every secret in her presence. The religious prince would have
slaughtered a cow--that sole unforgivable sin--to save one of her
eyelashes: the absolute king would not drink a cup of water
without her permission; the staid philosopher, the sober quietist, to
win from her the shadow of a smile, would have danced before her
like a singing-girl. So desperately enamoured became Bhartari
Raja.

It is written, however, that love, alas! breeds not love; and so it
happened to the Regent. The warmth of his affection, instead of
animating his wife, annoyed her; his protestations wearied her; his
vows gave her the headache; and his caresses were a colic that
made her blood run cold. Of course, the prince perceived nothing,
being lost in wonder and admiration of the beauty's coyness and
coquetry. And as women must give away their hearts, whether
asked or not, so the lovely Dangalah Rani lost no time in lavishing
all the passion of her idle soul upon Mahi-pala, the handsome
ambassador of peace and war. By this means the three were happy
and were contented; their felicity, however, being built on a rotten
foundation, could not long endure. It soon ended in the following
extraordinary way.

In the city of Ujjayani,[FN#24] within sight of the palace, dwelt a
Brahman and his wife, who, being old and poor, and having
nothing else to do, had applied themselves to the practice of
austere devotion.[FN#25] They fasted and refrained from drink,
they stood on their heads and held their arms for weeks in the air;
they prayed till their knees were like pads; they disciplined
themselves with scourges of wire; and they walked about unclad in
the cold season, and in summer they sat within a circle of flaming