FIRST CITIZEN.
My dear fellow, we both live in the same quarter of the town, but have you ever known me letting out any man s secret? Of course, that matter of your brother’s finding a hidden fortune while digging for a well—well, you know well enough why I had to give it out. You know all the facts.
SECOND CITIZEN.
Of course I know. And it is because I know that I ask, could you keep a secret if I tell you? It may mean ruination to us all, you know, if you once let it out.
THIRD CITIZEN.
You are a nice man, after all, Virupaksha! Why are you so anxious to bring down a disaster which as yet only may happen? Who will be responsible for keeping your secret all his life?
VIRUPAKSHA.
It is only because the topic came up—well, then, I shall not say anything. I am not the man to say things for nothing. You had yourself brought up the question that the King never showed himself; and I only remarked that it was not for nothing that the King shut himself up from the public gaze.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Pray do tell us why, Virupaksha.
VIRUPAKSHA.
Of course I don’t mind telling you—for we are all good friends, aren’t we? There can be no harm. (With a low voice.) The King—is—hideous to look at, so he has made up his mind never to show himself to his subjects.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Ha! that’s it! It must be so. We have always wondered . . . why, the mere sight of a King in all countries makes one’s soul quake like an aspen leaf with fear; but why should our King never have been seen by any mortal soul? Even if he at least came out and consigned us all to the gibbet, we might be sure that our King was no hoax. After all, there is much in Virupaksha’s explanation that sounds plausible enough.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Not a bit—I don’t believe in a syllable of it.
VIRUPAKSHA.
What, Vishu, do you mean to say that I am a liar?
VISHU.
I don’t exactly mean that—but I cannot accept your theory. Excuse me, I cannot help if I seem a bit rude or churlish.