22. 'It is true that some, out of cupidity and fear of death, leave veracity, as if it were a straw. But to the virtuous veracity is their property and life; therefore they do not give it up even in distress.

23. 'Neither life nor the pleasures of this world will preserve from mishap him who has fallen from veracity. Who, then, would leave veracity for the sake of these objects? that virtue which is a rich mine of praise, glory, and happiness?

24. 'Nevertheless, in a person who is seen walking on the road of sin or in whom there does not appear any effort to lead a holy life, a pious behaviour becomes a matter of disbelief. Now, what of the kind did you perceive in my person that you should suspect even me?

25. 'If I had really been afraid of you, or if my mind had been attached to pleasures, or my heart were devoid of compassion, do you not think I should have met an adversary so famous for his ferocity as you, in full armour and prepared to fight, as becomes one proud of his valour?

26. 'But it may be that I did even desire that conversation with you. Why, after satisfying the labour of that Brâhman, I will come back to you of my own accord. Persons like me, in truth, do not utter an untruth.'

Now these words of the Bodhisattva irritated the son of Sudâsa, as if they spoke of something fanciful, and he entered upon this reflection: 'Verily, he does greatly boast of his veracity and righteous behaviour. Well then, I will see them, both his attachment to truth and his love of righteousness. What matters his loss to me, after all? I have already my full number of one hundred royal princes whom I subdued by the overwhelming strength of my arm; with them I may perform my sacrifice to the goblins according to my desire.' After thus considering, he said to the Bodhisattva: 'Well then, go. We wish to see your faithfulness in keeping your promise and your righteousness.

27. 'Go, and having done for that Brâhman what he longs for, return soon; meanwhile I will dress your funeral pile.'

And the Bodhisattva promised him he would do so. Then he set out for his palace, where he was welcomed by his household. Having sent for that Brâhman, he learnt from him a tetrad of gâthâs. The Great Being, to whom the hearing of those well-said sentences procured an intense gladness, praised the Brâhman with kind words and marks of honour, and valuing each gâthâ at the rate of one thousand (pieces of gold), rewarded him with the wealth so much desired for.

Now his father, intending to avert him from expenses out of place and extravagant, availed himself of this opportunity, and admonished his son in friendly terms. 'My dear,' he said, 'when you reward well-said sentences, you should know the limit, should you not? You have to maintain a large retinue; besides, the splendour of kings depends on the affluence of their treasury. For this reason I tell you this.

28. 'Rewarding a well-said sentence with one hundred is a very high estimation. It is not fit to exceed this limit. If a man, however wealthy, be too liberal, he will never retain the splendour of his riches for long.