"Surely the gold one!" cried Natthu, who was miserly, and whose chief joy in life was to hoard up his gains. "Who would take silver if gold were near; as for lead, no one would touch it. Besides, the inscription showed plainly what choice should be made; what do many desire but riches,—houses, riches, rich clothes, jewels, and bags of rupees!"
"In short, the goods of this world," said the Christian.
"But perhaps a Jogi would have chosen the silver box," observed the oilman, "for what with his pilgrimages and his fastings, his long contemplations and austerities, he gathers together such a stock of merits, that he thinks nothing too good for his deserts."
"A Jogi, and many a Brahmin would certainly be likely to choose the silver casket," said Isa Dás.
"But none would have chosen the leaden one!" exclaimed the oilman. "No one in his senses will agree to 'give and hazard all that he hath!'"
"The story goes that each of the caskets was chosen by some one," said Isa Dás. "The first man who came, like yourself, chose that which was bright to the eye, and which promised present profit."
"And was not the beautiful picture inside?" asked the oilman.
"Within was a skull," replied Isa Dás gravely. "The meaning of this is, that earthly joys are but for a moment, the fashion of the world passeth away, and the possessor of rank and riches is soon himself the property of death."
Little did Natthu know how soon the doctor's words would in part apply to himself! He had indeed chosen the casket of gold, and was hoarding up, pice by pice, anna by anna, what he thought would be a provision for him for many a year to come.
Without, however, dwelling on the lesson intended for his profit, he proceeded to inquire, "What did the silver casket contain?"