to his offer. No buyer appears. The sun is about to set. Death stares
him in the face. Not that he fears death. Why should he fear it? He has
given away his kingdom. His queen has been sold. Life has no further
attraction for him. Death has been stripped of its terrors. But death by
the fire of a Brahmin's anger leads to everlasting hell. He sees the
vision of hell, falls down on the ground like a plantain tree blown by a
tempest, and faints.

Virtue preserves him who practises virtue. Virtue assumes the form of a
Chandal and accompanied by an attendant, makes his appearance, with a
half-burnt bamboo on his shoulders and a chain of skeletons round his
neck. He is ready to buy the king, who now weeps bitterly, and holding
the feet of the sage, entreats him thus:--

"Oh lord Kausika! Do me a favour I pray you. Do not sell me to a
Chandal. Do _you_ rather buy me. I shall be your slave for ever."

On this, the sage flies into a rage and exclaims:--

"Oh villain! Do not trifle with me. You have all this time been
pretending that you want buyers. As soon as a buyer appears in the
field, you feel ashamed to be sold to a Chandal! I cannot brook any more
delay. I take up water to destroy you."

The king begs his pardon, sells himself to the Chandal and pays down the
fee to the sage, who then retires.

The king now puts on the dress of a Chandal and is appointed with two
others to collect rags in a burning-ground. Hideous is the
burning-ground. Dogs and jackals are tearing up carcasses which lie