‘I shall certainly go to another pool,’ exclaimed Slow-toes.

‘It would be better,’ answered the Crow and Deer together.

‘Yes!’ remarked the King of the Mice, after a minute’s thought; ’but how is Slow-toes to get across the country in time?  Animals like our amphibious host are best in the water; on land he might suffer from his own design, like the merchant’s son—­

    ’The merchant’s son laid plans for gains,
    And saw his wife kissed for his pains.’

‘How came that about?’ asked all.  “I’ll tell you,” answered Golden-skin.

THE PRINCE AND THE WIFE OF THE MERCHANT’S SON

“In the country of Kanouj there was a King named Virasena, and he made his son viceroy of a city called Virapoora.  The Prince was rich, handsome, and in the bloom of youth.  Passing through the streets of his city one day, he observed a very lovely woman, whose name was Lavanyavati—­i.e., the Beautiful—­the wife of a merchant’s son.  On reaching his palace, full of her charms and of passionate admiration for them, he despatched a message to her, and a letter, by a female attendant:—­who wonders at it?—­

    ’Ah! the gleaming, glancing arrows of a lovely woman’s eye! 
    Feathered with her jetty lashes, perilous they pass us by:—­
    Loosed at venture from the black bows of her arching brow they part,
    All too penetrant and deadly for an undefended heart.’

Now Lavanyavati, from the moment she saw the Prince, was hit with the same weapon of love that wounded him; but upon hearing the message of the attendant, she refused with dignity to receive his letter.

‘I am my husband’s,’ she said, ’and that is my honor; for—­

    ’Beautiful the Koil[10] seemeth for the sweetness of his song,
    Beautiful the world esteemeth pious souls for patience strong;
    Homely features lack not favor when true wisdom they reveal,
    And a wife is fair and honored while her heart is firm and leal.’

What the lord of my life enjoins, that I do.’

‘Is such my answer?’ asked the attendant.

‘It is,’ said Lavanyavati.

Upon the messenger reporting her reply to the Prince, he was in despair.

‘The God of the five shafts has hit me,’ he exclaimed, ’and only her presence will cure my wound.’

‘We must make her husband bring her, then,’ said the messenger.

‘That can never be,’ replied the Prince.

‘It can,’ replied the messenger—­

    ’Fraud may achieve what force would never try:—­
    The Jackal killed the Elephant thereby.’

‘How was that?’ asked the Prince.  The Slave related:—­

THE STORY OF THE OLD JACKAL AND THE ELEPHANT

“In the forest of Brahma[11] lived an Elephant, whose name was ‘White-front.’  The Jackals knew him, and said among themselves, ’If this great brute would but die, there would be four months’ food for us, and plenty, out of his carcase.’  With that an old Jackal stood up, and pledged himself to compass the death of the Elephant by his own wit.  Accordingly, he sought for ‘White-front,’ and, going up to him, he made the reverential prostration of the eight members, gravely saluting him.