Once on a time a hermit's son of the name of Ruru, wandering about at will, saw a maiden of wonderful beauty, the daughter of a heavenly nymph named Menaká by a Vidyádhara, and brought up by a hermit of the name of Sthúlakesa in his hermitage. That lady, whose name was Prishadvará, so captivated the mind of that Ruru when he saw her, that he went and begged the hermit to give her to him in marriage. Sthúlakesa for his part betrothed the maiden to him, and when the wedding was nigh at hand, suddenly an adder bit her. Then the heart of Ruru was full of despair, but he heard this voice in the heaven--"O Bráhman raise to life with the gift of half thy own life, [198] this maiden, whose allotted term is at an end." When he heard that, Ruru gave her the half of his own life, as he had been directed; by means of that she revived, and Ruru married her. Thenceforward he was incensed with the whole race of serpents, and whenever he saw a serpent he killed it, thinking to himself as he killed each one--"This may have bitten my wife." One day a water snake said to him with human voice, as he was about to slay it, "You are incensed against adders, Bráhman, but why do you slay water-snakes? An adder bit your wife, and adders are a distinct species from water-snakes; all adders are venomous, water-snakes are not venomous." When he heard that, he said in answer to the water-snake,--"My friend, who are you?" The water-snake said, "Bráhman, I am a hermit fallen from my high estate by a curse, and this curse was appointed to last till I held converse with you." When he had said this he disappeared, and after that Ruru did not kill water-snakes. So I said this to you metaphorically, "My queen, you are angry with adders and you kill water-snakes." When he had uttered this speech, full of pleasing wit, Vasantaka ceased, and Vásavadattá sitting at the side of her husband was pleased with him. Such soft and sweet tales in which Vasantaka displayed various ingenuity, did the loving Udayana, king of Vatsa, continually make use of to conciliate his angry wife, while he sat at her feet. That happy king's tongue was ever exclusively employed in tasting the flavour of wine, and his ear was ever delighting in the sweet sounds of the lute, and his eye was ever riveted on the face of his beloved. NOTE TO CHAPTER XIV.