Page:Katha sarit sagara, vol2.djvu/252

 and said to him— " King, if I have found favour in your eyes, go alone a long way from here towards the south, and you will find anaśoka-tree. On it there is a dead man hanging up; go and bring him here; assist me in this matter, hero." As soon as the brave king, who was faithful to his promise, heard this, he said, " I will do so," and went towards the south. And after he had gone some way in that direction, along a path revealed by the light of the flaming pyres, he reached with difficulty in the darkness that aśoka- tree; the tree was scorched with the smoke of funeral pyres, and smelt of raw flush, and looked like a Bhúta, and he saw the corpse hanging on its trunk, as it were on the shoulder of a demon. So he climbed up, and cutting the string which held it, flung it to the ground. And the moment it was flung down, it cried out, as if in pain. Then the king, supposing it was alive, came down and rubbed its body out of compassion; that made the corpse utter a loud demoniac laugh. Then the king knew that it was possessed by a Vetála, and said without flinching, " Why do you laugh? Come, let us go off." And immediately he missed from the ground the corpse possessed by the Vetála, and perceived that it was once more suspended on that very tree. Then he climbed up again and brought it down, for the heart of heroes is a gem more impenetrable than adamant. Then king Trivikranasena threw the corpse possessed by a Vetála over his shoulder, and proceeded to go off with it, in silence. And as he was going along, the Vetála in the corpse that was on his shoulder said to him, " King, I will tell you a story to beguile the way, listen."

Story of the prince, who was helped to a wife by the son of his father' s minister* .:— There is a city named Váránasí, which is the dwelling-place of Śiva, inhabited by holy beings, and thus resembles the plateau of mount Kailása. The river Ganges, ever full of water, flows near it, and appears as if it were the necklace ever resting on its neck; in that city there lived of old time a king named Pratápamukuța, who consumed the families of his enemies with his valour, as the fire consumes the forest. He had a son named Vajramukuța, who dashed the god of love's pride in his beauty, and his enemies' confidence in their valour. And that prince had a friend, named Buddbiśaríra, whom he valued more than his life, the sagacious son of a minister. Once on a time that prince was amusing himself with that friend, and his excessive devotion to the chase made him travel a long distance. As he was cutting off the long-maned † heads of lions with his arrows, as it were the chowries that represented the glory of their valour, he entered a great forest. It seemed like the chosen home of love, with singing cuckoos