The Little Clay Cart: Act the Eighth: The Strangling of Vasantasenā

[The monk makes faces at Sansthānaka.]

Sansthānaka. What does he mean?

Courtier. He praises you.

Sansthānaka. Praise me shome more! Praise me again! [The monk does so, then exit.]

Courtier. See how beautiful the garden is, you jackass.

Sansthānaka. A good deshcription, shir.

Courtier. Will you be seated on this stone bench, you jackass?

Sansthānaka. I am sheated. [They seat themselves.] Do you know, shir, I remember that Vasantasenā even yet. She is like an inshult. I can't get her out of my mind.

Courtier. [Aside.] He remembers her even after such a repulse. For indeed,

Sansthānaka. Shome time has passhed, shir, shince I told my shervant Sthāvaraka 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!

Courtier. True.

Sansthānaka. Yesshir,

Well, 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?

Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!

Well, shir, I'm jusht going to shing again. [He does so.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?

Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!

Sansthānaka. Why shouldn't it be malodorous?

But shir, the shervant isn't here yet.

Courtier. Be easy in your mind. He will be here presently.

[Enter Vasantasenā in the bullock-cart, and Sthāvaraka.]

Sthāvaraka. I'm frightened. It is already noon. I hope Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law, will not be angry. I must drive faster. Get up, bullocks, get up!

Vasantasenā. Alas! That is not Vardhamānaka's voice. What does it mean? I wonder if Chārudatta 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.

Sansthānaka. [Hearing the sound of wheels.] The cart is here, shir.

Courtier. How do you know?

Sansthānaka. Can't you shee? It shqueaks like an old hog.

Courtier. [Perceives the cart.] Quite true. It is here.

Sansthānaka. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you here?

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. Is the cart here?

Sansthānaka. Now I'll enter. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, turn the cart around.

Sthāvaraka. [Does so.] Enter, master.

Sansthānaka. [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.

Courtier. 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 Sthāvaraka with the smock on it.

Sansthānaka. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you alive?

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. But shir, there's a woman sitting and living in the bullock-cart. Look and shee!

Courtier. A woman?

Vasantasenā. [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?

Sansthānaka. Thish old shervant is afraid and he won't look into the cart. Will you look into the cart, shir?

Courtier. I see no harm in that. Yes, I will do it.

[Aside to Vasantasenā.] Ah, Vasantasenā! This is neither right, nor worthy of you.

Vasantasenā. No! [She shakes her head.]

Courtier.

Vasantasenā. Heaven forbid!

Sansthānaka. [Gleefully.] Oh, oh! To visit me, an arishtocrat, a man, a regular Vāsudeva?

Courtier. Yes.

Sansthānaka. 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.

Courtier. Capital!

Sansthānaka. I'll fall at her feet myshelf. [He approaches Vasantasenā.] Little mother, mamma dear, lishten to my prayer.

Vasantasenā. [Angrily.] Leave me! Your words are an insult! [She spurns him with her foot.]

Sansthānaka. [Wrathfully.]

Sthāvaraka, you shlave, where did you pick her up?

Sthāvaraka. Master, the highway was blocked by villagers’ wagons. So I stopped my cart near Chārudatta's orchard, and got out. And

Courtier. So virtuous ladies may not be

Stand up, man. I will help her to alight. Come, Vasantasenā! [Vasantasenā alights and stands apart.]

Sansthānaka. [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?

Courtier. Well?

Sansthānaka. Do me a favor.

Sansthānaka. I'll give you a boat. And beshides, in thish deserted garden, who'll shee you murdering her?

Sansthānaka. What is the reward of righteoushness?

Sthāvaraka. To be like my master, with plenty of golden ornaments.

Sansthānaka. What is the reward of shin?

Sthāvaraka. To be like me, eating another man's bread. That is why I will do no sin.

Sansthānaka. Sho you won't murder her? [He beats him with all his might.]

Sthāvaraka. You may beat me, master. You may kill me, master. I will do no sin.

Vasantasenā. Sir, I throw myself upon your protection.

Courtier. Pardon him, jackass! Well done, Sthāvaraka!

And again:

Sansthānaka. [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.

Sthāvaraka. Yes, master. [To Vasantasenā.] Madam, I have no further power.

[Exit.

Sansthānaka. [Girds up his loins.] Wait a minute, Vasantasenā, wait a minute. I want to murder you.

Courtier. You will kill her before my eyes? [He seizes him by the throat.]

Sansthānaka. [Falls to the ground.] Shir, you're murdering your mashter. [He loses consciousness, but recovers.]

[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 Vasantasenā. 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.

Sansthānaka. She's ashamed to confessh her love when you're here. Please go. My shervant Sthāvaraka has gone too after getting a beating. He may be running away. Catch him, shir, and come back with him.

Courtier. [Aside.]

[Aloud.] Very well. I go.

Vasantasenā. [Seizing the hem of his garment.] Did I not throw myself upon your protection?

Courtier. Do not fear, Vasantasenā. Jackass, Vasantasenā is a pledge, committed to your hand.

Sansthānaka. All right. Jusht let her be committed to my hand. It's a pledge that I'll execute.

Courtier. Are you honest?

Sansthānaka. Honesht.

Courtier. [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.]

Sansthānaka. 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.] Vasantasenā, my love, my love! Come!

Courtier. Yes, he has turned lover. Good! I am content. I will go.

[Exit.

Vasantasenā. How can you ask? [She bows her head and recites the following verses.]

And I, who have loved the mango-tree, I cannot cling to the locust-tree.

Sansthānaka. Wench, you make that poor little Chārudatta 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 Chārudatta.

Vasantasenā. Why should I not remember him who dwells in my heart?

Sansthānaka. 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!

Vasantasenā. Oh speak, oh speak again these words that do me honor!

Sansthānaka. Jusht let poor Chārudatta—the shon of a shlave-reshcue you now!

Vasantasenā. He would rescue me, if he saw me.

Sansthānaka. Is he the king of gods? the royal ape?

But even if he was, he couldn't reshcue you.

[He raises his arm to strike her.]

Vasantasenā. Mother! where are you? Oh, Chārudatta! my heart's longing is unfulfilled, and now I die! I will scream for help. No! It would bring shame on Vasantasenā, should she scream for help. Heaven bless Chārudatta!

Sansthānaka. Does the wench shpeak that rashcal's name even yet? [He seizes her by the throat.] Remember him, wench, remember him!

Vasantasenā. Heaven bless Chārudatta!

Sansthānaka. Die, wench! [He strangles her. Vasantasenā loses consciousness, and falls motionless.]

Sansthānaka. [Gleefully.]

Good! The old jackal will be here in a minute. I'll shtep ashide and wait. [He does so.]

[Enter the courtier, with Sthāvaraka.]

Courtier. I have persuaded the servant Sthāvaraka 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 Vasantasenā was an evil omen. Oh, heaven grant that all may yet be well! [He approaches Sansthānaka.] Jackass, I have persuaded your servant Sthāvaraka to return.

Sansthānaka. How do you do, shir? Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, how do you do?

Sthāvaraka. Well, thank you.

Courtier. Give me my pledge.

Sansthānaka. What pledge?

Courtier. Vasantasenā.

Sansthānaka. She's gone.

Courtier. Where?

Sansthānaka. Right after you.

Courtier. [Doubtfully.] No, she did not go in that direction.

Sansthānaka. In what direction did you go?

Courtier. Toward the east.

[Tearfully.] Ah, woe is me!

[Aside.] Ah! Perhaps the wretch means to lay this sin to my charge. I must go hence. [He walks about. Sansthānaka approaches and holds him back.] Scoundrel! Touch me not. I have done with you. I go.

Sansthānaka. Aha! Firsht you murder Vasantasenā, then you abuse me, and now where will you run to? And sho a man like me hasn't anybody to protect him.

Courtier. A curse upon you! Yours, and yours only, be the deed.

Sthāvaraka. Heaven avert the omen! [Sansthānaka bursts out laughing.]

Courtier. Be enmity between us! Cease your mirth!

Sansthānaka. Don't be angry. Come, let's go and play in the pond.

Courtier. Unstained my life, and yet it seems to me

[Mournfully.] Vasantasenā,

Sansthānaka. Firsht you murder Vasantasenā 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.]

Courtier. Enough, you accursèd scoundrel! [He draws his sword.]

Sansthānaka. [Recoiling in terror.] Shcared, are you? Go along, then.

Courtier. [Aside.] It would be folly to remain here. Well, I will go and join myself to Sharvilaka, Chandanaka, and the rest.

[Exit.

Sansthānaka. 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 Vasantasenā.] 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 Chārudatta enticed Vasantasenā into my old garden Pushpakaranda, and killed her for her money.

Now 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

[Exit.]

[Enter hurriedly the Buddhist monk, ex-shampooer.]

Monk. 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.

After all, what have I to do with heaven, before I have paid my debt to Vasantasenā, 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.

[Vasantasenā begins to recover consciousness, and stretches out her hand.]