{"collection":"Hinduism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/hin/lcc/lcc14.htm","path":"hin/lcc/lcc14.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/hin/lcc/lcc14.htm","text":"[Enter a monk, with a wet garment in his hand.]\nMonk.\nAnd further: I have seen that all things are transitory, so that now I am become the abode of virtues alone.\nI have dyed this robe of mine yellow. And now I will go into the garden of the king's brother-in-law, wash it in the pond, and go away as soon as I can. [He walks about and washes the robe.]\nA voice behind the scenes. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop!\nMonk. [Discovers the speaker. Fearfully.] Heaven help me! Here is the king's brother-in-law, Sansth\u0101naka. Just because one monk committed an offense, now, wherever he sees a monk, whether it is the same one or not, he bores a hole in his nose and drives him around like a bullock. Where shall a defenseless man find a defender? But after all, the bless\u00e8d Lord Buddha is my defender.\n[Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansth\u0101naka.]\nSansth\u0101naka. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound your head like a red radish 1 at a drinking party. [He strikes him.]\nCourtier. You jackass, you should not strike a monk who wears the yellow robes of renunciation. Why heed him? Look rather upon this garden, which offers itself to pleasure.\nMonk. Heaven bless you! Be merciful, servant of the Bless\u00e8d One!\nSansth\u0101naka. Did you hear that, shir? He's inshulting me.\nCourtier. What does he say?\nSansth\u0101naka. Shays I'm a shervant. What do you take me for? a barber?\nCourtier. A servant of the Bless\u00e8d One he calls you, and this is praise.\nSansth\u0101naka. Praise me shome more, monk!\nMonk. You are virtuous! You are a brick!\nSansth\u0101naka. Shee? He shays I'm virtuous. He shays I'm a brick. What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough? or a pot-maker? 2\nCourtier. You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are virtuous, that you are a brick.\nSansth\u0101naka. Well, shir, what did he come here for?\nMonk. To wash this robe.\nSansth\u0101naka. Confound the monk! My shishter's husband gave me the finesht garden there is, the garden Pushpakaranda. Dogs and jackals drink the water in thish pond. Now I'm an arishtocrat, I'm\na man, and I don't even take a bath. And here you bring your shtinking clothes, all shtained with shtale bean-porridge, and wash \u2019em! I think one good shtroke will finish you.\nCourtier. You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk.\nSansth\u0101naka. How can you tell, shir?\nCourtier. It doesn't take much to tell that. See!\nMonk. True, servant of the Bless\u00e8d One. I have been a monk but a short time.\nSansth\u0101naka. Then why haven't you been one all your life? [He beats him.]\nMonk. Buddha be praised!\nCourtier. Stop beating the poor fellow. Leave him alone. Let him go.\nSansth\u0101naka. Jusht wait a minute, while I take counshel.\nCourtier. With whom?\nSansth\u0101naka. With my own heart.\nCourtier. Poor fellow! Why didn't he escape?\nSansth\u0101naka. Blessh\u00e8d little heart, my little shon and mashter, shall the monk go, or shall the monk shtay? [To himself.] Neither go, nor shtay. [Aloud.] Well, shir, I took counshel with my heart, and my heart shays\u2014\nCourtier. Says what?\nSansth\u0101naka. He shall neither go, nor shtay. He shall neither breathe up, nor breathe down. He shall fall down right here and die, before you can shay \"boo.\"\nMonk. Buddha be praised! I throw myself upon your protection.\nCourtier. Let him go.\nSansth\u0101naka. Well, on one condition.\nCourtier. And what is that?\nSansth\u0101naka. He musht shling mud in, without making the water dirty. Or better yet, he musht make the water into a ball, and shling it into the mud.\nCourtier. What incredible folly!\n[The monk makes faces at Sansth\u0101naka.]\nSansth\u0101naka. What does he mean?\nCourtier. He praises you.\nSansth\u0101naka. Praise me shome more! Praise me again! [The monk does so, then exit.]\nCourtier. See how beautiful the garden is, you jackass.\nSansth\u0101naka. A good deshcription, shir.\nCourtier. Will you be seated on this stone bench, you jackass?\nSansth\u0101naka. I am sheated. [They seat themselves.] Do you know, shir, I remember that Vasantasen\u0101 even yet. She is like an inshult. I can't get her out of my mind.\nCourtier. [Aside.] He remembers her even after such a repulse. For indeed,\nSansth\u0101naka. Shome time has passhed, shir, shince I told my shervant Sth\u0101varaka to take the bullock-cart and come as quick as he could. And even yet he is not here. I've been hungry a long time, and at noon a man can't go a-foot. For shee!\nCourtier. True.\nSansth\u0101naka. Yesshir,\nWell, shir, that shervant isn't here yet. I'm going to shing shomething to passh the time. [He sings.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?\nCourtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!\nSansth\u0101naka. Why shouldn't it be malodorous?\nWell, shir, I'm jusht going to shing again. [He does so.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?\nBut shir, the shervant isn't here yet.\nCourtier. Be easy in your mind. He will be here presently.\n[Enter Vasantasen\u0101 in the bullock-cart, and Sth\u0101varaka.]\nSth\u0101varaka. I'm frightened. It is already noon. I hope Sansth\u0101naka, the king's brother-in-law, will not be angry. I must drive faster. Get up, bullocks, get up!\nVasantasen\u0101. Alas! That is not Vardham\u0101naka's voice. What does it mean? I wonder if Ch\u0101rudatta was afraid that the bullocks might become weary, and so sent another man with another cart. My right eye twitches. My heart is all a-tremble. There is no one in sight. Everything seems to dance before my eyes.\nSansth\u0101naka. [Hearing the sound of wheels.] The cart is here, shir.\nCourtier. How do you know?\nSansth\u0101naka. Can't you shee? It shqueaks like an old hog.\nCourtier. [Perceives the cart.] Quite true. It is here.\nSansth\u0101naka. Sth\u0101varaka, my little shon, my shlave, are you here?\nSth\u0101varaka. Yes, sir.\nSansth\u0101naka. Is the cart here?\nSansth\u0101naka. Are the bullocks here?\nSansth\u0101naka. And are you here?\nSth\u0101varaka. [Laughing.] Yes, master, I am here too.\nSansth\u0101naka. Then drive the cart in.\nSth\u0101varaka. By which road?\nSansth\u0101naka. Right here, where the wall is tumbling down.\nSth\u0101varaka. Oh, master, the bullocks will be killed. The cart will go to pieces. And I, your servant, shall be killed.\nSansth\u0101naka. I'm the king's brother-in-law, man. If the bullocks are killed, I'll buy shome more. If the cart goes to pieces, I'll have another one made. If you are killed, there will be another driver.\nSth\u0101varaka. Everything will be replaced\u2014except me.\nSansth\u0101naka. Let the whole thing go to pieces. Drive in over the wall.\nSth\u0101varaka. Then break, cart, break with your driver. There will be another cart. I must go and present myself to my master. [He drives in.] What! not broken? Master, here is your cart.\nSansth\u0101naka. The bullocks not shplit in two? and the ropes not killed? and you too not killed?\nSth\u0101varaka. No, sir.\nSansth\u0101naka. Come, shir. Let's look at the cart. You are my teacher, shir, my very besht teacher. You are a man I reshpect, my intimate friend, a man I delight to honor. Do you enter the cart firsht.\nCourtier. Very well. [He starts to do so.]\nSansth\u0101naka. Not much! Shtop! Is thish your father's cart, that you should enter it firsht? I own thish cart. I'll enter it firsht.\nCourtier. I only did what you said.\nSansth\u0101naka. Even if I do shay sho, you ought to be polite enough to shay \"After you, mashter.\"\nCourtier. After you, then.\nSansth\u0101naka. Now I'll enter. Sth\u0101varaka, my little shon, my shlave, turn the cart around.\nSth\u0101varaka. [Does so.] Enter, master.\nSansth\u0101naka. [Enters and looks about, then hastily gets out in terror, and falls on the courtier's neck.] Oh, oh, oh! You're a dead man! There's a witch, or a thief, that's sitting and living in my bullock-cart. If it's a witch, we'll both be robbed. If it's a thief, we'll both be eaten alive.\nCourtier. Don't be frightened. How could a witch travel in a bullock-cart? I hope that the heat of the midday sun has not blinded you, so that you became the victim of an hallucination when you saw the shadow of Sth\u0101varaka with the smock on it.\nSansth\u0101naka. Sth\u0101varaka, my little shon, my shlave, are you alive?\nSansth\u0101naka. But shir, there's a woman sitting and living in the bullock-cart. Look and shee!\nCourtier. A woman?\nVasantasen\u0101. [In amazement. Aside.] Oh, oh! It is that thorn in my eye, the king's brother-in-law. Alas! the danger is great. Poor woman! My coming hither proves as fruitless as the sowing of a handful of seeds on salty soil. What shall I do now?\nSansth\u0101naka. Thish old shervant is afraid and he won't look into the cart. Will you look into the cart, shir?\nCourtier. I see no harm in that. Yes, I will do it.\nSansth\u0101naka. Are those things jackals that I shee flying into the air, and are those things crows that walk on all fours? While the witch is chewing him with her eyes, and looking at him with her teeth, I'll make my eshcape.\nCourtier. [Perceives Vasantasen\u0101. Sadly to himself.] Is it possible? The gazelle follows the tiger. Alas!\n[Aside to Vasantasen\u0101.] Ah, Vasantasen\u0101! This is neither right, nor worthy of you.\nVasantasen\u0101. No! [She shakes her head.]\nCourtier.\nDid I not tell 1 you to \"serve the man you love, and him you hate\"?\nVasantasen\u0101. I made a mistake in the cart, and thus I came hither. I throw myself upon your protection.\nCourtier. Do not fear. Come, I must deceive him. [He returns to Sansth\u0101naka.] Jackass, there is indeed a witch who makes her home in the cart.\nSansth\u0101naka. But shir, if a witch is living there, why aren't you robbed? And if it's a thief, why aren't you eaten alive?\nCourtier. Why try to determine that? But if we should go back on foot through the gardens until we came to the city, to Ujjayin\u012b, what harm would that do?\nSansth\u0101naka. And if we did, what then?\nCourtier. Then we should have some exercise, and should avoid tiring the bullocks.\nSansth\u0101naka. All right. Sth\u0101varaka, my shlave, drive on. But no! Shtop, shtop! I go on foot before gods and Brahmans? Not much! I'll go in my cart, sho that people shall shee me a long way off, and shay \"There he goes, our mashter, the king's brother-in-law.\"\nCourtier. [Aside.] It is hard to convert poison into medicine. So be it, then. [Aloud.] Jackass, this is Vasantasen\u0101, come to visit you.\nVasantasen\u0101. Heaven forbid!\nSansth\u0101naka. [Gleefully.] Oh, oh! To visit me, an arishtocrat, a man, a regular V\u0101sudeva?\nCourtier. Yes.\nSansth\u0101naka. This is an unheard-of piece of luck. That other time I made her angry, sho now I'll fall at her feet and beg her pardon.\nCourtier. Capital!\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll fall at her feet myshelf. [He approaches Vasantasen\u0101.] Little mother, mamma dear, lishten to my prayer.\nVasantasen\u0101. [Angrily.] Leave me! Your words are an insult! [She spurns him with her foot.]\nSansth\u0101naka. [Wrathfully.]\nSth\u0101varaka, you shlave, where did you pick her up?\nSth\u0101varaka. Master, the highway was blocked by villagers\u2019 wagons. So I stopped my cart near Ch\u0101rudatta's orchard, and got out. And\nwhile I was helping a villager with his wagon, I suppose she mistook this cart for another, and climbed in.\nSansth\u0101naka. Oho! she mishtook my cart for another? and didn't come to shee me? Get out of my cart, get out! You're going to visit your poor merchant's shon, are you? Those are my bullocks you're driving. Get out, get out, you shlave! Get out, get out!\nVasantasen\u0101. Truly, you honor me when you say that I came to see Ch\u0101rudatta. Now what must be, must be.\nSansth\u0101naka. These hands of mine, ten-finger-naily,\nCourtier. So virtuous ladies may not be\nStand up, man. I will help her to alight. Come, Vasantasen\u0101! [Vasantasen\u0101 alights and stands apart.]\nSansth\u0101naka. [Aside.] The flame of wrath was kindled when she despised my proposition, and now it blazes up because she kicked me. Sho now I'll murder her. Good! Thish way. [Aloud.] Well, shir, what do you want?\nCourtier. Well?\nSansth\u0101naka. Do me a favor.\nCourtier. Certainly. Anything, unless it be a sin.\nSansth\u0101naka. There's not a shmell of a shin in it, shir. Not a perfume!\nCourtier. Speak, then.\nSansth\u0101naka. Murder Vasantasen\u0101.\nCourtier. [Stopping his ears.]\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll give you a boat. And beshides, in thish deserted garden, who'll shee you murdering her?\nCourtier. The regions ten, 1 the forest gods, the sky,\nSansth\u0101naka. Well then, put your cloak over her and murder her.\nCourtier. You fool! You scoundrel!\nSansth\u0101naka. The old hog is afraid of a shin. Never mind. I'll pershuade Sth\u0101varaka, my shlave. Sth\u0101varaka, my little shon, my shlave, I'll give you golden bracelets.\nSth\u0101varaka. And I'll wear them.\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll have a golden sheat made for you.\nSth\u0101varaka. And I'll sit on it.\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll give you all my leavings.\nSth\u0101varaka. And I'll eat them.\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll make you the chief of all my shervants.\nSth\u0101varaka. Master, I'll be the chief.\nSansth\u0101naka. You only have to attend to what I shay.\nSth\u0101varaka. Master, I will do anything, unless it be a sin.\nSansth\u0101naka. There's not a shmell of a shin in it.\nSth\u0101varaka. Then speak, master.\nSth\u0101varaka. Oh, master, be merciful! Unworthy as I am, I brought this worthy lady hither, because she mistook this bullock-cart for another.\nSansth\u0101naka. You shlave, ain't I your mashter?\nSth\u0101varaka. Master of my body, not of my character. Be merciful, master, be merciful! I am afraid.\nSansth\u0101naka. You're my shlave. Who are you afraid of?\nSth\u0101varaka. Of the other world, master.\nSansth\u0101naka. Who is thish \"other world\"?\nSth\u0101varaka. Master, it is a rewarder of righteousness and sin.\nSansth\u0101naka. What is the reward of righteoushness?\nSth\u0101varaka. To be like my master, with plenty of golden ornaments.\nSansth\u0101naka. What is the reward of shin?\nSth\u0101varaka. To be like me, eating another man's bread. That is why I will do no sin.\nSansth\u0101naka. Sho you won't murder her? [He beats him with all his might.]\nSth\u0101varaka. You may beat me, master. You may kill me, master. I will do no sin.\nVasantasen\u0101. Sir, I throw myself upon your protection.\nCourtier. Pardon him, jackass! Well done, Sth\u0101varaka!\nAnd again:\nSansth\u0101naka. [Aside.] The old jackal is afraid of a shin, and the \"lifelong shlave\" is afraid of the other world. Who am I afraid of, I, the king's brother-in-law, an arishtocrat, a man? [Aloud.] Well, shervant, you \"lifelong shlave,\" you can go. Go to your room and resht and keep out of my way.\nSth\u0101varaka. Yes, master. [To Vasantasen\u0101.] Madam, I have no further power.\n[Exit.\nSansth\u0101naka. [Girds up his loins.] Wait a minute, Vasantasen\u0101, wait a minute. I want to murder you.\nCourtier. You will kill her before my eyes? [He seizes him by the throat.]\nSansth\u0101naka. [Falls to the ground.] Shir, you're murdering your mashter. [He loses consciousness, but recovers.]\n[After reflection.] Good! I have an idea. The old jackal gave her a hint by shaking his head at her. Sho I'll shend him away, and then I'll murder Vasantasen\u0101. That's the idea. [Aloud.] Shir, I was born in a noble family as great as a wine-glass. How could I do that shin I shpoke about? I jusht shaid it to make her love me.\nCourtier. Why should you boast of this your noble birth?\nSansth\u0101naka. She's ashamed to confessh her love when you're here. Please go. My shervant Sth\u0101varaka has gone too after getting a beating. He may be running away. Catch him, shir, and come back with him.\nCourtier. [Aside.]\n[Aloud.] Very well. I go.\nVasantasen\u0101. [Seizing the hem of his garment.] Did I not throw myself upon your protection?\nCourtier. Do not fear, Vasantasen\u0101. Jackass, Vasantasen\u0101 is a pledge, committed to your hand.\nSansth\u0101naka. All right. Jusht let her be committed to my hand. It's a pledge that I'll execute.\nCourtier. Are you honest?\nSansth\u0101naka. Honesht.\nCourtier. [Takes a few steps.] No! If I go, the wretch might kill her. I will conceal myself for a moment, and see what he intends to do. [He stands apart.]\nSansth\u0101naka. Good! I'll murder her. But no! Perhaps thish tricky trickshter, thish Brahman, thish old jackal, has gone and hidden himshelf; he might raise a howl like the jackal he is. I'll jusht do thish to deceive him. [He gathers flowers and adorns himself.] Vasantasen\u0101, my love, my love! Come!\nCourtier. Yes, he has turned lover. Good! I am content. I will go.\nSansth\u0101naka. I'll give you gold, I'll call you shweet;\nVasantasen\u0101. How can you ask? [She bows her head and recites the following verses.]\nThough poverty may strike a good man low,\n Peculiar honor waits upon his woe;\n And \u2019tis the glory of a courtezan\n To set her love upon an honest man.33\nAnd I, who have loved the mango-tree, I cannot cling to the locust-tree.\nSansth\u0101naka. Wench, you make that poor little Ch\u0101rudatta into a mango-tree, and me you call a locusht-tree, not even an acacia! That's the way you abuse me, and even yet you remember Ch\u0101rudatta.\nVasantasen\u0101. Why should I not remember him who dwells in my heart?\nSansth\u0101naka. Thish very minute I'm going to shtrangle \"him who dwells in your heart,\" and you too. Shtand shtill, you poor-merchant-man's lover!\nVasantasen\u0101. Oh speak, oh speak again these words that do me honor!\nSansth\u0101naka. Jusht let poor Ch\u0101rudatta\u2014the shon of a shlave-reshcue you now!\nVasantasen\u0101. He would rescue me, if he saw me.\nSansth\u0101naka. Is he the king of gods? the royal ape?\nBut even if he was, he couldn't reshcue you.\n[He raises his arm to strike her.]\nVasantasen\u0101. Mother! where are you? Oh, Ch\u0101rudatta! my heart's longing is unfulfilled, and now I die! I will scream for help. No! It would bring shame on Vasantasen\u0101, should she scream for help. Heaven bless Ch\u0101rudatta!\nSansth\u0101naka. Does the wench shpeak that rashcal's name even yet? [He seizes her by the throat.] Remember him, wench, remember him!\nVasantasen\u0101. Heaven bless Ch\u0101rudatta!\nSansth\u0101naka. Die, wench! [He strangles her. Vasantasen\u0101 loses consciousness, and falls motionless.]\nSansth\u0101naka. [Gleefully.]\nShe would not love me, though I loved the wench;\n \u00a0\u00a0I shaw the empty garden, set the shnare, p. 126\n And frightened her, and made the poor girl blench.\n My brother! Oh, my father! Thish is where\n You misshed the shight of heroism shtout;\n Your brother and your shon here blosshomed out\n Into a man; like Mother Draupad\u012b,\n You were not there, my bravery to shee.37\nGood! The old jackal will be here in a minute. I'll shtep ashide and wait. [He does so.]\n[Enter the courtier, with Sth\u0101varaka.]\nCourtier. I have persuaded the servant Sth\u0101varaka to come back, and now I will look for the jackass. [He walks about and looks around him.] But see! A tree has fallen by the roadside, and killed a woman in its fall. O cruel! How couldst thou do this deed of shame? And when I see that a woman was slain by thy fatal fall, I too am felled to the earth. Truly, my heart's fear for Vasantasen\u0101 was an evil omen. Oh, heaven grant that all may yet be well! [He approaches Sansth\u0101naka.] Jackass, I have persuaded your servant Sth\u0101varaka to return.\nSansth\u0101naka. How do you do, shir? Sth\u0101varaka, my little shon, my shlave, how do you do?\nSth\u0101varaka. Well, thank you.\nCourtier. Give me my pledge.\nSansth\u0101naka. What pledge?\nCourtier. Vasantasen\u0101.\nSansth\u0101naka. She's gone.\nCourtier. Where?\nSansth\u0101naka. Right after you.\nCourtier. [Doubtfully.] No, she did not go in that direction.\nSansth\u0101naka. In what direction did you go?\nCourtier. Toward the east.\nSansth\u0101naka. Well, she went shouth. 1\nCourtier. So did I.\nSansth\u0101naka. She went north.\nCourtier. This is nonsense. My heart is not satisfied. Speak the truth.\nSansth\u0101naka. I shwear by your head, shir, and my own feet. You may be easy in your heart. I murdered her.\nCourtier. [Despairingly.] You really killed her?\nSansth\u0101naka. If you don't believe my words, then shee the firsht heroic deed of Sansth\u0101naka, the king's brother-in-law. [He points out the body.]\nCourtier. Alas! Ah, woe is me! [He falls in a swoon.]\nSansth\u0101naka. Hee, hee! The gentleman is calm enough now!\nSth\u0101varaka. Oh, sir! Come to yourself! I am the first murderer, for I brought the bullock-cart hither without looking into it.\nCourtier. [Comes to himself. Mournfully.] Alas, Vasantasen\u0101!\n[Tearfully.] Ah, woe is me!\n[Aside.] Ah! Perhaps the wretch means to lay this sin to my charge. I must go hence. [He walks about. Sansth\u0101naka approaches and holds him back.] Scoundrel! Touch me not. I have done with you. I go.\nSansth\u0101naka. Aha! Firsht you murder Vasantasen\u0101, then you abuse me, and now where will you run to? And sho a man like me hasn't anybody to protect him.\nCourtier. You are an accurs\u00e8d scoundrel!\nSansth. I'll give you countless wealth, a piece of gold,\nCourtier. A curse upon you! Yours, and yours only, be the deed.\nSth\u0101varaka. Heaven avert the omen! [Sansth\u0101naka bursts out laughing.]\nCourtier. Be enmity between us! Cease your mirth!\nSansth\u0101naka. Don't be angry. Come, let's go and play in the pond.\nCourtier. Unstained my life, and yet it seems to me\n[Mournfully.] Vasantasen\u0101,\nSansth\u0101naka. Firsht you murder Vasantasen\u0101 in my old garden Pushpakaranda, and now where will you run to? Come, defend yourshelf in court before my shishter's husband! [He holds him back.]\nCourtier. Enough, you accurs\u00e8d scoundrel! [He draws his sword.]\nSansth\u0101naka. [Recoiling in terror.] Shcared, are you? Go along, then.\nCourtier. [Aside.] It would be folly to remain here. Well, I will go and join myself to Sharvilaka, Chandanaka, and the rest.\nSansth\u0101naka. Go to hell. Well, my little shon Sth\u0101varaka, what kind of a thing is thish that I've done?\nSth\u0101varaka. Master, you have committed a terrible crime.\nSansth\u0101naka. Shlave! What do you mean by talking about a crime? Well, I'll do it thish way. [He takes various ornaments from his person.] Take these gems. I give \u2019em to you. Whenever I want to wear them, I'll take them back again, but the resht of the time they are yours.\nSth\u0101varaka. They should be worn only by my master. What have I to do with such things?\nSansth\u0101naka. Go along! Take these bullocks, and wait in the tower of my palace until I come.\nSth\u0101varaka. Yes, master.\nSansth\u0101naka. The gentleman has made himshelf invisible. He wanted to save himshelf. And the shlave I'll put in irons in the palace tower, and keep him there. And sho the shecret will be shafe. I'll go along, but firsht I'll take a look at her. Is she dead, or shall I murder her again? [He looks at Vasantasen\u0101.] Dead as a door-nail! Good! I'll cover her with thish cloak. No, it has my name on it. Shome honesht man might recognize it. Well, here are shome dry leaves that the wind has blown into a heap. I'll cover her with them. [He does so, then pauses to reflect.] Good! I'll do it thish way. I'll go to court at once, and there I'll lodge a complaint. I'll shay that the merchant Ch\u0101rudatta enticed Vasantasen\u0101 into my old garden Pushpakaranda, and killed her for her money.\nNow I'm ready to go. [He starts to go away, but perceives something that frightens him.] Goodnessh gracioush me! Wherever I go, thish damned monk comes with his yellow robes. I bored a hole\nin his nose once and drove him around, and he hates me. Perhaps he'll shee me, and will tell people that I murdered her. How shall I eshcape? [He looks about.] Aha! I'll jump over the wall where it is half fallen down, and eshcape that way.\n[Exit.]\n[Enter hurriedly the Buddhist monk, ex-shampooer.]\nMonk. I've washed these rags of mine. Shall I let them dry on a branch? no, the monkeys would steal them. On the ground? the dust would make them dirty again. Well then, where shall I spread them out to dry? [He looks about.] Ah, here is a pile of dry leaves which the wind has blown into a heap. I'll spread them out on that. [He does so.] Buddha be praised! [He sits down.] Now I will repeat a hymn of the faith.\nAfter all, what have I to do with heaven, before I have paid my debt to Vasantasen\u0101, my sister in Buddha? She bought my freedom for ten gold-pieces from the gamblers, and since that day I regard myself as her property. [He looks about.] What was that? a sigh that arose from the leaves? It cannot be.\n[Vasantasen\u0101 begins to recover consciousness, and stretches out her hand.]\nMonk. Ah, there appears a woman's hand, adorned with beautiful gems. What! a second hand? [He examines it with the greatest care.] It seems to me, I recognize this hand. Yes, there is no doubt about it. Surely, this is the hand that saved me. But I must see for myself. [He uncovers the body, looks at it, and recognizes it.] It is my sister in Buddha. [Vasantasen\u0101 pants for water.] Ah, she seeks water, and the pond is far away. What shall I do? An idea! I will hold this robe over her and let it drip upon her. [He does so. Vasantasen\u0101 recovers consciousness, and raises herself: The monk fans her with his garment.]\nVasantasen\u0101. Who are you, sir?\nMonk. Has my sister in Buddha forgotten him whose freedom she bought for ten gold-pieces?\nVasantasen\u0101. I seem to remember, but not just as you say. It were better that I had slept never to waken.\nMonk. What happened here, sister in Buddha?\nVasantasen\u0101. [Despairingly.] Nothing but what is fitting\u2014for a courtezan.\nMonk. Sister in Buddha, support yourself by this creeper 1 that clings to the tree, and rise to your feet. [He bends down the creeper. Vasantasen\u0101 takes it in her hand, and rises.]\nMonk. In yonder monastery dwells one who is my sister in the faith. There shall my sister in Buddha be restored before she returns home. You must walk very slowly, sister. [He walks about and looks around him.] Make way, good people, make way! This is a young lady, and I am a monk, yet my conduct is above reproach.\n[Exeunt.\n109:1 An allusion to the practice by which the Buddhists induced a state of religious ecstasy.\n109:2 The five senses.\n109:3 Ignorance.\n109:4 The body.\n109:5 The conceit of individuality.\n110:1 Used as an appetizer.\n110:2 The elaborate puns of this passage can hardly be reproduced in a translation.\n120:1 The four cardinal points, the four intermediate points, the zenith, and the nadir.\n126:1 The region of Yama, god of death.\n131:1 A monk may not touch a woman.","title":"The Little Clay Cart: Act the Eighth: The Strangling of Vasantasen\u0101","type":"page"}