Now there stood in the shade of the bamboos a man much about the person of the Maharaja, sent to see if all were well, and when the Prince passed on, careless, this nobleman, Udayi, came out and addressed the silent beauties.
“You women, all so graceful and fair, are you thus worsted? Surely in all ages men have been subject to women when they put forth their power. Too soon are you discouraged—too soon. For this Prince, though he restrains his heart with the bit and bridle of purity, is but a man, and the wisest and greatest in time past have slipped where they thought themselves secure. And there is no fetter strong as white arms about a man’s neck. Strive after new devices. Redouble your efforts. Great is the prize.”
And the maidens, ashamed and angry at his chiding, fluttered again about the Prince where he sat in the shade of a jambu tree, putting forth amorous enticements, forgetful of all modesty and womanly reserve, pressing on, striving to move him.
But he in his great heart, sorrowful, apart, looked upon them, sighing.
“O creatures most miserable, unheeding the dooms of age and death, forgetful of the briefness of beauty, unconscious that above your throats is suspended the sharp two-edged sword, how wretched is your empty playing in the very jaws of destruction!”
And though he spoke nothing, they saw the homeless horror in his eyes, and again they shrank away afraid.
So seeing the Prince alone, Udayi, smooth of speech, came softly along the pleasure-paths of the Paradise, brushing aside the flowers, observant and quiet as a serpent, and saluting the Prince he drew up beside him and spoke this:
“Prince in whom all beauty and nobility meet, you sit here sad and alone, and it is therefore that your great father, consumed by care for your welfare appointed me to act as beseems a friend. Permit me then to speak, for a wise friend removes what is unprofitable, promotes real gain, and in adversity is true.”
And Siddhartha lifting his eyes said:
“Speak, if indeed in this great strait there be anything to say.”