I AM sent with a message to my mistress by her mother. I must go in and find my mistress. [She walks about and looks around her.] There is my mistress. She is painting a picture, and putting her whole heart into it. I must go and speak to her.
[Then appear the love-lorn Vasantasenā, seated, and Madanikā.]
Vasantasenā. Well, girl, and then—
Madanikā. But mistress, you were not speaking of anything. What do you mean?
Vasantasenā. Why, what did I say?
Madanikā. You said, "and then"—
Vasantasenā. [Puckering her brows.] Oh, yes. So I did.
Maid. [Approaching.] Mistress, your mother sends word that you should bathe and then offer worship to the gods.
Vasantasenā. You may tell my mother that I shall not take the ceremonial bath to-day. A Brahman must offer worship in my place.
Maid. Yes, mistress.
[Exit.
Madanikā. My dear mistress, it is love, not naughtiness, that asks the question—but what does this mean?
Vasantasenā. Tell me, Madanikā. How do I seem to you?
Madanikā. My mistress is so absent-minded that I know her heart is filled with longing for somebody.
Vasantasenā. Well guessed. My Madanikā is quick to fathom another's heart.
Madanikā. I am very, very glad. Yes, Kāma is indeed mighty, and
1behind the scenes. Oh, sir, a shampooer owes me ten gold-pieces, and he got away from us. Hold him, hold him! [To the fleeing shampooer.] Stop, stop! I see you from here. [Enter hurriedly a frightened shampooer.]
Shampooer. Oh, confound this gambling business!
Freed from its tether, the ace— I might better say "ass"—how it kicks me! And the cast of the dice called the "spear" Proves true to its name; for it sticks me. The keeper's whole attention Was busy with the score; So it took no great invention To vanish through the door. But I cannot stand forever In the unprotected street. Is there no one to deliver? I would fall before his feet.
While the keeper and the gambler are looking somewhere else for me, I'll just walk backwards into this empty temple and turn goddess. [He makes all sorts of gestures, takes his place, and waits. Enter Māthura and the gambler.]
You that cheat an honest gambler? You that shake with fear and shiver, All a-tremble, all a-quiver; You that cannot trip enough, On the level ground and rough; You that stain your social station, Family, and reputation!
Gambler. [Examining the footprints.] Here he goes. And here the tracks are lost.
Māthura. [Gazes at the footprints. Reflectively.] Look! The feet are turned around. And the temple hasn't any image. [After a moment's thought.] That rogue of a shampooer has gone into the temple with his feet turned around.
Gambler. Let's follow him.
Māthura. All right. [They enter the temple and take a good look, then make signs to each other.]
Gambler. What! a wooden image?
Māthura. Of course not. It's stone. [He shakes it with all his might, then makes signs.] What do we care? Come, let's have a game. [He starts to gamble as hard as he can.]
Shampooer. [Trying with all his might to repress the gambling fever. Aside.] Oh, oh!
Oh, the rattle of dice is a charming thing, When you haven't a copper left;
Shampooer. [Coming up quickly from behind.] Isn't it my turn?
Gambler. We've got our man.
Māthura. [Seizing him.] You jail-bird, you're caught. Pay me my ten gold-pieces.
Shampooer. I'll pay you this very day.
Māthura. Pay me this very minute!
Shampooer. I'll pay you. Only have mercy!
Māthura. Come, will you pay me now?
Shampooer. My head is getting dizzy. [He falls to the ground. The others beat him with all their might.]
Māthura. There [drawing the gamblers’ ring] you're bound by the gamblers’ ring.
Shampooer. [Rises. Despairingly.] What! bound by the gamblers’ ring? Confound it! That is a limit which we gamblers can't pass. Where can I get the money to pay him?
Māthura. Well then, you must give surety.
Shampooer. I have an idea. [He nudges the gambler.] I'll give you half, if you'll forgive me the other half.
Gambler. All right.
Shampooer. [To Māthura.] I'll give you surety for a half. You might forgive me the other half.
You earn your coin by gambling, Your friends and wife by gambling, Your gifts and food by gambling; Your last cent goes by gambling.
And again:
My cash was taken by the trey; The deuce then took my health away; The ace then set me on the street; The four completed my defeat.
[He looks before him.] Here comes Māthura, our sometime gambling-master. Well, as I can't escape, I think I'll put on my veil. [He makes any number of gestures with his cloak, then examines it.]
This cloth is sadly indigent in thread; This lovely cloth lets in a lot of light; This cloth's protective power is nearly fled; This cloth is pretty when it's rolled up tight.
Yet after all, what more could a poor saint do? For you see,
One foot I've planted in the sky, The other on the ground must lie. 1 The elevation's rather high, But the sun stands it. Why can't I?
Māthura. Pay, pay!
Shampooer. How can I pay? [Māthura drags him about.]
Darduraka. Well, well, what is this I see? [He addresses a bystander.] What did you say, sir? "This shampooer is being maltreated by the gambling-master, and no one will save him"? I'll save him myself. [He presses forward.] Stand back, stand back!
Well, I must pacify Māthura. [He approaches.] How do you do, Māthura? [Māthura returns the greeting.]
Darduraka. What does this mean?
Māthura. He owes me ten gold-pieces.
Darduraka. A mere bagatelle!
Māthura. [Pulling the rolled-up cloak from under Darduraka's arm.] Look, gentlemen, look! The man in the ragged cloak calls ten gold-pieces a mere bagatelle.
Darduraka. My good fool, don't I risk ten gold-pieces on a cast of the dice? Suppose a man has money—is that any reason why he should put it in his bosom and show it? But you,
You'll lose your caste, you'll lose your soul, For ten gold-pieces that he stole, To kill a man that's sound and whole, With five good senses in him.
Māthura. Ten gold-pieces may be a mere bagatelle to you, sir. To me they are a fortune.
Darduraka. Well then, listen to me. Just give him ten more, and let him go to gambling again.
Shampooer. [Trembles as he walks away and looks about him.] Here is a house where somebody has left the side-door open. I will go in. [He enters and perceives Vasantasenā.] Madam, I throw myself upon your protection.
Vasantasenā. He who throws himself upon my protection shall be safe. Close the door, girl. [The maid does so.]
Vasantasenā. What do you fear?
Shampooer. A creditor, madam.
Vasantasenā. You may open the door now, girl.
Shampooer. [To himself.] Ah! Her reasons for not fearing a creditor are in proportion to her innocence. The proverb is right:
The man who knows his strength and bears a load Proportioned to that strength, not more nor less, Is safe from stumbling and from sore distress, Although he wander on a dreary road.
That means me.
Māthura. [Wiping his eyes. To the gambler.] Pay, pay!
Gambler. While we were quarreling with Darduraka, sir, the man escaped.
Māthura. I broke that shampooer's nose for him with my fist. Come on! Let's trace him by the blood. [They do so.]
Madanikā. Whence are you, sir? or who are you, sir? or whose son are you, sir? or what is your business, sir? or what are you afraid of?
Shampooer. Listen, madam. My birthplace is Pātaliputra, madam. I am the son of a householder. I practise the trade of a shampooer. Vasantasenā. It is a very dainty art, sir, which you have mastered.
Shampooer. Madam, as an art I mastered it. It has now become a mere trade.
Madanikā. Your answers are most disconsolate, sir. Pray continue.
Shampooer. Yes, madam. When I was at home, I used to hear travelers tell tales, and I wanted to see new countries, and so I came here. And when I had come here to Ujjayinī, I became the servant of a noble gentleman. Such a handsome, courteous gentleman! When he gave money away, he did not boast; when he was injured, he forgot it. To cut a long story short: he was so courteous that he regarded his own person as the possession of others, and had compassion on all who sought his protection.
Madanikā. Who may it be that adorns Ujjayinī with the virtues which he has stolen from the object of my mistress’ desires?
Vasantasenā. Good, girl, good! I had the same thought in mind.
Madanikā. But to continue, sir
Shampooer. Madam, he was so compassionate and so generous that now—
Vasantasenā. His riches have vanished?
Shampooer. I didn't say it. How did you guess it, madam?
Vasantasenā. What was there to guess? Virtue and money seldom keep company. In the pools from which men cannot drink there is so much the more water.
Shampooer. So I became a servant in his employ. And when his wealth was reduced to his virtue, I began to live by gambling. But fate was cruel, and I lost ten gold-pieces.
Māthura. I am ruined! I am robbed!
Shampooer. There are the gambling-master and the gambler, looking for me. You have heard my story, madam. The rest is your affair.
Vasantasenā. Madanikā, the birds fly everywhither when the tree is shaken in which they have their nests. Go, girl, and give the gambling-master and the gambler this bracelet. And tell them that this gentleman sends it. [She removes a bracelet from her arm, and gives it to Madanikā.]
Madanikā. [Receiving the bracelet.] Yes, mistress. [She goes out.]
I haven't got any money. You'll have to look somewhere else.
Madanikā. You are certainly no gambler, if you talk that way. Is there any one who owes you money?
Māthura. There is. He owes ten gold-pieces. What of him?
Madanikā. In his behalf my mistress sends you this bracelet. No, no! He sends it himself.
Māthura. [Seizing it joyfully.] Well, well, you may tell the noble youth that his account is squared. Let him come and seek delight again in gambling.
[Exeunt Māthura and the gambler.
Madanikā. [Returning to Vasantasenā.] Mistress, the gambling-master and the gambler have gone away well-pleased.
Vasantasenā. Go, sir, and comfort your kinsfolk.
Shampooer. Ah, madam, if it may be, these hands would gladly practise their art in your service.
Vasantasenā. But sir, he for whose sake you mastered the art, who first received your service, he should have your service still.
Shampooer. [Aside.] A very pretty way to decline my services. How shall I repay her kindness? [Aloud.] Madam, thus dishonored as a gambler, I shall become a Buddhist monk. And so,
Shampooer. [Listening.] What is this? What is this? [Addressing some one behind the scenes.] What did you say? "Post-breaker, Vasantasenā's rogue elephant, is at liberty!" Hurrah! I must go and see the lady's best elephant. No, no! What have I to do with these things? I must hold to my resolution.
[Exit.
[Then enter hastily Karnapūraka, highly delighted, wearing a gorgeous mantle.]
Karnapūraka. Where is she? Where is my mistress?
Madanikā. Insolent! What can it be that so excites you? You do not see your mistress before your very eyes.
Karnapūraka. [Perceiving Vasantasenā.] Mistress, my service to you.
Vasantasenā. Karnapūraka, your face is beaming. What is it?
Karnapūraka. [Proudly.] Oh, mistress! You missed it! You didn't see Karnapūraka's heroism to-day!
Vasantasenā. What, Karnapūraka, what?
Karnapūraka. Listen. Post-breaker, my mistress’ rogue elephant, broke the stake he was tied to, killed his keeper, and ran into the street, making a terrible commotion. You should have heard the people shriek,
Take care of the babies, as quick as you can, And climb up a roof or a tree!
And:
How they lose their ankle-rings! Girdles, set with gems and things, Break away from fastenings!
As they stumble, trip, and blunder, See the bracelets snap asunder, Each a tangled, pearly wonder!
And that rogue of an elephant dives with his trunk and his feet and his tusks into the city of Ujjayinī, as if it were a lotus-pond in full flower. At last he comes upon a Buddhist monk. 1 And while the man's staff and his water jar and his begging-bowl fly every which way, he drizzles water over him and gets him between his tusks. The people see him and begin to shriek again, crying "Oh, oh, the monk is killed!"
Vasantasenā. [Anxiously.] Oh, what carelessness, what carelessness!
Karnapūraka. Don't be frightened. Just listen, mistress. Then, with a big piece of the broken chain dangling about him, he picked him up, picked up the monk between his tusks, and just then Karnapūraka saw him, I saw him, no, no! the slave who grows fat on my mistress' rice-cakes saw him, stumbled with his left foot over a gambler's score, grabbed up an iron pole out of a shop, and challenged the mad elephant—
Vasantasenā. Go on! Go on!
Karnap. I hit him—in a fit of passion, too—
He really looked like some great mountain peak. And from between those tusks of his I drew The sacred hermit meek.
Vasantasenā. Splendid, splendid! But go on!
Karnapūraka. Then, mistress, all Ujjayinī tipped over to one side,
