majesty of the law was upheld, and a wholesome
fear of the rulers inculcated. " But
what benefited him most, was his attention
to the creature comforts of the Nine Gems
of Science: those eminent men ate and drank
themselves into fits of enthusiasm, and ended
by immortalising their patron's name."
Suddenly, the king bethought him he would
travel, that he might, in fact, spy out in
disguise the nakedness of the lands, and so
judge for himself how he could best bring
his powerful army against them. He had
several sons by his several wives, and he
had a fair share of paternal affection for
all, save, of course, his eldest born: a
youth who conducted himself as though
he had no claim to the succession! But
of all, Dharma Dwaj, his second son,
was his favourite. Accompanied by this
young prince, an adolescent of admirable
modesty and simplicity, Vikram the Brave,
giving the government of his kingdom
and the city Ujjayani into the charge of
his younger brother, Bhartari Raja, set
out in the garb of a jogi, or religious
mendicant: wandering from city to city, and
forest to forest, to see what fate and
chance would send in his way.

Now, the Regent Bhartari Raja  "  was
of a settled melancholic turn of mind,
having lost in early youth a very peculiar
wife. One day, while out hunting, he
happened to pass a funeral pyre, upon
which a Brahman widow had just become
sati (a holy woman) with the greatest
fortitude. On his return home, he related
the adventure to Sita Rani, his spouse, and
she at once made reply that virtuous
women die with their husbands, killed by
the fire of grief, not by the flames of the pile.
To prove her truth, the prince, after an
affectionate farewell, rode forth to the
chase, and presently sent back the suite
with his robes torn and stained, to report
his accidental death. Sita perished upon
the spot, and the widower remained
inconsolable—for a time."  He led the dullest of
lives, and took to himself sundry spouses,
all equally distinguished for birth, beauty,
and modesty; he regulated his desires in
all things by the strictest rule and
measurement; he worked as ploddingly and
unrestingly as a horse in a mill; and when
his monotonous day was over, he used to
retire to his private apartments, and while
listening to soft music and spiritual songs
fall fast asleep as the best compliment he
could pay the minstrels. Sometimes, on
wakeful nights, he used to summon his
brother's Nine Gems of Science, and give
ear to their learned discourses, which never
failed as soporifics when nothing else could
"get him off'," as nurses say. So time and
his youth passed away, and Bhartari Raja
became a philosopher and a quietist.

But Kama, God of Love, no more able
than his younger brothers Eros and Cupid
to let sleeping dogs lie, sent into the raja's
way, Dangalah Rani, his last and youngest
wife. To say that her face was the full
moon; her hair a purple rain-cloud; her
complexion exactly like the pale waxen
blossoms of the large-flowered jessamine;
her eyes those of an antelope; her lips as
red as a pomegranate bud, and that, when
they opened they distilled a fountain of
ambrosia; to say that her neck was like a
pigeon's, her hand like the pink lining of
the conch shell, her waist a leopard's, and
her feet the softest lotuses; will perhaps
give us dull westerns no very distinct
image of her charms. To say that the
staid raja became drivelling and doting in
the excess of his love; that he would even
have committed the unforgivable sin of
slaughtering a cow, had she so commanded;
and that the very excess of his love sickened
the woman into indifference, if not hatred;
is perhaps more intelligible. To indemnify
herself for the presence of a husband who
loved her and whom she did not love,
Dangalah Rani lost no time in lavishing all the
love of her idle soul on Matú-pala, the
handsome ambassador of peace and of war,
who, in his turn, preferred Lakha, one of
the maids of honour; who again looked to
the regent as the fountain of an honour
still higher than her own, vice the king.

Now, it happened that in this city of
Ujjayani, within sight of the palace, dwelt
an austere Brahman and his devout wife.
This couple were very pious. They fasted
and refrained from drink; they stood on
their heads; they held their arms for
weeks in the air; they prayed till their
knees were like pads; they disciplined
themselves with scourges of wire; they
walked about unclad in the cold season,
and in summer they sat within a circle of
flaming wood; in short they became the
envy and admiration of all the second-class
gods dwelling in the lower heaven; and
in return for their piety a celestial
messenger brought them an apple from the
tree called Kalpavriksha, which would
confer immortality on whomsoever should
eat of it. But it was enough for only one
person's immortality; it would not serve
for two. At first the old Brahman was for
making himself deathless; but his cleverer