Chapter CII…

Chapter CII

Then, the next morning, Mrigánkadatta rose up from the shore of that beautiful lake, together with all his ministers, who had rejoined him; and in company with them, and the Bráhman Srutadhi, set out for Ujjayiní, to win Sasánkavatí, after he had paid his orisons to that tree of Ganesa. [458]

Then the heroic prince, accompanied by his ministers, again crossed various stretches of woodland, which contained many hundreds of lakes, and were black with tamála-trees [459] throughout their whole expanse, looking like nights in the rainy season, when the clouds collect; and others which had their canes broken by terrible infuriated elephants roaming through them, in which the arjuna-trees formed a strong contrast to the tamála-trees, [460] and which thus resembled so many cities of king Viráta; and ravines of mighty mountains, which were pure, though strewn with flowers, and though frequented by subdued hermits, were haunted by fierce beasts; and at last came near the city of Ujjayiní.

Then he reached the river Gandhavatí, and dispelled his fatigue by bathing in it, and after crossing it, he arrived with his companions in that cemetery of Mahákála. There he beheld the image of mighty Bhairava, black with the smoke from neighbouring pyres, surrounded with many fragments of bones and skulls, terrible with the skeletons of men which it held in its grasp, worshipped by heroes, frequented by many troops of demons, dear to sporting witches.

And after crossing the cemetery, he beheld the city of Ujjayiní, a yuga old, ruled by king Karmasena. Its streets were watched by guards with various weapons, who were themselves begirt by many brave high-born Rájpúts; it was surrounded with ramparts resembling the peaks of mighty mountains; it was crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, and hard for strangers to enter.

When Mrigánkadatta beheld that city, which was thus inaccessible on every side, he turned his face away in despondency, and said to his ministers, "Alas! ill-starred man that I am! though it has cost me hundreds of hardships to reach this city, I cannot even enter it; what chance then have I of obtaining my beloved?" When they heard this, they said to him, "What! do you suppose, prince, that this great city could ever be stormed by us, who are so few in number? We must think of some expedient to serve in this emergency, and an expedient will certainly be found; how comes it that you have forgotten that this expedition has frequently been enjoined by the gods?"

When Mrigánkadatta had been thus addressed by his ministers, he remained for some days roaming about outside the city.

Then his minister Vikramakesarin called to mind that Vetála, which he had long ago won over, intending to employ him to fetch the prince's love from her dwelling-house. And the Vetála came, black in hue, tall, with a neck like a camel, elephant-faced, with legs like a bull, eyes like an owl, and the ears of an ass. But finding that he could not enter the city, he departed; the favour of Siva secures that city against being invaded by such creatures.

Then the Bráhman Srutadhi, who was versed in policy, said to Mrigánkadatta, as he was sitting in gloom, surrounded by his ministers, longing in his heart to enter the city; "Why, prince, though you know the true principles of policy, do you remain bewildered, like one ignorant of them? Who will ever be victorious in this world by disregarding the difference between himself and his foe? For at every one of the four gates of this city, two thousand elephants, twenty-five thousand horses, ten thousand chariots, and a hundred thousand footmen remain harnessed and ready, day and night, to guard it; and they are hard to conquer, being commanded by heroes. So, as for a handful of men, like ourselves, entering it by force, that is a mere chimerical fancy, [461] not a measure calculated to ensure success. Moreover, this city cannot be overthrown by a small force; and a contest with an overwhelming force is like fighting on foot against an elephant. So join with your friend Máyávatu the king of the Pulindas, whom you delivered from the terrible danger of the water-monsters in the Narmadá, and with his friend Durgapisácha the very powerful king of the Mátangas, who is attached to you on account of his alliance with him, [462] and with that king of the Kirátas, named Saktirakshita, who is famous for his valour and has observed a vow of strict chastity from his youth upwards, and let them all bring their forces, and then do you, thus strengthened by allies, fill every quarter with your hosts, and so accomplish the object you have in view. Moreover, the king of the Kirátas is awaiting your coming from a distance in accordance with your agreement; how have you come to forget this? And no doubt, Máyávatu is ready awaiting your arrival, in the territory of [463] the king of the Mátangas, for you made this agreement with him. So let us go to the castle named Karabhagríva, on the southern slope of the Vindhyas, in which that chief of the Mátangas dwells. And let us summon there Saktirakshita, the king of the Kirátas, and united with them all make a fortunate expedition with every chance of success.

When Mrigánkadatta and his ministers heard this speech of Srutadhi's, which was full of sense and such as the wise would approve, they eagerly accepted it, saying, "So be it." And the next day the prince adored that unresting traveller of the sky, the sun, the friend of the virtuous, that had just arisen, revealing every quarter of the world, [464] and set out for the abode of Durgapisácha king of the Mátangas on the southern slope of the Vindhya range. And his ministers Bhímaparákrama, and Vyághrasena, and Gunákara, and Meghabala with Vimalabuddhi, and Sthúlabáhu with Vichitrakatha, and Vikramakesarin, and Prachandasakti, and Srutadhi and Dridhamushti followed him. With them he successively crossed forests wide-ranging as his own undertakings, and stretches of woodland profound as his own schemes, with no better refuge at night than the root of a tree [465] on the shore of a lake, and reached and ascended the Vindhya mountain lofty as his own soul.

Then the prince went from the summit of the mountain down its southern slope, and beholding afar off the villages of the Bhillas full of elephants' tusks and deer-skins, he said to himself, "How am I to know where the dwelling of that king of the Mátangas is?" While engaged in such reflections, he and his ministers saw a hermit boy come towards them, and after doing obeisance to him, they said, "Fair Sir, do you know in what part of this region the palace of Durgapisácha, the king of the Mátangas, is? For we wish to see him."

When that good young ascetic heard this, he said, "Only a kos distant from this place is a spot called Panchavatí, and not far from it was the hermitage of the hermit Agastya, who with small effort cast down from heaven the haughty king Nahusha; where Ráma, who by command of his father took up his dwelling in a forest, accompanied by Lakshmana and his wife Sítá, long waited on that hermit; where Kabandha, [466] who guided Ráma to the slaughter of the Rákshasas, proceeded to attack Ráma and Lakshmana, as Ráhu does the sun and moon, whose arm a yojana in length Ráma felled, so that it resembled Nahusha in his serpent form, come to supplicate Agastya; where even now the Rákshasas hearing the roaring of the clouds at the beginning of the rainy season, call to mind the twanging of the bow of Ráma; where the aged deer, that were fed by Sítá, beholding the regions deserted in every direction, with eyes filling with tears, reject the mouthful of grass; where Márícha, who brought about Sítá's separation from her husband, assumed the form of a golden deer and enticed away Ráma, as if to save from slaughter those deer, that were still left alive; where, in many a great lake full of the water of the Káverí, it appears as if Agastya had vomited up in driblets the sea that he swallowed. Not far from that hermitage, on a table-land of the Vindhya, is a stronghold tangled and inaccessible, named Karabhagríva. In it dwells that mighty Durgapisácha of terrible valour, chief of the Mátangas, whom kings cannot conquer. And he commands a hundred thousand bowmen of that tribe, every one of whom is followed by five hundred warriors. With the aid of those brigands he robs caravans, destroys his enemies, and enjoys this great forest, caring nought for this or that king. [467]

When Mrigánkadatta had heard this from the young hermit, he took leave of him, and went quickly, with his companions, in the direction indicated by him, and in course of time he arrived in the environs of Karabhagríva that stronghold of the king of the Mátangas, which were crowded with Bhilla villages. And within them he beheld near at hand on every side crowds of Savaras, adorned with peacocks' feathers and elephants' teeth, clothed in tigers' skins, and living on the flesh of deer. When Mrigánkadatta saw those Bhillas, he said to his ministers, "See! these men live a wild forest life like animals, and yet, strange to say, they recognise Durgapisácha as their king. There is no race in the world without a king; I do believe the gods introduced this magical name among men in their alarm, fearing that otherwise the strong would devour the weak, as great fishes eat the little." [468] And while he was saying this, and trying to find the path that led to the stronghold Karabhagríva, the scouts of Máyávatu, the king of the Savaras, who had already arrived there, recognized him, having seen him before. They immediately went and told that Máyávatu of his arrival; and he with his army went to meet him. And when that king of the Pulindas came near, and saw the prince, he alighted from his horse, and ran forward, and fell at his feet. And he embraced the prince, who asked after his health, and then mounted him and his ministers on horses, and brought them to his own camp. And that king of the Savaras sent his own warder to inform the king of the Mátangas of the prince's arrival.

And Durgapisácha, the king of the Mátangas, quickly came there from his own place, and his appearance justified his name. [469] He seemed like a second Vindhya range, for his body was firm as a rocky peak, his hue was black as tamála, and Pulindas lay at his foot. His face was rendered terrible by a natural three-furrowed frown, and so he appeared as if Durgá, the dweller in the Vindhya range, had marked him with the trident, to claim him as her own. Though young, he had seen the death of many "secular birds;" though black, he was not comely; and he crouched to none, though he hugged the foot of a mountain. [470] Like a fresh cloud, he displayed the peacock tail and the gay-coloured bow; like Hiranyáksha, [471] his body was scarred by the furious boar; like Ghatotkacha, he was mighty and possessed a haughty and terrible shape; [472] like the Kali age, he allowed those born under his sway to take pleasure in wickedness and break through the bonds of rule. And the mass of his host came filling the earth, like the stream of the Narmadá, when let loose from the embrace of Arjuna. [473] And so the aggregated army of the Chandálas moved on, blackening all the horizon with a dark hue, making those who beheld it say in perplexity to themselves "Can this be a mass of rock that has rolled down from the Anjana mountain, [474] or is it a premature bank of the clouds of the day of doom, that has descended upon the earth?"

And their chief Durgapisácha came up to Mrigánkadatta, placing his head upon the ground even when at a distance, and bowed before him, and said "To-day the goddess Durgá is pleased with me, in that your Highness, of such a noble race, has come to my house. On that account I consider myself fortunate and successful. When the king of the Mátangas had said this, he gave him a present of pearls, musk, and other rarities. And the prince kindly accepted it with the usual courtesies. Then they all encamped there. That great forest was covered all over with elephants fastened to posts, with horses in stables, and tented footmen; and was scarcely able to contain itself, being confused with its good fortune in thus being assimilated to a city, which was unprecedented in the course of its existence.

Then, in that wood, when Mrigánkadatta had bathed in the river for good fortune, and had taken food, and was sitting at his ease, in a secluded spot, surrounded by his ministers, Máyávatu also being present, Durgapisácha said to Mrigánkadatta, in the course of conversation, speaking in a tone softened by affection and regard, "This king Máyávatu came here a long time ago, and has been remaining here with me, my lord, awaiting your orders. So where, my prince, have you all remained so long? And what have you done? Tell me, now, the business that detained you." When the prince heard this speech of his, he said, "After I had left the palace of our friend here Máyávatu, with Vimalabuddhi and Gunákara, and Srutadhi, and Bhímaparákrama, whom I had also recovered, I found on my way this Prachandasakti and Vichitrakatha, and in course of time also this Vikramakesarin. Then these men here found on the borders of a beautiful lake a tree sacred to Ganesa, and climbed up it to pick its fruit, and so were turned into fruits themselves by the curse of the god. Then I propitiated Ganesa, and not without difficulty set them free, and at the same time I delivered these other four ministers of mine, Dridhamushti and Vyághrasena and Meghabala and Sthúlabáhu, who had previously suffered the same transformation. With all these, thus recovered, I went to Ujjayiní; but the gates were guarded, and we could not even enter the town; much less could we think of any device for carrying off Sasánkavatí. And as I had no army with me, I had no locus standi for sending an ambassador. So we deliberated together, and came here to you. Now, my friend, you and your allies have to decide whether we shall attain our end or no."

When Mrigánkadatta had related his adventures in these words, Durgapisácha and Máyávatu said, "Be of good courage; this is but a little matter for us to accomplish at once; our lives were originally created for your sake. We will bring here that king Karmasena in chains, and we will carry off his daughter Sasánkavatí by force."

When the king of the Mátangas and Máyávatu said this, Mrigánkadatta said lovingly and very respectfully, "What will you not be able to accomplish, for this resolute courage of yours is a sufficient guarantee that you will carry out that furtherance of your friend's interests which you have undertaken. When the Creator made you here, he infused into your composition qualities borrowed from your surroundings, the firmness of the Vindhya hills, the courage of the tigers, and the warm attachment to friends of the forest [475] lotuses. So deliberate and do what is fitting." While Mrigánkadatta was saying this, the sun retired to rest on the summit of the mountain of setting. Then they also rested that night in the royal camp, as was meet, sleeping in booths made by the workmen.

And the next morning Mrigánkadatta sent off Gunákara to bring his friend Saktirakshita, the king of the Kirátas. He went and communicated the state of affairs to that sovereign; and in a very few days the king of the Kirátas returned with him, bringing a very large force. Ten hundred thousand footmen, and two hundred thousand horse, and a myriad of furious elephants on which heroes were mounted, and eighty-eight thousand chariots followed that king, who darkened the heaven with his banners and his umbrella. And Mrigánkadatta, with his friends and ministers, went to meet him in high spirits and honoured him and conducted him into the camp. And in the meanwhile other friends and relations of the king of the Mátangas, and all those of king Máyávatu, having been summoned by messengers, came in. [476] And the camp swelled like the ocean, giving joy to the heart of Mrigánkadatta: with shouts rising up like the roar of the waves, and hundreds of battalions pouring in like rivers. And Durgapisácha honoured [477] those assembled kings with musk, and garments, and pieces of flesh, and spirits distilled from fruits. And Máyávatu the king of the Savaras gave them all splendid baths, unguents, food, drink, and beds. And Mrigánkadatta sat down to eat with all those kings who were seated in their proper places. [478] He even went so far as to make the king of the Mátangas eat in his presence though at a little distance from him: the fact is, it is necessity and place and time that take precedence, not one man of another.

And the next day, when the newly arrived force of Kirátas and others had rested, Mrigánkadatta, sitting on a throne of ivory in the assembly of the kings, where he had been duly honoured, after he had had the place cleared of attendants, said to his friends, the king of the Mátangas, and the others, "Why do we now delay? Why do we not quickly march towards Ujjayiní with the whole of this force?" When the Bráhman Srutadhi heard this, he said to that prince, "Listen prince, I now speak according to the opinion of those who know policy. A king who wishes to be victorious must first see the distinction between what is practicable and what is not practicable. What cannot be accomplished by an expedient, he should reject as impracticable. That is practicable which can be accomplished by an expedient. Now expedients in this matter are of four kinds, and are enumerated as conciliation, gifts, division and force. This order represents their comparative advantages, the first being better than the second, and so on. So, my prince, you ought first to make use of conciliation in this business. For, as king Karmasena is not greedy of gain, gifts are not likely to succeed; nor is division likely to be of any use, for none of his servants are angry, or covetous, or indignant with him, on account of having been treated with neglect. As for force, its employment is risky; as that king lives in a difficult country, has a very formidable army, and has never been conquered by any king before. Moreover even mighty ones cannot always be assured of having the fortune of victory on their side in battles; besides, it is not becoming in one, who is a suitor for a maiden's hand, to slaughter her relations. So let us send an ambassador to that monarch, adopting the method of conciliation. If that does not succeed, the method of force shall be employed as being unavoidable." All there, when they heard this speech of Srutadhi's, approved it, and praised his statesmanship.

Then Mrigánkadatta deliberated with them all, and sent a servant of the king of the Kirátas, a noble Bráhman, Suvigraha by name, who possessed all the requisites of a diplomatist, to king Karmasena, as an ambassador to communicate the result of their deliberations, and he carried with him a letter, and was also entrusted with a verbal message. The ambassador went to Ujjayiní, and, being introduced by the warder, entered the king's palace, the interior of which looked very magnificent, as its zones were crowded with splendid horses, and with elephants; and he saw that king Karmasena, sitting on his throne, surrounded by his ministers. He did obeisance to that sovereign, who welcomed him; and after he had sat down, and his health had been enquired after, he proceeded to deliver to him his letter. And the king's minister, named Prajnákosa, took it, and broke the seal, and unfolding the letter, proceeded to read it out to the following effect. "All-Hail! The auspicious Mrigánkadatta, ornament of the circle of the earth, son of the great king of kings who is lord of the city of Ayodhyá, the fortunate Amaradatta, from the slope of the forest at the foot of the castle of Karabhagríva, where he now is, with kings submissive and obedient to him, sends this plain message to the great king Karmasena in Ujjayiní, who is the moon of the sea of his own race, with all due respect; You have a daughter, and you must without fail give her to another, so give her to me; for she has been declared by the gods a suitable wife for me. In this way we shall become allies, and our former enmity will be at an end; if you do not consent, I will appeal to my own strong arms to give me this object of my desires." When the letter had been thus read by the minister Prajnákosa, king Karmasena, inflamed with rage, said to his ministers, "These people are always hostile to us; and observe, this man, not knowing his place, has on the present occasion worded his communication in an objectionable form. He has put himself first and me last, out of contempt; and at the end the conceited fellow has bragged of the might of his arm. So, I do not consider that I ought to send any reply; as for giving him my daughter, that is out of the question. Depart, ambassador; let your master do what he can." [479]

When king Karmasena said this, that Bráhman ambassador Suvigraha, being a man of spirit, gave him an answer well-suited to the occasion, "Fool, you boast now, because you have not seen that prince; make ready; when be arrives, you will learn the difference between yourself and your opponent." When the ambassador said this, the whole court was in a state of excitement; but the king, though in wrath, said, "Away with you! Your person is inviolable, so what can we do?" Then some of those present, biting their lips, and wringing their hands together, said one to another, "Why do we not follow him and kill him this moment." But others, being masters of themselves, said, "Let the young fool of a Bráhman go! why do you trouble yourselves about the speech of this babbler? We will shew what we can do." Others again, appearing to foreshadow by their frowns the speedy bending of their bows, remained silent, with faces red with rage.

The whole court being thus incensed, the ambassador Suvigraha went out, and repaired to Mrigánkadatta in his camp. He told him and his friends what Karmasena had said; and the prince, when he heard it, ordered the army to march. Then the sea of soldiers, set in motion by the order of the commander, as by a violent gust of wind, in which men, horses, and elephants moved like bounding sea-monsters, exciting satisfaction in the mind of the allied monarchs, [480] assumed an agitation terrifying to the minds of timid men. Then Mrigánkadatta, making the earth miry with the foam of high-mettled horses, and the frontal ichor of elephants, and deafening the world with the noise of his drums, moved on slowly to Ujjayiní to victory.

Chapter CIII

Then Mrigánkadatta, accompanied by his friends, crossed the Vindhya range, and with his army ready for battle, reached the frontier of Ujjayiní. When the brave king Karmasena heard that, he also made ready for the fight, and with his army moved out from the city to meet him. And when those two armies came to close quarters, and could see one another, a battle took place between them, that gladdened heroes. The battlefield seemed like the dwelling-place of Hiranyakasipu, as it was full of timid demons dispersed in terror by the roar of the Man-lion; [481] the continued dense showers of arrows flying through the air, and cutting one another, descended on brave warriors, like locusts on the tender herb. Dense clouds of pearls gleamed as they sprang from the frontal globes of elephants struck with swords, resembling the necklace of the Fortune of that battle broken in her agitation. That place of combat appeared like the mouth of Death; and the sharp points of spears, that seized on men, horses, and elephants, were like his fangs. The heads of strong-armed warriors, cut off with crescent-headed arrows, flew up to heaven, as if leaping up [482] to kiss the heavenly nymphs; and at every moment trunks of brave heroes danced, as if in delight at the battle of their noble leader being gloriously illuminated; and so for five days that hero-destroying battle went on, with flowing rivers of blood, rich in mountains of heads.

And in the evening of the fifth day the Bráhman Srutadhi came secretly to Mrigánkadatta when he was closeted with his ministers, and said to him, "While you were engaged in fighting, I went away from the camp, in the disguise of a mendicant, and entered Ujjayiní, the gates of which were almost deserted; and now listen; I will tell you truly what I observed, being myself all the while, though near at hand, unseen in virtue of my knowledge. As soon as king Karmasena went out to battle, Sasánkavatí with the permission of her mother also left the palace, and repaired to a temple of Gaurí in that city, to propitiate the goddess, in order to ensure her father's success in the combat. And while she was there, she said in secret to a devoted confidante 'My friend, it is for my sake, that my father has become involved in this war. And if he is conquered, he will give me to that prince; for kings disregard love for offspring altogether, when the interests of their kingdoms are at stake. And I do not know whether that prince is a suitable match for me in respect of personal appearance, or not. I would sooner meet my death than marry an ugly husband. I think a good-looking husband, even though poor, is to be preferred to an ugly one, though he be emperor over the whole earth. So you must go to the army and see what he is like, and then return. For, my fortunate friend, Prudence [483] is your name, and Prudence is your nature.'

"When the princess had given this order to her confidante, that girl managed to come to our camp, and after seeing you, prince, went and said to that princess, 'My friend, I can say nothing but this; even Vásuki [484] himself has not got a tongue able to describe the beauty of that prince. So far however I can give you an idea of it: as there is no woman in the world equal to you in good looks, so there is no man equal to him. But alas! that is but a feeble description of him; I believe in these three worlds there is no Siddha, or Gandharva, or god like him.' By this speech of her confidante's Sasánkavatí's heart was fixed on you, and at the same moment it was nailed to you by the god of love with his arrows. And from that time forth she has remained desiring the welfare of you and also of her father, becoming gradually attenuated by penance and the grief of separation from you."

"So go secretly this very night, and carry off that princess from that sanctuary of Gaurí, which is now unfrequented, and bring her here without being observed. Let her be conveyed to the palace of Máyávatu; and then these kings, after securing your rear against the fury of the foe, shall come there with me. Let this fighting be put an end to. Do not allow any further slaughter of soldiers. And ensure the personal safety of yourself and the king your father-in-law. For war, that involves a great waste of human life, is an inexpedient expedient, and sages affirm it to be the worst of all political measures."

When Srutadhi had said this to Mrigánkadatta, that prince and his ministers mounted their horses and set out secretly at night. And the prince arrived at the city of Ujjayiní, in which only women, and children, and sleepy men were left, and entered it easily, as the gates were kept by only a few drowsy guards. [485] And then he proceeded to that famous sanctuary of Gaurí, which was easily discovered by the description which Srutadhi had given of it. It was situated in a great garden called Pushpakarnda, and was just then illuminated by the rays of the moon, which at that time adorned the face of the East. [486]

In the meanwhile Sasánkavatí, who remained sleepless, though her companions, worn out by attendance and other fatigues, were sleeping around her, was saying to herself; "Alas! for my sake brave kings and princes and heroes are being slain every day in battle in both these armies. Moreover, that prince, who has appealed to the ordeal of battle for my sake, was long ago designated as my husband by the goddess Durgá in a dream; and the god of love has with unfailing aim cut out my heart with a continual shower [487] of arrows, and taken it, and presented it to him. But, ill-starred girl that I am, my father will not give me to that prince, on account of the previous enmity between them, and his own pride; so much I gathered from his letter. So what is the use of a sure revelation by a goddess in a dream, when Fate is adverse? The fact is, I see no chance of obtaining my beloved in any way. So, why should I not abandon my hopeless life, before I hear of some misfortune happening to my father or to my lover in battle? [488]" With these words she rose up, and in her grief went in front of the image of Gaurí and made a noose with her outer garment, fastening it to an asoka-tree.

In the meanwhile Mrigánkadatta, with his companions, entered that garden and fastened his horse to a tree in front of the temple and sanctuary of Gaurí. Then Mrigánkadatta's minister Vimalabuddhi, seeing the princess near, said of his own accord to the prince, "Look prince, here is some lovely girl trying to hang herself; now, who can she be?" When the prince heard that, he looked at her and said, "Dear me! who can this girl be? Is she the goddess Rati? Or is she happiness incarnate in bodily form? Or is she the beauty of the moon, having taken shape, [489] or the command of Cupid living and walking? Or is she a nymph of heaven? No, that cannot be. For what can make heavenly nymphs desire to hang themselves? So let us remain here for a time concealed by the trees, until we find out for certain, somehow or other, who she is." When he had said this, he and his ministers remained there in concealment; and in the meanwhile the despondent Sasánkavatí offered this prayer to the goddess, "O adorable Gaurí that deliverest the afflicted from their pain, grant that, though, owing to my sins in a former state of existence, prince Mrigánkadatta has not become my husband in this birth, he may become such in a future life." When the princess had said this, she bowed before the goddess, and fastened the noose round her neck with eyes moist with tears.

At that moment her companions woke up, and distressed at not seeing her, began to look for her, and quickly came where she was. And they said, "Alas, friend, what is this that you have undertaken? Out on your rashness!" With these words they removed the noose from her neck. So, while the girl was standing there ashamed and despondent, a voice came from the inner shrine of Gaurí's temple, "Do not despond, my daughter Sasánkavatí; that word, fair one, that I spake to thee in a dream, cannot prove false. Here is that husband of thine in a former life, Mrigánkadatta, come to thy side; go and enjoy with him the whole earth."

When Sasánkavatí heard this sudden utterance, she slowly looked aside a little confused, and at that moment Vikramakesarin, the minister of Mrigánkadatta, came up to her, and pointing out the prince with his finger, said to her, "Princess, Bhavání has told you the truth, for here is the prince, your future husband, come to you, drawn by the cords of love." When the princess heard that, she cast a sidelong glance, and beheld that noble lover of hers [490] standing in the midst of his companions, looking like the moon having descended from heaven begirt by the planets, like the standard by which beauty is tested in others, raining nectar into the eyes.

Then she remained motionless as a pillar, and every hair stood erect with joy on all her limbs, so that they appeared to be covered with the feathers at the end of Cupid's arrows raining upon her; and at that moment Mrigánkadatta came up to her, and in order to dispel her shame, he addressed to her, with a voice raining the honey of love, the following speech appropriate to the occasion, [491] "Fair one, you have made me leave my own country and kingdom and relations, and brought me from a distance, enslaving me and binding me with the chain of your virtues. So now I have gained this fruit of my dwelling in the forest, and of my sleeping on the ground, and of my living on wild fruits, and enduring the fierce heat of the sun, and of my emaciation with asceticism, that I have beheld this form of yours which rains nectar into my eyes. And if you love me enough to care to please me, bestow also, gazelle-eyed one, that feast of the eyes upon the ladies of our city. Let the war cease; let the welfare of both armies be ensured; let my birth be made a success, and let my father's blessing be gained for me at the same time!"

When Mrigánkadatta had said this to Sasánkavatí, she slowly answered with eyes fixed on the ground, "I indeed have been purchased with your virtues and made your slave, so do, my husband, what you think will be for our good." When Mrigánkadatta had been refreshed by this nectar-like speech of hers, and saw that his point was gained, he praised the goddess Gaurí and bowed before her, and then he made the princess get up behind him on his horse, and his ten [492] brave ministers mounted and took her ladies-in-waiting up behind them; and then the prince, with his sword drawn, set out from that city at night, accompanied by them sword in hand. And though the city-guards saw those eleven heroes, they did not dare to stop them, for they looked as formidable as so many angry Rudras. And leaving Ujjayiní, they went with Sasánkavatí to the palace of Máyávatu, in accordance with the advice of Srutadhi.

While the guards were exclaiming in their distraction, "Who are these, and whither are they gone?" it gradually became known in Ujjayiní that the princess had been carried off. And the queen-consort hurriedly despatched the governor of the city to the camp, to tell king Karmasena what had taken place. But in the meanwhile the head of the scouts came to king Karmasena in the camp there at night, and and said to him, "King, Mrigánkadatta and his ministers left the army secretly in the early part of this night, and went on horseback to Ujjayiní, to carry off Sasánkavatí, who is in the temple of Gaurí. So much I have discovered for certain; your Highness knows what step it is now desirable to take."

When king Karmasena heard this, he sent for his general, and communicated to him privately the information he had received, and said to him, "Choose five hundred swift horses, and set picked men on them, and go with them secretly and rapidly to Ujjayiní, and wherever you find that villain Mrigánkadatta, kill him, or make him prisoner: know that I will follow you quickly, leaving my army behind me." When the general received this order from the king, he said, "So be it," and set out by night for Ujjayiní with the prescribed force. And on the way he met the governor of the town, from whom he heard that the princess had been carried off by some daring men in another direction. Then he returned with the governor of the town, and told king Karmasena what had taken place. When the king heard it, he thought it impossible, and remained quiet during the night, without making an attack. And in the camp of Mrigánkadatta Máyávatu and the other kings passed the night under arms, by the advice of Srutadhi.

And next morning the sagacious king Karmasena found out the real state of the case, and sent off an ambassador to the kings in the camp of Mrigánkadatta, and he instructed the ambassador to give this message by word of mouth, "Mrigánkadatta has carried off my daughter by a stratagem; never mind that; for what other man would be as suitable a match for her? So now let him come to my palace, and do you come too, in order that I may celebrate my daughter's marriage with appropriate ceremonies." [493] And the kings and Srutadhi approved of this proposal, [494] and said to the ambassador, "Then let your master retire to his own city, and we will ourselves go and bring the prince there." When the ambassador heard that proposal, he went and reported it to his master, and Karmasena agreed to it, and left for Ujjayiní with his army. When the kings saw that, they went, with Máyávatu at their head, and accompanied by Srutadhi, to Mrigánkadatta.

And in the meanwhile Mrigánkadatta, with Sasánkavatí, had reached the palace of Máyávatu in the city of Kánchanapura. There the queens of Máyávatu welcomed him, and his companions, and his beloved, with becoming hospitality, and he rested there with them, having successfully accomplished his object. And the next day the kings came there with Srutadhi; the heroic king of the Kirátas Saktirakshita with his army, and the mighty king Máyávatu leader of the Savaras, and the hero Durgapisácha lord of the host of the Mátangas; and all of them, when they beheld Mrigánkadatta united to Sasánkavatí like the white water-lily to the night, rejoiced and congratulated him. And after they had shewn him the honour he deserved, they told him the message of Karmasena, and how he had gone to his own palace.

Then Mrigánkadatta, having established there his camp, that was like a moving city, sat down with them all to take counsel. And he said to the kings and to his ministers, "Tell me; shall I go to Ujjayiní to be married, or not?" And they with one accord gave the following answer, "That king is a villain; so how can a visit to his palace turn out well? [495] Moreover, there is no need of it, as his daughter has arrived here." Then Mrigánkadatta said to the Bráhman Srutadhi, "Why do you remain silent, Bráhman, like one taking no interest in the proceedings? Tell me, do you approve of this step or not?"

Then Srutadhi said, "If you will listen, I will tell you what I think: my opinion is that you ought to go to the palace of Karmasena. For he sent you this message because he saw no other way out of the difficulty; otherwise, how would a powerful prince like that, when his daughter had been carried off, give up fighting, and go home? Moreover, what could he do to you, when you arrived at his court, since you would take your army with you? On the contrary, if you go there, he will be well-disposed to you, and he will again be one of your chief allies out of love for his daughter. The reason he makes this proposal, which is a perfectly legitimate one, is that he does not wish his daughter to be married in an irregular manner. So I think it advisable that you should go to Ujjayiní." When Srutadhi said this, all, who were present, approved his speech, and said, "Bravo! Bravo!"

Then Mrigánkadatta said to them, "I admit the truth of all this; but I do not like to marry without my father and mother. So let some one be sent off from this place to summon my father and mother: and when I have learnt their wish, I will do what is proper." When the hero had said this, he took the advice of his friends, and then and there sent off his minister Bhímaparákrama to his parents.

And in the meanwhile his father, king Amaradatta, in the city of Ayodhyá, found out in course of time from his subjects that the charge which Vinítamati brought against the prince, and which caused his banishment from his native land, was wholly groundless. Then, in his wrath, he put to death that wicked minister and his family, and fell into a pitiable state, being terribly afflicted on account of the banishment of his son. And he left his capital, and remained in a sanctuary of Siva, outside the city, called Nandigráma; and there he and his wives gave themselves up to severe asceticism.

After he had remained there some time, Bhímaparákrama, whose approach was announced by scouts, arrived, thanks to the speed of his swift horse, at the city of Ayodhyá. He beheld that city plunged in despair, on account of the absence of the prince, as if it were once more going through the painful agitation caused by the exile of Ráma. Thence he went to Nandigráma, surrounded by citizens who asked him for news of the prince, and hearing from their mouths what had happened to the king. There he beheld king Amaradatta, with his body emaciated by asceticism, surrounded by his queens, eager for news of his beloved son.

Bhímaparákrama went up to him and fell at his feet: and the king embraced him, and asked for news of his son; and thereupon Bhímaparákrama said to him with tears; "Your son Mrigánkadatta has won by his valour the princess Sasánkavatí, the daughter of king Karmasena. But, as he is devoted to his parents, it does not seem at all becoming to him to marry her, unless the king and the queen can be present at the ceremony. So your son, placing his head upon the ground, has sent me to request you to come to him. And he awaits your Highness's arrival, in Kánchanapura, in the palace of king Máyávatu, the monarch of the Savaras. Now hear the story of our adventures." And thereupon Bhímaparákrama began with the banishment of his master, and related all his various and wonderful adventures, involving the long story of the misfortunes of their forest sojourn and their separation, with the war, and winding up with the prince's reconciliation with Karmasena.

When king Amaradatta heard that, he made up his mind that it was well with his son, and in his joy he announced that he would set out that moment. He mounted an elephant, and accompanied by his queen, his subject kings, and his ministers, and followed by a force of elephants and cavalry, he started full of eagerness to join his son. And travelling uninterruptedly, the king reached in a few days his son's camp, that was pitched in the territory of the monarch of the Savaras.

And when Mrigánkadatta, who had long been yearning for his father, heard of his approach, he went out to meet him with all the kings. And he saw him from a distance, and dismounted from his horse, and fell at the feet of his father, who was seated on an elephant, and at the feet of his mother. And when embraced by his father, he filled with his body his clasping arms, with satisfaction his heart, and his eyes with tears. His mother too folded him in a long embrace, and looking at him again and again, was for some time unable to let him go, as if fearing a second separation. And Mrigánkadatta introduced to his father Amaradatta the kings his friends, and they bowed before him and the queen. And that couple, the king and the queen, received lovingly those friends who had stood by their only son in his difficulties.

Then Amaradatta entered the palace of Máyávatu, and saw Sasánkavatí, his future daughter-in-law, who bowed at his feet. And after accepting a present, he departed with the queen and that daughter-in-law, and took up his quarters in his own camp. And there he took food with his son and all the kings, and spent that day agreeably with song, music, and dancing. And he thought that all his objects in life had been gained, thanks to his son Mrigánkadatta, the future emperor, who had attained so much glory.

And in the meanwhile the wise king Karmasena, after deliberating, sent off an ambassador to Mrigánkadatta with the following message, which was contained in a letter, and also intended to be delivered by word of mouth; "I know that you will not come to Ujjayiní; so I will send to you my own son Sushena; he will bestow on you with due ceremonies his sister Sasánkavatí; so you ought not, blameless one, to marry her in an irregular manner, if you value my friendship."

And when the prince had heard this message delivered in the royal hall of audience, his father the king himself gave this answer to the ambassador; "Who but king Karmasena would send such a gracious message? That excellent monarch is truly well-disposed to us; so let him send here his son Sushena; we will so order matters as that his daughter's marriage shall give him satisfaction." When the king had given this answer and dismissed the messenger with due honours, he said to his son, and Srutadhi, and the kings, "We had better go now to Ayodhyá; that is the place where the marriage can be performed with most éclat; and there we can entertain Sushena with becoming magnificence. And let king Máyávatu wait here for Sushena; when that prince arrives he can come on after us to Ayodhyá with him. But we will go on in front to make the necessary preparations for the marriage." And all present approved this speech of the king's.

Then, the next day, the king with the queen and his soldiers, and Mrigánkadatta with the kings and his ministers, started off with Sasánkavatí, exulting in their success, leaving Máyávatu to wait there for Sushena. Their army moved on like a deep and terrible sea, agitated with hundreds of waves in the form of troops of bounding horses, filling all the horizon with a flood of countless marching footmen, rendering all other sounds inaudible with the confused din that arose from it. And gradually advancing, father and son reached the palace of Saktirakshita the king of the Kirátas, that lay in their course.

There they and their attendants were courteously and generously welcomed with heaps of valuable jewels, gold, and splendid garments. And they stayed there one day with their army, taking food and resting, and then they set out and reached in course of time their city of Ayodhyá. It seemed like a lake in windy weather, as they entered it: for the ladies of the city that had climbed up to the windows of the palaces, as they moved to and fro, seemed like swaying full-blown lotuses, sending forth shoots of beauty; and their rolling eyes eager to behold the prince, who after a long absence had returned, bringing a bride with him, were like dancing blue lilies; it was crowded with assembling kingly swans; and tossing with wavy banners. And father and son looked grand, as they sat on thrones, being blessed by the Bráhmans, praised by heralds, and hymned by bards.

And when the people there saw the great beauty of Sasánkavatí, they exclaimed in their astonishment, "If they were to behold this daughter of Karmasena, the Ocean would cease to boast of the beauty of his daughter Lakshmí, and the Himálaya would no longer pride himself on Gaurí." And then, when the festival came on, the quarters, re-echoing the sound of the auspicious drums of rejoicing, as it were, gave notice to the kings. And the whole city was full of exultation, and the vermilion colours that covered it throughout, seemed like its red glow of affection overflowing in external form.

The next day the astrologers fixed an auspicious date for the prince's marriage, and his father king Amaradatta began to make preparations for it. And the city was filled so full of various jewels, coming from all quarters, that it put to shame the city of Kuvera.

And soon a servant of king Máyávatu's came to the sovereign in high spirits, introduced by the warder, and said to him, "King, prince Sushena and king Máyávatu have arrived, and they are both waiting on the frontier of this realm of Ayodhyá." When king Amaradatta heard that, he sent his own general with a body of soldiers to meet Sushena. And Mrigánkadatta, out of regard for his friend, also went out with the general from Ayodhyá to meet the prince. And both of those princes dismounted, while yet a great distance apart, and met together, embracing one another and asking after one another's health. And out of love they entered the city in the same chariot, giving a great feast to the eyes of the ladies of the city.

And there Sushena had an interview with the king, and was received by him with much respect, and then he went to the private apartments of his sister Sasánkavatí. There she rose up weeping and embraced him, and he sat down, and said to the princess who was overwhelmed with shame, "My father directs me to tell you that you have done nothing unbecoming, for he has just come to learn that prince Mrigánkadatta was appointed your husband by the goddess Gaurí in a dream, and it is the highest duty of women to follow the steps of their husbands." When he said this to the girl, she dismissed her shame, looking at her heart with downcast face, as if to tell it that its desire was gained.

Then Sushena brought and gave to Sasánkavatí in the presence of the king her own accumulated wealth; two thousand bháras [496] of gold, five camels heavily laden with jewelled ornaments, and another treasure of gold. And he said, "This is her own private property, but, as for what her father has sent, I will give it her in due course at the marriage altar." Then they all ate and drank, and spent the day there in the king's presence in great comfort, with Mrigánkadatta and his suite.

The next day dawned, the day fixed as auspicious, and Mrigánkadatta performed his own daily ceremony, of bathing and so on; in which the king himself displayed the utmost interest, in his joy at the occasion. And then Sasánkavatí, though her beauty was sufficient bridal ornament, was solemnly adorned by the ladies, only out of regard for the good old custom, not because anything of the kind was needed. Then the bride and bridegroom left the room in which the previous ceremony took place, and in which Sushena presided, and ascended the altar-platform, where a fire was burning. And on it the prince received the hand of the princess, which was resplendent with the hues of a lotus that she held, as Vishnu the hand of Lakshmí. And when they circumambulated the fire, the face of Sasánkavatí was red and tearful from heat and smoke, though anger was far from her. And the handfuls of parched grain, thrown into the fire, appeared like the laughs of the god of Love, pleased with the success of his scheme. And when the first handful was thrown, Sushena gave five thousand horses, and a hundred elephants, and two hundred bháras of gold, and twenty camels laden with loads of splendid raiment, valuable gems, and pearl-ornaments. And at each subsequent sprinkling of grain, Sasánkavatí's brother gave her a portion of the wealth gained by the conquest of the earth, double that given at the preceding.

Then Mrigánkadatta, the auspicious ceremony of his marriage having been performed, entered his own palace with his newly married bride, Sasánkavatí, while the sound of festal drums rose in the air. And the king, his father, gratified his ministers and the citizens of his capital, with presents of elephants, horses, garments, ornaments, meat, and drink, suited to the worth of the recipient, beginning with the circle of dependent monarchs, and ending with the parrots and pet mainas. And the king displayed on this occasion such exceedingly lavish generosity that even the trees had garments and gems fastened to them, and presented the appearance of earthly wishing-trees.

Then the king and Mrigánkadatta feasted with the kings and Sasánkavatí and Sushena, and spent the rest of the day in a wine-party. Then, after the inhabitants of the palace had eaten and drunk well, and enjoyed music and dancing, the sun, having accomplished his journey, and having drunk up the moisture of the earth, entered the cavern of the western mountain. And the glory of the day, seeing that he had departed somewhere or other with the evening that was all ablaze with a warm glow, ran after him in a fit of jealous anger, and the birds flying to and fro seemed like her agitated zone. [497] And then in due course appeared advancing the wanton nymph Night, beautiful with her waving black robe of darkness, and showing a face in which stars rolled for eyeballs, and the god of Love waxed mighty. And the moon, own brother to the curved corner of an angry long-eyed beauty's eye, arose, and glowing with fresh rosy colour, made itself the driving-hook of the elephant of the eastern mountain. And the eastern quarter, that was clear and bright with the departure of the darkness, bore a laughing face, to which the moon, like a new shoot of the twining plant of Love, formed an extemporized ear-ornament. And at night Mrigánkadatta, after performing his evening devotions, retired to his luxuriously appointed bed-chamber with his bride Sasánkavatí. And during it, that fair one's moonlike countenance, dispelling the darkness, and lighting up the pictured panels of the room, seemed to render unnecessary the lamps hanging there, that were made of precious stones. [498] And the next morning Mrigánkadatta was aroused by the soft sweet strains of the following song, "The night has past; leave your bed, prince, for the breezes of morning are blowing, fanning the perfumed locks of the gazelle-eyed fair ones. And the dewdrops collected on the points of the blades of dúrva-grass sparkle brilliantly, looking like pearls fallen from the necklace of the night quickly following the moon. And observe, prince, the bees that long sported in the cups of the white water-lilies opening when touched by the beams of the moon, and drank the honey, and were joyous at having obtained an entrance, now that the water-lilies are closed and their glory is departing, are seeking some other retreat; for to whom are black souls faithful in calamity? And the god of Love, seeing that the lip of night has been adorned by the finger of the sun, has stripped it of the moon which served it for a beauty-patch, and has gradually dissipated the darkness which was a black powder to set it off." Aroused by these strains at the hour of dawn, Mrigánkadatta cast off sleep, and leaving Sasánkavatí, at once started up from his couch. And he rose and performed the ceremonies of the day, his father having made all the arrangements that devolved on him; and accompanied by his beloved he passed many more days in similar rejoicing. Then his father, Amaradatta, first inaugurated the prince's brother-in-law Sushena with the holy waters, and placed a turban of honour on his head; and bestowed on him as a mark of respect a suitable territory and elephants, horses, quantities of gold, and garments, and a hundred beautiful women. And then the king complimented the king of the Savaras and the king of the Kirátas, Máyávatu and Saktirakshita, with their relations and wives, and that king Durgapisácha the leader of the host of the Mátangas, and the ministers of Mrigánkadatta with Srutadhi, by giving them territories, cows, horses, gold and garments. Then king Amaradatta dismissed the king of the Kirátas and the other monarchs, with Sushena, to their own dominions: and ruled his realm in happiness, at ease because his valour was so well known. Mrigánkadatta, for his part, having conquered his enemies, and attained his ends, remained in happiness with his wife Sasánkavatí, whom he had gained after a long struggle, and with Bhímaparákrama and his other ministers.

And in course of time old age, slowly creeping on, approached the root of the ear of that king Amaradatta, appearing as if it had taken form in order to say to him, "You have enjoyed the good things of fortune; your age is fully ripe; surely it is now time to retire from the world." Then the king's mind became averse to enjoyment, and he said to his ministers, "Listen, I will now tell you the scheme which I have in my mind. My life has passed; that grey hue which is the harbinger of Death has just now twitched my locks; and when old age once arrives, a vicious clinging to enjoyment on the part of persons like myself, when all the zest is gone, is mere vanity. And though in some people a mad passion of avarice and lust goes on increasing with increasing age, that is without doubt the natural tendency of base souls, and the good do not acquire it. Now I have this son here Mrigánkadatta, who has gained glory by conquering the sovereign of Avanti and his allied kings [499], who abounds in good qualities, is beloved by the subjects, and has excellent friends. So I propose to make over to him my mighty kingdom, and to retire to a holy water for mortification of the flesh; conduct in conformity with the laws laid down for the various periods of life, that their enemies cannot blame, becomes men of great soul."

When the calm and resolute ministers heard this determined speech of the king's, they, and in due course the queen and the citizens all approved it, saying, "So let it be!" Then the king performed the joyful ceremony of the coronation [500] of his son Mrigánkadatta at a moment fixed by the astrologers, on a day selected by the chief Bráhmans assembled together. And on that day the palace of the king was full of people running hither and thither at the order of the warder, and all the officials in it had their hands full, and it reeled with the merriment of famous bards and of lovely women who were dancing there. And while the water of holy places was being poured in copious showers upon the head of Mrigánkadatta and his wife, a second flood seemed to gush from the eyes of his joyful parents. And, when that new king, of lion-like might, mounted his lion-seat, it seemed as if his enemies, bowed down by fear of his wrath, crouched on the ground in a fashion other than lion-like.

Then his father, king Amaradatta, prolonged for seven days the great feast, in which the king's highway was decorated, and the subject kings honoured according to their worth. And on the eighth day he went out of the city with his wife, and after turning back Mrigánkadatta and the citizens, who followed him with tearful faces, he went with his ministers to Váránasí. There the king remained with his body steeped in Ganges water, worshipping Siva three times a day, performing penance, like a hermit, by living on roots and fruits; and his wife shared all his devotions and privations.

But Mrigánkadatta, for his part, having obtained that kingdom broad and pure as the sky, which the sun takes as his domain, and having overwhelmed the kings with imposition of numerous tributes, as the sun does the mountains with showers of rays, began to blaze forth with increasing heat of valour. And associated with his lieutenants Máyávatu and Karmasena and the others, and with his own ministers headed by Srutadhi, he conquered this circle of the earth, with all its continents, as far as the four cardinal points, and ruled it under one umbrella. And while he was king, such calamities as famine, and the dread of robbers and of foreign invaders were heard of only in tales; and the world was ever joyous and happy, and enjoyed unparalleled felicity, so that it seemed as if the gentle reign of Ráma the good were renewed. And so the monarch established himself in that city of Ayodhyá with his ministers, and kings came from various quarters to worship the lotus of his foot, and he long enjoyed with his beloved Sasánkavatí pleasures the joy of which no enemy marred. [501]

When the hermit Pisangajata had told this story in the wood on the Malaya mountain to Naraváhanadatta, who was separated from his beloved, he went on to say to him, "So, my son, as Mrigánkadatta in old time gained Sasánkavatí after enduring affliction, you also will regain your Madanamanchuká." When Naraváhanadatta had heard this nectarous utterance of the mighty hermit Pisangajata, he conceived in his heart the hope of regaining Madanamanchuká. And with his mind fixed on her, he took leave of that good hermit, and roamed about on the Malaya mountain, looking for Lalitalochaná, whom he had lost, the fair one that originally brought him there.

Chapter CIV

May that Ganesa, whom, when dancing in the twilight intervals between the Yugas, all the worlds seem to imitate by rising and falling, protect you!

May the blaze of the eye in the forehead of Siva, who is smeared with the beautiful red dye used by Gaurí for adorning her feet, befriend you for your happiness!

We adore the goddess Sarasvatí, taking form as speech to our heart's delight, the bee that dwells in the lotus on the lake of the mighty poet's mind. [502]

Then Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, afflicted with separation, being without Madanamanchuká, roamed about on those lower slopes of mount Malaya, and in its bordering forests, which were in all the beauty of spring, but found joy nowhere. The cluster of mango-blossoms, though in itself soft, yet seeming, on account of the bees [503] that settled on it, like the pliant bow of the god of Love, cleft his heart. And the song of the cuckoo, though sweet in itself, was hard to bear, and gave pain to his ears, as it seemed to be harsh with the reproachful utterances of Mára. [504] And the wind of the Malaya mountain, though in itself cool, yet being yellow with the pollen of flowers, and so looking like the fire of Cupid, seemed to burn him, when it fell on his limbs. So he slowly left that region, being, so to speak, drummed out of it by those groves that were all resonant with the hum of bees.

And gradually, as he journeyed on, with the deity for his guide, by a path that led towards the Ganges, he reached the bank of a lake in a neighbouring wood. And there he beheld two young Bráhmans of handsome appearance, sitting at the foot of a tree, engaged in unrestrained conversation. And when they saw him, they thought he was the god of Love, and they rose up, and bowing before him, said, "All hail to thee, adorable god of the flowery bow! Tell us why thou wanderest here alone without that fragrant artillery of thine, and where is that Rati thy constant companion?" When the son of the king of Vatsa heard that, he said to those Bráhmans, "I am not the god Káma, I am a mere mortal; but I have indeed lost my Rati." [505] When the prince had said this, he told his history, and said to those Bráhmans, "Who are you, and of what kind is this talk that you two are carrying on here?" Then one of those young Bráhmans said to him respectfully, "King, how can we tell our secret in the presence of a man of your worth? Nevertheless, out of respect for your command, I will tell our history; give ear!"

The first Bráhman's story.

There is in the territory of Kalinga a city of the name of Sobhávatí, which has never been entered by the demon Kali, nor touched by evildoers, nor seen by a foreign foe: such has it been made by the Creator. In it there was a wise and rich Bráhman, of the name of Yasaskara, who had offered many sacrifices, and he had an excellent wife named Mekhalá. I was born to them as an only son, when they were already in middle life, and I was in due course reared up by them, and invested with the sacrificial thread.

Then, while as a boy I was studying the Vedas, there arose a mighty famine in that land, owing to drought. So my father and my mother went off with me to a city named Visálá, taking with them their wealth and their servants. In that city, in which fortune and learning dwelt together, having laid aside their long feud, my father established himself, having had a house given him by a merchant, who was a friend of his. And I dwelt there in the house of my preceptor, engaged in the acquisition of learning, in the society of my fellow-students of equal age.

And among them I had a friend, a promising young man of the military caste, Vijayasena by name, the son of a very rich Kshatriya. And one day the unmarried sister of that friend of mine, whose name was Madirávatí, came with him to my teacher's house. So beautiful was she that I feel convinced that the Creator made the orb of the moon, that is like nectar to the eyes of men, out of the overflowing of the perfect loveliness of her face. I ween, the god of Love, when he beheld her form, which was to him a sixth weapon, bewildering the world, valued but little his other five shafts. When I saw her, and heard from that friend her name and descent, I was at once overpowered by Love's potent sway, and my mind was altogether fixed upon her. And she, for her part, looked askance at me with modest loving eye, and the down standing erect on her cheeks told that love had begun to sprout. And after she had remained there a long time on the pretext of play, she at last tore herself away and went home, sending to me from the reverted corner of her eye a look that was a messenger of love.

Then I went home, grieved at having to part with her, and throwing myself flat, I tossed up and down convulsively like a fish on dry land. I said to myself, "Shall I ever again behold her face, which is the Creator's storehouse of all the nectar of beauty? Happy are her companions [506] whom she looks at with that laughing eye, and talks freely to with that mouth." Engaged in such thoughts as these, I with difficulty got through that day and night, and on the second day I went to the house of my teacher.

There my friend Vijayasena approached me courteously, and in the course of a confidential conversation, said to me joyfully, "My mother has heard from my sister Madirávatí that you are so great a friend of mine, and being full of love for you, she wishes to behold you; so, if you have any regard for me, come with me to our house; let it be adorned for us with the dust of your lotus-like foot." This speech of his was a sudden refreshment to me, as an unexpected heavy shower of rain is to a traveller in the desert. So I consented, and went to his house, and there I had an interview with his mother, and was welcomed by her, and remained there gladdened by beholding my beloved.

Then Vijayasena, having been summoned by his father, left me, and the foster-sister of Madirávatí came to me, and said, bowing before me, "Prince, the princess Madirávatí trained up to maturity in our garden a jasmine creeper; and it has recently produced a splendid crop of flowers, which laugh and gleam with joyous exultation at being united with the spring. To-day the princess herself has gathered its buds, in defiance of the bees that settled on the flowers; and she has threaded them, like pearls, into a necklace, and she sends this to you her old friend as a new present." When that dexterous girl had said this, she gave me the garland, and with it leaves of the betel, together with camphor and the five fruits. So I threw round my neck the garland, which my beloved had made with her own hand, and I enjoyed exceeding pleasure, surpassing the joy of many embraces. [507] And putting the betel into my mouth, I said to that dear companion of hers, "What can I say more than this, my good girl? I have in my heart such intense love for your companion, that, if I could sacrifice my life for her, I should consider that it had not been given me in vain; for she is the sovereign of my being." When I had said this, I dismissed her, and I went to my teacher's house with Vijayasena, who had that moment come in.

The next day Vijayasena came with Madirávatí to our house, to the great delight [508] of my parents. So the love of myself and Madirávatí, though carefully concealed, increased every day from being in one another's society.

And one day a servant of Madirávatí's said to me in secret, "Listen, noble sir, and lay up [509] in your heart what I am going to tell you. Ever since my darling Madirávatí beheld you there in your teacher's house, she has no appetite for her food, she does not adorn herself, she takes no pleasure in music, she does not play with her parrots and other pets; she finds that fanning with plantain leaves, and moist anointings with sandal-wood ointment, and the rays of the moon, though cool as snow, torture her with heat; and every day she grows perceptibly thinner, like the streak of the moon in the black fortnight, and the only thing that seems to give her any relief is conversation about you; this is what my daughter told me, who knows all that she does, who attends her like a shadow, and never leaves her side. Moreover, I drew Madirávatí herself into a confidential conversation, and questioned her, and she confessed to me that her affections were fixed on you. So now, auspicious sir, if you wish her life to be saved, take steps to have her wishes fulfilled." This nectarous speech of hers delighted me, and I said, "That altogether depends on you, I am completely at your disposal." When she heard this, she returned delighted, and I, relying on her, conceived hopes, and went home with my mind at ease.

The next day an influential young Kshatriya came from Ujjayiní and asked Madirávatí's father for her hand. And her father promised to give him his daughter; and I heard that news, terrible to my ears, from her attendants. Then I was for a long time amazed, as if fallen from heaven, as if struck with a thunderbolt, as if possessed by a demon. But I recovered, and said to myself, "What is the use of bewilderment now? I will wait and see the end. It is the self-possessed man that gains his desire."

Buoyed up by such hopes I passed some days, and my beloved one's companions came to me and supported me by telling me what she said; but at last Madirávatí was informed that the auspicious moment had been fixed, and the day of her marriage arrived celebrated with great rejoicings. So she was shut up in her father's house, and prevented from roaming about at will, and the processional entry of the bridegroom's friends drew nigh, heralded by the sound of drums.

When I saw that, I considered that my miserable life had lost all its zest, and came to the conclusion that death was to be preferred to separation; so I went outside the city, and climbed up a banyan-tree, and fastened a noose to it, and I let myself drop from the tree suspended by that noose, and let go at the same time my chimerical hope of obtaining my beloved. And a moment afterwards I found myself, having recovered the consciousness which I had lost, lying in the lap of a young man who had cut the noose; and perceiving that he had without doubt saved my life, I said to him, "Noble sir, you have to-day shewn your compassionate nature; but I am tortured by separation from my beloved and I prefer death to life. The moon is like fire to me, food is poison, songs pierce my ear like needles, a garden is a prison, a wreath of flowers is a series of envenomed shafts, and anointing with sandal-wood ointment and other unguents is a rain of burning coals. Tell me, friend, what pleasure can wretched bereaved ones, like myself, to whom everything in the world is turned upside down, find in life?"

When I had said this, that friend in misfortune asked me my history, and I told him the whole of my love affair with Madirávatí. Then that good man said to me, "Why, though wise, are you bewildered? What is the use of surrendering life, for the sake of which we acquire all other things?" À propos of this, hear my story, which I now proceed to relate to you.

The second Bráhman's story.

There is in the bosom of the Himálayas a country named Nishada, which is the only refuge of virtue, banished from the earth by Kali, and the native land of truth, and the home of the Krita age. The inhabitants of that land are insatiable of learning, but not of money-getting; they are satisfied with their own wives, but with benefiting others never. I am the son of a Bráhman of that country who was rich in virtue and wealth. I left my home, my friend, out of a curiosity which impelled me to see other countries, and wandering about, visiting teachers, I reached in course of time the city of Sankhapura not far from here, where there is a great purifying lake of clear water, sacred to Sankhapála king of the Nágas, and called Sankhahrada.

While I was living there in the house of my spiritual preceptor, I went one holy bathing festival to visit the lake Sankhahrada. Its banks were crowded, and its waters troubled on every side by people who had come from all countries, like the sea when the gods and Asuras churned it. I beheld that great lake, which seemed to make the women look more lovely, as their garlands of flowers fell from their loosened braids, while it gently stroked their waists with its waves like hands, and made itself slightly yellow with the unguents which its embraces rubbed off from their bodies. I then went to the south of the lake, and beheld a clump of trees, which looked like the body of Cupid being consumed by the fire of Siva's eye; its lápinchas did duty for smoke, its kinsukas for red coals, and it was all aflame with twining masses of the full-blown scarlet asoka.

There I saw a certain maiden gathering flowers at the entrance of an arbour composed of the atimukta creeper; she seemed with her playful sidelong glances to be threatening the lotus in her ear; she kept raising her twining arm and displaying half her bosom; and her beautiful loosened hair, hanging down her back, seemed like the darkness seeking shelter to escape from her moon-like face. And I said to myself "Surely the Creator must have made this girl, after he had got his hand in by creating Rambhá and her sister-nymphs, but one can see that she is mortal by the winking of her eyes."

The moment I saw that gazelle-eyed maid, she pierced my heart, like a crescent-headed javelin of Mára, bewildering the three worlds. And the moment she saw me, she was overcome by Cupid, and her hands were rendered nerveless and listless by love, and she desisted from her amusement of gathering flowers. She seemed, with the flashings of the ruby in the midst of her moving flexible chain, [510] to be displaying the flames of affection that had broken forth from her heart in which they could not be contained; and turning round, she looked at me again and again with an eye that seemed to be rendered more charming by the pupil coming down to rest in its corner.

While we stood for a while looking at one another, there arose there a great noise of people flying in terror. And there came that way an infuriated elephant driven mad by the smell of the wild elephants; it had broken its chain, and thrown its rider, and the elephant-hook was swinging to and fro at the end of its ear. The moment I saw the animal, I rushed forward, and taking up in my arms my beloved, who was terrified, and whose attendants had run away, I carried her into the middle of the crowd. Then she began to recover her composure, and her attendants came up; but just at that moment the elephant, attracted by the noise of the people, charged in our direction. The crowd dispersed in terror at the monster's approach, and she disappeared among them, having been carried off by her attendants in one direction, while I went in another.

At last the alarm caused by the elephant came to an end, and then I searched in every direction for that slender-waisted maid, but I could not find her, as I did not know her name, her family, or her dwelling-place; and so roaming about, with a void in my heart, like a Vidyádhara that has lost his magic power, I with difficulty tottered into my teacher's house. There I remained like one in a faint or asleep, remembering the joy of embracing my beloved, and anxious lest her love might fail. [511] And in course of time reflection lulled me in her lap, as if affected with the compassion natural to noble women, and shewed me a glimpse of hope, and soul-paining ignorance hugged my heart, and an exceedingly severe headache took possession of my brain. [512] In the meanwhile the day slipped away and my self-command with it, and the lotus-thicket folded its cups and my face was contracted with them, and the couples of Brahmany ducks were dispersed with my hopes, the sun having gone to rest.

Then the moon, the chief friend of Love, that gladdens the eyes of the happy, rose up, adorning the face of the east; its rays, though ambrosial, seemed to me like fiery fingers, and though it lit up the quarters of the sky, it closed in me all hope of life. Then one of my fellow-students, seeing that in my misery I had flung my body into moonlight as into a fire, and was longing for death, said to me, "Why are you in this evil case? You do not appear to have any disease; but, if you have mental affliction caused by longing for wealth or by love, I will tell you the truth about those objects; listen to me. The wealth, which through over-covetousness men desire to gain by cheating their neighbours, or by robbing them, does not remain. The poison-trees [513] of wealth, which are rooted in wickedness and bring forth an abundant crop of wickedness, are soon broken by the weight of their own fruit. All that is gained by that wealth in this world, is the toil of acquiring it and other annoyances, and in the next world great suffering in hell, a suffering that shall continue as long as the moon and stars endure. As for love, that love which fails of attaining its object brings disappointment that puts an end to life, and unlawful love, though pleasing in the mouth, is simply the forerunner of the fire of hell, [514] but a man's mind is sound owing to good actions in a former life, and a hero, who possesses self-command and energy, obtains wealth, and the object of his desires, not a spiritless coward like you. So, my good fellow, have recourse to self-command, and strive for the attainment of your ends."

When that friend said this to me I returned him a careless and random answer. However, I concealed my real thoughts, spent the night in a calm and composed manner, and in course of time came here, to see if by any chance she lived in this town. When I arrived here, I saw you with your neck in a noose, and after you were cut down, I heard from you your sorrow, and I have now told you my own.

So I have made efforts to obtain that fair one whose name and dwelling-place I know not, and have thus exerted myself to gain what no heroism could procure; but why do you, when Madirávatí is within your grasp, play the faint-heart, instead of manfully striving to win her? Have you not heard the legend of old days with regard to Rukminí? Was she not carried off by Vishnu after she had been given to the king of Chedi?

While that friend of mine was thus concluding his tale, Madirávatí came there with her followers, preceded by the usual auspicious band of music, in order to worship the god of Love in this temple of the Mothers. And I said to my friend, "I knew all along that maidens on the day of their marriage come here to worship the god of Love, this is why I tried to hang myself on the banyan-tree in front of this temple, in order that when Madirávatí came here, she might see that I had died for her sake." When that resolute Bráhman friend heard that, he said, "Then let us quickly slip into this temple and remain hidden behind the images of the Mothers, and see whether any expedient will then present itself to us or not." When my friend made this proposal, I consented, and went with him into that temple, and remained there concealed.

And Madirávatí came there slowly, escorted by the auspicious wedding music, and entered that temple. And she left at the door all her female friends and male attendants, saying to them, "I wish in private to crave from the awful god of Love a certain boon [515] that is in my mind, so remain all of you outside the building." Then she came in and addressed the following prayer to Kámadeva after she had worshipped him, "O god, since thou art named 'the mind-born,' how was it that thou didst not discern the beloved that was in my mind? Why hast thou disappointed and slain me? If thou hast not been able to grant me my boon in this birth, at any rate have mercy upon me in my next birth, O husband of Rati. Shew me so much favour as to ensure that handsome young Bráhman's being my husband in my next birth."

When the girl had said this in our hearing and before our eyes, she made a noose by fastening her upper garment to a peg, and put it round her neck. And my friend said to me, "Go and shew yourself to her, and take the noose from her neck;" so I immediately went towards her. And I said to her with a voice faltering from excess of joy, "Do not act rashly, my beloved; see, here is your slave in front of you, bought by you with the risk of your life, in whom affection has been produced by your utterance in the moment of your grief;" and with these words I removed the noose from the neck of that fair one.

She immediately looked at me, and remained for a moment divided between joy and terror, and then my friend said quickly to me, "As this is a dimly lighted hour owing to the waning of the day, I will go out dressed in Madirávatí's garments with her attendants. And do you go out by the second door, taking with you this bride wrapped up in our upper garments. And make for whatever foreign country you please, during the night, when you will be able to avoid detection. And do not be anxious about me. Fate will bestow on me prosperity." When my friend had said this, he put on Madirávatí's dress, and went out, and left that temple in the darkness, surrounded by her attendants.

And I slipped out by another door with Madirávatí, who wore a necklace of priceless jewels, and went three yojanas in the night. In the morning I took food, and slowly travelling on, I reached in the course of some days, with my beloved, a city named Achalapura. There a certain Bráhman shewed himself my friend, and gave me a house, and there I quickly married Madirávatí.

So I have been living there in happiness, having obtained my desire, and my only anxiety has been as to what could have become of my friend. And in course of time I came here to bathe in the Ganges, on this day which is the festival of the summer solstice, and lo! I found here this man who without cause shewed himself my friend. And full of embarrassment I folded him in a long embrace, and at last made him sit down and asked him to tell me his adventures, and at that moment your Highness came up. Know, son of the king of Vatsa, that this other Bráhman at my side is my true friend in calamity, to whom I owe my life and my wife.

When one Bráhman had told his story in these words, Naraváhanadatta said to the other Bráhman, "I am much pleased; now tell me, how did you escape from so great a danger? For men like yourself, who disregard their lives for the sake of their friends, are hard to find." When the second Bráhman heard this speech of the son of the king of Vatsa, he also began to tell his adventures.

Subsequent adventures of the second Bráhman.

When I went out that night from the temple in Madirávatí's dress, her attendants surrounded me under the impression that I was their mistress. And being bewildered with dancing, singing and intoxication, they put me in a palanquin [516] and took me to the house of Somadatta, which was in festal array. In one part it was full of splendid raiment, in another of piled up ornaments; here you might see cooked food provided, there an altar-platform made ready; one corner was full of singing female slaves, another of professional mimes; and a third was occupied by Bráhmans waiting for the auspicious moment.

Into one room of this house I was ushered in the darkness, veiled, by the servants, who were beside themselves with drink and took me for the bride. And when I sat down there, the females surrounded me, full of joy at the wedding festival, busied with a thousand affairs.

Immediately the sound of bracelets and anklets was heard near the door, and a maiden entered the room surrounded by her attendants. Like a female snake, her head was adorned with flashing jewels, and she had a white skin-like boddice; like a wave of the sea, she was full of beauty, [517] and covered with strings of pearls. She had a garland of beautiful flowers, arms shapely as the stalk of the creeper, and bright bud-like fingers; and so she looked like the goddess of the garden moving among men. And she came and sat down by my side, thinking I was her beloved confidante. When I looked at her, I perceived that that thief of my heart had come to me, the maiden that I saw at the Sankha lake whither she had come to bathe; whom I saved from the elephant, and who, almost as soon as seen, disappeared from my sight among the crowd. I was overpowered with excess of joy, and I said to myself, "Can this be mere chance, or is it a dream, or sober waking reality?"

Immediately those attendants of Madirávatí said to the visitor, "Why do you seem so disturbed in mind, noble lady?" When she heard that, she said, concealing her real feelings, [518] "What! are you not aware what a dear friend of mine Madirávatí is. And she, as soon as she is married, will go off to her father-in-law's house, and I shall not be able to live without her; this is why I am afflicted. So leave the room quickly, in order that I may have the pleasure of a little confidential chat with Madirávatí."

With these words she put them all out, and fastened the door herself, and then sat down, and under the impression that I was her confidante, began to speak to me as follows; "Madirávatí, no affliction can be greater than this affliction of yours, in that you are in love with one man, and you are given by your father in marriage to another; still you may possibly have a meeting or be united with your beloved, whom you know by having been in his society. But for me a hopeless affliction has arisen, and I will tell you what it is; for you are the only repository of my secrets, as I am of yours.

"I had gone to bathe on a festival in the lake named the lake of Sankha, [519] in order to divert my mind which was oppressed with approaching separation from you. While thus engaged, I saw in the garden near that lake a beautiful blooming young Bráhman, whose budding beard seemed like a swarm of bees come to feed on the lotus of his face; he himself looked like the moon come down from heaven in the day, like the golden binding-post of the elephant of beauty. I said to myself, 'Those hermits' daughters who have not seen this youth, have only endured to no purpose hardship in the woods; what fruit have they of their asceticism?' And even as I thought this in my heart, the god of Love pierced it so completely with his shafts, that shame and fear at once left it together.

"Then, while I looked with sidelong looks at him, whose eyes were fixed on me, there suddenly came that way a furious elephant that had escaped from its binding-post. That scared away my attendants and terrified myself; and the young man, perceiving this, ran, and taking me up in his arms, carried me along way into the midst of the crowd. While in his arms, I assure you, my friend, I was rendered dead to all beside by the joy of his ambrosial touch, and I knew not the elephant, nor fear, nor who I was, nor where I was. In the meanwhile my attendants came up, and thereupon the elephant rushed down on us like Separation incarnate in bodily form, and my servants, alarmed at it, took me up and carried me home; and in the mêlée my beloved disappeared, whither I know not. Ever since that time I do nothing but think on him, who saved my life, but whose name and dwelling I know not, who was snatched from me as one might snatch away from my grasp a treasure that I had found; and I weep all night with the female chakravákas, longing for sleep, that takes away all grief, in order that I may behold him in a dream.

"In this hopeless affliction my only consolation, my friend, is the sight of yourself, and that is now being far removed from me. Accordingly, Madirávatí, the hour of my death draws nigh, and that is why I am now enjoying the pleasure of beholding your face."

When she had uttered this speech, which was like a shower of nectar in my ears, staining all the while the moon of her face with tear-drops mixed with the black pigment of her eyes, she lifted up the veil from my face, and beheld and recognized me, and then she was filled with joy, wonder, and fear. Then I said, "Fair one, what is your cause of alarm? Here I am at your service. For Fate, when propitious, brings about unexpected results. I too have endured for your sake intolerable sorrow; the fact is, Fate produces a strange variety of effects in this phenomenal universe. Hereafter I will tell you my story at full length; this is not the time for conversation; now devise, if you can, my beloved, some artifice for escaping from this place." When I said this to the girl, she made the following proposal, which was just what the occasion demanded; "Let us slip out quietly from this house by the back-door; the garden belonging to the house of my father, a noble Kshatriya, is just outside: let us pass through it and go where chance may take us." When she had said this, she hid her ornaments, and I left the house with her by the way which she recommended.

So in that night I went a long distance with her, for we feared detection, and in the morning we reached together a great forest. And as we were going along through that savage wilderness, with no comfort but our mutual conversation, noon gradually came on. The sun, like a wicked king, afflicted with his rays the earth that furnished no asylum for travellers, and no shelter. [520] By that time my beloved was exhausted with fatigue and tortured with thirst, so I slowly carried her into the shade of a tree, which it cost me a great effort to reach.

There I tried to restore her by fanning her with my garment, and while I was thus engaged, a buffalo that had escaped with a wound, came towards us. And there followed in eager pursuit of it a man on horseback armed with a bow, whose very appearance proclaimed him to be a noble-minded hero. He slew that great buffalo with a second wound from a crescent-headed arrow; striking him down as Indra strikes down a mountain with the dint of a thunder-bolt. When he saw us, he advanced towards us, and said kindly to me, "Who are you, my good sir; and who is this lady; and why have you come here?"

Then I shewed my Bráhmanical thread, and gave him an answer which was half truth and half falsehood; "I am a Bráhman, this is my wife: business led us to a foreign land, and on the way our caravan was destroyed by bandits, and we, separating from it, lost our way, and so came to enter this forest; here we have met you, and all our fears are at an end." When I said this, he was moved by compassion for my Bráhmanical character, and said "I am a chief of the foresters, come here to hunt; and you way-worn travellers have arrived here as my guests; so now come to my house, which is at no great distance, to rest."

When he had said this, he made my wearied darling got up on his horse, and himself walked, and so he led us to his dwelling. There he provided us with food and other requisites, as if he had been a relation. [521] Even in bad districts some few noble-hearted men spring up here and there. Then he gave me attendants, who enabled me to get out of that wood, and I reached a royal grant to Bráhmans, where I married that lady. Then I wandered about from country to country, and meeting with a caravan, I have to-day come here with her to bathe in the water of the Ganges. And here I have found this man whom I selected for myself as a friend; and I have seen your Highness; this, prince, is my story."

When he had said this, he ceased, and the prince of Vatsa loudly praised that Bráhman, who had obtained the prize he desired, the fitting reward of his genuine goodness; and in the meanwhile the prince's ministers, Gomukha and the others, who had long been roaming about looking for him, came up and found him. And they fell at the feet of Naraváhanadatta, and tears of joy poured down their faces; while he welcomed them all with due and fitting respect. Then the prince, accompanied by Lalitalochaná, returned with those ministers to his city, taking with him those two young Bráhmans, whom he valued on account of the tact and skill they had displayed in attaining worthy objects.

Chapter CV

May Siva, the granter of boons, who, when pleased, bestowed on Umá half his own body, grant you your desire!

May the vermilion-stained trunk which Ganesa at night throws up in the dance, and so seems to furnish the moon-umbrella with a coral handle, protect you!

Then Naraváhanadatta, son of the king of Vatsa, possessing as his wives those various ladies, the most beautiful in the three worlds, and Madanamanchuká as his head-queen, dwelt with Gomukha and his other ministers in Kausámbí, having his every want supplied by his father's magnificent resources. His days passed pleasantly in dancing, singing, and conversation, and were enlivened by the exquisite enjoyment of the society of the ladies whom he loved.

Then it happened one day that he could not find his principal charmer Madanamanchuká anywhere in the female apartments, nor could her attendants find her either. [522] When he could not see his beloved, he became pale from grief, as the moon loses its beauty in the morning, by being separated from the night. And he was distracted by an innumerable host of doubts, saying to himself, "I wonder whether my beloved has hidden herself somewhere to ascertain my sentiments towards her; or is she indignant with me for some trifling fault or other; or is she concealed by magic, or has she been carried off by some one?" When he had searched for her, and could not find her anywhere, he was consumed by violent grief for his separation from her, which raged in his bosom like a forest conflagration. His father, the king of Vatsa, who came to visit him, as soon as he knew the state of affairs, and his mothers, ministers, and servants were all beside themselves. The pearl necklace, sandal-wood ointment, the rays of the moon, lotus-fibres and lotus-leaves did not alleviate his torture, but rather increased it. As for Kalingasená, when she was suddenly deprived of that daughter, she was confounded like a Vidyádharí, who has lost her magic power.

Then an aged female guardian of the women's apartments said in the presence of Naraváhanadatta, so that all there heard, "Long ago, that young Vidyádhara, named Mánasavega, having beheld Madanamanchuká, when she was a maiden, on the top of the palace, suddenly descended from heaven, and approaching Kalingasená, told her his name, and asked her to give him her daughter. When Kalingasená refused, he went as he came; but why should he not have now come secretly and carried her off by his magic power? It is of course true that heavenly beings do not carry off the wives of others; on the other hand, who, that is blinded by passion, troubles himself about the right or wrong of an action?" When Naraváhanadatta heard this, his heart was overwhelmed with anger, impatience, and the sorrow of bereavement, and became like a lotus in the waves.

Then Rumanvat said, "This palace is guarded all round, and it is impossible to enter or go out from it, except through the air. Moreover, by the favour of Siva no misfortune can befall her; so we may be certain that she has hidden herself somewhere, because her affection has been wounded. Listen to a story which will make this clear."

Story of Sávitrí and Angiras.

Once on a time a hermit, named Angiras, asked Ashtávakra for the hand of his daughter Sávitrí. But Ashtávakra would not give him his daughter Sávitrí, though he was an excellent match, because she was already betrothed to some one else. Then Angiras married Asrutá his brother's daughter, and lived a long time with her as his wife in great happiness; but she was well aware that he had previously been in love with Sávitrí.

One day that hermit Angiras remained muttering for a long time in an inaudible voice. Then his wife Asrutá asked him again and again lovingly, "Tell me, my husband, why do you remain so long fixed in thought?" He said, "My dear, I am meditating on the Sávitrí;" and she, thinking that he meant Sávitrí, the hermit's daughter, was vexed in soul. She said to herself, "He is miserable," so she went off to the forest determined to abandon the body; and after she had prayed that good fortune might attend her husband, she fastened a rope round her neck. And at that moment Gáyatrí appeared with rosary of aksha-beads and ascetic's pitcher, and said to her, "Daughter, do not act rashly! Your husband was not thinking of any woman; he was meditating on me, the holy Sávitrí;" and with these words she freed her neck from the noose; and the goddess, merciful to her votaries, having thus consoled her, disappeared. Then her husband Angiras, searching for her, found her in the wood, and brought her home. So you see that women in this world cannot endure the wounding of their affections.

"So you may be certain that this wife of the prince is angry on account of some trifling injury, and is hidden somewhere in this place; for she is under the protection of Siva; and we must again search for her."

When Rumanvat said this, the sovereign of Vatsa said, "It must be so: for no misfortune can befall her, inasmuch as a heavenly voice said 'This Madanamanchuká is an incarnation of Rati, appointed by the god to be the wife of Naraváhanadatta, who is an emanation of the god of Love, and he shall rule the Vidyádharas with her as his consort for a kalpa of the gods,' and this utterance cannot be falsified by the event. So let her be carefully looked for." When the king himself said this, Naraváhanadatta went out, though he was in such a miserable state.

But, however much he searched for her, he could not find her, so he wandered about in various parts of the grounds, like one distracted; when he went to her dwelling, the rooms with closed doors seemed as if they had shut their eyes in despair at beholding his grief; and when he went about in the groves asking for her, the trees, agitating their shoots like hands seemed to say, "We have not seen your beloved." When he searched in the gardens, the sárasa-birds, flying up to the sky, seemed to tell him that she had not gone that way. And his ministers Marubhúti, Harisikha, Gomukha, and Vasantaka wandered about in every direction to find her.

In the meanwhile an unmarried Vidyádharí, of the name of Vegavatí, having beheld Madanamanchuká in her splendid and glorious beauty, deliberately took her shape, and came and stood alone in the garden under an asoka-tree. Marubhúti saw her, as he was roaming about in search of the queen, and she seemed at once to extract the dart from his pierced heart. And in his joy he went to Naraváhanadatta, and said to him, "Cheer up, I have seen your beloved in the garden." When he said this, Naraváhanadatta was delighted, and immediately went with him to that garden.

Then, exhausted with long bereavement, he beheld that semblance of Madanamanchuká, with feelings like those with which a thirsty traveller beholds a stream of water. And the moment he beheld her, the much afflicted prince longed to embrace her, but she, being cunning and wishing to be married by him, said to him, "Do not touch me now, first hear what I have to say. Before I married you, I prayed to the Yakshas to enable me to obtain you, and said, 'On my wedding-day I will make offerings to you with my own hand.' But, my beloved, when my wedding-day came, I forgot all about them. That enraged the Yakshas, and so they carried me off from this place. And they have just brought me here, and let me go, saying, 'Go and perform over again that ceremony of marriage, and make oblations to us, and then repair to your husband; otherwise you will not prosper.' So marry me quickly, in order that I may offer the Yakshas the worship they demand; and then fulfil all your desire."

When Naraváhanadatta heard that, he summoned the priest Sántisoma and at once made the necessary preparations, and immediately married the supposed Madanamanchuká, who was no other than the Vidyádharí Vegavatí, having been for a short time quite cast down by his separation from the real one. Then a great feast took place there, full of the clang of cymbals, delighting the king of Vatsa, gladdening the queens, and causing joy to Kahngasená. And the supposed Madanamanchuká, who was really the Vidyádharí Vegavatí, made with her own hand an offering of wine, flesh, and other dainties to the Yakshas. Then Naraváhanadatta, remaining with her in her chamber, drank wine with her in his exultation, though he was sufficiently intoxicated with her voice. And then he retired to rest with her, who had thus changed her shape, as the sun with the shadow. And she said to him in secret, "My beloved, now that we have retired to rest, you must take care not to unveil my face suddenly and look at me while asleep [523]." When the prince heard this, he was filled with curiosity, to think what this might be, and the next day he uncovered her face while she was asleep, and looked at it, and lo! it was not Madanamanchuká, but some one else, who, when asleep, had lost the power of disguising her appearance by magic. [524] Then she woke up, while he was sitting by her awake. And he said to her, "Tell me, who are you?" And the discreet Vidyádharí seeing him sitting up awake, and being conscious that she was in her own shape and that her secret was discovered, began to tell her tale saying, "Listen, my beloved, I will now tell you the whole story."

"There is in the city of the Vidyádharas a mountain of the name of Áshádhapura. There dwells a chief of the Vidyádharas, named Mánasavega, a prince puffed up with the might of his arm, the son of king Vegavat. I am his younger sister, and my name is Vegavatí. And that brother of mine hated me so much that he was not willing to bestow on me the sciences. Then I obtained them, though with difficulty, from my father, who had retired to a wood of ascetics, and, thanks to his favour, I possess them of greater power than any other of our race. I myself saw the wretched Madanamanchuká, in the palace of mount Áshádha, in a garden, surrounded by sentinels, I mean your beloved, whom my brother has carried off by magic, as Rávana carried off the afflicted Sítá, the wife of Rámabhadra. And as the virtuous lady repels his caresses, he cannot subdue her to his will, for a curse has been laid upon him, that will bring about his death, if he uses violence to any woman.

"So that wicked brother of mine made use of me, to try and talk her over; and I went to that lady, who could do nothing but talk of you. And in my conversation with her, that virtuous lady mentioned your name, [525] which was like a command from the god of Love, and thus my mind then became fixed upon you alone. And then I remembered an announcement which Párvatí made to me in a dream, much to the following effect, 'You shall be married to that man the mere hearing of whose name overpowers you with love.' When I had called this to mind, I cheered up Madanamanchuká, and came here in her form, and married myself to you by an artifice. So come, my beloved, I am filled with such compassion for your wife Madanamanchuká that I will take you where she is; for I am the devoted servant of my rival, even as I am of you, because you love her. For I am so completely enslaved by love for you, that I am rendered quite unselfish by it."

When Vegavatí had said this, she took Naraváhanadatta, and by the might of her science flew up with him into the sky during the night. And next morning, while she was slowly travelling through the heaven, the attendants of the husband and wife were bewildered by their disappearance. And when the king of Vatsa came to hear of it, he was immediately, as it were, struck by a thunderbolt, and so were Vásavadattá, Padmávatí and the rest. And the citizens, and the king's ministers Yaugandharáyana and the others, together with their sons Marubhúti and the rest, were altogether distracted.

Then the hermit Nárada, surrounded with a circle of light, descended there from heaven, like a second sun. The king of Vatsa offered him the arghya, and the hermit said to him, "Your son has been carried off by a Vidyádharí to her country, but he will soon return; and I have been sent by Siva to cheer you up." And after this prelude he went on to tell the king of Vegavatí's proceedings, exactly as they took place; then the king recovered his spirits and the hermit disappeared.

In the meanwhile Vegavatí carried Naraváhanadatta through the air to the mountain Áshádhapura. And Mánasavega, hearing of it, hastened there to kill them both. Then Vegavatí engaged with her brother in a struggle which was remarkable for a great display of magic power; for a woman values her lover as her life, and much more than her own relations. Then she assumed by the might of her magic a terrible form of Bhairava, and at once striking Mánasavega senseless, she placed him on the mountain of Agni. [526] And she took Naraváhanadatta, whom at the beginning of the contest she had deposited in the care of one of her sciences, [527] and placed him in a dry well in the city of the Gandharvas, to keep him. And when he was there, she said to him, "Remain here a little while, my husband; good fortune will befall you here; and do not despond in your heart, O man appointed to a happy lot, for the sovereignty over all the Vidyádharas is to be yours. But I must leave this for the present, to appease my sciences, impaired by my resistance to my elder brother; however, I will return to you soon." When the Vidhyádharí Vegavatí had said this, she departed somewhere or other.

Chapter CVI

Then a certain Gandharva, of the name of Vínádatta, saw Naraváhanadatta in that well. Truly if there were not great souls in this world, born for the benefit of others, relieving distress as wayside trees heat, the world would be a withered forest. Thus the good Gandharva, as soon as he saw Naraváhanadatta, asked him his name and lineage, and supporting him with his hand, drew him out of that well, and said to him, [528] "If you are a man and not a god, how did you reach this city of the Gandharvas inaccessible to man? Tell me!" Then Naraváhanadatta answered him, "A Vidyádharí brought me here, and threw me into the well by her power." Then the good Gandharva Vínádatta, seeing that he had the veritable signs of an emperor, took him to his own dwelling, and waited upon him with all the luxuries at his command. And the next day, Naraváhanadatta, perceiving that the inhabitants of the city carried lyres in their hands, said to his host, "Why have all these people, even down to the children, got lyres in their hands?" [529]

Then Vínádatta gave him this answer, "Ságaradatta the king of the Gandharvas, who lives here, has a daughter named Gandharvadattá, who eclipses the nymphs of heaven; it seems as if the Creator had blended nectar, the moon, and sandalwood, and other choice things, in order to compose her body, as a specimen of his skill in making all that is fair. She is always singing to the lyre the hymn of Vishnu, which the god himself bestowed on her, and so she has attained supreme skill in music. [530] And the princess has firmly resolved that whoever is so well skilled in music, that he can play on the lyre, and sing perfectly in three scales a song in praise of Vishnu, shall be her husband. The consequence is, that all here are trying to learn to play the lyre, but they have not acquired the amount of skill demanded by the princess."

Prince Naraváhanadatta was delighted at hearing this speech from the mouth of Vínádatta and he said to him, "All the accomplishments have chosen me for a husband, and I know all the music, that there is in the three worlds." When he said this, his friend Vínádatta conducted him into the presence of king Ságaradatta, and said there, "Here is Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, who has fallen into your city from the hand of a Vidyádharí. He is an adept in music, and he knows the song in praise of Vishnu, in which the princess Gandharvadattá takes so much pleasure." When the king heard this, he said, "It is true; I heard so much before from the Gandharvas; so I must to-day receive him with respect here. And he is an emanation of a divinity; he is not out of place in the abode of gods; otherwise, if he were a man, how could he have come here by associating with a Vidyádharí? So summon Gandharvadattá quickly and let us test him." When the king said this, the chamberlains went to fetch her.

And the fair one came there, all glorious with flower-ornaments, agitating with her beauty, as if with a wind, the creepers of spring. She sat down at her father's side, and the servants told her what had taken place, and immediately, at his command, she sang a song to the lyre. When she was joining the notes to the quarter-tones, like Sarasvatí the wife of Brahmá, Naraváhanadatta was astonished at her singing and her beauty. Then he said to her, "Princess, your lyre does not seem to me to sound well, I think there must be a hair on the string." Thereupon the lyre was examined, and they found the hair where he said, and that astonished even the Gandharvas. Then the king took the lyre from his daughter's hand, and gave it to him, saying, "Prince, take this, and pour nectar into our ears." Then he played on it, and sang the hymn of Vishnu with such skill that the Gandharvas there became motionless as painted pictures.

Then Gandharvadattá herself threw on him a look tender with affection, as it were a garland of full-blown blue lotuses, [531] and therewith chose him as her husband. When the king saw it, and called to mind his promise of that import, he at once gave him his daughter Gandharvadattá in marriage. As for the wedding that thereupon took place, gladdened by the drums of the gods and other festal signs, to what could we compare it, as it served as the standard by which to estimate all similar rejoicings? Then Naraváhanadatta lived there with his new bride Gandharvadattá in heavenly bliss.

And one day he went out to behold the beauty of the city, and after he had seen all kinds of places, he entered the park attached to it. There he saw a heavenly female descending from the sky with her daughter, like the lightning with the rain in a cloudless atmosphere. And she was saying to her daughter, as she descended, recognising him by her knowledge, "This, my daughter, is your future husband, the son of the king of Vatsa." "When he saw her alight and come towards him, he said to her, "Who are you, and why have you come?" And the heavenly female said to him, thus introducing the object of her desire:

"Prince, I am Dhanavatí, the wife of a chief of the Vidyádharas, named Sinha, and this is my unmarried daughter, the sister of Chandasinha, and her name is Ajinávatí. You were announced as her future husband by a voice that came from heaven. Then, learning by my magic science, that you, the future emperor of the Vidyádharas, had been deposited here by Vegavatí, I came to tell you my desire. You ought not to remain in such a place as this which is accessible to the Vidyádharas, for they might slay you out of enmity, as you are alone, and have not obtained your position of emperor. So come, let us now take you to a land which is inaccessible to them. Does not the moon delay to shine, when the circle of the sun is eclipsed? And when the auspicious day arrives you shall marry this daughter of mine." When she had said this, she took him and flew up into the air with him, and her daughter accompanied them. And she took him to the city of Srávastí, and deposited him in a garden, and then she disappeared with her daughter Ajinávatí.

There king Prasenajit, who had returned from a distant hunting expedition, saw that prince of noble form and feature. The king approached him full of curiosity, and asked him his name and lineage, and then, being much delighted, courteously conducted him to his palace. It was full of troops of elephants, adorned with lines of horses, and looked like a pavilion for the Fortune of empire to rest in, when wearied with her wanderings. Wherever a man born to prosperity may be, felicities eagerly approach him, as women do their beloved one. This accounts for the fact that the king, being an admirer of excellence, gave Naraváhanadatta his own daughter, named Bhagírathayasas. And the prince lived happily there with her in great luxury, as if with Good Fortune created by the Disposer in flesh and blood for his delectation.

One evening, when the lover of the night had arisen, raining joy into the eyes of men, looking like the full-orbed face [532] of the nymph of the eastern quarter, or rather the countenance of Bhagírathayasas charming as nectar, reflected in the pure mirror of the cloudless heaven, he drank wine with that fair one at her request on the top of a palace silvered over with the elixir of moonlight. He quaffed the liquor which was adorned with the reflection of his beloved's face, and so gave pleasure to his eyes as well as to his palate. And then he considered the moon as far inferior in beauty to his charmer's face, for it wanted the intoxicating [533] play of the eyes and eyebrows. And after his drinking-bout was over he went inside the house, and retired to his couch with Bhagírathayasas.

Then Naraváhanadatta awoke from sleep, while his beloved was still sleeping, and suddenly calling to mind his home, exclaimed, "Through love for Bhagírathayasas I have, so to speak, forgotten my other wives; how can that have happened? But in this too Fate is all-powerful. Far away too are my ministers. Of them Marubhúti takes pleasure in nought but feats of prowess, and Harisikba is exclusively devoted to policy; of those two I do not now feel the need, but it grieves me that the dexterous Gomukha, who has been my friend in all emergencies, is far away from me." While he was thus lamenting, he suddenly heard the words "Ah! how sad!" uttered in a low soft tone, like that of a woman, and they at once banished sleep. When he heard them, he got up, and lighted a candle, and looked about, and he saw in the window a lovely female face. It seemed as if the Disposer had determined out of playfulness to show him a second but spotless moon not in the sky, as he had that night seen the spot-beflecked moon of heaven. And not being able to discern the rest of her body, but eager to behold it, his eyes being attracted by her beauty, he immediately said to himself, "Long ago, when the Daitya Átápin was impeding the creation of Brahmá, that god employed the artifice of sending him to Nandana, saying to him, 'Go there and see a very curious sight;' and when he got there, he saw only the foot of a woman, which was of wonderful beauty; and so he died from an insane desire to see the rest of her body. [534] In the same way it may be that the Disposer has produced this lady's face only to bring about my destruction." While he was making this momentary surmise, the lady displayed her shoot-like finger at the window, and beckoned to him to come towards her.

Then he deliberately went out of the chamber in which his beloved was sleeping, and with eager impatience approached that heavenly lady: and when he came near, she exclaimed, "Madanamanchuká, they say that your husband is in love with another woman: alas! you are undone." When Naraváhanadatta heard this, he called to mind his beloved, and the fire of separation flamed up in his bosom, and he said to that fair one, "Who are you? Where did you see my beloved Madanamanchuká? And why have you come to me? Tell me!" Then the bold lady took the prince away to a distance in the night, and saying to him, "Hear the whole story," she thus began to speak.

"There is in the city of Pushkarávatí a prince of the Vidyádharas named Pingalagándhára, who has become yellow with continually adoring the fire. Know that I am his unmarried daughter, named Prabhávatí, for he obtained me by the special favour of the god of fire, who was pleased with his adoration. I went to the city of Ashádbapura to visit my friend Vegavatí, and I did not find her there, as she had gone somewhere to perform asceticism. But hearing from her mother Prithivídeví that your beloved Madanamanchuká was there, I went to her. I beheld her emaciated with fasting, pale and squalid, with only one lock, weeping, talking only of your virtues, surrounded by tearful bands of Vidyádhara princesses, who were divided between grief produced by seeing her, and joy produced by hearing of you. She told me what you were like, and I comforted her by promising to bring you, for my mind was overpowered by pity for her, and attracted by your excellences. And finding out by means of my magic skill that you were here at present, I came to you, to inserve her interests and my own also. But when I found that you had forgotten your first love and were talking here of other persons, I bewailed the lot of that wife of yours, and exclaimed 'Ah! how sad!'"

When the prince had been thus addressed by her, he became impatient and said, "Take me where she is, and impose on me whatever command you think fit." When the Vidyádharí Prabhávatí heard that, she flew up into the air with him, and proceeded to journey on through the moonlit night. And as she was going along, she saw a fire burning in a certain place, so she took Naraváhanadatta's hand, and moved round it, keeping it on the right. In this way the bold lady managed by an artifice to go through the ceremony of marriage with Naraváhanadatta, for all the actions of heavenly beings have some important end in view. [535] Then she pointed out to her beloved from the sky the earth looking like a sacrificial platform, the rivers like snakes, the mountains like ant-hills, and many other wonders did she show him from time to time, until at last she had gradually accomplished a long distance.

Then Naraváhanadatta became thirsty with his long journey through the air, and begged for water; so she descended to earth from her airy path. And she took him to the corner of a forest, and placed him near a lake, which seemed to be full of molten silver, as its water was white with the rays of the moon. So his craving for water was satisfied by the draught which he drank in that beautiful forest, but there arose in him a fresh craving as he felt a desire to embrace that lovely lady. [536] But she, when pressed, would hardly consent; for her thoughts reverted with pity to Madanamanchuká, whom she had tried to comfort; in truth the noble-minded, when they have undertaken to forward the interests of others, put out of sight their own. And she said to him, "Do not think ill, my husband, of my coldness; I have an object in it; and now hear this story which will explain it."

Story of the child that died of a broken heart because his mother forgot to bring him a sweetmeat.

Once on a time, there lived in the city of Pátaliputra a certain widow who had one child; she was young, and beautiful, but poor. And she was in the habit of making love to a strange man for her gratification, and at night she used to leave her house and roam where she pleased. But, before she went, she used invariably to console her infant son by saying to him, "My boy, I will bring you a sweetmeat to-morrow morning," and every day she brought him one. And the child used to remain quiet at home, buoyed up by the hope of that sweetmeat.

But one day she forgot, and did not bring him the sweetmeat. And when the child asked for the sweetmeat, she said to him, "Sweetmeat indeed! I know of no sweet, but my sweetheart." Then the child said to himself, "She has not brought me a sweetmeat, because she loves another better than me." So he lost all hope, and his heart broke.

"So if I were over-eager to appropriate you whom I have long loved, and if Madanamanchuká, whom I consoled with the hope of a joyful reunion with you, were to hear of it, and lose all hope through me, her heart, which is as soft as a flower, would break. [537] It is this desire to spare her feelings, which prevents me from being so eager now for your society, before I have consoled her, though you are my beloved, dearer to me than life."

When Prabhávatí said this to Naraváhanadatta, he was full of joy and astonishment, and he said to himself, "Well! Fate seems to take a pleasure in perpetually creating new marvels, since it has produced Prabhávatí, whose conduct is so inconceivably noble." With these thoughts in his mind, the prince lovingly praised her, and said, "Then take me where that Madanamanchuká is." When Prabhávatí heard that, she took him up, and in a moment carried him through the air to the mountain Áshádhapura. There she bestowed him on Madanamanchuká, whose body had long been drying up with grief, as a shower bestows fullness on a river.

Then Naraváhanadatta beheld that fair one there, afflicted with separation, thin and pale, like a digit of the new moon. That reunion of those two seemed to restore them to life, and gave joy to the world, like the union of the night and the moon. And the pair embraced, scorched with the fire of separation, and as they were streaming with fatigue, they seemed to melt into one. Then they both partook at their ease of luxuries suddenly provided in the night by the might of Prabhávatí's science. And thanks to her science, no one there but Madanamanchuká, saw Naraváhanadatta.

The next morning Naraváhanadatta proceeded to loose Madanamanchuká's one lock, [538] but she, overpowered with resentment against her enemy, said to her beloved, "Long ago I made this vow, 'That lock of mine must be loosed by my husband, when Mánasavega is slain, but not till then; and if he is not slain, I will wear it till my death, and then it shall be loosed by the birds, or consumed with fire.' But now you have loosed it, while this enemy of mine is still alive; that vexes my soul. For though Vegavatí flung him down on Agniparvata, he did not die of the fall. And you have now been made invisible here by Prabhávatí by means of her magic power; otherwise the followers of that enemy, who are continually moving near you here, would see you, and would not tolerate your presence."

When Naraváhanadatta had been thus addressed by his wife, he, recognising the fact that the proper time for accomplishing his object had not yet arrived, said to her by way of calming her, "This desire of yours shall be fulfilled; I will soon slay that enemy; but first I must acquire the sciences; wait a little, my beloved." With speeches of this kind Naraváhanadatta consoled Madanamanchuká; and remained there in that city of the Vidyádharas.

Then Prabhávatí disappeared herself, and, by the power of her magic science, bestowed in some incomprehensible way on Naraváhanadatta her own shape. And the prince lived happily there in her shape, and without fear of discovery, enjoying pleasures provided by her magic science. And all the people there thought, "This friend of Vegavatí's is attending on Madanamanchuká, partly out of regard for Vegavatí, and partly on account of the friendly feelings which she herself entertains for the captive princess;" for they all supposed that Naraváhanadatta was no other than Prabhávatí, as he was disguised in her shape: and this was the report that they carried to Mánasavega. Then, one day, something caused Madanamanchuká to relate to Naraváhanadatta her adventures in the following words,

Madanamanchuká's account of her treatment while in captivity.

When Mánasavega first brought me here, he tried to win me to his will by his magic power, endeavouring to alarm me by cruel actions. And then Siva appeared in a terrible form, with drawn sword and lolling tongue, and making an appalling roar, said to Mánasavega; "How is it that, while I still exist, thou dost presume to treat disrespectfully the wife of him who is destined to be emperor over all the Vidyádhara kings?" When the villain Mánasavega had been thus addressed by Siva, he fell on the earth vomiting blood from his mouth. Then the god disappeared, and that villain immediately recovered, and went to his own palace, and again began to practise cruelties against me. [539]

Then in my terror, and in the agony of separation, I was thinking of abandoning my life, but the attendants of the harem came to me, and said to me by way of consolation, "Long ago this Mánasavega beheld a certain beautiful hermit maiden and tried to carry her off by force but was thus cursed by her relations; 'When, villain, you approach another's wife against her will, your head shall split into a thousand fragments;' so he will never force himself on the wife of another, do not be afraid. Moreover you will soon be reunited with your husband, as the god announced." Soon after the maids had said this to me, Vegavatí, the sister of that Mánasavega, came to me to talk me over; but when she saw me, she was filled with compassion, and she comforted me by promising to bring you; and you already know how she found you.

Then Prithivídeví, the good mother of that wicked Mánasavega, came to me, looking, with her garments white as moonlight, like the orb of Luna without a spot, seeming to bathe me with nectar by her charming appearance; and with a loving manner she said to me, "Why do you refuse food and so injure your bodily health, though you are destined to great prosperity? And do not say to yourself, 'How can I eat an enemy's food?' For my daughter Vegavatí has a share in this kingdom, bestowed on her by her father, and she is your friend, for your husband has married her. Accordingly her wealth, as belonging to your husband, is yours as much as hers. So enjoy it. What I tell you is true, for I have discovered it by my magic knowledge." This she said, and confirmed it with an oath, and then, being attached to me, on account of her daughter's connexion, she fed me with food suited to my condition. Then Vegavatí came here with you, and conquered her brother, and saved you; the sequel I do not know.

So I, remembering the magic skill of Vegavatí and the announcement of the god, did not surrender my life, which was supported by the hope of regaining you, and, thanks to the power of the noble Prabhávatí, I have regained you, although I am thus beset by my enemies. But my only anxiety is as to what would happen to us, if Prabhávatí here were deprived of her power, and you were so to lose her shape, which she has bestowed on you by way of disguise.

This and other such things did Madanamanchuká say, while the brave Naraváhanadatta remained there with her, endeavouring to console her. But one night Prabhávatí went to her father's palace, and in the morning Naraváhanadatta, owing to her being at a distance, lost her shape, which she had bestowed on him. And next day the attendants beheld him there in male form, and they all ran bewildered and alarmed to the king's court and said, "Here is an adulterer crept in;" thrusting aside the terrified Madanamanchuká, who tried to stop them.

Then king Mánasavega came there at full speed, accompanied by his army, and surrounded him. Then the king's mother Prithivídeví hurried thither and said to him, "It will not do for you or me either to put this man to death. For he is no adulterer, but Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, who has come here to visit his own wife. I know this by my magic power; why are you so blinded with wrath that you cannot see it? Moreover I am bound to honour him, as he is my son-in-law, and sprung from the race of the moon." When Mánasavega's mother said this to him, he flew into a passion, and said, "Then he is my enemy." Then his mother, out of love for her son-in-law, used another argument with him. She said, "My son, you will not be allowed to act wrongfully in the world of the Vidyádharas. For here there exists a court of the Vidyádharas to protect the right. So accuse him before the president of that court [540]. Whatever steps you take with regard to your captive in accordance with the court's decision will be commendable; but if you act otherwise, the Vidyádharas will be displeased, and the gods will not tolerate it."

Mánasavega, out of respect for his mother, consented to follow her advice, and attempted to have Naraváhanadatta bound, with the intention of taking him before the court. But he, unable to endure the indignity of being bound, tore a pillar from the arched gateway, and killed with it a great number of his captor's servants. And the hero, whose valour was godlike, snatched a sword from one of those that he had killed, and at once slew with it some more of his opponents. Then Mánasavega fettered him by his superhuman powers, and took him, with his wife, before the court. Then the Vidyádharas assembled there from all quarters, summoned by the loud sound of a drum, even as the gods assemble in Sudharmá.

And the president of the court, king Váyupatha, came there, and sat down on a jewelled throne surrounded by Vidyádharas, and fanned by chowries which waved to and fro, as if to winnow away all injustice. And the wicked Mánasavega stood in front of him, and said as follows, "This enemy of mine, who though a mortal, has violated my harem, and seduced my sister, ought immediately to be put to death; especially as he actually wishes to be our sovereign." When the president heard this, he called on Naraváhanadatta for an answer, and the hero said in a confident tone, "That is a court, where there is a president; he is a president, who says what is just; that is just, in which there is truth; that is truth in which there is no deceit. Here I am bound by magic, and on the floor, but my adversary here is on a seat, and free; what fair controversy can there be between us?"

When Váyupatha heard this, he made Mánasavega also sit upon the floor, as was just, and had Naraváhanadatta set free from his bonds. Then before Váyupatha, and in the hearing of all, Naraváhanadatta made the following reply to the accusations of Mánasavega; "Pray, whose harem have I violated by coming to visit my own wife, Madanamanchuká here, who has been carried off by this fellow? And if his sister came and tricked me into marrying her by assuming my wife's form, what fault have I committed in this? As for my desiring empire, is there any one that does not desire all sorts of things?" When king Váyupatha heard this, he reflected a little, and said, "This noble fellow says what is quite just; take care, my good Mánasavega, that you do not act unjustly towards one, whom great exaltation awaits."

Though Váyupatha said this, Mánasavega, blinded with delusion, refused to turn from his wicked way; and then Váyupatha flew into a passion. Then, out of regard for justice, he engaged in a contest with Mánasavega, in which fully equipped armies were employed on both sides. For resolute men, when they sit on the seat of justice, keep only the right in view, and look upon the mighty as weak, and one of their own race as an alien. [541] And then Naraváhanadatta, looking towards the nymphs of heaven, who were gazing at the scene with intense interest, said to Mánasavega, "Lay aside your magic disguises, and fight with me in visible shape, in order that I may give you a specimen of my prowess by slaying you with one blow."

Accordingly those Vidyádharas there remained quarrelling among themselves, when suddenly a splendid pillar in the court cleft asunder in the middle with a loud noise, [542] and Siva issued from it in his terrific form. He filled the whole sky, in colour like antimony; he hid the sun; the gleams of his fiery eyes flickered like flashes of lightning; his shining teeth were like cranes flying in a long row; and so he was terrible like a roaring cloud of the great day of doom. The great god exclaimed "Villain, this future emperor of the Vidyádharas shall not be insulted," and with these words he dismissed Mánasavega with face cast down, and encouraged Váyupatha. And then the adorable one took Naraváhanadatta up in his arms, and in order to preserve his life, carried him in this way to the beautiful and happy mountain Rishyamúka, and after setting him down there, disappeared. And then the quarrel among the Vidyádharas in that court came to an end, and Váyupatha went home again accompanied by the other Vidyádharas his friends. But Mánasavega, making Madanamanchuká, who was distracted with joy and grief, precede him, went despondent to Áshádhapura his own dwelling.

Chapter CVII

I think, a hero's prosperity must be unequal; Fate again and again severely tests firmness by the ordeals of happiness and misery: this explains why the fickle goddess kept uniting Naraváhanadatta to wife after wife, when he was alone in those remote regions, and then separated him from them.

Then, while he was residing on the mountain Rishyamúka, his beloved Prabhávatí came up to him, and said, "It was owing to the misfortune of my not being present that Mánasavega carried you off on that occasion to the court, with the intention of doing you an injury. When I heard of it, I at once went there, and by means of my magic power I produced the delusion of an appearance of the god, and brought you here. For, though the Vidyádharas are mighty, their influence does not extend over this mountain, for this is the domain of the Siddhas. [543] Indeed even my science is of no avail here for that reason, and that grieves me, for how will you subsist on the products of the forest as your only food?" When she had said this, Naraváhanadatta remained with her there, longing for the time of deliverance, thinking on Madanamanchuká. And on the banks of the sanctifying Pampá-lake near that mountain, he ate fruits and roots of heavenly flavour, and he drank the holy water of the lake which was rendered delicious and fragrant by the fruits dropped from trees on its bank, as a relish to his meal of deer's flesh. [544] And he lived at the foot of trees and in the interior of caverns, and so he imitated the conduct of Ráma who once lived in the forests of that region. And Prabhávatí, beholding there various hermitages once occupied by Ráma, told him the story of Ráma for his amusement.

Story of Ráma.

In this forest Ráma once dwelt accompanied by Lakshmana, and waited on by Sítá, in the society of hermits, making to himself a hut at the foot of a tree. And Sítá, perfuming the whole forest with the perfume given her by Anasúyá, remained here in the midst of the hermits' wives, wearing a robe of bark.

Here the Daitya Dundubhi was slain in a cave by Báli, which was the original cause of the enmity between Báli and Sugríva. For Sugríva, wrongly supposing that the Daitya had slain Báli, blocked up the entrance of the cave with mountains, and went away terrified. But Báli broke through the obstruction, and came out, and banished Sugríva, saying, "This fellow imprisoned me in the cave because he wanted to get my kingdom." But Sugríva fled, and came and established himself on this plateau of Rishyamúka with the lords of the monkeys, of whom Hanumán was the chief.

Then Rávana came here, and beguiling the soul of Ráma with the phantom of a golden deer, he carried off his wife the daughter of Janaka. Then the descendant of Raghu, who longed for news of Sítá, made an alliance with Sugríva, who desired the slaughter of Báli. And in order to let his might be known, he cleft seven palm-trees here with an arrow, while the mighty Báli with great difficulty cleft one of them. And then the hero went hence to Kishkindhya, and after slaying Báli with a single arrow, which he launched as if in sport, gave his kingdom to Sugríva.

Then the followers of Sugríva, headed by Hanumán, went hence in every direction to gain information about Sítá. And Ráma remained here during the rainy season with the roaring clouds, which seemed to share his grief shedding showery tear-drops. At last Hanumán crossed the sea at the suggestion of Sampáti, and by great exertions obtained for Ráma the required information; whereupon he marched with the monkeys, and threw a bridge over the sea, and killed his enemy the lord of Lanká, and brought back queen Sítá in the flying chariot, passing over this place.

"So, my husband, you also shall attain good fortune: successes come of their own accord to heroes who remain resolute in misfortunes." This and other such tales did Prabhávatí tell, while she roamed about here and there for her pleasure with Naraváhanadatta.

And one day, as he was in the neighbourhood of Pampá, two Vidyádharís, Dhanavatí and Ajinávatí, descended from heaven and approached him. These were the two ladies who carried him from the city of the Gandharvas to the city of Srávastí, where he [545] married Bhagírathayasas. And while Ajinávatí was conversing with Prabhávatí as an old friend, Dhanavatí thus addressed Naraváhanadatta, "I long ago bestowed on you this daughter of mine Ajinávatí, as far as promises could do it; so marry her; for the day of your exaltation is nigh at hand." Prabhávatí, out of love for her friend, and Naraváhanadatta both agreed to this proposal. Then Dhanavatí bestowed that daughter of hers Ajinávatí on that son of the king of Vatsa, with appropriate ceremonies. And she celebrated the great feast of her daughter's wedding in such style that the glorious and heavenly preparations she had accumulated by means of her magic knowledge made it really beautiful.

Then the next day she said to Naraváhanadatta, "My son, it will never do for you to remain long in a nondescript place like this: for the Vidyádharas are a deceitful race, and you have no business here. So depart now with your wife for your own city of Kausámbí; and I will come there with my son Chandasinha and with the Vidyádhara chiefs that follow me, to ensure your success." [546] When Dhanavatí had said this, she mounted up into the sky, illuminating it, as it were, with moonlight, though it was day, by the gleam of her white body and raiment.

And Prabhávatí and Ajinávatí carried Naraváhanadatta through the air to his city of Kausámbí. When he reached the garden of the city, he descended from heaven into his capital, and was seen by his attendants. And there arose there a cry from the people on all sides, "We are indeed happy; here is the prince come back." Then the king of Vatsa, hearing of it, came there quickly in high delight, as if irrigated with a sudden shower of nectar, with Vásavadattá and Padmávatí, and the prince's wives, Ratnaprabhá and the rest; and Yaugandharáyana and the other ministers of the king of Vatsa, and Kalingasená and the prince's own ministers, Gomukha and his fellows, approached him in order of precedence as eagerly as travellers make for a lake in the hot season. And they saw the hero, whose high birth qualified him for a lofty station, sitting between his two wives, like Krishna between Rukminí and Satyabhámá. And when they saw him, they hid their eyes with tears of joy, as if for fear lest they should leap out of their skins in their delight. And the king of Vatsa and his queens embraced after a long absence that son of theirs, and could not let him go, for they were, as it were, riveted to him by the hairs of their bodies erect from joy.

Then a great feast began by beat of drum, and Vegavatí, the daughter of Vegavat, and sister of Mánasavega, who was married to Naraváhanadatta, finding it all out by the might of her recovered science, came down to Kausámbí through the air, and fell at the feet of her father-in-law and mother-in-law, and prostrating herself before her husband, said to him, "Auspicious sir, after I had become weak by my exertions on your behalf, I recovered my magic powers by self-mortification in a grove of ascetics and now I have returned into your presence." When she had said this, she was welcomed by her husband and the others, and she repaired to her friends Prabhávatí, and Ajinávatí.

They embraced her and made her sit between them; and at that moment Dhanavatí, the mother of Ajinávatí, also arrived; and various kings of the Vidyádharas came with her, surrounded by their forces, that hid the heaven like clouds; her own heroic son, the strong-armed Chandasinha, and a powerful relation of hers, Amitagati by name, and Pingalagándhára the mighty father of Prabhávatí, and Váyupatha, the president of the court, who had previously declared himself on Naraváhanadatta's side, and the heroic king Hemaprabha, the father of Ratnaprabhá, accompanied by his son Vajraprabha and followed by his army. And Ságaradatta the king of the Gandharvas came there, accompanied by his daughter Gandharvadattá, and by Chitrángada. And when they arrived, they were becomingly honoured by the king of Vatsa and his son, and sat in due order on thrones.

And immediately king Pingalagándhára said to his son-in-law Naraváhanadatta, as he was in the hall of assembly, "King, you have been appointed by the god [547] emperor over us all, and it is owing to our great love for you, that we have all come to you. And queen Dhanavatí here, your mother-in-law, a strict votary, possessing divine knowledge, wearing the rosary, and the skin of the black antelope, like an incarnation of Durgá, or Sávitrí having acquired magic powers, an object of reverence to the noblest Vidyádharas, has made herself ready to protect you; so you are certain to prosper in your undertaking; but listen to what I am about to say. There are two divisions of the Vidyádhara territory [548] on the Himálayas here, the northern and the southern, both extending over many peaks of that range; the northern division is on the other side of Kailása, but the southern is on this side of it. And this Amitagati here has just performed a difficult penance on mount Kailása, in order to obtain the sovereignty over the northern division, and propitiated Siva. And Siva made this revelation to him, 'Naraváhanadatta thy emperor will accomplish thy desire,' so he has come here to you. In that division there is a chief monarch, named Mandaradeva, who is evilly disposed, but though mighty, he will be easy for you to conquer, when you have obtained the sciences peculiar to the Vidyádharas.

"But the king named Gaurímunda, who rules in the midst of the southern division, is evil-minded and exceedingly hard to conquer on account of the might of his magic science. Moreover he is a great friend of your enemy Mánasavega. Until he is overcome, your undertaking will not prosper; so acquire as quickly as possible great and transcendent power of science."

When Pingalagándhára had said this, Dhanavatí spake, "Good, my son, it is as this king tells thee. Go hence to the land of the Siddhas [549] and propitiate the god Siva, in order that thou mayest obtain the magic sciences, for how can there be any excelling without his favour? And these kings will be assembled there to protect thee." Then Chitrángada said, "It is even so; but I will advance in front of all; let us conquer our enemies."

Then Naraváhanadatta determined to do as they had advised, and he performed the auspicious ceremony before setting out, and bowed at the feet of his tearful parents, and other superiors, and received their blessing, and then ascended with his wives and ministers a splendid palanquin provided by the skill of Amitagati, and started on his expedition, obscuring the heaven with his forces, that resembled the water of the sea raised by the wind at the end of a kalpa, as it were proclaiming by the echoes of his army's roar on the limits of the horizon, that the emperor of the Vidyádharas had come to visit them.

And he was rapidly conducted by the king of the Gandharvas and the chiefs of the Vidyádharas and Dhanavatí to that mountain, which was the domain of the Siddhas. There the Siddhas prescribed for him a course of self-mortification, and he performed asceticism by sleeping on the ground, bathing in the early morning, and eating fruits. And the kings of the Vidyádharas remained surrounding him on every side, guarding him unweariedly day and night. And the Vidyádhara princesses, contemplating him eagerly while he was performing his penance, seemed with the gleams of their eyes to clothe him in the skin of a black antelope. Others shewed by their eyes turned inwards out of anxiety for him, and their hands placed on their breasts, that he had at once entered their hearts.

And five more noble maidens of the Vidyádhara race, beholding him, were inflamed with the fire of love, and made this agreement together, "We five friends must select this prince as our common husband, and we must marry him at the same time, not separately; if one of us marries him separately, the rest must enter the fire on account of that violation of friendship."

While the heavenly maidens were thus agitated at the sight of him, suddenly great portents manifested themselves in the grove of ascetics. A very terrible wind blew, uprooting splendid trees, as if to shew that even thus in that place should heroes fall in fight; and the earth trembled as if anxious as to what all that could mean, and the hills cleft asunder, as if to give an opening for the terrified to escape, and the sky, rumbling awfully, though cloudless, [550] seemed to say, "Ye Vidyádharas, guard, guard to the best of your power, this emperor of yours." And Naraváhanadatta, in the midst of the alarm produced by these portents, remained unmoved, meditating upon the adorable three-eyed god; and the heroic kings of the Gandharvas and lords of the Vidyádharas remained guarding him, ready for battle, expecting some calamity; and they uttered war-cries, and agitated the forest of their lithe swords, as if to scare away the portents that announced the approach of evil.

And the next day after this the army of the Vidyádharas was suddenly seen in the sky, dense as a cloud at the end of the kalpa, uttering a terrible shout. Then Dhanavatí, calling to mind her magic science, said, "This is Gaurímunda come with Mánasavega." Then those kings of the Vidyádharas and the Gandharvas raised their weapons, but Gaurímunda with Mánasavega rushed upon them exclaiming, "What right has a mere man to rank with beings like us? So I will to-day crush your pride, you sky-goers that take part with him." When Gaurímunda said this, Chitrángada rushed upon him angrily, and attacked him.

And king Ságaradatta, the sovereign of the Gandharvas, and Chandasinha, and Amitagati, and king Váyupatha, and Pingalagándhára, and all the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, great heroes all, rushed upon the wicked Mánasavega, roaring like lions, followed by the whole of their forces. And right terrible was that storm of battle, thick with the clouds of dust raised by the army, with the gleams of weapons for flashes of lightning, and a falling rain of blood. And so Chitrángada and his friends made, as it were, a great sacrifice for the demons, which was full of blood for wine, and in which the heads of enemies were strewn as an offering. And streams of gore flowed away, full of bodies for alligators, and floating weapons for snakes, and in which marrow intermingled took the place of cuttle-fish bone.

Then Gaurímunda, as his army was slain, and he himself was nigh to death, called to mind the magic science of Gaurí, which he had formerly propitiated and made well-disposed to him; and that science appeared in visible form, with three eyes, armed with the trident, [551] and paralysed the chief heroes of Naraváhanadatta's army. Then Gaurímunda, having regained strength, rushed with a loud shout towards Naraváhanadatta, and fell on him to try his strength in wrestling. And being beaten by him in wrestling, the cogging Vidyádhara again summoned up that science, and by its power he seized his antagonist in his arms and flew up to the sky. However, he was prevented by the might of Dhanavatí's science from slaying the prince, so he flung him down on the mountain of fire.

But Mánasavega seized his comrades Gomukha and the rest, and flew up into the sky with them, and flung them at random in all directions. But, after they had been flung up, they were preserved by a science in visible shape employed by Dhanavatí, and placed in different spots on the earth. And that science comforted those heroes, one by one, saying to them, "You will soon recover that master of yours successful and flourishing," and having said this it disappeared. Then Gaurímunda went back home with Mánasavega, thinking that their side had been victorious.

But Dhanavatí said, "Naraváhanadatta will return to you after he has attained his object, no harm will befall him;" and thereupon the lords of the Gandharvas and princes of the Vidyádharas, Chitrángada and the others, flung off their paralysing stupor, and went for the present to their own abodes. And Dhanavatí took her daughter Ajinávatí, with all her fellow-wives, and went to her own home.

Mánasavega, for his part, went and said to Madanamanchuká, "Your husband is slain; so you had better marry me;" but she, standing in front of him, said to him laughing, "He will slay you, no one can slay him, as he has been appointed by the god."

But when Naraváhanadatta was being hurled down by his enemy on the mountain of fire, a certain heavenly being came there, and received him; and after preserving his life, he took him quickly to the cool bank of the Mandákiní. And when Naraváhanadatta asked him who he was, he comforted him, and said to him, "I, prince, am a king of the Vidyádharas named Amritaprabha, and I have been sent by Siva on the present occasion to save your life. Here is the mountain of Kailása in front of you, the dwelling-place of that god; if you propitiate Siva there, you will obtain unimpeded felicity. So, come, I will take you there." When that noble Vidyádhara had said this, he immediately conveyed him there, and took leave of him, and departed.

But Naraváhanadatta, when he had reached Kailása, propitiated with asceticism Ganesa, whom he found there in front of him. And after obtaining his permission, he entered the hermitage of Siva, emaciated with self-mortification, and he beheld Nandin at the door. He devoutly circumambulated him, and then Nandin said to him, "Thou hast well-nigh attained all thy ends; for all the obstacles that hindered thee have now been overcome; so remain here, and perform a strict course of asceticism that will subdue sin, until thou shalt have propitiated the adorable god; for successes depend on purity." When Nandin had said this, Naraváhanadatta began a severe course of penance there, living on air and meditating on the god Siva and the goddess Párvatí.

And the adorable god Siva, pleased with his asceticism, granted him a vision of himself, and accompanied by the goddess, thus spake to the prince, as he bent before him, "Become now emperor over all the Vidyádharas, and let all the most transcendent sciences be immediately revealed to thee! By my favour thou shalt become invincible by thy enemies, and, as thou shalt be proof against cut or thrust, thou shalt slay all thy foes. And when thou appearest, the sciences of thy enemies shall be of no avail against thee. So go forth: even the science of Gaurí shall be subject to thee." When Siva and Gaurí had bestowed these boons on Naraváhanadatta, the god also gave him a great imperial chariot, in the form of a lotus, made by Brahmá. Then all the sciences presented themselves to the prince in bodily form, and expressed their desire to carry out his orders by saying, "What do you enjoin on us, that we may perform it?"

Accordingly Naraváhanadatta, having obtained many boons, bowed before the great god, and ascended the heavenly lotus-chariot, after he had received permission from him to depart, and went first to the city of Amitagati, named Vakrapura; and as he went, the sciences shewed him the path, and the bards of the Siddhas sang his praises. And Amitagati, seeing him from a distance, as he came along through the air, mounted on a chariot, advanced to meet him and bowed before him, and made him enter his palace. And when he described how he had obtained all these magic powers, Amitagati was so delighted that he gave him as a present his own daughter named Sulochaná. And with her, thus obtained, like a second imperial fortune of the Vidyádhara race, the emperor joyfully passed that day as one long festival.

Chapter CVIII

The next day, as the new emperor Naraváhanadatta was sitting in Vakrapura, in the hall of audience, a certain man descended from heaven, with a wand in his hand, and came up to him, and bowing before him, said to him, "Know, O king, that I am Pauraruehideva the hereditary warder of the emperor of the Vidyádharas, and I am come here to tender my services to you in that capacity." When Naraváhanadatta heard this, he looked at the face of Amitagati; and he said, "It is true, my liege:" so Naraváhanadatta gladly admitted the new-comer to the office of warder.

Then Dhanavatí, finding out by her power what had occurred, with his wives Vegavatí and the others, and her son Chandasinha, and king Pingalagándhára with Váyupatha, and Chitrángada with Ságaradatta, and Hemaprabha and the others came there, obscuring the sun with their armies; as if declaring beforehand that they would endure no fire and heat in their foes. When they arrived, they fell at the feet of that emperor, and he honoured them with a welcome as their rank deserved, but, out of great veneration, he himself fell at the feet of Dhanavatí, and she, being highly pleased, loaded that son-in-law of her's with blessings. And when he told the story of his obtaining magic powers, Chandasinha and the others were exceedingly gratified at their emperor's success.

And the emperor, seeing that his wives had arrived in his presence, said to Dhanavatí, "Where are my ministers?" And she answered him, "When they had been flung in all directions by Mánasavega, I saved them by the help of a mighty science, and placed them in different spots." Then he had them brought by a science incarnate in bodily form; and they came and enquired after his welfare and clung to his feet, and then he said to them, "Why and how and where have you spent so many days? Tell me one by one your marvellous tale." Then Gomukha told his story first.

Gomukha's account of his adventures.

When I was flung away by the enemy on that occasion, some goddess bore me up in her hands, and comforted me, and placed me in a distant forest, and disappeared. Then I was minded in my affliction to abandon the body by hurling myself from a precipice; but a certain ascetic came up to me and dissuaded me saying, "Do not act thus, Gomukha, you will again behold your master when he has gained his object." Then I said to him, "Who are you, and how do you know that?" He answered, "Come to my hermitage, and there I will tell you." Then I went with that man, who by his knowing my name had proved the greatness of his knowledge, to his hermitage, which was called Sivakshetra. There he entertained me and told me his story in the following words:

Story of Nágasvámin and the witches.

I am a Bráhman named Nágasvámin, from a city called Kundina. When my father went to heaven, I went to Pátaliputra, and repaired to a teacher named Jayadatta, to acquire learning. But in spite of all the teaching that I got, I was so stupid that I did not manage to learn a single syllable; so all the pupils there made game of me. Then, being the victim of contempt, I set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the goddess Durgá in the Vindhya mountains; and when I had got halfway I came across a city named Vakrolaka.

I went into that city to beg; and in one house the mistress gave me with my alms a red lotus. I took it, and went on to another house, and there the mistress said to me, when she saw me, "Alas! a witch has secured possession of you. See! she has given you a man's hand, [552] which she has passed off on you for a red lotus." When I heard that, I looked myself, and lo! it was no lotus, but a human hand. I flung it away, and fell at her feet, and said, "Mother, devise some expedient for me, that I may live." When she heard this she said, "Go! in a village of the name of Karabha, three yojanas distant from this place, there is a Bráhman of the name of Devarakshita. He has in his house a splendid brown cow, an incarnation of Surabhi; she will protect you during this night, if you repair to her for refuge."

When she said this, I ran full of fear, and reached, at the close of the day, the house of that Bráhman in the village of Karabha. When I had entered, I beheld that brown cow, and I worshipped her and said, "Being terrified, goddess, I have come to you for protection." And just then, night having set in, that witch came there through the air with other witches, threatening me, longing for my flesh and blood. When the brown cow saw that, she placed me between her hoofs, and defended me, fighting against those witches all the livelong night. In the morning they went away, and the cow said to me with an articulate voice, "My son, I shall not be able to protect you the next night. So go on further; at a distance of five yojanas from this place there is a mighty Pásupata ascetic named Bhútisiva, dwelling in a temple of Siva in a forest. He possesses supernatural knowledge, and he will protect you for this one night, if you take refuge with him."

When I heard that, I bowed before her, and set out from that place; and I soon reached that Bhútisiva, and took refuge with him. And at night those very same witches came there also in the very same way. Then that Bhútisiva made me enter the inner apartment of his house, [553] and taking up a position at the door, trident in hand, kept off the witches. Next morning, Bhútisiva, having conquered them, gave me food, and said to me, "Bráhman, I shall not be able to protect you any longer; but in a village named Sandhyávása, at a distance of ten yojanas from this place, there is a Bráhman named Vasumati: go to him: and if you manage to get through this third night, you will escape altogether."

When he said this to me, I bowed before him, and set out from that place. But on account of the length of the journey that I had to make, the sun set before I had reached my destination. And when night had set in, the witches pursued after me and caught me. And they seized me and went off with me through the air much pleased. But thereupon some other witches of great power flew past them in front. And suddenly there arose between the two parties a tumultuous fight. And in the confusion I escaped from the hands of my captors, and fell to the ground in a very desolate part of the country. [554]

And there I saw a certain great palace, which seemed to say to me with its open door, "Come in." So I fled into it bewildered with fear, and I beheld a lady of wonderful beauty, surrounded with a hundred ladies-in-waiting, gleaming with brightness, like a protecting herb [555] that shines in the night, made by the Creator out of pity for me. I immediately recovered my spirits and questioned her, and she said to me, "I am a Yakshiní named Sumitrá, and I am thus here owing to a curse. And in order that my curse may come to an end, I have been directed to marry a mortal: so marry me, as you have unexpectedly arrived here; fear not." When she had said this, she quickly gave orders to her servants; and she provided me, to my great delight, with baths and unguents, food and drink, and garments. Strange was the contrast between the terror caused by those witches and the happiness that immediately followed! Even fate itself cannot comprehend the principle that makes men fall into happiness or misery.

Then I remained there in happiness with that Yakshiní during those days; but at last one day she said to me of her own accord, "Bráhman, my curse is at an end; so I must leave this place at once. However, by my favour you shall have divine insight; and, though an ascetic, you shall have all enjoyments at your command, and be free from fear. But as long as you are here, do not visit the middle block of buildings of this palace of mine." When she had said this, she disappeared; and thereupon, I, out of curiosity, went up to the middle block of buildings, and there I saw a horse. I went up to the horse, and he flung me from him with a kick; and immediately I found myself in this temple of Siva. [556]

Since that time I have remained here, and I have gradually acquired supernatural powers. Accordingly, though I am a mortal, I possess knowledge of the three times. In the same way do all men in this world find successes beset with difficulties. So do you remain in this place; Siva will bestow on you the success that you desire.

When that wise being had told me all this, I conceived hopes of recovering you, and I remained there some days in his hermitage. And to-day, my lord, Siva in a dream informed me of your success, and some heavenly nymph seized me up, and brought me here. This is the history of my adventures.

When Gomukha had said this, he stopped, and then Marubhúti began to tell his tale in the presence of Naraváhanadatta.

Marubhúti's account of his adventures.

When I was flung away on that occasion by Mánasavega, some divinity took me up in her hands, and placing me in a distant forest, disappeared. Then I wandered about afflicted and anxious to obtain some means of committing suicide, when I saw a certain hermitage encircled with a river. I entered it, and beheld an ascetic with matted hair sitting on a slab of rock, and I bowed before him and went up to him. He said to me, "Who are you, and how did you reach this uninhabited land?" Thereupon, I told him my whole story. Then he understood and said to me, "Do not slay yourself now! You shall learn here the truth about your master, and afterwards you shall do what is fitting."

In accordance with this advice of his I remained there, eager for tidings of you, my liege: and while I was there, some heavenly nymphs came to bathe in the river. Then the hermit said to me, "Go quickly and carry off the clothes of one of those nymphs bathing there; [557] and then you will learn tidings of your master." When I heard that, I did as he advised me, and that nymph, whose garments I had taken, followed me, with her bathing-dress dripping with moisture, [558] and with her arms crossed in front of her breasts.

That hermit said to her, "If you tell us tidings of Naraváhanadatta, you may have back your two garments." Then she said, "Naraváhanadatta is at present on mount Kailása, engaged in worshipping Siva, and in a few days he will be the emperor of the Vidyádharas."

After she had said this, that heavenly nymph became, in virtue of a curse, the wife of that ascetic, having made acquaintance with him by conversing with him. [559] So the ascetic lived with that Vidyádharí, and on account of her prophecy I conceived the hope of being reunited with you and I went on living there. And in a few days the heavenly nymph became pregnant, and brought forth a child, and she said to the ascetic, "My curse has been brought to an end by living with you. [560] If you desire to see any more of me, cook this child of mine with rice and eat it; then you will be reunited to me." When she had said this, she went away, and that ascetic cooked her child with rice, and ate it: and then he flew up into the air and followed her.

At first I was unwilling to eat of that dish, though he urged me to do so; but seeing that eating of it bestowed supernatural powers, I took two grains of rice from the cooking-vessel, and ate them. That produced in me the effect that wherever I spat, gold [561] was immediately produced. Then I roamed about relieved from my poverty, and at last I reached a town. There I lived in the house of a hetæra, and, thanks to the gold I was able to produce, indulged in the most lavish expenditure; but the kuttaní, eager to discover my secret, treacherously gave me an emetic. That made me vomit, and in the process the two grains of rice, that I had previously eaten, came out of my mouth, looking like two glittering rubies. And no sooner had they come out, than the kuttaní snapped them up, and swallowed them. So I lost my power of producing gold, of which the kuttaní thus deprived me.

I thought to myself, "Siva still retains his crescent and Vishnu his kaustubha jewel; but I know what would be the result, if those two deities were to fall into the clutches of a kuttaní. [562] But such is this world, full of marvels, full of frauds; who can fathom it, or the sea, at any time?" With such sad reflections in my bosom I went despondent to a temple of Durgá, to propitiate the goddess with asceticism, in order to recover you. And after I had fasted for three nights, the goddess gave me this command in a dream, "Thy master has obtained all he desires: go, and behold him;" upon hearing this I woke up; and this very morning some goddess carried me to your feet; this, prince, is the story of my adventures.

When Marubhúti had said this, Naraváhanadatta and his courtiers laughed at him for having been tricked by a kuttaní.

Harisikha's account of his adventures.

Then Harisikha said;--On that occasion when I was seized by my enemy, some divinity saved me and deposited me in Ujjayiní. There I was so unhappy that I conceived the design of abandoning the body; so at nightfall I went into the cemetery and proceeded to construct a pyre with the logs there. I lighted it and began to worship the fire, and while I was thus engaged, a prince of the demons, named Tálajangha, came up to me, and said to me, "Why do you enter the fire? Your master is alive, and you shall be united with him, now that he has obtained the supernatural powers he desired." With these words, the demon, though naturally cruel, lovingly dissuaded me from death; even some stones melt when fate is propitious. Then I went and remained for a long time performing asceticism in front of the god; and some divinity has to-day brought me to your side, my liege.

Thus Harisikha told his tale, and the others in their turn told theirs, and then, at the suggestion of Amitagati, king Naraváhanadatta incited the venerable Dhanavatí, adored by the Vidyádharas, to bestow all the sciences on those ministers of his also. Then all his ministers also became Vidyádharas; and Dhanavatí said, "Now conquer your enemies;" so on a fortunate day the hero gave orders that the imperial troops should march out towards the city of Gaurímunda, called Govindakúta.

Then the army of the Vidyádharas mounted up into the sky, obscuring the sun, looking like a rising of Ráhu out of due time chilling to the foe. And Naraváhanadatta himself ascended the pericarp of the lotus-chariot, and placed his wives on the filaments, and his friends on the leaves, and preceded by Chandasinha and the others, set out through the air to conquer his enemies. And when he had completed half his journey, he came to the palace of Dhanavatí which was called Mátangapura, and he stayed there that day, and she did the honours of the house to him. And while he was there, he sent an ambassador to challenge to the combat the Vidyádhara princes Gaurímunda and Mánasavega.

The next day he deposited his wives in Mátangapura, and went with the Vidyádhara kings to Govindakúta. There Gaurímunda and Mánasavega came out to fight with them, and Chandasinha and his colleagues met them face to face. When the battle began, brave warriors fell like trees marked out for the axe, and torrents of blood flowed on the mountain Govindakúta. The combat, eager to devour the lives of heroes, yawned like a demon of destruction, with tongues in the form of flexible swords greedily licking up blood. [563] That great feast of slaughter, terrible with the rhythmic clapping of hands on the part of Vetálas drunk with blood and flesh, and covered with palpitating corpses for dancers, gave great delight to the demons.

Then Mánasavega met Naraváhanadatta face to face in the conflict, and the prince himself rushed on him in wrath. And having rushed on him, that emperor seized the villain by the hair, and at once cut off his head with his sword. When Gaurímunda saw that, he too sprang forward in a fury, and Naraváhanadatta dragged him along by the hair, for the power of his science left him as soon as he saw the prince, and flung him on the ground, and seizing his legs whirled him round in the air, and dashed him to pieces on a rock. In this way he slew Gaurímunda and Mánasavega; and the rest of their army, being terrified, [564] took to flight. And a rain of flowers fell into the lap of that emperor, and all the gods in heaven exclaimed, "Bravo! Bravo!" Then Naraváhanadatta, with all those kings that followed him, entered the palace of Gaurímunda; and immediately the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, who were connected with Gaurímunda's party, came and submitted humbly to his sway.

Then Dhanavatí came up to that sovereign in the midst of the rejoicings on account of his having taken possession of his kingdom after slaying all his enemies, and said to him, "My liege, Gaurímunda has left a daughter named Ihátmatiká, the belle of the three worlds; you should marry that maiden." When she said this to the king, he immediately sent for the girl, and married her, and passed the day very happily in her society.

The next morning he sent Vegavatí and Prabhávatí, and had Madanamanchuká brought by them from the town of Mánasavega. When brought, she looked upon that hero in his prosperity, who had destroyed the darkness of his enemies, with face expanded and wet with tears of joy; and at the end of her night of separation she enjoyed indescribable happiness, like a lotus-bed, the open flowers of which are wet with dew. Then he bestowed on her all the sciences, and having pined for her long, he exulted in the society of his beloved, who had thus in a moment attained the rank of a Vidyádharí. And in the garden of Gaurímunda's city he spent those days with his wives in the joys of a banquet. And then he sent Prabhávatí, and had Bhagírathayasas also brought there, and bestowed on her the sciences.

And one day, as the emperor was sitting in his hall of audience, two Vidyádharas came and said to him with due respect, "Your majesty, we went hence, by the orders of Dhanavatí, to the northern division of the land of the Vidyádharas, to find out the movements of Mandaradeva. And there we, being ourselves invisible, saw that king of the Vidyádharas in his hall of audience, and he happened to be saying with regard to your Highness, 'I hear, that Naraváhanadatta has obtained the sovereignty over the Vidyádharas, and has slain Gaurímunda and the rest of his opponents; so it will not do for me to overlook that enemy; on the contrary, I must nip him in the bud.' When we heard that speech of his, we came here to tell you."

When the assembly of Naraváhanadatta's partizans heard this from the spies, they were all beside themselves with anger, and appeared like a lotus-bed smitten by the wind. The arms of Chitrángada, frequently waved and extended, seemed with the tinkling of their bracelets to be demanding the signal for combat. The necklace of Amitagati, rising up on his breast, as he sighed with anger, seemed to say again and again, "Rouse thyself, rouse thyself, hero." Pingalagándhára, striking the ground with his hand so that it resounded, seemed to be going through a prelude introductory to the crushing of his enemies. A frown took its seat upon the face of Váyupatha, looking like a bow strung by Fate for the destruction of his foes. Chandasinha, angrily pressing one hand against the other, seemed to say, "Even thus will I pulverize my enemies." The arm of Ságaradatta, struck by his hand, produced a sound that rang through the air, and seemed to challenge that foe. But Naraváhanadatta, though angry, was no whit disturbed; for imperturbability is the characteristic sign of the greatness of great ones.

Then he resolved to march forth to conquer his enemy, after obtaining the jewels essential to an emperor of the Vidyádharas. So the emperor mounted a chariot, with his wives and his ministers, and set out from that Govindakúta. And all his partizans, the kings of the Gandharvas and the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, accompanied by their armies, marched along with him, encircling him, as the planets do the moon. Then Naraváhanadatta reached the Himálayas, preceded by Dhanavatí, and found there a large lake. With its white lotuses like lofty umbrellas and its soaring swans like waving chowries, it seemed to have brought a present fit for a sovereign. With its lofty waves flung up towards him like beckoning hands at no great distance, it seemed to summon him again and again to take the bath which should ensure him supreme sovereignty. Then Váyupatha said to the king, "My emperor, you must go down and bathe in this lake;" so he went down to bathe in it. And a heavenly voice said, "None but an emperor can ever succeed in bathing in this lake, so now you may consider the imperial dignity secured to you."

When the emperor heard that, he was delighted, and he sported in the water of that lake with his wives, as Varuna does in the sea. He took pleasure in watching them with the moist garments clinging to their bodies, with the fastenings of their hair loosened, and their eyes reddened by the washing into them of antimony. The rows of birds, flying up with loud cries from that lake, appeared like the girdles of its presiding nymphs advancing to meet him. And the lotuses, eclipsed by the beauty of the lotus-like faces of his wives, plunged beneath the waves as if ashamed. And after bathing, Naraváhanadatta, with his attendants, spent that day on the bank of that lake.

There the successful prince, with his wives and ministers, spent his time in jocose conversation, and next morning he set forth thence in his chariot with his army. And as he was going along, he reached the city of Váyupatha, which lay in his way; and he stayed there a day to please him. There he fell in love with a maiden, that he came across in a garden, the sister of Váyupatha, by name Váyuvegayasas. She, while amusing herself in a garden on the bank of the Hemabáluka [565] river, saw him arrive, and though in love with him, disappeared at once. Then Naraváhanadatta, supposing that she had turned her back on him for some reason other than the real one, returned with downcast face to his quarters. There the queens found out the adventure that had befallen the king by means of Marubhúti who was with him, (for Gomukha was too clever for them to try him,) and then they made all kinds of jokes at the king's expense, while Gomukha stood by ashamed at the indiscretion of Marubhúti.

Then Gomukha, seeing the king out of countenance, consoled him, and, in order to ascertain the real sentiments of Váyuvegayasas, went to her city. There Váyupatha saw him suddenly arrived as if to take a look at the city, and he lovingly entertained him, and taking him aside, said to him, "I have an unmarried sister named Váyuvegayasas, and holy seers have prophesied that she is destined to be the wife of an emperor. So I am desirous of giving her as a present to the emperor Naraváhanadatta; pray do your best to bring about the accomplishment of my wish. And with this very object in view I was preparing to come to you." When the minister Gomukha had been thus addressed by Váyupatha, he said to him; "Although this prince of ours set out primarily with the object of conquering his enemies, still you have only to make the request, and I will arrange this matter for you." With these words Gomukha took leave of him, and going back informed Naraváhanadatta that he had gained his object without any solicitation.

And the next day Váyupatha came in person and requested the favour, and the sagacious Gomukha said to the king, "My prince, you must not refuse the request of Váyupatha; he is your faithful ally; your majesty should do whatever he asks." Then the king consented to do it; and Váyupatha himself brought his younger sister, and bestowed her on the emperor against her will. And while the marriage was being performed, she exclaimed, "Ye guardians of the world, I am being bestowed in marriage by my brother by force, and against my will, so I have not committed any sin thereby." When she said this, all the females belonging to Váyupatha's household made such a noise that no outsiders heard what she said. But the king was put out of countenance by her speech, so Gomukha was anxious to find some means of ascertaining its import, and he roamed hither and thither with that object.

And after he had roamed about awhile, he saw in a certain retired spot four Vidyádhara maidens preparing to enter the fire at the same time. And when he asked them the cause, those fair ones told him how Váyuvegayasas had broken her solemn agreement. Then Gomukha went and told it to king Naraváhanadatta in the presence of all there, exactly as he had seen and heard. When the king heard it, he smiled, but Váyuvegayasas said, "Arise, my husband, let us two quickly go and save these maidens; afterwards I will tell you the reason of this act of theirs." When she said this to the king, he went with her and with all his followers to the spot where the tragedy was to take place.

And he saw those maidens with a blazing fire in front of them; and Váyuvegayasas, after dragging them away from it, said to the king, "This first here is Káliká, the daughter of the lord of Kálakúta, and this second is Vidyutpunjá, the daughter of Vidyutpunja; and this third is Matanginí, the daughter of Mandara; and this fourth is Padmaprabhá the daughter of Mahádanshtra; and I am the fifth; all we five, when we saw you performing asceticism in the domain of the Siddhas, were bewildered with love, and we made the following mutual agreement, 'We will all five [566] at the same time take this prince as our dear husband, and no one of us must surrender herself to him alone; if any one of us marries him separately, the others shall enter the fire to bring down vengeance on her who has been guilty of such treachery to friends.' It was out of respect for this agreement that I did not wish to marry you separately; indeed I did not even to-day give myself to you; you, my husband, and the guardians of the world can bear testimony as to whether even now I have broken this agreement willingly. So now, my husband, marry also those friends of mine; and you, my friends, must not let any other lot befall you." [567]

When she said this, those maidens, who had escaped from death, rejoiced and embraced one another; and the king was delighted in his heart. And the fathers of the ladies, hearing what had taken place, came there immediately, and bestowed their daughters on Naraváhanadatta. And those chiefs of the Vidyádharas, headed by the lord of Kálakúta, [568] agreed to accept the sovereignty of their son-in-law. Thus Naraváhanadatta obtained at one stroke the daughters of five great Vidyádharas, and gained great importance thereby.

And the prince remained there some days with those wives, and then his Commander-in-Chief Harisikha said, "Why, my liege, though you are versed in the approved treatises on the subject, do you act contrary to policy? What means this devotion on your part to the pleasures of love, when it is time to fight? This raising of an expedition to conquer Mandaradeva, and this your dallying for so many days with your wives, are things wholly incompatible." When Harisikha said this, the great king answered him, "Your reproof is just, but I am not acting for my own pleasure in all this; this allying of myself with wives involves the acquisition of friends; and is so the most efficacious method at present of crushing the foe; this is why I have had recourse to it. So let these my troops now advance to the conquest of the enemy!"

When the king had given this order, his father-in-law Mandara said to him, "King, that Mandaradeva lives in a distant and difficult country, and he will be hard for you to overcome until you have achieved all the distinctive jewels of an emperor. For he is protected by the cave, called the cave of Trisírsha, [569] which forms the approach to his kingdom, and the entrance of which is guarded by the great champion Devamáya. But that cave can be forced by an emperor who has obtained the jewels. And the sandal-wood tree, which is one of the jewels of an emperor, is in this country, so quickly gain possession of it, in order that you may attain the ends you have in view. For no one who is not an emperor ever gets near that tree."

Having heard this from Mandara, Naraváhanadatta set out at night, fasting and observing a strict vow, for that sandal-wood tree. As the hero went along, very terrible portents arose to bewilder him, but he was not terrified at them, and so he reached the foot of that mighty tree. And when he saw that sandal-wood tree surrounded with a lofty platform made of precious jewels, he climbed up to it with ladders and adored it. The tree then said to him with bodiless voice, "Emperor, thou hast won me the sandal-wood tree, and when thou thinkest on me, I will appear to thee, so leave this place at present, and go to Govindakúta; thus thou wilt win the other jewels also; and then thou wilt easily conquer Mandaradeva." On hearing this, Naraváhanadatta, the mighty sovereign of the Vidyádharas, said, "I will do so," and being now completely successful, he worshipped that heavenly tree, [570] and went delighted through the air to his own camp.

There he spent that night; and the next morning in the hall of audience he related at full length, in the presence of all, his night's adventure by which he had won the sandal-wood tree. And when they heard it, his wives, and the ministers who had grown up with him from infancy, and those Vidyádharas who were devoted to him, namely, Váyupatha and the other chiefs with their forces, and the Gandharvas, headed by Chitrángada, were delighted at this sudden attainment of great success, and praised his heroism remarkable for its uninterrupted flow of courage, enterprise, and firmness. And after deliberating with them, the king, determined to overthrow the pride of Mandaradeva, set out in a heavenly chariot for the mountain of Govindakúta, in order to obtain the other jewels spoken of by the sandal-wood tree.

Chapter CIX

May Ganesa, who at night seems with the spray blown forth from his hissing trunk uplifted in the tumultuous dance, to be feeding the stars, dispel your darkness!

Then, as the emperor Naraváhanadatta was in his hall of audience on the mountain Govindakúta, a Vidyádhara named Amritaprabha came to him through the air, the same who had before saved him, when he was flung down by his enemy on the Mountain of Fire. That Vidyádhara came and humbly made himself known, and having been lovingly entertained by that emperor, said to him, "There is a great mountain named Malaya in the southern region; and in a hermitage on it lives a great hermit named Vámadeva. He, my liege, invites you to come to him alone for the sake of some important affair, and on this account he has sent me to you to-day. Moreover you are my sovereign, won by previous merits; and therefore have I come; so come along with me; let us quickly go to that hermit in order to ensure your success!"

When that Vidyádhara had said this, Naraváhanadatta left his wives and forces there, and himself flew up into the air with that Vidyádhara, and in that way quickly reached the Malaya mountain, and approached the hermit Vámadeva. And he beheld that hermit white with age, tall of stature, with eye-balls sparkling like bright jewels in the fleshless sockets of his eyes, the depository of the jewels of the emperor of the Vidyádharas, with his matted hair waving like creepers, looking like the Himálaya range accompanying the prince, to assist him in attaining success. Then the prince worshipped the feet of that sage, and he entertained him, and said to him, "You are the god of Love consumed long ago by Siva, and appointed by him emperor of all the Vidyádhara chiefs, because he was pleased with Rati. [571] Now, I have in this my hermitage, within the deep recess of an inner cave, certain jewels, which I will point out to you, and you must seize them. For you will find Mandaradeva easy enough to conquer, after you have obtained the jewels; and it was with this object that I invited you hither by the command of Siva."

When the hermit had said this to him, and had instructed him in the right method of procedure, Naraváhanadatta joyfully entered that cave. In it the hero overcame many and various obstacles, and then he beheld a huge furious elephant charging him with a deep guttural roar. The king smote it on the forehead with his fist, and placed his feet on its tusks, and actively mounted that furious elephant. And a bodiless voice came from the cave, "Bravo, emperor! thou hast won the jewel of the mighty elephant." Then he saw a sword looking like a mighty snake, and he fell upon it, and seized it, as if it were the locks of the Fortune of Empire. Again a bodiless voice sounded in the cave, "Bravo, conqueror of thy foes! thou hast obtained the victorious sword-jewel." Then he obtained the moonlight-jewel and the wife-jewel, and the jewel of charms, named the destroying charm. And thus having achieved in all seven jewels (useful in time of need, and bestowers of majesty), taking into account the two first, the lake and the sandal-wood tree, he went out from that cave and told the hermit Vámadeva that he had succeeded in accomplishing all his objects. [572]

Then the hermit said lovingly to that emperor, "Go, my son, now that you have obtained the jewels of a great emperor, and conquer Mandaradeva on the north side of Kailása, and enjoy the glorious fortune of the sovereignty of both sides of that mountain." When the hermit had said this to him, the successful emperor bowed before him, and went off through the air with Amritaprabha. And in a moment he reached his camp on Govindakúta guarded by his mighty mother-in-law Dhanavatí. Then those kings of the Vidyádharas, that had sided with him, and his wives and his ministers, who were all watching for him, saw him, and welcomed him with delight. Then he sat down and they questioned him, and he told them how he had seen the hermit Vámadeva, and how he had entered the cave, and how he had obtained the jewels. Then a great festival took place there, in which celestial drums were joyfully beaten, and the Vidyádharas danced, and people generally were drunk with wine.

And the next day, in a moment in which a malignant planet stood in the house of his foe, and one which argued his own success [573] as a planet benignant to him, predominated over his enemy's house, and which was fraught with every other kind of prosperity, Naraváhanadatta performed the ceremonies for good fortune, and ascended that car made by Brahmá, which Siva had bestowed on him, and set out with his army through the air, accompanied by his wives, to conquer Mandaradeva. And various heroes, his followers, marched surrounding him, and kings of the Gandharvas and chiefs of the Vidyádharas, fearless and faithful, obedient to the orders of the general Harisikha, and Chandasinha, with his mother the wise Dhanavatí, and the brave Pingalagándhára, and Váyupatha the strong, and Vidyutpunja and Amitagati, and the lord of Kálakúta, and Mandara, and Mahádanshtra and his own friend Amritaprabha, and the hero Chitrángada with Ságaradatta,--all these, and others who were there of the party of the slain Gaurímunda, pressed eagerly after him, with their hosts, as he advanced intent on victory. Then the sky was obscured by his army, and the sun hid his face, as if for shame, somewhere or other, his brightness being eclipsed by the splendour of the monarch.

Then the emperor passed the Mánasa lake haunted by troops of divine hermits, and left behind him Gandasáila the pleasure-garden of the nymphs of heaven, and reached the foot of mount Kailása gleaming white like crystal, resembling a mass of his own glory. [574] There he encamped on the bank of the Mandákiní, and while he was sitting there, the wise chief of the Vidyádharas, named Mandara, came up to him, and addressed to him the following pleasing speech, "Let your army halt here, king, on the bank of the river of the gods! It is not fitting that you should advance over this mountain Kailása. For all sciences are destroyed by crossing this dwelling-place of Siva. So you must pass to the other side of the mountain by the cave of Trisírsha. And it is guarded by a king named Devamáya, who is exceedingly haughty; so how can you advance further without conquering him?" When Mandara said this, Dhanavatí approved it, and Naraváhanadatta waited there for a day.

While he was there, he sent an ambassador to Devamáya with a conciliatory message, but he did not receive the order it conveyed in a conciliatory spirit. So the next day the emperor moved out against Devamáya with all the allied kings prepared for battle. And Devamáya too, when he heard it, marched out towards him to give battle, accompanied by numerous kings, Varáha, Vajramushti and others, and followed by his army. Then there took place on Kailása a battle between those two armies, and while it was going on, the sky was obscured by the chariots of the gods who came to look on. Terrible was that thunder-cloud of war, awful with the dense hailstorm of many severed heads, and loud with the shouting of heroes. That Chandasinha slew Varáha the general of Devamáya, as he fought in the front rank, was in truth by no means wonderful; but it was strange that Naraváhanadatta, without employing any magic power, took captive Devamáya himself, when exhausted by the wounds he received from him in the combat. And when he was captured, his army was broken, and fled, together with the great champions Vajramushti, Mahábáhu, Tikshnadanshtra and their fellows. Then the gods in their chariots exclaimed, "Bravo! Bravo!" and all present congratulated the victorious emperor. Then that mighty monarch consoled Devamáya, who was brought before him bound, and welcomed him kindly, and set him at liberty. But he, having been subdued by the emperor's arm, humbly submitted to him, together with Vajramushti and the others.

Then, the battle having come to an end, that day passed away, and next morning Devamáya came to the place of audience, and stood by the side of the emperor, and when questioned by him about the cave of Trisírsha, which he wished to enter, related the following true history of it.

History of the cave of Trisírsha.

In old time, my liege, the two sides of mount Kailása, the north and the south side, formed different kingdoms, having been assigned to distinguished Vidyádharas. Then one, Rishabha by name, propitiated Siva with austerities, and was appointed by that god emperor over both of them. But one day he was passing over Kailása to go to the northern side, and lost his magic science owing to the anger of Siva, who happened to be below, and so fell from the sky. Rishabha again propitiated Siva with severe asceticism, and the god again appointed him Supreme Sovereign of both sides; so he thus humbly addressed the god, "I am not permitted to pass over Kailása, so by what path am I to travel in order to be able to exercise my prerogatives on both sides of the mountain?" When Siva, the trident-bearing god, heard this, he cleft asunder Kailása, and made this cave-like opening for Rishabha to pass to the northern side.

Then mount Kailása, having been pierced, was despondent, and addressed this petition to Siva, "Holy one, this north side of me used to be inaccessible to mortals, but it has now been made accessible to them by this cave-passage; so provide that this law of exclusion be not broken." When Siva had been thus supplicated by the mountain, he placed in the cave as guards, elephants of the quarters, mighty basilisks, [575] and Guhyakas; and at its southern opening he placed Mahámáya the Vidyádhara chief, and at its northern opening Kálarátri the invincible Chandiká. [576]

When Siva had thus provided for the guarding of the cave, he produced great jewels, and made this decree with regard to the cave, "This cave shall be open at both ends to any one who has obtained the jewels, and is emperor over the Vidyádharas with their wives and their messengers, [577] and to those who may be appointed by him as sovereigns over the northern side of the mountain,--by these, I say, it may be passed, but by no one else in the world." When the three-eyed god had made this decree, Risbabha went on holding sway over the Vidyádharas, but in his pride made war on the gods and was slain by Indra. This is the history, my liege, of the cave, named the cave of Trisírsha; and the cave cannot be passed by any but persons like yourself.

And in course of time I Devamáya was born in the family of Mahámáya the keeper of the entrance of the cave. And at my birth a heavenly voice proclaimed, "There is now born among the Vidyádharas a champion hard for his foes to conquer in fight; and he, who shall conquer him, shall be emperor over them; he shall be the master of this child now born, and shall be followed by him as a lord." I, that Devamáya, have been now conquered by you, and you have obtained the jewels, and are the mighty sole emperor of both sides of mount Kailása,--the lord of us all here. So, now pass the cave of Trisírsha, and conquer the rest of your enemies.

When Devamáya had told the story of the cave in these words, the emperor said to him, "We will march now and encamp for the present at the mouth of the cave, and to-morrow morning, after we have performed due ceremonies, we will enter it." When Naraváhanadatta had said this, he went and encamped with all those kings at the mouth of the cave. And he saw that underground passage with deep rayless cavity, looking like the birthplace of the sunless and moonless darkness of the day of doom.

And the next day he offered worship, and entered it in his chariot, with his followers, assisted by the glorious jewels, which presented themselves to him, when he thought of them. He dispelled the darkness with the moonlight jewel, the basilisks with the sandal-wood tree, the elephants of the quarters with the elephant-jewel, the Guhyakas with the sword-jewel, and other obstacles with other jewels; and so passed that cave with his army, and emerged at its northern mouth. And coming out from the bowels of the cave, he saw before him the northern side of the mountain, looking like another world, entered without a second birth. And then a voice came from the sky, "Bravo, emperor! thou hast passed this cave by means of the majesty conferred by the power of the jewels."

Then Dhanavatí and Devamáya said to the emperor, "Your Majesty, Kálarátri is always near this opening. She was originally created by Vishnu, when the sea was churned for the nectar, in order that she might tear in pieces the chiefs of the Dánavas, who wished to steal that heavenly drink. And now she has been placed here by Siva to guard this cave, in order that none may pass it, except those beings like yourself, of whom we spoke before. You are our emperor, and you have obtained the jewels, and have passed this cave; so, in order to gain the victory, you must worship this goddess, who is a meet object of worship."

In such words did Dhanavatí and Devamáya address Naraváhanadatta, and so the day waned for him there. And the northern peaks of Kailása were reddened with the evening light, and seemed thus to foreshadow the bloodshed of the approaching battle. The darkness, having gained power, obscured the army of that king, as if recollecting its animosity against him for his recent victory over it in its home the cave; an animosity which was still fresh and new. And goblins, vampires, jackals, and the sisterhood [578] of witches roamed about, as it were the first shoots of the anger of Kálarátri enraged on account of Naraváhanadatta having omitted to worship her. And in a moment the whole army of Naraváhanadatta became insensible, as if with sleep, but he alone remained in full possession of his faculties. Then the emperor perceived that this was a display of power on the part of Kálarátri, angry because she had not been worshipped, and be proceeded to worship her with flowers of speech.

"Thou art the power of life, animating all creatures, of loving nature, skilful in directing the discus to the head of thy foes; thee I adore. Hail! thou, that under the form of Durgá dost console the world with thy trident and other weapons streaming with the drops of blood flowing from the throat of the slain Mahisha. Thou art victorious dancing with a skull full of the blood of Ruru in thy agitated hand, as if thou wast holding the vessel of security of the three worlds. Goddess beloved of Siva, with uplifted eyes, though thy name means the night of doom, still, with skull surmounted by a burning candle, and with a skull in thy hand, thou dost shine as if with the sun and moon."

Though he praised Kálarátri in these words, she was not propitiated, and then he made up his mind to appease her by the sacrifice of his head; and he drew his sword for that purpose. Then the goddess said to him, "Do not act rashly my son. Lo! I have been won over by thee, thou hero. Let this thy army be as it was before, and be thou victorious!" And immediately his army awoke as it were from sleep. Then his wives, and his companions, and all the Vidyádharas praised the might of that emperor. And the hero, having eaten and drunk and performed the necessary duties, spent that night, which seemed as long as if it consisted of a hundred watches instead of three.

And the next morning he worshipped Kálarátri, and marched thence to engage Dhúmasikha, who had barred his further advance with an army of Vidyádharas. Then the emperor had a fight with that king, who was the principal champion of Mandaradeva, of such a desperate character, that the air was full of swords, the earth covered with the heads of warriors, and the only speech heard was the terrible cry of heroes shouting, "Slay! slay!" Then the emperor took Dhúmasikha captive in that battle by force, and afterwards treated him with deference; and made him submit to his sway. And he quartered his army that night in his city, and the host seemed like fuel consumed with fire, as it had seen the extinction of Dhúmasikha's [579] pride.

And the next day, hearing from the scouts that Mandaradeva, having found out what had taken place, was advancing to meet him in fight, Naraváhanadatta marched out against him with the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, determined to conquer him. And after he had gone some distance, he beheld in front of him the army of Mandaradeva, accompanied by many kings, attacking in order of battle. Then Naraváhanadatta, with the allied kings at his side, drew up his forces in an arrangement fitted to encounter the formation of his enemies, and fell upon his army.

Then a battle took place between those two armies, which imitated the disturbed flood of the ocean overflowing its banks at the day of doom. On one side were fighting Chandasinha and other great champions, and on the other Kánchanadanshtra and other mighty kings. And the battle waxed sore, resembling the rising of the wind at the day of doom, for it made the three worlds tremble, and shook the mountains. Mount Kailása, red on one side with the blood of heroes, as with saffron paint, and on the other of ashy whiteness, resembled the husband of Gaurí. That great battle was truly the day of doom for heroes, being grimly illuminated by innumerable orbs of the sun arisen in flashing sword-blades. Such was the battle that even Nárada and other heavenly beings, who came to gaze at it, were astonished, though they had witnessed the fights between the gods and the Asuras.

In this fight, which was thus terrible, Kánchanadanshtra rushed on Chandasinha, and smote him on the head with a formidable mace. When Dhanavatí saw that her son had fallen under the stroke of the mace, she cursed and paralysed both armies by means of her magic power. And Naraváhanadatta on one side, in virtue of his imperial might, [580] and on the other side, Mandaradeva were the only two that remained conscious. Then even the gods in the air fled in all directions, seeing that Dhanavatí, if angry, had power to destroy a world.

But Mandaradeva, seeing that the emperor Naraváhanadatta was left alone, ran upon him with uplifted weapon. Naraváhanadatta, for his part, descended from his chariot, and drawing the sword which was one of his imperial jewels, quickly met him. Then Mandaradeva, wishing to gain the victory by magic arts, assumed by his science the form of a furious elephant maddened with passion. When Naraváhanadatta, who was endowed with pre-eminent skill in magic, saw this, he assumed by his supernatural power the form of a lion. Then Mandaradeva flung off the body of an elephant, and Naraváhanadatta abandoned that of a lion, and fought with him openly in his own shape. [581] Armed with sabres, and skilled in every elaborate trick and attitude of fence, they appeared like two actors skilled in gesticulation, engaged in acting a pantomime. Then Naraváhanadatta by a dexterous sleight forced from the grasp of Mandaradeva his sword the material symbol of victory. And Mandaradeva, having been thus deprived of his sword, drew his dagger, but the emperor quickly made him relinquish that in the same way. Then Mandaradeva, being disarmed, began to wrestle with the emperor, but he seized him by the ancles, and laid him on the earth.

And then the sovereign set his foot on his enemy's breast, and laying hold of his hair, was preparing to cut off his head with his sword, when the maiden Mandaradeví, the sister of Mandaradeva, rushed up to him, and in order to prevent him, said, "When I saw you long ago in the wood of ascetics, I marked you for my future husband, so do not, my sovereign, kill this brother of mine, who is your brother-in-law." When the resolute king had been thus addressed by that fair-eyed one, he let go Mandaradeva, who was ashamed at having been conquered, and said to him, "I set you at liberty; do not be ashamed on that account, Vidyádhara chief; victory and defeat in war bestow themselves on heroes with varying caprice." When the king said this, Mandaradeva answered him, "Of what profit is my life to me, now that I have been saved in war by a woman? So I will go to my father in the wood where he is, and perform asceticism; you have been appointed emperor over both divisions of our territory here. Indeed this occurrence was foretold long ago to me by my father as sure to take place." When the proud hero had said this, he repaired to his father in the grove of ascetics.

Then the gods, that were present in the air on that occasion, exclaimed, "Bravo! great emperor, you have completely conquered your enemies, and obtained sovereign sway." When Mandaradeva had gone, Dhanavatí by her power restored her own son and both armies with him to consciousness. So Naraváhanadatta's followers, ministers and all, arose as it were from sleep, and finding out that the foe had been conquered, congratulated Naraváhanadatta their victorious master. And the kings of Mandaradeva's party, Kánchanadanshtra, Asokaka, Raktáksha, Kálajihva and the others, submitted to the sway of Naraváhanadatta. And Chandasinha, when he saw Kánchanadanshtra, remembered the blow of the mace, which he received from him in fight, and was wroth with him, brandishing his good sword firmly grasped in his strong hand. But Dhanavatí said to him, "Enough of wrath, my beloved son! Who could conquer you in the van of battle? But I myself produced that momentary glamour, in order to prevent the destruction of both armies." With these words she pacified her son and made him cease from wrath, and she delighted the whole army and the emperor Naraváhanadatta [582] by her magic skill. And Naraváhanadatta was exceedingly joyful, having obtained the sovereignty of the north side of Kailása, the mountain of Siva, a territory now free from the scourge of war, since the heroes, who opposed him, had been conquered, or had submitted, or fled, and that too with all his friends unharmed. Then shrill kettle-drums were beaten for the great festival of his victory over his enemies, [583] and the triumphant monarch, accompanied by his wives and ministers, and girt with mighty kings, spent that day, which was honoured by the splendid dances and songs of the Vidyádhara ladies, in drinking wine, as it were the fiery valour of his enemies.

Chapter CX

Then, the next day, the emperor Naraváhanadatta, with his army, left that plateau of Kailása, and by the advice of king Kánchanadanshtra, who shewed him the way, went to that city of Mandaradeva named Vimala. And he reached that city, which was adorned with lofty ramparts of gold, and looked like mount Sumeru come to adore Kailása, and entering it, found that it resembled the sea in all but the presence of water, being very deep, characterized by unfailing prosperity, [584] and an inexhaustible mine of jewels.

And as the emperor was sitting in the hall of audience in that city surrounded by Vidyádhara kings, an old woman of the royal harem came and said to him, "Since Mandaradeva has gone to the forest, having been conquered by you, his wives desire to enter the fire; your Highness has now been informed and will decide upon the proper course." When this had been announced, the emperor sent those kings to them, and dissuaded them from suicide, and bestowed upon them dwelling-houses and other gifts, treating them like sisters. By that step he caused the whole race of the Vidyádhara chiefs to be bound to him with bonds of affection.

And then the grateful monarch anointed Amitagati, who had been designated beforehand by Siva, king over the realm of Mandaradeva, since he was loyal and could be trusted not to fall away, and he placed under him the princes who had followed Mandaradeva, namely, Kánchanadanshtra and his fellows. And he diverted himself there in splendid gardens for seven days, being caressed by the fortune of the northern side of Kailása, as by a newly-married bride.

And then, though he had acquired the imperial authority over the Vidyádhara kings of both divisions, he began to long for more. He set out, though his ministers tried to dissuade him, to conquer the inaccessible fields of Meru situated in the northern region, the home of the gods. For high-spirited men, though abundantly loaded with possessions, cannot rest without acquiring something still more glorious, advancing like blazing forest-fires.

Then the hermit Nárada came and said to the king, "Prince, what means this striving after things out of your reach, though you know policy? For one who out of overweening self-confidence attempts the impossible, is disgraced like Rávana, who, in his pride, endeavoured to uproot Kailása. For even the sun and moon find Meru hard to overstep; moreover, Siva has not bestowed on you the sway over the gods, but the sway over the Vidyádharas. You have already conquered the Himálayas, the home of the Vidyádharas, so what need have you of Meru the home of the gods? Dismiss from your mind this chimerical scheme. Moreover, if you desire good fortune, you must go and visit the father of Mandaradeva, Akampana by name, in the forest, where he is residing." When the hermit Nárada had said this, the emperor consented to do as he directed, and so he took leave of him, and returned whence he came.

And the politic emperor, having been advised by Nárada to relinquish his enterprise, [585] and remembering the destruction of Rishabha, of which he had heard from Devamáya, and having reflected over the matter in his own mind, gave up the idea, and went to visit the kingly sage Akampana in the grove of ascetics. And when he reached that ascetic grove, it was crowded with great sages, engaged in contemplation, sitting in the posture called padmásana, and so resembled the world of Brahmá. There he saw that aged Akampana, wearing matted hair and a deerskin, looking like a great tree resorted to by hermits. So he went and worshipped the feet of that ascetic, and that royal sage welcomed him and said to him, "You have done well, king, in coming to this hermitage, for if you had passed on neglectful of it, these hermits here would have cursed you."

While the royal sage was saying this to the emperor, Mandaradeva, who was staying in that grove of ascetics, having taken the vows of a hermit, came to his father, accompanied by his sister, the princess Mandaradeví. And Naraváhanadatta, when he saw him, embraced him, for it is fitting that truly brave men should show kindness to foes when conquered and pacified.

Then the royal sage Akampana, seeing Mandaradeví come with her brother, said to that emperor, "Here, king, is my daughter, Mandaradeví by name; and a heavenly voice said that she should be the consort of an emperor; so marry her, emperor, for I give her to you."

When the royal sage said this, his daughter said, "I have four companions here, of like age, noble maidens; one is a maiden called Kanakavatí, the daughter of Kánchanadanshtra; the second is the daughter of Kálajihva, Kálavatí by name; the third is the offspring of Dírghadanshtra named Srutá; the fourth is the daughter of the king of Paundra, named Ambaraprabhá; and I am the fifth of those Vidyádhara maidens. We five, when roaming about, saw previously in a grove of ascetics this my destined husband, and setting our hearts on him, we made an agreement together that we would all, at one and the same time, take him for our husband, but that, if any single one married him alone, the others should enter the fire, and lay the guilt at her door. So it is not fitting that I should marry without those friends of mine; for how could persons like myself commit the outrageous crime of breaking plighted faith?"

When that self-possessed lady had said this, her father Akampana summoned those four Vidyádhara chiefs, who were the fathers of the four maidens, and told them exactly what had occurred, and they immediately thought themselves very fortunate, and brought those maidens their daughters. Then Naraváhanadatta married the five in order, beginning with Mandaradeví. And he remained there with them many days, worshipping the hermits three times a day, at dawn, noon, and sunset, while his attendants held high festival.

And Akampana said to him, "King, you must now go to the Rishabha mountain for the great ceremony of your coronation," and thereupon Devamáya also said to him, "King, you must indeed do so, for the emperors of old time, Rishabhaka and others, were anointed [586] on that mountain." When Harisikha heard that, he spoke in favour of Naraváhanadatta's being anointed emperor on the splendid mountain of Mandara, which was near; but then a voice came from heaven, "King, all former emperors went through the ceremony of their coronation on the Rishabha mountain; do you also go there, for it is a holy place." [587] When the heavenly voice said this, Naraváhanadatta bowed before the hermits and Akampana, and set out thence for that mountain on an auspicious day. And he reached that northern opening of the cave of Trisírsha, with many great chiefs of the Vidyádharas headed by Amitagati. There the emperor worshipped that Kálarátri, and entered the cave by that opening, and came out by the southern opening. And after he had come out with his forces, he rested, at Devamáya's request, in his palace for that day, together with his attendants.

And while he was there, he reflected that Siva was near him on that mountain of Kailása, and he went of his own accord, with Gomukha, to visit the god. And when he reached his hermitage, he saw and adored the cow Surabhi and the sacred bull, and approached Nandin the door-keeper. And Nandin was pleased when the king circumambulated him, and opened the door to him, and then he entered and beheld Siva accompanied by Deví. The god diffused gladness afar by the streams of rays from the moon on his crest, that seemed to dart hither and thither as if conquered by the splendour of Gaurí's face. He was playing with his beloved with dice, that, like eyes, were allowed at will to pursue their objects independently,--that, though under his command, were ever restlessly rolling. And when Naraváhanadatta saw that giver of boons, and that goddess the daughter of the Mountain, he fell at their feet, and circumambulated them three times. The god said to him, "It is well, my son, that thou hast come hither; for otherwise thou mightest have suffered loss. But now all thy magic powers shall ever be unfailing. So go thou to the Rishabha mountain, that holy place, and obtain there at once in fitting time thy great inauguration." When the emperor had received this command from the god, he hastened to obey it, exclaiming "I will do thy will," and bowed before him and his wife, and returned to that palace of Devamáya. The queen Madanamanchuká playfully said to him on his return, "Where have you been, my husband? You appear to be pleased. Have you managed to pick up here another set of five maidens?" When she made use of these playful taunts, the prince gladdened her by telling her the real state of affairs, and remained with her in happiness.

And the next day, Naraváhanadatta, accompanied by a host of Gandharvas and Vidyádharas, making, as it were, a second sun in the heavens by his glorious presence, ascended his splendid car, with his wives and his ministers, and made for the Rishabha mountain. And when he reached that heavenly hill, the trees, like hermits, with their creepers like matted hair waving in the wind, shed their flowers before him by way of a respectful offering. And there various kings of the Vidyádharas brought the preparations for the coronation on a scale suited to the might of their master. And the Vidyádharas came to his coronation from all quarters, with presents in their hands, all loyal, terrified, vanquished or respectful.

Then the Vidyádharas said to him, "Tell us, king; who is to occupy half your throne, and to be anointed as queen consort?" The king answered, "The queen Madanamanchuká is to be anointed together with me;" and this at once set the Vidyádharas thinking. Then a bodiless voice came from the air, "Hearken, Vidyádharas! This Madanamanchuká is not a mortal; for she is Rati become incarnate, in order to be the wife of this your master, who is the god of Love. She was not born to Madanavega by Kalingasená, but, being of superhuman origin, was immediately substituted by the gods, who employed their deluding power, for the infant to which Kalingasená gave birth. [588] But the infant to which she gave birth, was named Ityaka, and remained at the side of Madanavega, having been assigned to him by the Creator. So this Madanamanchuká is worthy to share the throne of her husband, for Siva long ago granted her this honour as a boon, having been pleased with her asceticism." When the voice had said so much, it ceased, and the Vidyádharas were pleased, and praised the queen Madanamanchuká.

Then, on an auspicious day, the great hermits sprinkled with water from many sacred bathing-places, brought in pitchers of gold, Naraváhanadatta seated on the imperial throne, while Madanamanchuká occupied the left half of it. And during the ceremony Sántisoma the domestic chaplain was busily occupied, and the assembled cymbals of the heavenly nymphs resounded aloud, and the murmur made by Bráhmans reciting prayers filled the ten points of the sky. Strange to say! when the water, made more purifying by holy texts, fell on his head, the secret defilement [589] of enmity was washed out from the minds of his foes. The goddess of fortune seemed to accompany in visible presence that water of consecration, under the impression that it came from the sea, and so was a connexion of her own, and to join with it in covering the body of that king. A series of flower-garlands flung by the hands of the nymphs of heaven, falling on him, appeared like the Ganges spontaneously descending on his body with a full stream. Adorned with red unguent and valour, he appeared like the sun in the glory of rising, washed in the water of the sea. [590]

And crowned with a garland of mandára flowers, resplendent with glorious raiment and ornaments, having donned a heavenly diadem, he wore the majesty of Indra. And queen Madanamanchuká, having been also anointed, glittered with heavenly ornaments at his side, like Sachí at the side of Indra.

And that day, though drums sounded like clouds, and flowers fell from the sky like rain, and though it was full [591] of heavenly nymphs like lightning gleams, was, strange to say, a fair one. On that occasion, in the city of the chief of mountains, not only did beautiful Vidyádhara ladies dance, but creepers shaken by the wind danced also; and when cymbals were struck by minstrels at that great festival, the mountain seemed to send forth responsive strains from its echoing caves; and covered all over with Vidyádharas moving about intoxicated with the liquor of heavenly cordials, it seemed to be itself reeling with wine; and Indra, in his chariot, having beheld the splendour of the coronation which has now been described, felt his pride in his own altogether dashed.

Naraváhanadatta, having thus obtained his long-desired inauguration as emperor, thought with yearning of his father. And having at once taken counsel with Gomukha and his other ministers, the monarch summoned Váyupatha and said to him, "Go and say to my father, 'Naraváhanadatta thinks of you with exceeding longing,' and tell him all that has happened, and bring him here, and bring his queens and his ministers too, addressing the same invitation to them." When Váyupatha heard this, he said "I will do so," and made for Kausámbí through the air.

And he reached that city in a moment, beheld with fear and astonishment by the citizens, as he was encircled by seventy million Vidyádharas. And he had an interview with Udayana king of Vatsa, with his ministers and wives, and the king received him with appropriate courtesy. And the Vidyádhara prince sat down and asked the king about his health, and said to him, while all present looked at him with curiosity, "Your son Naraváhanadatta, having propitiated Siva, and beheld him face to face, and having obtained from him sciences difficult for his enemies to conquer, has slain Mánasavega and Gaurímunda in the southern division of the Vidyádhara territory, and conquered Mandaradeva who was lord in the northern division, and has obtained [592] the high dignity of emperor over all the kings of the Vidyádharas in both divisions, who acknowledge his authority; and has now gone through his solemn coronation on the Rishabha mountain, and is thinking, king, with eager yearning of you and your queens and ministers. And I have been sent by him, so come at once; for fortunate are those who live to see their offspring elevate their race."

When the king of Vatsa heard Váyupatha say this, being full of longing for his son, he seemed like a peacock that rejoices when it hears the roaring of the rain-clouds. So he accepted Váyupatha's invitation, and immediately mounted a palanquin with him, and by the might of his sciences travelled through the air, accompanied by his wives and ministers, and reached that great heavenly mountain called Rishabha. And there he saw his son on a heavenly throne, in the midst of the Vidyádhara kings, accompanied by many wives; resembling the moon reclining on the top of the eastern mountain, surrounded by the planetary host, and attended by a company of many stars. To the king the sight of his son in all this splendour was a shower of nectar, and when he was bedewed with it, his heart swelled with joy, and he closely resembled the sea when the moon rises.

Naraváhanadatta, for his part, beholding that father of his after a long separation, rose up hurriedly and eager, and went to meet him with his train. And then his father embraced him, and folded him to his bosom, and he went through a second sprinkling, [593] being bathed in a flood of his father's tears of joy. And the queen Vásavadattá long embraced her son, and bathed him with the milk that flowed from her breasts at beholding him, so that he remembered his childhood. And Padmávatí, and Yaugandharáyana, and the rest of his father's ministers, and his uncle Gopálaka, beholding him after a long interval, drank in with thirsty eyes his ambrosial frame, like partridges; while the king treated them with the honour which they deserved. And Kalingasená, beholding her son-in-law and also her daughter, felt as if the whole world was too narrow for her, much less could her own limbs contain her swelling heart. And Yaugandharáyana and the other ministers, beholding their sons, Harisikha and the others, on whom celestial powers had been bestowed by the favour of their sovereign, congratulated them. [594]

And queen Madanamanchuká wearing heavenly ornaments, with Ratnaprabhá, Alankáravatí, Lalitalochaná, Karpúriká, Saktiyasas and Bhagírathayasas, and the sister of Ruchiradeva, who bore a heavenly form, and Vegavatí, and Ajinávatí with Gandharvadattá, and Prabhávatí and Átmaniká and Váyuvegayasas, and her four beautiful friends, headed by Káliká, and those five other heavenly nymphs, of whom Mandaradeví was the chief,--all these wives of the emperor Naraváhanadatta bowed before the feet of their father-in-law the king of Vatsa, and also of Vásavadattá and Padmávatí, and they in their delight loaded them with blessings, as was fitting.

And when the king of Vatsa and his wives had occupied seats suited to their dignity, Naraváhanadatta ascended his lofty throne. And the queen Vásavadattá was delighted to see those various new daughters-in-law, and asked their names and lineage. And the king of Vatsa and his suite, beholding the godlike splendour of Naraváhanadatta, came to the conclusion that they had not been born in vain.

And in the midst of this great rejoicing [595] at the reunion of relations, the brave warder Ruchideva entered and said "The banqueting-hall is ready, so be pleased to come there." When they heard it, they all went to that splendid banqueting-hall. It was full of goblets made of various jewels, which looked like so many expanded lotuses, and strewn with many flowers, so that it resembled a lotus-bed in a garden; and it was crowded with ladies with jugs full of intoxicating liquor, who made it flash like the nectar appearing in the arms of Garuda. There they drank wine that snaps those fetters of shame that bind the ladies of the harem; wine, the essence of Love's life, the ally of merriment. Their faces, expanded and red with wine, shone like the lotuses in the lakes, expanded and red with the rays of the rising sun. And the goblets of the rosy hue of the lotus, finding themselves surpassed by the lips of the queens, and seeming terrified at touching them, hid with their hue the wine.

Then the queens of Naraváhanadatta began to show signs of intoxication, with their contracted eye-brows and fiery eyes, and the period of quarrelling seemed to be setting in; [596] nevertheless they went thence in order to the hall [597] of feasting, which was attractive with its various viands provided by the power of magic. It was strewed with coverlets, abounding in dishes, and hung with curtains and screens, full of all kinds of delicacies and enjoyments, and it looked like the dancing-ground of the goddesses of good fortune.

There they took their meal, and the sun having retired to rest with the twilight on the western mountain, they reposed in sleeping pavilions. And Naraváhanadatta, dividing himself by his science into many forms, was present in the pavilions of all the queens. But in his true personality he enjoyed the society of his beloved Madanamanchuká, who resembled the night in being moon-faced, having eyes twinkling like stars, and being full of revelry. And the king of Vatsa too, and his train, spent that night in heavenly enjoyments, seeming as if they had been born again without changing their bodies. And in the morning all woke up, and delighted themselves in the same way with various enjoyments in splendid gardens and pavilions produced by magic power.

Then, after they had spent many days in various amusements, the king of Vatsa, wishing to return to his own city, went full of affection to his son the king of all the Vidyádharas, who bowed humbly before him, and said to him, "My son, who, that has sense, can help appreciating these heavenly enjoyments? But the love of dwelling in one's mother-country naturally draws every man; [598] so I mean to return to my own city; but do you enjoy this fortune of Vidyádhara royalty, for these regions suit you as being half god and half man. However, you must summon me again some time, when a suitable occasion presents itself; for this is the fruit of this birth of mine, that I behold this beautiful moon of your countenance, full of nectar worthy of being drunk in with the eyes, and that I have the delight of seeing your heavenly splendour.

When king Naraváhanadatta heard this sincere speech of his father the king of Vatsa, he quickly summoned Devamáya the Vidyádhara prince, and said to him in a voice half-choked with a weight of tears, "My father is returning to his own capital with my mothers, and his ministers, and the rest of his train, so send on in front of him a full thousand bháras [599] of gold and jewels, and employ a thousand Vidyádhara serfs to carry it." When Devamáya had received this order given in kind tones by his master, he bowed and said, "Bestower of honour, I will go in person with my attendants to Kausámbí to perform this duty." Then the emperor sent Váyupatha and Devamáya to attend on their journey his father and his followers, whom he honoured with presents of raiment and ornaments. Then the king of Vatsa and his suite mounted a heavenly chariot, and he went to his own city, after making his son, who followed him a long way, turn back. And queen Vásavadattá, whose longing regret rose at that moment with hundred-fold force, turned back her dutiful son with tears, and looking back at him, with difficulty tore herself away. And Naraváhanadatta, who, accompanied by his ministers, had followed his parents and elders, returned to that mountain of Rishabha with his eyes blinded with tears. There that emperor remained with his ministers, Gomukha and the rest, who had grown up with him from his youth, and with hosts of Vidyádhara kings, with his wives, and with Madanamanchuká at his side, in the perpetual enjoyment of heavenly pleasures, and he was ever free from satiety.