exhausted, for the net was heavy and they were quite unused to carrying
loads, the king bade them rest awhile in a clearing of the forest; and
as they all lay on the ground panting for breath, with the cruel net
still hampering them, he said:
“What we must do now is to take this horrible net to my old friend
Hiranya the mouse, who will, I am quite sure, nibble through the
strings for me and set us all free. He lives, as you all know, near the
tree where the net was spread, deep underground; but there are many
passages leading to his home, and we shall easily find one of the
openings. Once there, we will all lift up our voices, and call to him
at once, when he will be sure to hear us.” So the weary pigeons took up
their burden once more, and sped back whence they had come, greatly to
the surprise of the crow, who wondered at their coming back to the very
place where misfortune had overtaken them. He very soon learnt the
reason, and got so excited watching what was going on, that he hopped
out of his nest and perched upon a branch where he could see better.
Presently a great clamour arose, one word being repeated again and
again: “Hiranya! Hiranya! Hiranya.”
“Why, that’s the name of the mouse who lives down below there!” thought
the crow. “Now, what good can he do? I know, I know,” he added, as he
remembered the sharp teeth of Hiranya. “That king of the pigeons is a
sensible fellow. I must make friends with him.”
Very soon, as the pigeons lay fluttering and struggling outside one of
the entrances to Hiranya’s retreat, the mouse came out. He didn’t even
need to be told what was wanted, but at once began to nibble the
string, first setting free the king, and then all the rest of the
birds. “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” cried the king; “a
thousand thousand thanks!” And away he flew up into the beautiful free
air of heaven, followed by the happy pigeons, none of them ever likely
to forget the adventure or to pick up food from the ground without a
good look at it first.
3. What was the chief virtue displayed by the mouse on this occasion?
4. Do you think it is easier to obey than to command?
CHAPTER III
The mouse did not at once return to his hole when the birds were gone,
but went for a little stroll, which brought him to the ground still
strewn with rice, which he began to eat with great relish. “It’s an ill
wind,” he said to himself, “which brings nobody any good. There’s many
a good meal for my whole family here.”
Presently he was joined by the old crow, who had flown down from his
perch unnoticed by Hiranya, and now addressed him in his croaky voice:
“Hiranya,” he said, “for that I know is your name, I am called
Laghupatin and I would gladly have you for a friend. I have seen all
that you did for the pigeons, and have come to the conclusion that you
are a mouse of great wisdom, ready to help those who are in trouble,
without any thought of yourself.”
“You are quite wrong,” squeaked Hiranya. “I am not so silly as you make
out. I have no wish to be your friend. If you were hungry, you wouldn’t
hesitate to gobble me up. I don’t care for that sort of affection.”
With that Hiranya whisked away to his hole, pausing at the entrance,
when he knew the crow could not get at him, to cry, “You be off to your
nest and leave me alone!”
The feelings of the crow were very much hurt at this speech, the more
that he knew full well it was not exactly love for the mouse, which had
led him to make his offer, but self-interest: for who could tell what
difficulties he himself might some day be in, out of which the mouse
might help him? Instead of obeying Hiranya, and going back to his nest,
he hopped to the mouse’s hole, and putting his head on one side in what
he thought was a very taking manner, he said:
“Pray do not misjudge me so. Never would I harm you! Even if I did not
wish to have you for a friend, I should not dream of gobbling you up,
as you say, however hungry I might be. Surely you are aware that I am a
strict vegetarian, and never eat the flesh of other creatures. At least
give me a trial. Let us share a meal together, and talk the matter
over.”
5. Can a friendship be a true one if the motive for it is
self-interest?
6. Would it have been wise or foolish for the mouse to agree to be
friends with the crow?
CHAPTER IV
Hiranya, on hearing the last remark of Laghupatin, hesitated, and in
the end he agreed that he would have supper with the crow that very
evening. “There is plenty of rice here,” he said, “which we can eat on
the spot. It would be impossible for you to get into my hole, and I am
certainly not disposed to visit you in your nest.” So the two at once
began their meal, and before it was over they had become good friends.
Not a day passed without a meeting, and when all the rice was eaten up,
each of the two would bring something to the feast. This had gone on
for some little time, when the crow, who was fond of adventure and
change, said one day to the mouse: “Don’t you think we might go
somewhere else for a time? I am rather tired of this bit of the forest,
every inch of which we both know well. I’ve got another great friend
who lives beside a fine river a few miles away, a tortoise named
Mandharaka; a thoroughly good, trustworthy fellow he is, though rather
slow and cautious in his ways. I should like to introduce you to him.
There are quantities of food suitable for us both where he lives, for
it is a very fruitful land. What do you say to coming with me to pay
him a visit?”
“How in the world should I get there?” answered Hiranya. “It’s all very
well for you, who can fly. I can’t walk for miles and miles. For all
that I too am sick of this place and would like a change.”
“Oh, there’s no difficulty about that,” replied Laghupatin. “I will
carry you in my beak, and you will get there without any fatigue at
all.” To this Hiranya consented, and very early one morning the two
friends started off together.
7. Is love of change a good or a bad thing?
8. What did Hiranya’s readiness to let Laghupatin carry him show?
CHAPTER V
After flying along for several hours, the crow began to feel very
tired. He was seized too with a great desire to hear his own voice
again. So he flew to the ground, laid his little companion gently down,
and gave vent to a number of hoarse cries, which quite frightened
Hiranya, who timidly asked him what was the matter.
“Nothing whatever,” answered Laghupatin, “except that you are not quite
so light as I thought you were, and that I need a rest; besides which,
I am hungry and I expect you are. We had better stop here for the
night, and start again early to-morrow morning.” Hiranya readily agreed
to this, and after a good meal, which was easily found, the two settled
down to sleep, the crow perched in a tree, the mouse hidden amongst its
roots. Very early the next day they were off again, and soon arrived at
the river, where they were warmly welcomed by the tortoise. The three
had a long talk together, and agreed never to part again. The tortoise,
who had lived a great deal longer than either the mouse or the crow,
was a very pleasant companion; and even Laghupatin, who was very fond
of talking himself, liked to listen to his stories of long ago.
“I wonder,” said the tortoise, whose name was Mandharaka, to the mouse,
“that you are not afraid to travel about as you have done, with your
soft little body unprotected by any armour. Look how different it is
for me; it is almost impossible for any of the wild creatures who live
near this river to hurt me, and they know it full well. See how thick
and strong my armour is. The claws even of a tiger, a wild cat or an
eagle, could not penetrate it. I am very much afraid, my little friend,
that you will be gobbled up some fine day, and Laghupatin and I will
seek for you in vain.”
“Of course,” said the mouse, “I know the truth of what you say; but I
can very easily hide from danger—much more easily than you or
Laghupatin. A tuft of moss or a few dead leaves are shelter enough for
me, but big fellows like you and the crow can be quite easily seen.
Nobody saw me when the pigeons were all caught except Laghupatin; and I
would have kept out of his sight if I had not known that he did not
care to eat mice.”
In spite of the fears of Mandharaka, the mouse and the crow lived as
his guests for a long time without any accident; and one day they were
suddenly joined by a new companion, a creature as unlike any one of the
three friends as could possibly be imagined. This was a very beautiful
deer, who came bounding out of the forest, all eager to escape from the
hunters, by whom he had been pursued, but too weary to reach the river,
across which he had hoped to be able to swim to safety. Just as he
reached the three friends, he fell to the ground, almost crushing the
mouse, who darted away in the nick of time. Strange to say, the hunters
did not follow the deer; and it was evident that they had not noticed
the way he had gone.
The tortoise, the crow and the mouse were all very sorry for the deer,
and, as was always the case, the crow was the first to speak. “Whatever
has happened to you?” he asked. And the deer made answer:
“I thought my last hour had come this time, for the hunters were close
upon me; and even now I do not feel safe.”
“I’ll fly up and take a look ’round,” said Laghupatin; and off he went
to explore, coming back soon, to say he had seen the hunters
disappearing a long distance off, going in quite another direction from
the river. Gradually the deer was reassured, and lay still where he had
fallen; whilst the three friends chatted away to him, telling him of
their adventures. “What you had better do,” said the tortoise, “is to
join us. When you have had a good meal, and a drink from the river, you
will feel a different creature. My old friend Laghupatin will be the
one to keep watch for us all, and warn us of any danger approaching; I
will give you the benefit of my long experience; and little Hiranya,
though he is not likely to be of any use to you, will certainly never
do you any harm.”
9. Is it a good thing to make friends easily?
10. What was the bond of union between the crow, the mouse, the
tortoise and the deer?
CHAPTER VI
The deer was so touched by the kind way in which he had been received,
that he agreed to stop with the three friends; and for some weeks after
his arrival all went well. Each member of the party went his own way
during the day-time, but all four met together in the evening, and took
it in turns to tell their adventures. The crow always had the most to
say, and was very useful to the deer in warning him of the presence of
hunters in the forest. One beautiful moonlight night the deer did not
come back as usual, and the other three became very anxious about him.
The crow flew up to the highest tree near and eagerly sought for some
sign of his lost friend, of whom he had grown very fond. Presently he
noticed a dark mass by the river-side, just where the deer used to go
down to drink every evening. “That must be he,” thought the crow; and
very soon he was hovering above the deer, who had been caught in a net
and was struggling in vain to get free.
The poor deer was very glad indeed to see the crow, and cried to him in
a piteous voice: “Be quick, be quick, and help me, before the terrible
hunters find me and kill me.”
“I can do nothing for you myself,” said the crow, “but I know who can.
Remember who saved the pigeons!” And away he flew to fetch little
Hiranya, who with the tortoise was anxiously awaiting his return. Very
soon Laghupatin was back by the river-side with the little mouse in his
beak; and it did not take long for Hiranya, who had been despised by
the deer and the tortoise as a feeble little thing, to nibble through
the cords and save the life of the animal a hundred times as big as
himself.
How happy the deer was when the cruel cords were loosed and he could
stretch out his limbs again! He bounded up, but took great care not to
crush the mouse, who had done him such a service. “Never, never,
never,” he said, “shall I forget what you have done for me. Ask
anything in my power, and I will do it.”
“I want nothing,” said Hiranya, “except the joyful thought of having
saved you.”
By this time the tortoise had crept to the riverbank, and he too was
glad that the deer had been saved. He praised the mouse, and declared
that he would never again look down upon him. Then the four started to
go back to their usual haunt in the forest; the deer, the crow, and the
mouse soon arriving there quite safely, whilst the tortoise, who could
only get along very slowly, lagged behind. Now came the time for him to
find out that armour was not the only thing needed to save him from
danger. He had not got very far from the riverbank before the cruel
hunter who had set the net to catch the deer, came to see if he had
succeeded. Great was his rage when he found the net lying on the
ground, but not exactly where he had left it. He guessed at once that
some animal had been caught in it and escaped after a long struggle. He
looked carefully about and noticed that the cords had been bitten
through here and there. So he suspected just what had happened, and
began to search about for any creature who could have done the
mischief.
There was not a sign of the mouse, but the slow-moving tortoise was
soon discovered, and pouncing down upon him, the hunter rolled him up
in another net he had with him, and carried him off, “It’s not much of
a prize,” said the hunter to himself, “but better than nothing. I’ll
have my revenge on the wretched creature anyhow, as I have lost the
prey I sought.”
11. Which of the four friends concerned in this adventure do you admire
most?
12. What was the chief mistake made by the tortoise?
CHAPTER VII
When the tortoise in his turn did not come home, the deer, the crow and
the mouse were very much concerned. They talked the matter over
together and decided that, however great the risk to themselves, they
must go back and see what had become of their friend. This time the
mouse travelled in one of the ears of the deer, from which he peeped
forth with his bright eyes, hoping to see the tortoise toiling along in
his usual solemn manner; whilst the crow, also on the watch, flew along
beside them. Great was the surprise and terror of all three when, as
they came out of the forest, they saw the hunter striding along towards
them, with the tortoise in the net under his arm. Once more the little
mouse showed his wisdom. Without a moment’s hesitation he said to the
deer: “Throw yourself on the ground and pretend to be dead; and _you_,”
he added to the crow, “perch on his head and bend over as if you were
going to peck out his eyes.”
Without any idea what Hiranya meant by these strange orders, but
remembering how he had helped in other dangers, the two did as they
were told; the poor deer feeling anything but happy lying still where
his enemy was sure to see him, and thereby proving what a noble
creature he was. The hunter did, see him very soon, and thinking to
himself, “After all I shall get that deer,” he let the tortoise fall,
and came striding along as fast as he could.
Up jumped the deer without waiting to see what became of the tortoise,
and sped away like the wind. The hunter rushed after him, and the two
were soon out of sight. The tortoise, whose armour had saved him from
being hurt by his fall, was indeed pleased when he saw little Hiranya
running towards him. “Be quick, be quick!” he cried, “and set me free.”
Very soon the sharp teeth of the mouse had bitten through the meshes of
the net, and before the hunter came back, after trying in vain to catch
the deer, the tortoise was safely swimming across the river, leaving
the net upon the ground, whilst the crow and the mouse were back in the
shelter of the forest.
“There’s some magic at work here,” said the hunter when, expecting to
find the tortoise where he had left him, he discovered that his
prisoner had escaped. “The stupid beast could not have got out alone,”
he added, as he picked up the net and walked off with it. “But he
wasn’t worth keeping anyhow.”
That evening the four friends met once more, and talked over all they
had gone through together. The deer and the tortoise were full of
gratitude to the mouse, and could not say enough in his praise, but the
crow was rather sulky, and remarked: “If it had not been for me,
neither of you would ever have seen Hiranya. He was my friend before he
was yours.”
“You are right,” said the tortoise, “and you must also remember that it
was my armour which saved me from being killed in that terrible fall.”
“Your armour would not have been of much use to you, if the hunter had
been allowed to carry you to his home,” said the deer. “In my opinion
you and I both owe our lives entirely to Hiranya. He is small and weak,
it is true, but he has better brains than any of the rest of us, and I
for one admire him with all my heart. I am glad I trusted him and
obeyed him, when he ordered me to pretend to be dead, for I had not the
least idea how that could help the tortoise.”
“Have it your own way,” croaked the crow, “but I keep my own opinion
all the same. But for me you would never have known my dear little
Hiranya.”
In spite of this little dispute the four friends were soon as happy
together as before the adventure of the tortoise. They once more agreed
never to part and lived happily together for many years, as they had
done ever since they first met.
13. What were the chief differences in the characters of the four
friends?
14. Are those who are alike or unlike in character more likely to
remain friends?
15. How would you describe a true friend?
16. What fault is more likely than any other to lead to loss of
friendship?
VIII.
A Clever Thief.
CHAPTER I
A certain man, named Hari-Sarman, who lived in a little village in
India, where there were no rich people and everyone had to work hard to
get his daily bread, got very weary of the life he had to lead. He had
a wife whose name was Vidya, and a large family; and even if he had
been very industrious it would have been difficult for him to get
enough food for them all. Unfortunately he was not a bit industrious,
but very lazy, and so was his wife. Neither of them made any attempt to
teach their boys and girls to earn their own living; and if the other
poor people in the village had not helped them, they would have
starved. Hari-Sarman used to send his children out in different
directions to beg or steal, whilst he and Vidya stayed at home doing
nothing.
One day he said to his wife: “Let us leave this stupid place, and go to
some big city where we can pick up a living of some kind. I will
pretend to be a wise man, able to find out secrets; and you can say
that you know all about children, having had so many of your own.”
Vidya gladly agreed to this, and the whole party set out, carrying the
few possessions they had with them. In course of time they came to a
big town, and Hari-Sarman went boldly to the chief house in it, leaving
his wife and children outside. He asked to see the master, and was
taken into his presence. This master was a very rich merchant, owning
large estates in the country; but he cannot have been very clever, for
he was at once quite taken in by the story Hari-Sarman told him. He
said that he would find work for him and his wife, and that the
children could be sent to a farm he had in the country, where they
could be made very useful.
Overjoyed at this, Hari-Sarman hastened out to tell his wife the good
news; and the two were at once received into the grand residence, in
which a small room was given to them for their own, whilst the children
were taken away to the farm, fall of eager delight at the change from
the wretched life they had been leading.
1. Would it have been better for Hari-Sarman and Vidya if their
neighbours had not helped them?
2. Do you think Hari-Sarman was the only person to blame for his
poverty?
CHAPTER II
Soon after the arrival of the husband and wife at the merchant’s house,
a very important event took place, namely, the marriage of the eldest
daughter. Great were the preparations beforehand, in which Vidya took
her full share, helping in the kitchen to make all manner of delicious
dishes, and living in great luxury herself. For there was no stint in
the wealthy home; even the humblest servants were well cared for. Vidya
was happier than she had ever been before, now that she had plenty to
do and plenty of good food. She became in fact quite a different
creature, and began to wish she had been a better mother to her
children. “When the wedding is over,” she thought, “I will go and see
how they are getting on.” On the other hand she forgot all about her
husband and scarcely ever saw him.
It was all very different with Hari-Sarman himself. He had no special
duties to perform and nobody seemed to want him. If he went into the
kitchen, the busy servants ordered him to get out of their way; and he
was not made welcome by the owner of the house or his guests. The
merchant too forgot all about him, and he felt very lonely and
miserable. He had been thinking to himself how much he would enjoy all
the delicious food he would get after the wedding; and now he began to
grumble: “I’m starving in the midst of plenty, that’s what I am.
Something will have to be done to change this horrible state of
things.”
Whilst the preparations for the wedding were going on, Vidya never came
near her husband, and he lay awake a long time thinking, “What in the
world can I do to make the master send for me?” All of a sudden an idea
came into his head. “I’ll steal something valuable, and hide it away;
and when everyone is being asked about the loss, the merchant will
remember the man who can reveal secrets. Now what can I take that is
sure to be missed? I know, I know!” And springing out of bed, he
hastily dressed himself and crept out of the house.
3. What would you have done if you had been Hari-Sarman?
4. Do you think Vidya ever had any real love for her husband?
CHAPTER III
This was what Hari-Sarman decided to do. The merchant had a great many
very beautiful horses, which lived in splendid stables and were taken
the greatest possible care of. Amongst them was a lovely little Arab
mare, the special favourite of the bride, who often went to pet it and
give it sugar. “I’ll steal that mare and hide it away in the forest,”
said the wicked man to himself. “Then, when every one is hunting for
her, the master will remember the man who can reveal secrets and send
for me. Ah! Ah! What a clever fellow I am! All the stablemen and grooms
are feasting, I know; for I saw them myself when I tried to get hold of
my wife. I can climb through a window that is always left open.” It
turned out that he was right. He met no one on his way to the stables,
which ware quite deserted. He got in easily, opened, the door from
inside, and led out the little mare, which made no resistance; she had
always been so kindly treated that she was not a bit afraid. He took
the beautiful creature far into the depths of the forest, tied her up
there, and got safely back to his own room without being seen.
Early the next morning the merchant’s daughter, attended by her
maidens, went to see her dear little mare, taking with her an extra
supply of sugar. What was her distress when she found the stall empty!
She guessed at once that a thief had got in during the night, and
hurried home to tell her father, who was very, very angry with the
stablemen who had deserted their posts, and declared they should all be
flogged for it. “But the first thing to do is to get the mare back,” he
said; and he ordered messengers to be sent in every direction,
promising a big reward to anyone who brought news of the mare.
Vidya of course heard all there was to hear, and at once suspected that
Hari-Sarman had had something to do with the matter. “I expect he has
hidden the mare,” she thought to herself, “and means to get the reward
for finding it.” So she asked to see the master of the house, and when
leave was granted to her she said to him:
“Why do you not send for my husband, the man who can reveal secrets,
because of the wonderful power that has been given him of seeing what
is hidden from others? Many a time has he surprised me by what he has
been able to do.”
5. Do you think Vidya had any wish to help Hari-Sarman for his own
sake?
6. Is there anything you think she should have done before seeing the
master?
CHAPTER IV
On hearing what Vidya said, the merchant at once told her to go and
fetch her husband. But to her surprise Hari-Sarman refused to go back
with her. “You can tell the master what you like,” he said, angrily.
“You all forgot me entirely yesterday; and now you want me to help you,
you suddenly remember my existence. I am not going to be at your beck
and call or anyone else’s.”
Vidya entreated him to listen to reason, but it was no good. She had to
go back and tell the merchant that he would not come. Instead of being
made angry by this, however, the master surprised her by saying: “Your
husband is right. I have treated him badly. Go and tell him I
apologise, and will reward him well, if only he will come and help me.”
Back again went Vidya and this time she was more successful. But though
Hari-Sarman said he would go back with her, he was very sulky and would
not answer any of her questions. She could not understand him, and
wished she had not left him to himself for so long. He behaved very
strangely too when the master, who received him very kindly, asked him
if he could tell him where the mare was. “I know,” he said, “what a
wise and clever man you are.”
“It didn’t seem much like it yesterday,” grumbled Hari-Sarman. “Nobody
took any notice of me then, but now you want something of me, you find
out that I am wise and clever. I am just the same person that I was
yesterday.”
“I know, I know,” said the merchant, “and I apologise for my neglect;
but when a man’s daughter is going to be married, it’s no wonder some
one gets neglected.”
7. Do you think Hari-Sarman was wise to treat his wife and the merchant
as he did?
8. If the mare had been found whilst Hari-Sarman was talking to the
master, what effect do you think the discovery would have had upon them
both?
CHAPTER V
Hari-Sarman now thought it was time to take a different tone. So he put
his hand in his pocket, and brought out a map he had got ready whilst
waiting to be sent for, as he had felt sure he would be. He spread it
out before the merchant, and pointed to a dark spot in the midst of
many lines crossing each other in a bewildering manner, which he
explained were pathways through the forest. “Under a tree, where that
dark spot is, you will find the mare,” he said.
Overjoyed at the good news, the merchant at once sent a trusted servant
to test the truth; and when the mare was brought back, nothing seemed
too good for the man who had led to her recovery. At the wedding
festivities Hari-Sarman was treated as an honoured guest, and no longer
had he any need to complain of not having food enough. His wife of
course thought he would forgive her now for having neglected him. But
not a bit of it: he still sulked with her, and she could never feel
quite sure what the truth was about the mare.
All went well with Hari-Sarman for a long time. But presently something
happened which seemed likely to get him into very great trouble. A
quantity of gold and many valuable jewels disappeared in the palace of
the king of the country; and when the thief could not be discovered,
some one told the king the story of the stolen mare, and how a man
called Hari-Sarman, living in the house of a rich merchant in the chief
city, had found her when everyone else had failed.
“Fetch that man here at once,” ordered the king, and very soon
Hari-Sarman was brought before him. “I hear you are so wise, you can
reveal all secrets,” said the king. “Now tell me immediately who has
stolen the gold and jewels and where they are to be found.”
Poor Hari-Sarman did not know what to say or do. “Give me till
to-morrow,” he replied in a faltering voice; “I must have a little time
to think.”
“I will not give you a single hour,” answered the king. For seeing the
man before him was frightened, he began to suspect he was a deceiver.
“If you do not at once tell me where the gold and jewels are, I will
have you flogged until you find your tongue.”
Hearing this, Hari-Sarman, though more terrified than ever, saw that
his only chance of gaining time to make up some story was to get the
king to believe in him. So he drew himself up and answered: “The wisest
magicians need to employ means to find out the truth. Give me
twenty-four hours, and I will name the thieves.”
“You are not much of a magician if you cannot find out such a simple
thing as I ask of you,” said the king. And turning to the guards, he
ordered them to take Hari-Sarman to prison, and shut him up there
without food or drink till he came to his senses. The man was dragged
away, and very soon he found himself alone in a dark and gloomy room
from which he saw no hope of escape.
He was in despair and walked up and down, trying in vain to think of
some way of escape. “I shall die here of starvation, unless my wife
finds some means of setting me free,” he said. “I wish I had treated
her better instead of being so sulky with her.” He tried the bars of
the window, but they were very strong: he could not hope to move them.
And he beat against the door, but no notice was taken of that.
9. What lesson does the trouble Hari-Sarman was in teach?
10. Do you think it would have been better for him to tell the king he
could not reveal secrets?
CHAPTER VI
When it got quite dark in the prison, Hari-Sarman began to talk to
himself aloud. “Oh,” he said, “I wish I had bitten my tongue out before
I told that lie about the mare. It is all my foolish tongue which has
got me into this trouble. Tongue! Tongue!” he went on, “it is all your
fault.”
Now a very strange thing happened. The money and jewels had been stolen
by a man, who had been told where they were by a young servant girl in
the palace whose name was Jihva, which is the Sanskrit word for tongue;
and this girl was in a great fright when she heard that a revealer of
secrets had been taken before the king. “He will tell of my share in
the matter,” she thought, “and I shall get into trouble,” It so
happened that the guard at the prison door was fond of her, as well as
the thief who had stolen the money and jewels. So when all was quiet in
the palace, Jihva slipped away to see if she could get that guard to
let her see the prisoner. “If I promise to give him part of the money,”
she thought, “he will undertake not to betray me.”
The guard was glad enough when Jihva came to talk to him, and he let
her listen at the key-hole to what Hari-Sarman was saying. Just imagine
her astonishment when she heard him repeating her name again and again.
“Jihva! Jihva! Thou,” he cried, “art the cause of this suffering. Why
didst thou behave in such a foolish manner, just for the sake of the
good things of this life? Never can I forgive thee, Jihva, thou wicked,
wicked one!”
“Oh! oh!” cried Jihva in an agony of terror, “he knows the truth; he
knows that I helped the thief.” And she entreated the guard to let her
into the prison that she might plead with Hari-Sarman not to tell the
king what she had done. The man hesitated at first, but in the end she
persuaded him to consent by promising him a large reward.
When the key grated in the lock, Hari-Sarman stopped talking aloud,
wondering whether what he had been saying had been overheard by the
guard, and half hoping that his wife had got leave to come and see him.
As the door opened and he saw a woman coming in by the light of a
lantern held up by the guard, he cried, “Vidya my beloved!” But he soon
realized that it was a stranger. He was indeed surprised and relieved,
when Jihva suddenly threw herself at his feet and, clinging to his
knees, began to weep and moan “Oh, most holy man,” she cried between
her sobs, “who knowest the very secrets of the heart, I have come to
confess that it was indeed I, Jihva, your humble servant, who aided the
thief to take the jewels and the gold and to hide them beneath the big
pomegranate tree behind the palace.”
“Rise,” replied Hari-Sarman, overjoyed at hearing this. “You have told
me nothing that I did not know, for no secret is hidden from me. What
reward will you give me if I save you from the wrath of the king?”
“I will give you all the money I have,” said Jihva; “and that is not a
little.”
“That also I knew,” said Hari-Sarman. “For you have good wages, and
many a time you have stolen money that did not belong to you. Go now
and fetch it all, and have no fear that I will betray you.”
11. What mistakes do you think Jihva made in what she said to
Hari-Sarman?
12. What would have been the best thing for her to do when she thought
she was found out?
CHAPTER VII
Without waiting a moment Jihva hurried away to fetch the money; but
when she got back with it, the man on guard, who had heard everything
that had passed between her and Hari-Sarman, would not let her in to
the prison again till she gave him ten gold pieces. Thinking that
Hari-Sarman really knew exactly how much money she had, Jihva was
afraid he would be angry when he missed some of it; and again she let
out the truth, which he might never have guessed. For she began at once
to say, “I brought all I had, but the man at the door has taken ten
pieces.” This did vex Hari-Sarman very much, and he told her he would
let the king know what she had done, unless she fetched the thief who
had taken the money and jewels. “I cannot do that,” said Jihva, “for he
is very far away. He lives with his brother, Indra Datta, in the forest
beyond the river, more than a day’s journey from here.” “I did but try
you,” said the clever Hari-Sarman, who now knew who the thief was; “for
I can see him where he is at this moment. Now go home and wait there
till I send for you.”
But Jihva, who loved the thief and did not want him to be punished,
refused to go until Hari-Sarman promised that he would not tell the
king who the man was or where he lived. “I would rather,” she said,
“bear all the punishment than that he should suffer.” Even Hari-Sarman
was touched at this, and fearing that if he kept Jihva longer, she
would be found in the prison by messengers from the king, he promised
that no harm should come to her or the thief, and let her go.
Very soon after this, messengers came to take Hari-Sarman once more
before the king; who received him very coldly and began at once to
threaten him with a terrible punishment, if he did not say who the
thief was, and where the gold and jewels were. Even now Hari-Sarman
pretended to be unwilling to speak. But when he saw that the king would
put up with no more delay, he said, “I will lead you to the spot where
the treasure is buried, but the name of the thief, though I know it, I
will never betray.” The king, who did not really care much who the
thief was, so long as he got back his money, lost not a moment, but
ordered his attendants to get spades and follow him. Very soon
Hari-Sarman brought them to the pomegranate tree. And there, sure
enough, deep down in the ground, was all that had been lost.
Nothing was now too good for Hari-Sarman: the king was greatly
delighted, and heaped riches and honours upon him. But some of the wise
men at the court suspected that he was really a deceiver, and set about
trying to find out all they could about him. They sent for the man who
had been on guard at the prison, and asked him many questions. He did
not dare tell the truth, for he knew he would be terribly punished if
he let out that Jihva had been allowed to see his prisoner; but he
hesitated so much that the wise men knew he was not speaking the truth.
One of them, whom the king loved, and trusted very much, whose name was
Deva-Jnanin, said to his master: “I do not like to see that man, about
whom we really know nothing, treated as he is. He might easily have
found out where the treasure was hidden without any special power. Will
you not test him in some other way in my presence and that of your
chief advisers?”
The king, who was always ready to listen to reason, agreed to this; and
after a long consultation with Deva-Jnanin, he decided on a very clever
puzzle with which to try Hari-Sarman. A live frog was put into a
pitcher; the lid was shut down, and the man who pretended to know
everything was brought into the great reception room, where all the
wise men of the court were gathered together round the throne, on which
sat the king in his royal robes. Deva-Jnanin had been chosen by his
master to speak for him; and coming forward, he pointed to the small
pitcher on the ground, and said: “Great as are the honours already
bestowed on you, they shall be increased if you can say at once what is
in that pitcher.”
13. What kind of man do you think the king was from his behaviour to
Hari-Sarman?
14. Was it wise or foolish of Hari-Sarman to remain in the city after
his very narrow escape?
CHAPTER VIII
Hari-Sarman thought when he looked at the pitcher: “Alas, alas, it is
all over with me now! Never can I find out what is in it. Would that I
had left this town with the money I had from Jihva before it was too
late!” Then he began to mutter to himself, as it was always his habit
to do when he was in trouble. It so happened that, when he was a little
boy, his father used to call him frog, and now his thoughts went back
to the time when he was a happy innocent child, and he said aloud: “Oh,
frog, what trouble has come to you! That pitcher will be the death of
you!”
Even Deva-Jnanin was astonished when he heard that; and so were all the
other wise men. The king was delighted to find that after all he had
made no mistake; and all the people who had been allowed to come in to
see the trial were greatly excited. Shouting for joy the king called
Hari-Sarman to come to the foot of the throne, and told him he would
never, never doubt him again. He should have yet more money, a
beautiful house in the country as well as the one he already had in the
town, and his children should be brought from the farm to live with him
and their mother, who should have lovely dresses and ornaments to wear.
Nobody was more surprised than Hari-Sarman himself. He guessed, of
course, that there was a frog in the pitcher. And when the king had
ended his speech, he said: “One thing I ask in addition to all that has
been given me, that I may keep the pitcher in memory of this day, when
my truth has been proved once more beyond a doubt.”
His request was, of course, granted; and he went off with the pitcher
under his arm, full of rejoicing over his narrow escape. At the same
time he was also full of fear for the future. He knew only too well
that it had only been by a lucky chance that he had used the word Jihva
in his first danger and Frog in the second. He was not likely to get
off a third time; and he made up his mind that he would skip away some
dark night soon, with all the money and jewels he could carry, and be
seen no more where such strange adventures had befallen him. He did not
even tell his wife what he meant to do, but pretended to have forgiven
her entirely for the way she had neglected him when he was poor, and to
be glad that their children were to be restored to them. Before they
came from the farm their father had disappeared, and nobody ever found
out what had become of him; but the king let his family keep what had
been given to him, and to the end believed he really had been what he
had pretended to be. Only Deva-Jnanin had his doubts; but he kept them
to himself, for he thought, “Now the man is gone, it really does not
matter who or what he was.”
15. What is the chief lesson to be learnt from this story?
16. What do you think it was that made Hari-Sarman think of his boyhood
when he was in trouble?
17. Do you think he took the pitcher and frog with him when he left the
city?
18. Do you think there was anything good in the character of
Hari-Sarman?
IX.
The Hermit’s Daughter.
CHAPTER I
Near a town in India called Ikshumati, on a beautiful wide river, with
trees belonging to a great forest near its banks, there dwelt a holy
man named Mana Kanaka, who spent a great part of his life praying to
God. He had lost his wife when his only child, a lovely girl called
Kadali-Garbha, was only a few months old. Kadali-Garbha was a very
happy girl, with many friends in the woods round her home, not children
like herself, but wild creatures, who knew she would not do them any
harm. They loved her and she loved them. The birds were so tame that
they would eat out of her hand, and the deer used to follow her about
in the hope of getting the bread she carried in her pocket for them.
Her father taught her all she knew, and that was a great deal; for she
could read quite learned books in the ancient language of her native
land. Better even than what she found out in those books was what Mana
Kanaka told her about the loving God of all gods who rules the world
and all that live in it. Kadali-Garbha also learnt a great deal through
her friendship with wild animals. She knew where the birds built their
nests, where the baby deer were born, where the squirrels hid their
nuts, and what food all the dwellers in the forest liked best. She
helped her father to work in their garden in which all their own food
was grown; and she loved to cook the fruit and vegetables for Mana
Kanaka and herself. Her clothes were made of the bark of the trees in
the forest, which she herself wove into thin soft material suitable for
wearing in a hot climate.
1. What do you think it was which made the animals trust Kadali-Garbha?
2. Could you have been happy in the forest with no other children to
play with?
CHAPTER II
Kadali-Garbha never even thought about other children, because she had
not been used to having them with her. She was just as happy as the day
was long, and never wished for any change. But when she was about
sixteen something happened which quite altered her whole life. One day
her father had gone into the forest to cut wood, and had left her
alone. She had finished tidying the house, and got everything ready for
the midday meal, and was sitting at the door of her home, reading to
herself, with birds fluttering about her head and a pet doe lying
beside her, when she heard the noise of a horse’s feet approaching. She
looked up, and there on the other side of the fence was a very handsome
young man seated on a great black horse, which he had reined up when he
caught sight of her. He looked at her without speaking, and she looked
back at him with her big black eyes full of surprise at his sudden
appearance. She made a beautiful picture, with the green creepers
covering the hut behind her, and the doe, which had started up in fear
of the horse, pressing against her.
The man was the king of the country, whose name was Dridha-Varman. He
had been hunting and had got separated from his attendants. He was very
much surprised to find anyone living in the very depths of the forest,
and was going to ask the young girl who she was, when Kadali-Garbha saw
her father coming along the path leading to his home. Jumping up, she
ran to meet him, glad that he had come; for she had never before seen a
young man and was as shy as any of the wild creatures of the woods. Now
that Mana Kanaka was with her, she got over her fright, and felt quite
safe, clinging to his arm as he and the king talked together.
3. Can you describe just how Kadali-Garbha felt when she saw the king?
4. Do you think it would have been a good or a bad thing for her to
live all the rest of her life in the forest?
CHAPTER III
Mana Kanaka knew at once that the man on the horse was the king; and a
great fear entered his heart when he saw how Dridha-Varman looked at
his beloved only child.
“Who are you, and who is that lovely girl?” asked the king. And Mana
Kanaka answered, “I am only a humble woodcutter; and this is my only
child, whose mother has long been dead.”
“Her mother must have been a very lovely woman, if her daughter is like
her,” said the king. “Never before have I seen such perfect beauty.”
“Her mother,” replied Mana Kanaka, “was indeed what you say; and her
soul was as beautiful as the body in which it dwelt all too short a
time.”
“I would have your daughter for my wife,” said the king; “and if you
will give her to me, she shall have no wish ungratified. She shall have
servants to wait on her and other young girls to be her companions;
beautiful clothes to wear, the best of food to eat, horses and
carriages as many as she will, and no work to do with her own hands.”
5. If you had been Kadali-Garbha, what would you have said when you
heard all these promises?
6. Of all the things the king said she should have, which would you
have liked best?
CHAPTER IV
What Kadali-Garbha did was to cling closely to her father, hiding her
face on his arm and whispering, “I will not leave you: do not send me
away from you, dear father.”
Mana Kanaka stroked her hair, and said in a gentle voice:
“But, dear child, your father is old, and must leave you soon. It is a
great honour for his little girl to be chosen by the king for his
bride. Do not be afraid, but look at him and see how handsome he is and
how kind he looks.”
Then Kadali-Garbha looked at the king, who smiled at her and looked so
charming that her fear began to leave her. She still clung to her
father, but no longer hid her face; and Mana Kanaka begged
Kadali-Garbha to let him send her away, so that he might talk with the
king alone about the wish he had expressed to marry her. The king
consented to this, and Kadali-Garbha gladly ran away. But when she
reached the door of her home, she looked back, and knew in her heart
that she already loved the king and did not want him to go away.
It did not take long for the matter of the marriage to be settled. For
Mana Kanaka, sad though he was to lose his dear only child, was glad
that she should be a queen, and have some one to take care of her when
he was gone. After this first visit to the little house in the forest
the king came every day to see Kadali-Garbha, bringing all kinds of
presents for her. She learnt to love him so much that she became as
eager as he was for the wedding to be soon. When the day was fixed, the
king sent several ladies of his court to dress the bride in clothes
more beautiful that she had ever dreamt of; and in them she looked more
lovely even than the first day her lover had seen her.
Now amongst these ladies was a very wise woman who could see what was
going to happen; and she knew that there would be troubles for the
young queen in the palace, because many would be jealous of her
happiness. She was very much taken with the beautiful innocent girl,
and wanted to help her so much that she managed to get her alone for a
few minutes, when she said to her: “I want you to promise me something.
It is to take this packet of mustard seeds, hide it in the bosom of
your dress, and when you ride to the palace with your husband, strew
the seed along the path as you go. You know how quickly mustard grows.
Well, it will spring up soon; and if you want to come home again, you
can easily find the way by following the green shoots. Alas, I fear
they will not have time to wither before you need their help!”
Kadali-Garbha laughed when the wise woman talked about trouble coming
to her. She was so happy, she could not believe she would want to come
home again so soon. “My father can come to me when I want him,” she
said. “I need only tell my dear husband to send for him.” But for all
that she took the packet of seeds and hid it in her dress.
7. Would you have done as the wise woman told you if you had been the
bride?
8. Ought Kadali-Garbha to have told the king about the mustard seed?
CHAPTER V
After the wedding was over, the king mounted his beautiful horse, and
bending down, took his young wife up before him. Holding her close to
him with his right arm, he held the reins in his left hand; and away
they went, soon leaving all the attendants far behind them, the queen
scattering the mustard seed as she had promised to do. When they
arrived at the palace there were great rejoicings, and everybody seemed
charmed with the queen, who was full of eager interest in all that she
saw.
For several weeks there was nobody in the wide world so happy and
light-hearted as the bride. The king spent many hours a day with her,
and was never tired of listening to all she had to tell him about her
life in the forest with her father. Every day he gave her some fresh
proof of his love, and he never refused to do anything she asked him to
do. But presently a change came. Amongst the ladies of the court there
was a beautiful woman, who had hoped to be queen herself, and hated
Kadali-Garbha so much that she made up her mind to get her into
disgrace with the king. She asked first one powerful person and then
another to help her; but everybody loved the queen, and the wicked
woman began to be afraid that those she had told about her wish to harm
her would warn the king. So she sought about for some one who did not
know Kadali-Garbha, and suddenly remembered a wise woman named
Asoka-Mala, who lived in a cave not far from the town, to whom many
people used to go for advice in their difficulties. She went to this
woman one night, and told her a long story in which there was not one
word of truth. The young queen, she said, did not really love the king;
and with the help of her father, who was a magician, she meant to
poison him. How could this terrible thing be prevented, she asked; and
she promised that if only Asoka-Mala would help to save Dridha-Varman,
she would give her a great deal of money.
Asoka-Mala guessed at once that the story was not true, and that it was
only because the woman was jealous of the beautiful young queen that
she wished to hurt her. But she loved money very much. Instead
therefore of at once refusing to have anything to do with the matter,
she said: “Bring me fifty gold pieces now, and promise me another fifty
when the queen is sent away from the palace, and I will tell you what
to do.”
The wicked woman promised all this at once. The very next night she
brought the first fifty pieces of gold to the cave, and Asoka-Mala told
her that she must get the barber, who saw the king alone every day, to
tell him he had found out a secret about the queen. “You must tell the
barber all you have already told me. But be very careful to give some
proof of your story. For if you do not do so, you will only have wasted
the fifty gold pieces you have already given to me; and, more than
that, you will be terribly punished for trying to hurt the queen, whom
everybody loves.”
9. Do you think this plot against Kadali-Garbha was likely to succeed?
10. Can you think of any way in which the wise woman might have helped
the queen and also have gained a reward for herself?
CHAPTER VI
The wicked woman went back to the palace, thinking all the way to
herself, “How can I get a proof of what is not true?” At last an idea
came into her head. She knew that the queen loved to wander in the
forest, and that she was not afraid of the wild creatures, but seemed
to understand their language. She would tell the barber that
Kadali-Garbha was a witch and knew the secrets of the woods; that she
had been seen gathering wild herbs, some of them poisonous, and had
been heard muttering strange words to herself as she did so.
Early the next morning the cruel woman went to see the barber, and
promised him a reward if he would tell the king what she had found out
about his wife. “He won’t believe you at first,” she said; “but you
must go on telling him till he does. You are clever, enough,” she
added, “to make up something he will believe if what I have thought of
is no good.”
The barber, who had served the king for many years, would not at first
agree to help to make him unhappy. But he too liked money very much,
and in the end he promised to see what he could do if he was well paid
for it. He was, as the wicked woman had said, clever enough; and he
knew from long experience just how to talk to his master. He began by
asking the king if he had heard of the lovely woman who was sometimes
seen by the woodmen wandering about alone in the forest, with wild
creatures following her. Remembering how he had first seen
Kadali-Garbha, Dridha-Varman at once guessed that she was the lovely
woman. But he did not tell the barber so; for he was so proud of his
dear wife’s beauty that he liked to hear her praised, and wanted the
man to go on talking about her. He just said: “What is she like? Is she
tall or short, fair or dark?” The barber answered the questions
readily. Then he went on to say that it was easy to see that the lady
was as clever as she was beautiful; for she knew not only all about
animals but also about plants. “Every day,” he said, “she gathers
quantities of herbs, and I have been told she makes healing medicines
of them. Some even go so far as to say she also makes poisons. But, for
my part, I do not believe that; she is too beautiful to be wicked.”
The king listened, and a tiny little doubt crept into his mind about
his wife. She had never told him about the herbs she gathered, although
she often chattered about her friends in the forest. Perhaps after all
it was not Kadali-Garbha the barber was talking about. He would ask her
if she knew anything about making medicines from herbs. He did so when
they were alone together, and she said at once, “Oh, yes! My father
taught me. But I have never made any since I was married.”
“Are you sure?” asked the king; and she answered laughing, “Of course,
I am: how could I be anything but sure? I have no need to think of
medicine-making, now I am the queen.”
Dridha-Varman said no more at the time. But he was troubled; and when
the barber came again, he began at once to ask about the woman who had
been seen in the woods. The wicked man was delighted, and made up a
long story. He said one of the waiting women had told him of what she
had seen. The woman, he said, had followed the lady home one day, and
that home was not far from the palace. She had seen her bending over a
fire above which hung a great sauce-pan full of water, into which she
flung some of the herbs she had gathered, singing as she did so, in a
strange language.
“Could it possibly be,” thought the king, “that Kadali-Garbha had
deceived him? Was she perhaps a witch after all?” He remembered that he
really did not know who she was, or who her father was. He had loved
her directly he saw her, just because she was so beautiful. What was he
to do now? He was quite sure, from the description the barber had given
of the woman in the forest, that she was his wife. He would watch her
himself in future, and say nothing to her that would make her think he
was doing so.
11. What should the king have done when he heard the barber’s story?
12. Can you really love anybody truly whom you do not trust?
CHAPTER VII
Although the king said nothing to his wife about what the barber had
told him, he could not treat her exactly as he did before he heard it,
and she very soon began to wonder what she had done to vex him. The
first thing she noticed was that one of the ladies of the court always
followed her when she went into the forest. She did not like this;
because she so dearly loved to be alone with the wild creatures, and
they did not come to her when any one else was near. She told the lady
to go away, and she pretended to do so; but she only kept a little
further off. And though the queen could no longer see her, she knew she
was there, and so did the birds and the deer. This went on for a little
time; and then Kadali-Garbha asked her husband to tell every one that
she was not to be disturbed when she went to see her friends in the
forest.
“I am afraid,” said the king, “that some harm will come to you. There
are wild beasts in the depths of the wood who might hurt you. And what
should I do if any harm came to my dear one?”
Kadali-Garbha was grieved when Dridha-Varman said this, for she knew it
was not true; and she looked at him so sadly that he felt ashamed of
having doubted her. All would perhaps have been well even now, if he
had told her of the story he had heard about her, because then she
could have proved that it was not true. But he did not do that; he only
said, “I cannot let you be alone so far from home. Why not be content
with the lovely gardens all round the palace? If you still wish to go
to the woods, I will send one of the game-keepers with you instead of
the lady who has been watching you. Then he can protect you if any
harmful creature should approach.”
“If my lord does not wish me to be alone in the forest,” answered the
queen, “I will be content with the gardens. For no birds or animals
would come near me if one of their enemies were with me. But,” she
added, as her eyes filled with tears, “will not my lord tell me why he
no longer trusts his wife, who loves him with all her heart?”
The king was very much touched by what Kadali-Garbha said, but still
could not make up his mind to tell her the truth. So he only embraced
her fondly, and said she was a good little wife to be so ready to obey
him. The queen went away very sadly, wondering to herself what she
could do to prove to her dear lord that she loved him as much as ever.
She took care never to go outside the palace gardens, but she longed
very much for her old freedom, and began to grow pale and thin.
The wicked woman who had tried to do her harm was very much
disappointed that she had only succeeded in making her unhappy; so she
went again to Asoka-Mala, and promised her more money if only she would
think of some plan to get the king to send his wife away. The wise
woman considered a long time, and then she said: “You must use the
barber again. He goes from house to house, and he must tell the king
that the beautiful woman, who used to roam about in the forest
collecting herbs, has been seen there again in the dead of the night,
when she could be sure no one would find out what she was doing.”
Now it so happened that Kadali-Garbha was often unable to sleep because
of her grief that the king did not love her so much as he used to do.
One night she got so tired of lying awake that she got up very quietly,
so as not to disturb her husband, and putting on her sari, she went out
into the gardens, hoping that the fresh air might help her to sleep.
Presently the king too woke up, and finding that his wife was no longer
beside him, he became very uneasy, and was about to go and seek her,
when she came back. He asked her where she had been; and she told him
exactly what had happened, but she did not explain why she could not
sleep.
13. What mistake did the queen make in her treatment of the king?
14. Do you think it is more hurtful to yourself and to others to talk
too much or too little?
CHAPTER VIII
When the barber was shaving the king the next morning, he told him he
had heard that people were saying the beautiful woman had been seen
again one night, gathering herbs and muttering to herself. “They talk,
my lord,” said the man, “of your own name having been on her lips; and
those who love and honour you are anxious for your safety. Maybe the
woman is indeed a witch, who for some reason of her own will try to
poison you.”
Now Dridha-Varman remembered that Kadali-Garbha had left him the night
before, “and perhaps,” he thought, “at other times when I was asleep.”
He could scarcely wait until the barber had finished shaving him, so
eager was he to find out the truth. He hurried to his wife’s private
room, but she was not there; and her ladies told him she had not been
seen by them that day. This troubled him terribly, and he roused the
whole palace to seek her. Messengers were soon hurrying to and fro, but
not a trace of her could be found. Dridha-Varman was now quite sure
that the woman the barber had talked about was Kadali-Garbha, the wife
he had so loved and trusted. “Perhaps,” he thought, “she has left
poison in my food, and has gone away so as not to see me die.” He would
neither eat nor drink, and he ordered all the ladies whose duty it was
to wait on the queen to be locked up till she was found. Amongst them
was the wicked woman who had done all the mischief because of her
jealousy of the beautiful young queen, and very much she wished she had
never tried to harm her.
15. Where do you suppose the queen had gone?
16. What mistake did the king make when he heard the queen was missing?
CHAPTER IX
In her trouble about the loss of the king’s love Kadali-Garbha longed
for her father, for she felt sure he would be able to help her. So she
determined to go to him. With the aid of the wise woman who had given
her the packet of mustard seed, and who had been her best friend at
court, she disguised herself as a messenger, and, mounted on a strong
little pony, she sped along the path marked out by the young shoots of
mustard, reaching her old home in the forest before the night fell.
Great indeed was the joy of Mana Kanaka at the sight of his beloved
child, and very soon she had poured out all her sorrow to him. The
hermit was at first very much enraged with his son-in-law for the way
in which he had treated Kadali-Garbha, and declared that he would use
all the powers he had to punish him. “Never,” he said, “shall he see
your dear face again; but I will go to him and call down on him all
manner of misfortunes. You know not, dear child, I have never wished
you to know, that I am a magician and can make the very beasts of the
field and the winds of heaven obey me. I know full well who has made
this mischief between you and your husband, and I will see that
punishment overtakes them.”
“No, no, father,” cried Kadali-Garbha; “I will not have any harm done
to my dear one, for I love him with all my heart. All I ask of you is
to prove to him that I am innocent of whatever fault he thinks I have
committed, and to make him love and trust me again.”
It was hard work to persuade Mana Kanaka to promise not to harm the
king, but in the end he yielded. Together the father and daughter rode
back to the palace, and together they were brought before
Dridha-Varman, who, in spite of the anger he had felt against his wife,
was overjoyed to see her. When he looked at her clinging to Mana
Kanaka’s arm, as she had done the first time they met, all his old love
returned, and he would have taken her in his arms and told her so
before the whole court, if she had not drawn back. It was Mana Kanaka
who was the first to speak. Drawing himself up to his full height, and
pointing to the king, he charged him with having broken his vow to love
and protect his wife. “You have listened to lying tongues,” he said,
“and I will tell you to whom those tongues belong, that justice may be
done to them.”
Once more Kadali-Garbha interfered. “No, father,” she said; “let their
names be forgotten: only prove to my lord that I am his loving faithful
wife, and I will be content.”
“I need no proof,” cried Dridha-Varman; “but lest others should follow
their evil example, I will have vengeance on the slanderers. Name them,
and their doom shall be indeed a terrible one.”
Then Mana Kanaka told the king the whole sad story; and when it was
ended the wicked woman who had first thought of injuring the queen, and
the barber who had helped her, were sent for to hear their doom, which
was—to be shut up for the rest of their lives in prison. This was
changed to two years only, because Kadali-Garbha was generous enough to
plead for them. As for the third person in the plot, the old witch of
the cave, not a word was said about her by anybody. Mana Kanaka knew
well enough what her share in the matter had been; but magicians and
witches are careful not to make enemies of each other, and so he held
his peace.
Dridha-Varman was so grateful to his father-in-law for bringing his
wife back to him, that he wanted him to stop at court, and said he
would give him a very high position there. But Mana Kanaka refused
every reward, declaring that he loved his little home in the forest
better than the grand rooms he might have had in the palace. “All I
wish for,” he said, “is my dear child’s happiness. I hope you will
never again listen to stories against your wife. If you do, you may be
very sure that I shall hear of it; and next time I know that you have
been unkind to her I will punish you as you deserve.”
The king was obliged to let Mana Kanaka go, but after this he took
Kadali-Garbha to see her father in the forest very often. Later, when
the queen had some children of her own, their greatest treat was to go
to the little home, in the depths of the wood. They too learnt to love
animals, and had a great many pets, but none of those pets were kept in
cages.
17. What is the chief lesson to be learnt from this story?
18. Which of all the people in this tale do you like best?
19. What do you think is the greatest power in all the world?
20. If you had been Kadali-Garbha would you have forgiven those who
tried to do you harm?
NOTES
[1] The city which occupied the site of present Patna was known as
Patali-Putra in the time of Alexander the Great.
[2] There are seventy-two versions of this tale in vogue amongst the
high castes of India; the one here given is taken from Raj-Yoga, the
highest form of Hindu ascetic philosophy.