“It were meet indeed that an unsouled object such as I, the Lamp, should not venture to speak in presence of our mistress, Naran-Chatun. But as so great a King has come to visit us, and has propounded to us a question to which Naran-Chatun does not see fit to reply, even I, the Lamp, will attempt to answer him. To me, then, it seems that the answer is clear, for by whom could the figure be said to be invented saving by the youth who first fashioned it? He who gave a mere block of wood a beautiful form must be allowed to have invented it.”
Naran-Dâkinî cast a glance of disgust and scorn upon the lamp, yet spoke she never a word.
Then spoke the far-seeing and experienced minister whom Vikramâditja had transformed into the thurible at the foot of the altar, saying,—
“It were meet indeed that an unsouled object such as I, the Incense-burner, should not venture to speak in presence of our mistress, Naran-Chatun. But as so great a King has come to visit us, and has propounded a question to us to which Naran-Chatun does not see fit to reply, even I, the Thurible, will attempt to answer him. And to me indeed the answer is plain, for to whom could the figure be said to belong, if not to the youth who painted it and made a mere stump beautiful and lifelike with fair tints of colour?”
At these words of the incense-vessel Naran-Dâkinî cast upon it a look of scorn and contempt, but opened not her lips to speak.
Then spoke Schalû, whom Vikramâditja had transformed into his aramâlâ, with impetuosity, saying, “Nay, but surely he alone could have the right of invention who endowed a painted log with wit and understanding. Surely he who made a stump of a tree to think must be allowed to have invented it.”
When Naran-Dâkinî saw with what a confident air the aramâlâ pronounced this sentence, even as though he had settled the whole matter, she could contain herself no longer, and then burst from her lips these words, while her eyes lighted on the objects that had spoken with exceeding indignation,—
“Of miserable understanding are ye all! How then venture ye, unsouled objects, to expound the matter when I, a reasonable being, scarcely dare pronounce upon the question? What other interpretation of this parable, however, can there be than this:—The youth who first fashioned the figure of a block of wood, did not he stand in place of the father? He who painted it with tints fair to behold, did not he stand in place of the mother? He who gave wit and understanding, is not he the Lama? But he who gave a soul that could be loved, was it not he alone who made woman? To whom, therefore, else should she have belonged by right of invention? And to whom should woman belong if not to her husband?”
Thus Tegrijin Naran Dâkinî had been brought to speak once; but the proposition requiring that the Silent Haughty One should speak twice to man, the magnanimous King proceeded without making allusion to his first success, saying,—
“Now that I have told a saga of old, it is the turn that one of you should also tell us a tale to entertain the mind.” And as he spoke he addressed himself to Naran-Dâkinî. Nevertheless Naran-Dâkinî had entered again into her deep contemplation, and held her peace, saying never a word.