Wretched!--Listen to the advice of a wretched King to his wretched subjects. It is futile to be impatient, and try to break through the net of the inexorable Fisherman. Sooner or later, Death the Fisherman will have his haul. Well then? Let me have the Pundit, and his _Book of Renunciation_. And in this scarcity---- Vizier! The real scarcity is of time, and not of food. We are all suffering from starvation of time. None of us has enough of it, neither the King, nor his people. Then---- Then know, that our petitions for more time will all go to the last fire of doom. So why strain our voice in prayer?--Ah, here is Sruti-bhushan at last. My reverence to you. Pundit, do tell the King that the Goddess of Fortune deserts him who gives way to melancholy. Sruti-bhushan, what is my Vizier whispering to you? He tells me, King, to instruct you in the ways of fortune. What instruction can you give? There is a verse in my book of devotions which runs as follows: _Fortune, as fickle as lotus-flower, Closes her favours when comes the hour. Oh, foolish man, how can you trust her, Who comes of a sudden, and goes in a fluster?_ Ah, Pundit. One breath of your teaching blows out the false flame of ambition. Our teacher has said: "Teeth fall out, hair grows grey; Yet man clings to hope that plays him false." Well, King, now that you have introduced the subject of hope, let me give you another verse from the _Ocean of Renunciation_. It runs as follows: _That fetters are binding, all are aware; But fetters of hope are strange, I declare. Hope's captive is tossed in the whirlpool's wake, And only grows still when the fetters break._ Ah, Pundit. Your words are priceless. Vizier, give him a hundred gold sequins at once. What's that noise outside? It is the famine-stricken people. Tell them to hold their peace. Let Sruti-bhushan, with his book of devotions, go and try to bring them peace; and, in the meanwhile, Your Majesty might discuss war matters---- No, no. Let the war matters come later. I can't let Sruti-bhushan go yet. King, you said something to me, a moment ago, about a gift of gold. Now mere gold, by itself, does not confer any permanent benefit. It is said in my book of devotions, called the _Ocean of Renunciation_: _He who gives gold, gives only pain; When the gold is spent grief comes again. When a lakh, or crore, of gold is spent, Grief only remains in the empty tent._ Ah, Pundit. How exquisite. So you don't want any gold, my Master? No, King, I don't want gold, but something more permanent, which would make your merit permanent also. I should be quite content, if you gave me the living of Kanchanpur. For it is said in the _Renunciation_---- No, Pundit, I quite understand. You needn't quote scripture to support your claim. I understand quite well--Vizier! Yes, Your Majesty.