Sanskrit literature -- Translations into English; Tales -- India
He was in despair and walked up and down, trying in vain to think of
some way of escape. “I shall die here of starvation, unless my wife
finds some means of setting me free,” he said. “I wish I had treated
her better instead of being so sulky with her.” He tried the bars of
the window, but they were very strong: he could not hope to move them.
And he beat against the door, but no notice was taken of that.
9. What lesson does the trouble Hari-Sarman was in teach?
10. Do you think it would have been better for him to tell the king he
could not reveal secrets?
CHAPTER VI
When it got quite dark in the prison, Hari-Sarman began to talk to
himself aloud. “Oh,” he said, “I wish I had bitten my tongue out before
I told that lie about the mare. It is all my foolish tongue which has
got me into this trouble. Tongue! Tongue!” he went on, “it is all your
fault.”
Now a very strange thing happened. The money and jewels had been stolen
by a man, who had been told where they were by a young servant girl in
the palace whose name was Jihva, which is the Sanskrit word for tongue;
and this girl was in a great fright when she heard that a revealer of
secrets had been taken before the king. “He will tell of my share in
the matter,” she thought, “and I shall get into trouble,” It so
happened that the guard at the prison door was fond of her, as well as
the thief who had stolen the money and jewels. So when all was quiet in
the palace, Jihva slipped away to see if she could get that guard to
let her see the prisoner. “If I promise to give him part of the money,”
she thought, “he will undertake not to betray me.”
The guard was glad enough when Jihva came to talk to him, and he let
her listen at the key-hole to what Hari-Sarman was saying. Just imagine
her astonishment when she heard him repeating her name again and again.
“Jihva! Jihva! Thou,” he cried, “art the cause of this suffering. Why
didst thou behave in such a foolish manner, just for the sake of the
good things of this life? Never can I forgive thee, Jihva, thou wicked,
wicked one!”
“Oh! oh!” cried Jihva in an agony of terror, “he knows the truth; he
knows that I helped the thief.” And she entreated the guard to let her
into the prison that she might plead with Hari-Sarman not to tell the
king what she had done. The man hesitated at first, but in the end she
persuaded him to consent by promising him a large reward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account