_Maitreya._ This is right, this is perfectly right, that strangers should force their way into the house, just because Chārudatta is poor. _Radanikā._ Oh, Maitreya, see how they insult me. _Maitreya._ What! insult you? No, they are insulting us. _Radanikā._ Very well. They are insulting you, then. _Maitreya._ But they aren't using violence? _Radanikā._ Yes, yes! _Maitreya._ Really? _Radanikā._ Really. _Maitreya._ [_Raising his staff angrily._] No, sir! Man, a dog will show his teeth in his own kennel, and I am a Brahman! My staff is crooked as my fortunes, but it can still split a dry bamboo or a rascal's pate. _Courtier._ Have mercy, O great Brahman, have mercy. _Maitreya._ [_Discovers the courtier._] He is not the sinner. [_Discovers Sansthānaka._] Ah, here is the sinner. Well, you brother-in-law to the king, Sansthānaka, you scoundrel, you coward, this is perfectly proper, isn't it? Chārudatta the good is a poor man now--true, but are not his virtues an ornament to Ujjayinī? And so men break into his house and insult his servants! Insult not him, laid low by poverty; For none are counted poor by mighty fate: Yet he who falls from virtue's high estate, Though he be rich, no man is poor as he. 43 _Courtier._ [_Betraying his embarrassment._] Have mercy, O great Brahman, have mercy. We intended no insolence; we merely mistook this lady for another. For We sought an amorous maiden, _Maitreya._ What! this one? _Courtier._ Heaven forbid! one whose youth Is in the guidance of her own sweet will; She disappeared: unconscious of the truth, We did what seems a purposed deed of ill. 44 P. 35.4] I pray you, accept this all-in-all of humblest supplication. [_He drops his sword, folds his hands, and falls at Maitreya's feet._] _Maitreya._ Good man, rise, rise. When I reviled you, I did not know you. Now I know you and I ask your pardon. _Courtier._ It is I who should ask pardon. I will rise on one condition. _Maitreya._ And that is-- _Courtier._ That you will not tell Chārudatta what has happened here. _Maitreya._ I will be silent. _Courtier._ Brahman, this gracious act of thine I bow my neck to bear; For never could this sword of mine With virtue's steel compare. 45 _Sansthānaka._ [_Indignantly._] But mashter, what makes you fold your hands sho helplesshly and fall at the feet of thish manikin? _Courtier._ I was afraid. _Sansthānaka._ What were _you_ afraid of? _Courtier._ Of Chārudatta's virtues. _Sansthānaka._ Virtues? He? You can go into his houshe and not find a thing to eat. _Courtier._ No, no.