must be a delight to the ear? Or why at her age does she torture a body as delicate as a flower with a hermit's life in a lonely wood?"
And the friend answered: "Your Majesty, she is the daughter of the hermit Kanva and the heavenly nymph Menaka. She grew up here in the hermitage, and her name is Lotus-bloom. With her father's permission she came here to the lake to bathe. And her father's hermitage is not far from here."
Then the king was delighted. He mounted his horse and rode to the hermitage of holy Kanva, to ask for the girl. And he entered the hermitage in modest garb, leaving his horse outside. Then he was surrounded by hermits with hoary crowns and bark garments like the trees, and saw the sage Kanva radiant and cool like the moon. And he drew near and fell at his feet.
And the wise hermit greeted him and let him rest, then said: "My son Moon, I will tell you something to your advantage. Listen. I know what fear of death there is in mortal creatures. Why then do you uselessly kill the wild beasts? Warriors were made by the Creator to protect the timid. Therefore protect your subjects in righteousness, and root out evil. As Happiness flees before you, strive to overtake her with all your means, elephants and horses and things. Enjoy your kingship. Be generous. Become glorious. Abandon this vice of hunting, this sport of Death. For slayer and slain are equally deceived. Why spend your time in such an evil pursuit?"
The sensible king was pleased and said: "Holy sir, I am instructed. And great is my gratitude for this instruction. From now on I hunt no more. Let the wild animals live without fear."
Then the hermit said: "I am pleased with your protection of the animals. Choose any boon you will."
Then the quick-witted king said: "Holy sir, if you are kindly disposed, give me your daughter Lotus-bloom."
So the hermit gave him his daughter, the child of the nymph, who then came up after her bath. So they were married, and the king wore cheerful garments, and Lotus-bloom was adorned by the hermits' wives. And the weeping hermits accompanied them in procession to the edge of the hermitage. Then the king took his wife Lotus-bloom, mounted his horse, and started for his city.
At last the sun, seeing the king tired with his long journeying, sank wearily behind the western mountain. And fawn-eyed night appeared, clad in the garment of darkness, like a woman going to meet her lover. And the king saw an ashvattha tree on the shore of a pond in a spot covered with grass and twigs, and he decided to spend the night there.
So he dismounted, fed and watered his horse, brought water from the pond, and rested with his beloved. And they passed the night there.
In the morning he arose, performed his devotions, and prepared to set out with his wife to rejoin his soldiers. Then, like a cloud black as soot with tawny lightning-hair, there appeared a great giant. He wore a chaplet of human entrails, a cord of human hair, he was chewing the head of a man, and drinking blood from a skull.
The giant laughed aloud, spit fire in his wrath, and showed his dreadful fangs. And he scolded the king and said: "Scoundrel! I am a giant named Flame-face. This tree is my home; even the gods do not dare to trespass here. But you and your wife have trespassed and enjoyed yourselves. Now swallow your own impudence, you rascal! You are lovesick, so I will split open your heart and eat it, and I will drink your blood."
The king was frightened when he saw that the giant was invincible, and his wife was trembling, so he said respectfully: "I trespassed ignorantly. Forgive me. I am your guest, seeking protection in your hermitage. And I will give you a human sacrifice, so that you will be satisfied. Be merciful then and forget your anger."
Then the giant forgot his anger, and thought: "Very well. Why not?" And he said: "O King, I want a noble, intelligent Brahman boy seven years old, who shall give himself up of his own accord for your sake. And when he is killed, his mother must hold his hands tightly to the ground, and his father must hold his feet, and you must cut off his head with your own sword. If you do this within seven days, then I will forgive the insult you have offered me. If not, I will kill you and all your people."
And the king was so frightened that he consented. Then the giant disappeared.
Then King Moon mounted his horse with his wife Lotus-bloom and rode away sad at heart, seeking for his soldiers. And he thought: "Alas! I was bewildered by hunting and by love, and I find myself ruined. Where can I find such a sacrifice for the giant? Well, I will go to my own city now, and see what happens."
So he continued his search, and found his soldiers and his city Brilliant-peak. There his subjects were delighted because he had found a wife worthy of him, and they made a great feast. But it was a day of despondency and dreadful agony for the king.
On the next day he told his counsellors the whole story. And one counsellor named Wise said: "Your Majesty, do not despair. I will find a victim for the sacrifice. The world is a strange place."
Thus the counsellor comforted the king, and made a statue of a boy out of gold. And he sent the statue about the land, with constant beating of drums and this proclamation: "We want a noble Brahman boy seven years old who will offer himself as a sacrifice to a giant with the permission of his parents. And when he is killed, his mother must hold his hands, and his father must hold his feet. And as a reward, the king will give his parents a hundred villages and this statue of gold and gems."
Now there was a Brahman boy on a farm, who was only seven years old, but wonderfully brave. He was of great beauty, and even in childhood he was always thinking about others. He said to the heralds: "Gentlemen, I will give you my body. Wait a moment. I will hurry back after telling my parents."
So they told the boy to go. And he went into the house, bowed before his parents, and said: "Mother! Father! I am going to give this wretched body of mine in order to win lasting happiness. Pray permit me. And I will take the king's gift, this statue of myself made of gold and gems, and give it to you together with the hundred villages. Thus I will pay my debt to you, and do some real good. And you will never be poor again, and will have plenty more sons."
But his parents immediately said: "Son, what are you saying? Have you the rheumatism? Or are you possessed by a devil? If not, why do you talk nonsense? Who would sacrifice his child for money? And what child would give his body?"
But the boy said: "I am not mad. Listen. My words are full of sense. The body is the seat of unnameable impurities, it is loathsome and full of pain. It perishes in no long time at best. If some good can be done with the worthless thing, that is a great advantage in this weary life, so wise men say. And what good is there except helping others? If anyone can serve his parents so easily, then how lightly should the body be esteemed!"
Thus the boy, with his bold words and his firm purpose, persuaded his grieving parents. And he went and got from the king's men the golden statue and the hundred villages, and gave them to his parents.
So the boy with his parents followed the king's men to the city Brilliant-peak. And the king looked upon the brave boy as a magic jewel for his own preservation, and rejoiced greatly. He adorned the boy with garlands and perfumes, put him on an elephant, and took him with his parents to the home of the giant.
There the priest traced a magic circle beside the tree, and reverently lit the holy fire. Then the horrible giant Flame-face appeared, mumbling words of his own. He staggered, for he was drunk with blood, and snorted and yawned. His eyes flashed fire and his shadow made the whole world dark.
And the king said respectfully: "Great being, here is the human sacrifice you asked for, and this is the seventh day since I promised it. Be merciful. Accept this sacrifice."
And the giant licked his chops, and looked the boy over, who was to be the sacrifice. Then the noble boy thought: "I have done some good with this body of mine. May I never rest in heaven or in eternal salvation, but may I have many lives in which to do some good with my body." And the air was filled with the chariots of gods who rained down flowers.
Then the boy was laid before the giant. His mother held his hands, and his father held his feet. When the king drew his sword and was ready to strike, the boy laughed so heartily that all of them, even the giant, forgot what they were doing, looked at the boy's face, and bowed low before him.
When the goblin had told this strange story, he asked the king: "O King, why did the boy laugh at the moment of death? I have a great curiosity about this point. If you know and will not tell, then your head will fly into a hundred pieces."
And the king said: "Listen. I will tell you why the boy laughed. When danger comes to any weak creature, he cries for life to his mother and father. If they are not there, he begs protection from the king, whom heaven made his protector. Failing the king, he cries to a god. Some one of these should be his protector. But in the case of this boy everything was contrary. His parents held his hands and feet because they wanted money. And the king was ready to kill him with his own hand, to save his own life. And the giant, who is a kind of a god, had come there especially to eat him. So the boy thought: They are ridiculously fooled about their bodies, which are fragile, worthless, the seat of pain and suffering. The bodies of the greatest gods perish. And such creatures as these imagine that their bodies will endure!' So when he saw their strange madness, and felt that his own wishes were fulfilled, the Brahman boy laughed in astonishment and delight."
Then the goblin slipped from the king's shoulder and went back to his home. And the king followed with determination. The heart of a good man is like the heart of the ocean. It cannot be shaken.
The Man, his Wife, and her Lover, who all died for Love. Which was the most foolish?
Then the king went back under the sissoo tree, took the goblin on his shoulder, and set out in haste. And as he walked along, the goblin on his shoulder said: "O King, I will tell you a story about a great love. Listen."
There is a city called Ujjain, which seems like a divine city made by the Creator for the pious who have fallen from heaven. In this city there was a famous king named Lotus-belly. He delighted the good, and defeated the king of the demons.
While he was king, a merchant named Fortune, richer than the god of wealth, lived in the city. He had one daughter named Love-cluster, who seemed the model from whom the Creator had made the nymphs of heaven. This merchant gave his daughter to a merchant named Jewel-guard from Copper City.
As he was a tender father and had no other children, the merchant stayed with his daughter Love-cluster and her husband. Now Love-cluster came to hate Jewel-guard as a sick man hates a pungent, biting medicine. But the beautiful woman was dearer than life to her husband, dear as long-fathered wealth to a miser.
One day Jewel-guard started for Copper City to pay a loving visit to his parents. Then the hot summer came, and the roads were blocked for travellers by the sharp arrows of the sun. The winds blew soft with the fragrance of jasmine and trumpet-flower, like sighs from the mouths of mountains separated from the springtime. And wind-swept dust-clouds flew to the sky like messengers from the burning earth begging for clouds. And the feverish days moved slowly like wayfarers who cling to the shade of trees. And the nights clad in pale yellow moonlight became very feeble without the invigorating embrace of winter.
At this time Love-cluster, anointed with cooling sandal, and clad in thin garments stood at her lattice-window. And she saw a handsome youth with a friend whom he trusted. He seemed the god of love born anew and seeking his bride. He was the son of the king's priest, and his name was Lotus-lake.
And when Lotus-lake saw the lovely girl, he expanded with delight as lotuses in a lake expand at the sight of the moon. When the two young people saw each other, their hearts embraced each other at the bidding of Love, their teacher.
So Lotus-lake was smitten with love, and was led home with difficulty by his friend. And Love-cluster was equally maddened by love. First she learned from her friend his name and home, then slowly withdrew to her room. There she thought of him and became feverish with love, simply tossing on her couch, seeing nothing and hearing nothing.
After two or three days spent in this way, she felt bashful and fearful, pale and thin from the separation, and hopeless of union with her lover. So, as if drawn on by the moonbeam which shone through her window, she went out at night when her people were asleep, determined to die. And she came to a pool under a tree in her garden.
There stood a family image of the goddess Gauri, set up by her father. She drew near to this image, bowed before the goddess, praised her, and said: "O Goddess, since I could not have Lotus-lake as my husband in this life, may he be my husband in some other life!" And she made a noose of her garment, and tied it to the ashoka tree before the goddess.
At that moment her trusty friend awoke, and not finding her in the room, hunted about and came luckily into the garden. There she saw the girl fastening the noose about her neck, and she cried, "No, no!" And running up, she cut the noose.
When Love-cluster saw that it was her own friend who had run up and taken the noose away, she fell to the ground in great agony. But her friend comforted her and asked the reason of her sorrow. Then she arose and said: "Jasmine, my friend, I cannot be united with him I love. I am dependent on my father and other people. Death is the happiest thing for me."
And as she spoke, she was terribly scorched by the fiery darts of love, and determined to feel no more hope, and fainted. And her friend Jasmine lamented: "Alas! Love is a hard master. It has reduced her to this condition." But she gradually brought her back to life with cool water and fans and things. She made an easy bed of lotus-leaves. She put pearls cool as snow on her heart.
Then Love-cluster came to herself and slowly said to her weeping friend: "My dear, the fire within me cannot be quenched by such things as pearls. If you want to save my life, be clever enough to bring my lover to me."
And the loving Jasmine said: "My dear, the night is almost over. In the morning I will bring your lover here to meet you. Be brave and go now to your room."
Love-cluster was contented. She took the pearls from her neck and gave them to her friend as a present. And she said: "Let us go now. Then in the morning you must keep your promise." So she went to her room.
In the morning Jasmine crept out without being seen to hunt for the house of Lotus-lake. When she got there, she found Lotus-lake under a tree in the garden. He was lying on a couch of lotus-leaves moistened with sandal, and the friend who knew his secret was fanning him with plantain-leaf fans, for he was tortured by the flames of love. And Jasmine hid, to find out whether this was lovesickness for her friend or not.
Then the friend said to Lotus-lake: "My friend, comfort your heart by glancing a moment at this charming garden. Do not be so troubled."
But he said to his friend: "My heart has been stolen by Love-cluster. It is no longer in my body. How can I comfort it? Love has made an empty quiver of me. So invent some plan by which I may meet the thief of my heart."
Then Jasmine came out joyfully and without fear and showed herself. And she said: "Sir, Love-cluster has sent me to you, and I am the bearer of a message to you. Is it good manners to enter the heart of an innocent girl by force, steal her thoughts, and run away? It is strange, but the sweet girl is ready to give her person and her life to you, her charmer. For day and night she heaves sighs hot as the smoke from the fire of love that burns in her heart. And teardrops carry her rouge away and fall, like bees longing for the honey of her lotus-face. So, if you wish it, I will tell you what is good for both of you."
And Lotus-lake said: "My good girl, the words which tell me that my love is lonely and longing, frighten me and comfort me. You are our only refuge. Devise a plan."
And Jasmine answered: "This very night I will bring Love-cluster secretly to the garden. You must be outside. Then I will cleverly let you in, and so you two will be united." Thus Jasmine delighted the Brahman's son, and went away successful to please Love-cluster with the news.
Then the sun and the daylight fled away, pursuing the twilight. And the East adorned her face with the moon. And the white night-blooming lotuses laughed, their faces expanding at the thought of the glory that was coming to them. At that hour the lover Lotus-lake came secretly, adorned and filled with longing, to the garden-gate of his beloved. And Jasmine led Love-cluster secretly into the garden, for she had lived through the day somehow.
Then Jasmine made her sit down under the mango trees, while she went and let Lotus-lake in. So he entered and looked upon Love-cluster as the traveller looks upon the shade of trees with thick foliage. And as he drew near, she saw him and ran to him, for love took away her modesty, and she fell on his neck. "Where would you go? I have caught you, thief of my heart!" she cried. Then excessive joy stopped her breathing and she died. She fell on the ground like a vine broken by the wind. Strange are the mysterious ways of Love.
When Lotus-lake saw that terrible fall, he cried: "Oh, what does it mean?" And he fainted and fell down. Presently he came to himself, and took his darling on his lap. He embraced her and kissed her and wept terribly. He was so borne down by the terrible burden of grief that his own heart broke. And when they were both dead, the night seemed to die away in shame and fear.
In the morning the relatives heard the story from the gardeners, and came there filled with timidity and wonder and grief and madness. They did not know what to do, but stood a long time with downcast eyes. Unfaithful women disgrace a family.
Presently the husband Jewel-guard came back from his father's house in Copper City, filled with love for Love-cluster. When he came to his father-in-law's house and saw the business, he was blinded by tears and went thoughtfully into the garden. There he saw his wife dead in another man's arms, and his body was scorched by flames of grief, and he died immediately.
Then the whole household shouted and screamed so that all the citizens heard the story and came there. The demi-gods themselves were filled with pity and prayed to the goddess Gauri whose image had been set up there before by Love-cluster's father: "Oh, Mother, the merchant who set up this statue was always devoted to you. Show mercy to him in his affliction."
And the gracious goddess heard their prayer. She said: "All three shall live again, and shall forget their love." Then through her grace they all arose like people waking from sleep. They were alive, and their love was gone. While all the people there rejoiced at what had happened. Lotus-lake went home, bending his head in shame. And the merchant took his shamefaced daughter and her husband and went into the house and made a feast.
When the goblin had told this story on the road in the night, he said: "O King, which was the most foolish among those who died for love? If you know and do not tell, you must remember the curse I spoke of before."
Then the king answered: "O magic creature, Jewel-guard was the most foolish of them. When he saw that his wife had died for love of another man, he should have been angry. Instead, he was loving, and died of grief."
Then the goblin slipped from the king's shoulder and quickly set out for his home. And the king ran after him again, eager as before.
The Four Brothers who brought a Dead Lion to Life. Which is to blame when he kills them all?
Then the king went back to the sissoo tree, took the goblin, put him on his shoulder, and started for the place he wished to reach. And as he walked along the road, the goblin began to talk again: "Bravo, King! You are a remarkable character. So I will tell you another story, and a strange one. Listen."
There is a city called Flower-city. There lived a king named Earth-boar. In his kingdom was a farm where a Brahman lived whose name was Vishnuswami. His wife was named Swaha. And four sons were born to them.
After a time the father died, and the relatives took all the money. So the four brothers consulted together: "There is nothing for us to do here. Suppose we go somewhere." And after a long journey they came to the house of their maternal grandfather in a village called Sacrifice. The grandfather was dead, but their uncles sheltered them, and they continued their studies.
But they did not amount to much, so in time their uncles became scornful in such matters as food and clothing. And they were troubled.
Then the eldest took the others aside and said: "Brothers, no man can do anything anywhere on earth. Now I was wandering about discouraged, and I came to a wood. There I saw to-day a dead man whose limbs lay relaxed on the ground. And I wished for the same fate, and I thought: He is happy. He is free from the burden of woe.' So I made up my mind to die, and hanged myself with a rope from a tree. I lost consciousness, but before the breath of life was gone, the cord was cut and I fell to the ground. And when I came to myself, I saw a compassionate man who had happened by at that moment, and he was fanning me with his garment. And he said to me: My friend, you are an educated man. Tell me why you are so despondent. The righteous man finds happiness, the unrighteous man finds unhappiness because of his unrighteousness, and for no other reason. If you made up your mind to this because of unhappiness, practice righteousness instead. Why seek the pains of hell by suicide?' Thus the man comforted me and went away. And I gave up the idea of suicide and came here. You see I could not even die when fate was unwilling. Now I shall burn my body at some holy place, that I may not again feel the woes of poverty."
Then the younger brothers said to him: "Sir, why is an intelligent man sad for lack of money? Do you not know that money is uncertain as an autumn cloud? No matter how carefully won and guarded, three things are fickle and bring sorrow at the last: evil friendships, a flirt, and money. The resolute and sensible man should by all means acquire that virtue which brings him Happiness a captive in bonds."
So the eldest brother straightway plucked up heart, and said: "What virtue is it which we should acquire?"
Then they all reflected, and took counsel together: "We will wander over the earth, and each of us will learn some one science." So they appointed a place for meeting, and the four brothers started in four different directions.
After a time they all gathered at the meeting-place, and asked one another what they had learned. The first said: "I have learned a science by which I can take the skeleton of any animal whatever and put the proper kind of flesh on it."
The second said: "I have learned a science by which I can put on the flesh-covered skeleton the proper hair and skin."
The third said: "My science is this. When the skin and the flesh and the hair are there, I can put in the eyes and the other organs of sense."
The fourth said: "When the organs are there, I can give the creature the breath of life."
So all four went into the forest to find a skeleton and test their various sciences. As fate would have it, they found the skeleton of a lion there. And they took that, not knowing the difference.
The first fitted out the skeleton with appropriate flesh. The second added the skin and hair. The third provided all the organs. The fourth gave life to the thing, and it was a lion. The lion arose with terrible massive mane, dreadful teeth in his mouth, and curving claws in his paws. He arose and killed his four creators, then ran into the forest.
Thus the Brahman youths all perished because they did wrong to make a lion. Who could expect a good result from creating a bad-tempered creature? Thus, if fate opposed, even a virtue that has been painfully acquired does not profit, but rather injures. But the tree of manhood, with the water of intelligence poured into its watering-trench of conduct about the vigorous root of fate, generally bears good fruit.