But that covetous hawker came back to the house, and said: "Bring out that dish, I'll give you something for it!"
Then she scolded him, and said, "You said our gold dish, worth a hundred thousand, was not worth a half-penny. But a just dealer, who seems to be your master,[1] gave us a thousand for it, and has taken it away."
When he heard this he called out, "Through this fellow I have lost a golden pot worth — O, worth a hundred thousand ! He has ruined me altogether!" And bitter sorrow overcame him, and he was unable to retain his presence of mind; and he lost all self-command. And scattering the money he had, and all the goods, at the door of the house, he seized as a club the yoke by which he had carried them, and tore off his clothes, and pursued after the Bodisat.
When he reached the river-side, he saw the Bodisat going away, and he cried out, "Hallo, Boatman! stop the boat!"
But the Bodisat said, "Don't stop!" and so prevented that. And as the other gazed and gazed at the departing Bodisat, he was torn with violent grief; his heart grew hot, and blood flowed from his mouth until his heart broke — like tank-mud in the heat of the sun!
Thus harbouring hatred against the Bodisat, he brought about on that very spot his own destruction. This was the first time that Devadatta harboured hatred against the Bodisat.
But the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other good acts, and passed away according to his deeds.
- ↑ The reader will not take this too seriously. The old lady's scorn turns as easily here to irony as her gratitude above finds expression in flattery.
