One day, when the princess had gone to seek roots and fruits, and the prince watching the children kept himself within the borders of the hermitage, there arrived a Brâhman, whose feet and ankles were stiff with the dust of the journey, and whose eyes and cheeks were sunken by toil; he was bearing over his shoulder a wooden club, from which his waterpot hung down. His wife had despatched him with the pressing errand, to go and search after some attendance. When the Bodhisattva saw a mendicant coming up to him after a long time, his heart rejoiced, and his countenance began to beam. He went to meet him, and welcomed him with kind words. After the usual complimentary conversation he told him to enter the hermitage, where he entertained him with the honour due to a guest. Then he asked him the object of his coming. And the Brâhman, who through fondness for his wife had banished virtue and shame and was but eager to receive his boon, said in truth something like this: 53. 'Where a light is and an even road, there it is easy for men to go. But in this world the darkness of selfishness prevails to such a degree that no other men would support my words of request. 54. 'Thy brilliant renown of heroic almsgiving has penetrated everywhere. For this reason I have undertaken this labour of begging from thee. Give me both thy children to be my attendants.' Being so addressed, the Bodhisattva, that Great Being, 55. As he was in the habit of cheerfully giving to mendicants and had never learnt to say no, bravely said that he would give even both his darlings. 'Bless thee! But what art thou still waiting for?' Thus speaking the Brâhman urged the Great Being. Now the children, having heard their father saying he would give them away, became afflicted, and their eyes filled with tears. His affection for them agitated him, and made his heart sink. So the Bodhisattva spoke: 56, 57. 'They are thine, being given by me to thee. But their mother is not at home. She went out to the forest in search of roots and fruits; she will come back at evening-time. Let their mother see them, neatly dressed as they are now and bearing wreaths, and kiss[88] them (farewell). Rest this night here; to-morrow thou shalt carry them away.' [88] The literal translation is 'to smell at.' This old and traditional manner of caressing is prescribed in the ritual-books, see for instance, Â_s_valâyanag_ri_hyasûtra I, 15, 9; Pâraskara I, 18; Gobhila II, 8, 22 and 25. The Brâhman said: 'Thy Reverence ought not to urge me. 58. 'A metaphorical name of womankind is "beautiful charmers[89]," thou knowest. She might prove a hindrance to the fulfilment of thy promise. Therefore I do not like staying here.'