“That merchant, mother dear, was a surly man; but this one looks pleasant, and has a kind voice: perchance he may take it.”
“Call him, then,” said she.
So she called him. And when he had come in and sat down, they gave him the dish. He saw that it was gold, and said: “Mother! this dish is worth a hundred thousand. All the goods in my possession are not equal to it in value!”
“But, Sir, a hawker who came just now threw it on the ground, and went away, saying it was not worth a halfpenny. It must have been changed into gold by the power of your virtue, so we make you a present of it.”
The Bodisat gave them all the cash he had in hand (five hundred pieces), and all his stock-in-trade, worth five hundred more. He asked of them only to let him keep eight pennies, and the bag and the yoke that he used to carry his things with. And these he took and departed.
And going quickly to the river-side, he gave those eight pennies to a boatman, and got into the boat.
But the covetous hawker came back to the house, and said: “Bring out that dish, I’ll give you something for it.”
Then she scolded him, and said: “You said our gold dish, worth a hundred thousand, was not worth a halfpenny. But a just dealer, who seems to be your master, gave us a thousand for it, and has taken it away.”
When he heard this he called out: “Through this fellow I have lost a golden pot worth—Oh, worth a hundred thousand! He has ruined me altogether!” And bitter sorrow overcame him, and he was unable to retain his presence of mind, and he lost all self command. And scattering the money he had, and all the goods, at the door of the house, he seized as a club the yoke by which he had carried them, and tore off his clothes, and pursued after the Bodisat.
When he reached the river-side, he saw the Bodisat going away, and he cried out: “Hallo, Boatman! stop the boat!”