# The Katha Sarit Sagara/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII.
In the meanwhile the ambassador, sent by the king of Vatsa in answer to Chandamahásena's embassy, went and told that monarch his master's reply. Chandamahásena for his part, on hearing it, began to reflect- "It is certain that that proud king of Vatsa will not come here. And I cannot send my daughter to his court, such conduct would be unbecoming; so I must capture him by some stratagem and bring him here as a prisoner." Having thus reflected and deliberated with his ministers, the king had made a large artificial elephant like his own, and, after filling it with concealed warriors, he placed it in the Vindhya forest. There the scouts kept in his pay by the king of Vatsa, who was passionately fond of the sport of elephant-catching, discerned it from a distance;* and they came with speed and informed the king of Vatsa in these words : " O king, we have seen a single elephant roaming in the Vindhya forest, such that nowhere else in this wide world is his equal to be found, filling the sky with his stature, like a moving peak of the Vindhya range."
Then the king rejoiced on hearing this report from the scouts, and he gave them a hundred thousand gold pieces by way of reward. The king spent that night in thinking; "If I obtain that mighty elephant, a fit match for Nadágiri, then that Chandamahásena will certainly be in my power, and then he will of his own accord give me his daughter Vásavadattá." So in the morning 'he started for the Vindhya forest, making these scouts shew him the way, disregarding, in his ardent desire to capture the elephant, the advice of his ministers. He did not pay any attention to the fact, that the astrologers said, that the position of the heavenly bodies at the moment of his departure portended the acquisition of a maiden together with imprisonment. When the king of Vatsa reached the Vindhya forest, he made his troops halt at a distance through fear of alarming that elephant, and accompanied by the scouts only, holding in his hand his melodious lute, he entered that great forest boundless as his own kingly vice. The king saw on the southern slope of the Vindhya range that elephant looking like a real one, pointed out to him by his scouts from a distance. He slowly approached it, alone, playing on his lute, thinking how he should bind it, and singing in melodious tones. As his mind was fixed on his ​music, and the shades of evening were setting in, that king did not perceive that the supposed wild elephant vas an artificial one. The elephant too for its part, lifting up its ears and Happing them, as if through delight in the music, kept advancing and then retiring, and so drew the king to a great distance. And then, suddenly issuing from that artificial elephant, a body of soldiers in full armour surrounded that king of Vatsa. When he beheld them, the king in a rage drew his hunting knife, but while he was lighting with those in front of him, he was seized by others coming up behind. And those warriors with the help of others, who appeared at a concerted signal, carried that king of Vatsa into the presence of Chandamahásena. Chandamahásena for his part came out to meet him with the utmost respect, and entered with him the city of Ujjayiní. Then the newly arrived king of Vatsa was beheld by the citizens, like the moon, pleasing to the eyes, though spotted with humiliation. Then all the citizens, suspecting that he was to be put to death, through, regard for his virtues assembled and determined to commit suicide.* Then the king Chandamahásena put a stop to the agitation of the citizens, by informing them that he did not intend to put the monarch of Vatsa to death, but to win him over. So the king made over his daughter Vásavadattá on the spot to the king of Vatsa, to be taught music, and said to him- "Prince, teach this lady music; in this way you will obtain a happy issue to your adventure, do not despond." But when he beheld that fair lady, the mind of the king of Vatsa was so steeped in love that he put out of sight his anger: and her heart and mind turned towards him together; her eye was then averted through modesty, but her mind not at all. So the king of Vatsa dwelt in the concert-room of Chandamahásena's palace, teaching Vasavadatta to sing, with his eyes ever fixed on her. In his lap was his lute, in his throat the quarter-tone of vocal music, and in front of him stood Vásavadattá delighting his heart. And that princess Vásavadattá was devoted in her attentions to him, resembling the goddess of Fortune in that she was firmly attached to him, and did not leave him though he was a captive.
In the meanwhile the men who had accompanied the king returned to Kauśámbí, and the country, hearing of the captivity of the monarch, was thrown into a state of great excitement. Then the enraged subjects, out of love for the king of Vatsa, wanted to make a general † assault on Ujjayiní. But Rumanvat checked the impetuous fury of the subjects by telling them that Chandamahásena was not to be overcome by force, for he was a mighty monarch, and besides that an assault was not advisable, for it might endanger the safety of the king of Vatsa; but their object must be attained by policy. Then the calm and resolute Yaugandharáyana, seeing that the ​ country was loyal, and would not swerve from its allegiance, said to Rumanvat and the others; "All of you must remain here, ever on the alert; you must guard this country, and when a fit occasion comes you must display your prowess; but I will go accompanied by Vasantaka only, and will without fail accomplish by my wisdom the deliverance of the king and bring him home. For he is a truly firm and resolute man whose wisdom shines forth in adversity, as the lightning flash is especially brilliant during pelting rain. I know spells for breaking through walls, and for rending fetters, and receipts for becoming invisible, serviceable at need." Having said this, and entrusted to Rumanvat the care of the subjects, Yaugandharáyana set out from Kauśámbí with Vasantaka. And with him he entered the Vindhya forest, full of life* like his wisdom, intricate and trackless as his policy. Then he visited the palace of the king of the Pulindas, Pulindaka by name, who dwelt on a peak of the Vindhya range, and was an ally of the king of Vatsa. He first placed him, with a large force at his heels, in readiness to protect the king of Vatsa when he returned that way, and then he went on accompanied by Vasantaka and at last arrived at the burning-ground of Mahákála in Ujjayiní, which was densely tenanted by vampires † that smelt of carrion, and hovered hither and thither, black as night, rivalling the smoke-wreaths of the funeral pyres. And there a Bráhman- Rákshasa of the name of Yogeśvara immediately came up to him, delighted to see him, and admitted him into his friendship; then, Yaugandharáyana by means of a charm, which he taught him, suddenly altered his shape. That charm immediately made him deformed, hunch-backed, and old, and besides gave him the appearance of a madman, so that he produced loud laughter in those who beheld him. And in the same way Yaugandharáyana, by means of that very charm, gave Vasantaka a body full of outstanding veins, with a large stomach, and an ugly mouth with projecting teeth; then he sent Vasantaka on in front to the gate of the king's palace, and entered Ujjayiní with such an appearance as I have described. There he, singing and dancing, surrounded by Bráhman boys, beheld with curiosity by all, made his way to the king's palace. And there he excited by that behaviour the curiosity of the king's wives, and was at ​ last heard of by Vásavadattá. She quickly sent a maid and had him brought to the concert-room. For youth is twin-brother to mirth. And when Yaugandharáyana came there and beheld the king of Vatsa in fetters, though he had assumed the appearance of a madman, he could not help shedding tears. And he made a sign to the king of Vatsa, who quickly recognized him, though he had come in disguise. Then Yaugandharáyana by means of his magic power made himself invisible to Vásavadattá and her maids. So the king alone saw him, and they all said with astonishment, "that maniac has suddenly escaped somewhere or other." Then the king of Vatsa hearing them say that, and seeing Yaugandharáyana in front of him, understood that this was due to magic, and cunningly said to Vásavadattá; "Go my good girl, and bring the requisites for the worship of Sarasvati." When she heard that, she said, "So I will," and went out with her companions. Then Yaugandharáyana approached the king and communicated to him, according to the prescribed form, spells for breaking chains; and at the same time he furnished him with other charms for winning the heart of Vásavadattá, which were attached to the strings of the lute; and informed him that Vasantaka had come there and was standing outside the door in a changed form, and recommended him to have that Bráhman summoned to him; at the same time he said- "When this lady Vásavadattá shall come to repose confidence in you, then you must do what I tell you, at the present remain quiet." Having said this, Yaugandharáyana quickly went out, and immediately Vásavadattá entered with the requisites for the worship of Sarasvatí. Then the king said to her, "There is a Bráhman standing outside the door, let him be brought in to celebrate this ceremony in honour of Sarasvatí, in order that he may obtain a sacrificial fee." Vásavadattá consented, and had Vasantaka, who wore a deformed shape summoned from the door into the music-hall. And when he was brought and saw the king of Vatsa, he wept for sorrow, and then the king said to him, in order that the secret might not be discovered, " O Bráhman, I will remove all this deformity of thine produced by sickness; do not weep, remain here near me." And then Vasantaka said- "It is a great condescension on thy part, O king." And the king seeing how he was deformed could not keep his countenance. And when he saw that, Vasantaka guessed what was in the king's mind, and laughed so that the deformity of his distorted face was increased; and thereupon Vásavadattá, beholding him grinning like a doll, burst out laughing also, and was much delighted; then the young lady asked Vasantaka in fun the following question: "Bráhman, what science are you familiar with, tell us?" So he said, "Princess, I am an adept at telling tales." Then she said " Come, tell me a tale." Then in order to please that princess, Vasantaka told the following tale, which was charming by its comic humour and variety. ​ Story of Rúpiniká:— There is in this country a city named Mathurá, the birthplace of Krishna, in it there was a hetœra known by the name of Rúpiniká; she had for a mother an old Kuttiní named Makaradanshtrá, who seemed a lump of poison in the eyes of the young men attracted by her daughter's charms. One day Rúpiniká went at the time of worship to the temple to perform her duty,* and beheld from a distance a young man. When she saw that handsome young fellow, he made such an impression upon her heart, that all her mother's instructions vanished from it. Then she said to her maid, "Go and tell this man from me, that he is to come to my house to-day." The maid said, "So I will," and immediately went and told him. Then the man thought a little and said to her; "I am a Bráhman named Lohajangha; I have no wealth; then what business have I in the house of Rúpiniká which is only to be entered by the rich." The maid said, "My mistress does not desire wealth from you,"—— whereupon Lohajangha consented to do as she wished. When she heard that from the maid, Rúpiniká went home in a state of excitement, and remained with her eyes fixed on the path by which he would come. And soon Lohajangha came to her house, while the kuttiní Makaradanshtrá looked at him, and wondered where he came from. Rúpiniká, for her part, when she saw him, rose up to meet him herself with the utmost respect, and clinging to his neck in her joy, led him to her own private apartments. Then she was captivated with Lohajangha's wealth of accomplishments, and considered that she had been only born to love him. So she avoided the society of other men, and that young fellow lived with her in her house in great comfort. Rúpiniká's mother, Makaradanshtrá, who had trained up many hetœrœ, was annoyed when she saw this, and said to her in private; "My daughter, why do you associate with a poor man? Hetœrœ of good taste embrace a corpse in preference to a poor man. What business has a hetœrœ like you with affection? How have you come to forget that great principle ? The light of a red † sunset lasts but a short time, and so does the splendour of a hetœra who gives way to affection. A hetœra, like an actress, should exhibit an assumed affection in order to get wealth; so forsake this pauper, do not ruin yourself." When she heard this speech of her mother's, Rúpiniká said in a rage, "Do not talk in this way, for I love him more than my life. And as for wealth, I have plenty, what do I want with more? So you must not speak to me again, mother, in this way." When she heard this, Makaradanshtrá was in a rage, and she remained thinking over some device for getting rid of this Lohajangha. Then she saw coming along the road a certain Rájpút, who had spent all his wealth, surrounded by retainers with ​swords in their hands. So she went up to him quickly and taking him aside, said—— "My house is beset by a certain poor lover. So Come there yourself to-day, and take such order with him that he shall depart from my house, and do you possess my daughter." "Agreed," said the Rájpút, and entered that house. At that precise moment Rúpiniká was in the temple, and Lohajangha meanwhile was absent somewhere, and suspecting nothing, he returned to the house a moment afterwards. Immediately the retainers of the Rájpút ran upon him, and gave him severe kicks and blows on all his limbs, and then they threw him into a ditch full of all kinds of impurities, and Lohnjangha with difficulty escaped from it. Then Rúpiniká returned to the house, and when she heard what had taken place, she was distracted with grief, so the Rájpút, seeing that, returned as he came.
Lohajangha, after suffering this brutal outrage by the machinations of the kuttiní, set out for some holy place of pilgrimage, in order to leave his life there, now that he was separated from his beloved. As he was going along in the wild country,* with his heart burning with anger against the Kuttiní, and his skin with the heat of the summer, he longed for shade. Not being able to find a tree, he lighted on the body of an elephant, which had been stripped of all its flesh † by jackals making their way into it by the hind-quarters; accordingly Lohajangha being worn out crept into this carcase, which was a mere shell, as only the skin remained, and went to sleep in it, as it was kept cool by the breeze which freely entered. Then suddenly clouds arose from all sides, and began to pour down a pelting shower of rain; that rain made the elephant's skin contract so that no aperture was left, and immediately a copious inundation came that way, and carrying off the elephant's hide swept it into the Ganges; so eventually the inundation bore it into the sea. And there a bird of the race of Garuda saw that hide, and supposing it to be carrion, took it to the other side of the sea; there it tore open the elephant's hide with its claws, and, seeing that there was a man inside it, fled away. But Lohajangha was awaked by the bird's pecking and scratching, and came out through the aperture made by its beak. And finding that he was on the other side of the sea, he was astonished, and looked upon the whole thing as a day-dream; then he saw there to his terror two horrible Rákshasas, and those two for their part contemplated him from a distance with feelings of fear. Remem​ bering how they were defeated by Ráma, and seeing that Lohajangha was also a man who had crossed the sea, they were once more alarmed in their hearts. So, after they had deliberated together, one of them went off immediately and told the whole occurrence to king Vibhíshana; king Vibhíshana too, as he had seen the prowess of Ráma, being terrified at the arrival of a man, said to that Rákshasa; "Go, my good friend, and tell that man from me in a friendly manner, that he is to do me the favour of coming to my palace." The Rákshasa said, "I will do so," and timidly approached Lohajangha, and told him that request of his sovereign's. Lohajangha for his part accepted that invitation with unruffled calm, and went to Lanká with that Rákshasa and his companion. And when he arrived in Lanká, he was astonished at beholding numerous splendid edifices of gold, and entering the king's palace, he saw Vibhíshana. The king welcomed the Bráhman, who blessed him in return, and then Vibhishana said, " Bráhman, how did you manage to reach this country?" Then the cunning Lohajangha said to Vibhíshana " I am a Bráhman of the name of Lohajangha residing in Mathurá; and I, Lohajangha being afflicted at my poverty, went to the temple of the god, and remaining fasting, for a long time performed austerities in the presence of Náráyana.* Then the adorable Hari* commanded me in a dream, saying, ' Go thou to Vibhíshana, for he is a faithful worshipper of mine, and he will give thee wealth.' Then, I said, ' Vibhíshana is where I cannot reach him'—— but the lord continued, 'To-day shalt thou see that Vibhíshana.' So the lord spake to me, and immediately I woke up and found myself upon this side of the sea. I know no more." When Vibhíshana heard this from Lohajangha, reflecting that Lanká was a difficult place to reach, he thought to himself " Of a truth this man possesses divine power." And he said to that Bráhman,——" Remain here, I will give you wealth." Then he committed him to the care of the man-slaying Rákshasas as an inviolable deposit; and sent some of his subjects to a mountain in his kingdom called Swarnamúla, and brought from it a young bird belonging to the race of Garuda; and he gave it to that Lohajangha, (who had to take a long journey to Mathurá,) to ride upon, in order that he might in the meanwhile break it in. Lohajangha for his part mounted on its back, and riding about on it in Lanká, rested there for some time, being hospitably entertained by Vibhíshana.
One day he asked the king of the Rákshasas, feeling curiosity on the point, why the whole ground of Lanká was made of wood; and Vibhíshana when he heard that, explained the circumstance to him, saying, " Bráhman, if you take any interest in this matter, listen, I will explain it to you. Long ago Garuda the son of Kaśyapa, wishing to redeem his mother from her slavery to the snakes, to whom she had been subjected in accordance ​ with an agreement,* and preparing to obtain from the gods the nectar which was the price of her ransom, wanted to eat something which would increase his strength, and so he went to his father, who being importuned said to him, "My son, in the sea there is a huge elephant, and a huge tortoise. They have assumed their present forms in consequence of a curse: go and eat them." Then Garuda went and brought them both to eat, and then perched on a bough of the great wishing-tree of paradise. And when that bough suddenly broke with his weight, he held it up with his beak, out of regard to the Bálakhilyas † who were engaged in austerities underneath it. Then Garuda, afraid that the bough would crush mankind, if he let it fall at random, by the advice of his father brought the bough to this uninhabited part of the earth, and let it drop. Lanká was built on the top of that bough, therefore the ground here is of wood." When he heard this from Vibhíshana, Lohajangha was perfectly satisfied.
Then Vibhíshana gave to Lohajangha many valuable jewels, as he desired to set out for Mathurá. And out of his devotion to the god Vishnu, who dwells at Mathurá, he entrusted to the care of Lohajangha a lotus, a club, a shell, and a discus all of gold, to be offered to the god; Lohajangha took all these, and mounted the bird given to him by Vibhíshana, that could accomplish a hundred thousand yojanas, ‡ and rising up into the air in Lanká, he crossed the sea and without any difficulty arrived at Mathurá. And there he descended from the air in an empty convent outside the town, and deposited there his abundant treasure, and tied up that bird. And then he went into the market and sold one of his jewels, and bought garments and scented unguents, and also food. And he ate the food in that convent where he was, and gave some to his bird; and he adorned himself with the garments, unguents, flowers and other decorations. And when night came, he mounted that same bird and went to the house of Rúpiniká, bearing in his hand the shell, discus and mace; then he hovered over it in the air, knowing the place well, and made a low deep sound, to attract the attention of his beloved, who was alone. But Rúpiniká, as soon as she heard that sound, came out, and saw hovering in the air by night a being like Náráyana, gleaming with jewels. He said to her, "I am Hari come hither for thy sake ;" whereupon she bowed with her face to the earth and said —— ​ "May the god have mercy upon me!" Then Lohajangha descended and tied up his bird, and entered the private apartments of his beloved hand in hand with her. And after remaining there a short time, he came out, and mounting the bird as before, went off through the air.* In the morning Rúpiniká remained observing an obstinate silence, thinking to herself —— I am the wife of the god Vishnu, I must cease to converse with mortals." And then her mother Makaradanshtrá said to her,—— "Why do you behave in this way, my daughter?" And after she had been perseveringly questioned by her mother, she caused to be put up a curtain between herself and her parent, and told her what had taken place in the night, which was the cause of her silence. When the kuttiní heard that, she felt doubt on the subject, but soon after at night she saw that very Lohajangha mounted on the bird, and in the morning Makaradanshtrá came secretly to Rúpiniká, who still remained behind the curtain, and inclining herself humbly, preferred to her this request; "Through the favour of the god, thou, my daughter, hast obtained here on earth the rank of a goddess, and I am thy mother in this world, therefore grant me a reward for giving thee birth; entreat the god that, old as I am, with this very body I may enter Paradise; do me this favour." Rúpiniká consented and requested that very boon from Lohajangha, who came again at night disguised as Vishnu. Then Lohajangha, who was personating the god, said to-that beloved of his —— " Thy mother is a wicked woman, it would not be fitting to take her openly to Paradise, but on the morning of the eleventh day the door of heaven is opened, and many of the Ganas, Śiva's companions, enter into it before any one else is admitted. Among them I will introduce this mother of thine, if she assume their appearance. So, shave her head with a razor, in such a manner that five locks shall be left, put a necklace of sculls round her neck, and stripping off her clothes, paint one side of her body with lamp-black, and the other with red lead, † for when she has in this way been made to resemble a Gana, I shall find it an easy matter to get her into heaven." When he had said this, Lohajangha remained a short time, and then departed. And in the morning Rúpiniká attired her mother as lie had directed; and then she remained with her mind entirely fixed on Paradise. So, when night came, Lohajangha appeared again, and Rúpiniká handed over her mother to ​him. Then he mounted on the bird, and took the kuttiní with him naked, and transformed as he had directed, and he flew up rapidly with her into the air. While he was in the air, he beheld a lofty stone pillar in front of a temple, with a discus on its summit. So he placed her on the top of the pillar, with the discus as her only support,* and there she hung like a banner to blazon forth his revenge for his ill-usage. He said to her—— "-Remain here a moment while I bless the earth with my approach," and vanished from her sight. Then beholding a number of people in front of the temple, who had come there to spend the night in devout vigils before the festive procession, he called aloud from the air ——"Hear, ye people, this very day there shall fall upon you here the all-destroying goddess of Pestilence, therefore fly to Hari for protection." When they heard this voice from the air, all the inhabitants of Mathurá who were there, being terrified, implored the protection of the god, and remained devoutly muttering prayers to ward off calamity. Lohajangha, for his part, descended from the air, and encouraged them to pray, and after changing that dress of his, came and stood among the people, without being observed. The Kuttiní thought, as she sat upon the top of the pillar,—— "the god has not come as yet, and I have not reached heaven." At last feeling it impossible to remain up there any longer, she cried out in her fear, so that the people below heard; "Alas! I am falling, I am falling." Hearing that, the people in front of the god's temple were beside themselves, fearing that the destroying goddess was falling upon them, even as had been foretold, and said, "O goddess, do not fall, do not fall." So those people of Mathurá, young and old, spent that night in perpetual dread that the destroying goddess would fall upon them, but at last it came to an end; and then beholding that kuttiní upon the pillar in the state described, † the citizens and the king recognized her at once; all the people thereupon forgot their alarm, and burst out laughing, and Rúpiniká herself at last arrived having heard of the occurrence. And when she saw it, she was abashed, and with the help of the people, who were there, she managed to get that mother of hers down from the top of the pillar immediately: then that kuttiní was asked by all the people there, who were filled with curiosity, to tell them the whole story, and she ​did so. Thereupon the king, the Bráhmans, and the merchants, thinking that that laughable incident must have been brought about by a sorcerer or some person of that description, made a proclamation, that whoever had made a fool of the Kuttiní, who had deceived innumerable lovers, was to shew himself, and he would receive a turban of honour on the spot. When he heard that, Lohajangha made himself known to those present, and being questioned, he related the whole story from its commencement. And he offered to the god the discus, shell, club, and lotus of gold, the present which Vibhíshana had sent, and which aroused the astonishment of the people. Then all the people of Mathurá, being pleased, immediately invested him with a turban of honour, and by the command of the king, made that Rúpiniká a free woman. And then Lohajangha, having wreaked upon the Kuttiní his wrath caused by her ill-usage of him, lived in great comfort in Mathurá with that beloved of his, being very well off by means of the large stock of jewels which he brought from Lanká.
Hearing this tale from the mouth of the transformed Vasantaka, Vásavadattá who was sitting at the side of the fettered king of Vatsa, felt extreme delight in her heart.
* ↑ * They would not go near for fear of disturbing it. Wild elephants are timid, so there is more probability in this story, than in that of the Trojan horse. Even now scouts who mark down a wild beast in India, almost lose their heads with excitement.
* ↑ * I.e., they sat in Dharna outside tho door of the palace.
* ↑ † Perhaps we should read samantatuh one word.
* ↑ * Sattva, when applied to the forest, means animal, when applied to wisdom, it means excellence.
* ↑ † Vetála is especially used of a goblin that tenants dead bodies. See Colonel R. Burton's Tales of Vikramáditya and the Vampire. They will be found in the 12th book of this work. In the Vth Chapter of Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales will be found much interesting information with regard to the Slavonic superstitions about Vampires. They resemble very closely those of the Hindus. See especially p. 311. "At cross-roads, or in the neighbourhood of cemeteries, an animated corpse of this description often lurks, watching for some unwary traveller whom it may be able to slay and eat."
* ↑ * Such people dance in temples I believe.
* ↑ † Ráginá means affectionate and also red.
* ↑ * Ataví is generally translated " forest." I believe the English word "forest" does not necessarily imply trees, but it is perhaps better to avoid it here.
* ↑ † For the vritam of the text I read kritam. Cp. this incident with Joseph's adventure in the 6th story of the Sicilianische Marchen. He is sown up in a horse's skin, and carried by ravens to the top of a high mountain. There he stamps and finds a wooden trap-door under his feet. In the notes Dr. Kohler refers to this passage, Campbell No. 44, the Story of Sindbad and other parallels,
* ↑ * Names of Vishnu, who become incarnate in the hero Krishna.
* ↑ * Names of Vishnu, who become incarnate in the hero Krishna.
* ↑ * Sec Chapter 22 sl. 181 and ff. Kaśyapa's two wives disputed about the colour of the sun's horses. They agreed that whichever was in the wrong should become a slave to the other. Kadrú, the mother of the snakes, won by getting her children to darken the horses. So Garuda's mother Vinatá became a slave.
* ↑ † Divine personages of the size of a thumb; sixty thousand were produced from Brahmá's body and surrounded the chariot of the sun.
* ↑ ‡ A yojana is probably 9 miles, some say 2½, some 4 or 5. See Monier Williams s.v.
* ↑ * Compare the 5th story in the first book of the Panchatantra, in Benfey's translation. Benfey shews that this story found its way into Mahometan collections, such as the Thousand and one Nights, and the Thousand and one Days, as also into the Decamerone of Boccaccio, and other European story-books, Vol. I, p. 159, and ff. The story, as given in the Panchatantra, reminds us of the Squire's Tale in Chaucer.
* ↑ † Thus she represented the Arddhanárísvara, or śiva half male, and half female, which compound figure is to be painted in this manner.
* ↑ * She held on to it by her hands.
* ↑ † Wilson remarks that this presents some analogy to the story in the Decamorone (Nov. 7 Gior. 8) of the scholar and the widow "la quale egli con un suo consiglio, di mezzo Luglio, ignuda, tutto un dí fa stare in su una torre." It also bears some resemblance to the story of the Master Thief in Thorpe's Yule-tide Stories, page 272. The Master thief persuades the priest that he will take him to heaven. He thus induces him to get into a sack, and then he throws him into the goose-house, and when the geese peck him, tells him that he is in purgatory. The story is Norwegian. See also Sir G. W. Cox's Mythology of the Aryan Nations, Vol. 1. p. 127.