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though his two friends tried to prevent him, " We have been your servants, your Highness, for a long time, and you have never given us anything, nevertheless we have remained here because we had hopes from your son; for we thought that, although you have never given us anything, your son would certainly give us something. If Fate has carried him off, what is the use of remaining here now? We will immediately take our departure." Thus he exclaimed, and fell at the feet of the king, and went out with his two friends. The king reflected— " Ah ! though these men had fixed their hopes on my son, they have been faithful servants to me, so I must not abandon them." Thereupon he immediately had Prasanga and his companions summoned, and loaded them so with wealth that poverty did not again lay hold on them.
" So you see, men have various dispositions, for that king did not give at the proper season, but did give in the unseasonable hour of calamity." When Gomukha, skilful in story-telling, had said this, he went on, at the instigation of the son of the sovereign of Vatsa, to tell the following tale:
Story of king Kanakavarsha and Madanasundarí.:— There was in old time on the banks of the Ganges an excellent city, named Kanakapura, the people of which were purified in the water of the river; and which was a delightful place on account of its good government. In this city the only imprisonment seen was the committing to paper of the words of poets, the only kind of defeat was the curling in the locks of the women, the only contest was the struggle of getting the corn into the granary.*[1]
In that city there dwelt in old time a glorious king, named Kanakavarsha, who was born to Priyadarśana, the son of Vásuki, king of the snakes, by the" princess Yaśodhará. Though he bore the weight of the whole earth, he was adorned with innumerable virtues, he longed for glory, not for wealth, he feared sin, not his enemy. He was dull in slandering his neighbour, but not in the holy treatises ; there was restraint in the highsouled hero's wrath, not in his favour; he was resolute-minded; he was niggardly in curses, not in gifts; he ruled the whole world; and such was his extraordinary beauty that all women, the moment they saw him, were distracted with the pain of love.
Once on a time, in an autumn, that was characterized by heat, that maddened elephants, that was attended by flocks of swans, and delighted the subjects with rejoicings, †[2] he entered a picture-palace which was cooled
