‘Theft from the king’s treasury!’ The cry ran through the town. The thief must be found, or there will be trouble for the officer of the guards.
Vajrasen, a stranger from a foreign port, came to sell horses in the town, and, robbed by a band of robbers of all his earnings, was lying in a ruined temple outside the walls. They charged him with the theft, chained him, and led him through the streets to the prison.
Proud Shyama, of a perilous charm, sat in her balcony idly watching the passing crowd. Suddenly she shuddered, and cried to her attendant: ‘Alas, who is that godlike young man with a noble face, led in chains like a common thief? Ask the officer in my name to bring him in before me.’
The chief of the guards came with the prisoner, and said to Shyama: ‘Your favour is untimely, my lady; I must hasten to do the king’s bidding.’
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