He beheld, O king, a large piece of flesh,
of a dog that had recently been slain with a weapon, spread on the floor
of a Chandala's hut. The sage reflected and arrived at the conclusion
that he should steal that meat. And he said unto himself, 'I have no
means now of sustaining life. Theft is allowable in a season of distress
for even an eminent person. It will not detract from his glory. Even a
Brahmana for saving his life may do it. This is certain. In the first
place one should steal from a low person. Failing such a person one may
steal from one's equal. Failing an equal, one may steal from even an
eminent and righteous man. I shall then, at this time when my life itself
is ebbing away, steal this meat. I do not see demerit in such theft. I
shall, therefore, rob this haunch of dog's meat.' Having formed this
resolution, the great sage Viswamitra laid himself down for sleep in that
place where the Chandala was. Seeing some time after that the night had
advanced and that the whole Chandala hamlet had fallen asleep, the holy
Viswamitra, quietly rising up, entered that hut. The Chandala who owned
it, with eyes covered with phlegm, was lying like one asleep. Of
disagreeable visage, he said these harsh words in a broken and dissonant
voice.
"The Chandala said, 'Who is there, engaged in undoing the latch? The
whole Chandala hamlet is asleep. I, however, am awake and not asleep.
Whoever thou art, thou art about to be slain.' These were the harsh words
that greeted the sage's ears.
Pages:
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615