Dramatis Persone.
Charudatta - A Brahmin Merchant of Ujjaini.
Rohasena -His son.
Maitreya -His friend and companion.
Vardhamanaka - His servant.
Plaka -King of Ujjayini.
Samsthanaka -The King's brother-in-law.
Sthavaraka - His servant.
Samvahaka - A rambler who turns Buddhist monk.
Mattura & Darduraka -Gamblers.
Rebbila - A famous musician.
Sarvilaka - A burglar.
Aryaka - a herdsman who becomes king.
Viraka & Chandanaka - Police officers.
A Courtier and Friend of Samsthanaka
A Judge
Dhutadeve - Wife of Charudatta.
Radanika - Charudatta's maid-servant.
Vasantasena - A famous courtesan of Ujjaini and lover of Charudatta.
Madanika - Maid-servant of Vasantasena.
Mother of Vasanthasena. 


There lived in a Ujjayini a young man of breeding and refinement, named Charudatta, 
who was by profession a wealthy merchant buy by birth a high-souled Brahmin.
By the qualities of large-heartedness, nobility and uprightness, as well as by his culture 
and good taste, he had own the admiration and respect of the whole city, but his
princely liberality had in course of time reduced him to extreme poverty; for, never was a 
needy man turned from his door, and he had adorned the city of Ujjayini with
mansions, cloisters, parks, temples, pools and fountains. Deserted by all in his adversity 
and disillusioned he would have adjured the world and sought the hermitage, but
that his noble and faithful wife Dhutadevi, his little son Rohasena and his whole-hearted 
friend Maitreya had cheerfully shared his poverty and distress. Of his large train
of retainers, only two remained in his old and decayed house, the maid Radanika and 
his personal servant Vardhamanaka. 

One night, after Charudatta had finished his evening devotions, he said to Maitreya: 
"Friend, I have made my offerings to the household deities. Will you now go and
offer sacrifice to the Divine Mothers at the place where the four roads meet?" "Not I, 
indeed," relied Maitreya, "you have worshipped the gods, but have they been
gracious to You? What is the use of worshipping?" "Speak not profanely", said 
Charudatta, "it is the duty of every householder." "No. I am not going", replied Maitreya
doggedly, "you must send somebody else. Poor Brahmin that I am, everything goes 
wrong with me; it is like a reflection in the mirror, the right side becomes the left, the
left becomes the right." At that hour of evening, even the king's highway was not sage, 
such was the state of law and order prevailing in the city! Courtesans, rogues,
bawds, gamblers, thieves, political schemers and royal favourites were abroad; and how 
could a timid Brahmin like Maitreya go our alone? At last, on the assurance that
Radanika would accompany him with alight, Maitreya opened the front door and came 
out. 

Suddenly the lamp went out. Near the door, under the cover of falling darkness, was 
standing for shelter the unfortunate Vasantasena, a famous courtesan of Ujjayini.
She had putout the light with her skirt and entered, silently and unperceived, into the 
house. In confusion, Radanika waited, while Maitreya went back to re-light lamp. 

Who in Ujjayini did not know Vasantasena for her grace, dignity, wealth and beauty, and 
who, except a cowardly, ignorant and brutal wretch like the king's
brother-in-law, Samsthanaka, did not honour her? Strange as it may seem, it was 
possible in that ancient society to be a courtesan and yet retain self respect. As in the
Athens of Perikles, so in ancient India, the courtesan was not without accomplishments; 
she possessed wealth, beauty and power, as well as literary and artistic taste,
and occupied an important position in social life. Men of wit, culture and rank did not 
disdain her society, and this contact probably saved her from degradation. 

All this, however, did not prevent the king's brother-in-law Samsthanaka, a man of the 
most depraved and despicable character, from attempting to win her person by
cunning and gold. His position as the king's brother-in-law and his wealth made him 
believe that he could do whatever he liked; but Vasantasena had never been
mercenary, and, as she was universally honoured, he did not dare use force. In spite of 
his association with courtiers of breeding and refinement, he had skill only in
perfidy and deceit. All Ujjayini hated and feared him for his ignorant conceit and brutal 
lust, and it was no wonder that Vasantasena found his attention most
unwelcome. 

That evening Vasantasena had been abroad in the street accompanied by her servants, 
who however had fallen behind. Taking this opportunity, Samsthanaka, with his
profligate followers, had pursued her, and made the most degrading and insulting offers 
of love. Frightened and disgusted, she tried to repulse them, assuring them
proudly that it was merit alone, and not brutal violence, which inspired a woman's love. 
In vain did she offer them her jewels and he ornaments to make them desist, and
in vain did she attempt to fly from them like a timid deer. In the course of the pursuit, 
however, they came near the good merchant's house. Her profligate pursuers thus
unintentionally befriended her by bringing her for refuge to the very door of the great 
Charudatta, of whom she had heard so much, whom she had once seen in the park
where Kama's temple stood, and who was now destined to play such an important part 
in her life.

Eluding Smasthanaka and his associates under cover of darkness, she slipped 
unperceived into the house: and Charudatta, mistaking her for the maid Radanika, bade 
her enter, Losing sight of her, Samsthanaka caught hold of the waiting Radanika by 
mistake, but Maitreya came up presently to the rescue, and reprimanded him severely
for his reducess. The cowardly Samsthanaka was naturally afraid of Charudatta's 
eminent naturally afraid of Dharudatta's eminent virtues, but he would not go away
without finding Vasantsena. His wise courtier, however, advised him to depart. "The hold 
a house" he said "you need a rein, and to hold an elephant, you require a chain.
To hold a woman, you must use a heart, and if you have not one, it is wise to go away in 
peace". Reluctantly but with a great deal of bravado, Samsthanaka left,
pronouncing a threat of revenge if Charudatta did not hand over Vasantasena to him. 

All this happened outside the house. Charudatta was sitting inside in the dark room 
when the frightened Vasantasena entered. Not knowing what had happened, and
mistaking her for Radanika, he gave her his cloak to cover up little Rohasena lest the 
child be chilled by evening dews. Vasantasena, finding the garment scented with
jasmine-flowers, said to herself: "His youth does not indeed show indifference!" Finding 
her still silent and motionless, Charudatta again bade her enter the inner
apartments, but remembering her ignoble profession, she could only sigh to herself: 
"Alas, my misfortune gives me no admission inside." "Come now, Radanika, will you
not even answer?" cried Charudatta in sadness and impatience, still overwhelmed by his 
own sense of poverty which made him think that even his maid was slighting
him. But Maitreya and Radanika having come up in the meantime, he perceived his 
mistake and exclaimed: "Then who is this? I have degraded her by the touch of my
garment," "Degraded!" repeated Basantasena to herself "no, exalted!" Charudatta was 
wondering who the half-veiled lady might be, like the waning moon half-hidden by
the autumnal clouds: but the next moment he checked himself in his impertinent 
curiosity: "She must be another man's wife, not meet for me to gaze on her", Maitreya,
who had learnt of her identity from Samsthanaka, soon enlightened him. "What, this is 
Vasantasent!" exclaimed Charudatta: and not being insensible to love, he sighed
over his declining fortunes for his inability to give expression to the thoughts of love 
which arose spontaneously in him. "Let my desire", he said to himself, "sink
suppressed in silence, like the wrath of a coward which he dares not utter." But with his 
innate gallantry, he felt he had done wrong in greeting the charming lady as a
servant, and begged of her to pardon him for the unwitting offence done to her by his 
mistake. "It is I who have offended by this unseemly intrusion. I bow my head to
seek your forgiveness", she replied. 

It was a case of love at first sight for both of them, but for the first time Vasantasena was 
really in love. Witty and wise, disillusioned and sophisticated, she had yet a
heart of romance, and her love was true and deep even in a social position which made 
such a feeling difficult. Very sadly she realised that the woman who admitted the
love of many men was false to them all. Much wealth and position she had achieved by 
an obligatory and hereditary calling, but her heart was truly against it, and it
brought her no happiness. Her maid Madanika, brought up in the usual tradition, 
disapproved of her falling in love with a poor man. "But, lady," she protested, "it is said
that Charudatta is very poor. "Hence do I love him more" replied her mistress. "A 
courtesan whose heart is fixed on a poor man is hardly to bee censured by the world."
"Yet, lady." said Madanika, with mild remonstrance again, "do the bees, greedy for 
honey, swarm in the mango-tree after it has shed its blossoms " "Therefore are they
called greedy wantons", replied Vasantasena. The breath of the new emotion, which had 
now come to her, quickened all her deeper and nobler instincts into a pervading
flame, and burned to ashes her baser self. 

But, like a truly awakened woman, she was embarrassed in the presence of Charudatta 
at their first unexpected meeting and felt that she could tarry no longer. In order
that this meeting should not be the last, she wanted some excuse to come back again. 
After a little thought, she said: "If truly I have found favour in your sight, sit, I
should be glad to leave my jewels in your house. It was for the sake of these jewels that 
those scoundrels followed me." "But", replied Charudatta "this house is hardly
suited for the trust." "You mistake, sir," she smiled in reply "treasures are entrusted to 
men, and not to house." What more could Charudatta Say? The jewels were left in
trust. Charudatta then accompanied her through the dark streets and saw her safely 
home. 

Charudatta, in his prosperous days, had a servant, named Samvahaka, whose duty was 
to massage his master. After Charudatta's decline in fortune, Samvahaka's
occupation was gone, and he took to desperate gambling. But luck was against him; and 
one day, which happened to be the very next day after the meeting of
Charudatta and Vasantasena, he fled from the gambling house and concealed himself 
from his creditors in a deserted temple, only to be soon discovered by the master
of the gambling house, Mathura and a gambler, both hardened and pitiless sinners, who 
demanded of him ten gold pieces which he had lost to them. An altercation
ensued, ending in quarrel and violence. At this point, a clever rogue, Darduraka, who 
was passing by, appeared on the scene, and taking pity on the much harassed
fellow-gambler Samvahaka, engaged the gambling master and his companion in an 
angry discussion, during which Samvahaka managed to escape into Vasantasena's
house, which stood nearby, just at the moment when Vasantasena had been confessing 
to her maid Madanika her love for Charudatta. When she learned that
Samvahaka had once served Charudatta, she received him with honour and 
compassion and paid his gambling debts. Overwhelmed by her kindness and full of self-
pity, the grateful Samvahaka at last resolved to turn a Buddhist monk. 

The same night Charudatta and Maitreya went to a concert to listen to the charming 
songs of one Rebhila. Charudatta was by no means an austere or self-denying man,
a mere paragon of virtue, but he was a perfect man of the world, who did not disdain 
gambling, nor shared his friend Maitreya's bias against the courtesan, and he loved
literature, art and music. His great virtues were softened by the milk of human kindness. 
In spite of his slender means, his love of music made him go to the concert,
which he enjoyed with keen appreciation. They came home after midnight, and, greatly 
tired, went to sleep. Vasantasena's treasures were still in the house; and
Maitreya was charged, before he went to sleep, to keep the gem-casket safely by his 
side. After a while, a needy and skilful thief, named Sarvilaka, broke into the room,
in which Charudatta and his friend were sleeping, by making a hole in the rickety wall. 
This Sarvilaka, a Grahmin by birth and a man of some education, was a friend of
Darduraka, like whom he had turned into a clever and daring man about town. He had, 
in the meantime, fallen in love with Vasantasena's maid Madanika and wanted to
marry her. Reduced to poverty and reckless life, he had at last resolved to acquire by 
theft the house of the poor Brahmin, for whom even a low-down thief like him
cherished great respect. In the morning, Charudatta and his friend woke to find the 
casket and the thief gone. It affected the good merchant deeply, inasmuch as it
affected his honour, for who would now believe the truth about the theft? Powerless 
poverty was doomed to wake suspicion. Radanika, who had first detected the theft,
went to inform Charudatta's wife of the disaster, but assured her mistress that both her 
master and his friend were unhurt, and that only the ornaments left by the
courtesan had been stolen. "Girl," replied the wife sadly, "how` can you say that my lord 
is uninjured? Better he were injured in body than in character, For, now the
people of Ujjayini will say that my lord himself committed the crime because of his 
poverty." To save her husband's honour, the good wife, a noble and gentle lady
worthy of her husband, sent him her pearl necklace which she had received from her 
mother's house. When Charudatta was told of this, he exclaimed with humbled
pride: "What, my wife takes pity on me? Alas, now I am poor indeed! "But if his change 
of fortune had made him bitter, it had not debased his mind; it had only taught
him to take things at their right value. Soon he realised the nobility which prompted his 
wife's offer, and said to Maitreya; "But no, I am not poor; for I have a wife whose
love outlasts my wealthy days; in thee I have a friend who is faithful to me through good 
and evil; and I have truth and honour which nought can take away. Maitreya,
take the necklace, and go to Vasantasena. Tell her in my name that we have gambled 
away the gem casket, forgetting it was not our own, and that we trust she will
accept this necklace in its place." But the sagacious Maitreya, with his dog like 
faithfulness, was uneasy and suspicious. He took his friend's love for Vasantasena for a
degrading infatuation and his friend's regard for honour with respect to a courtesan for a 
foolish act. "What!" he said in surprise "you must not give away this necklace,
the pride of the our seas, for that cheap thing left by the courtesan:, "Not so, my friend 
replied Charudatta, "she showed her trust in leaving with us he treasure. Such a
faith cannot be overvalued," Scrupulous in returning Vasantasena's pledge, he could not 
accept his friend's worldly-wise advice; and Maitreya had at last to depart with
the necklace to Vasantasena. 

Early next morning, Sarvilaka came to Vasantasena’s house to but Madanika's freedom 
with the stolen casket. On Madanika's enquiry as to how a poor man like him
could come by the gems, he had to confess to her the facts concerning the theft of the 
casket. Madanika was horrified. "Oh, Sarvilaka," she said" for a mere nothing- for
a woman-you have risked two things. "What things?" asked Sarvilaka, somewhat 
puzzled. "Your life and your character," replied the honest girl. When he showed her
the jewels, she could recognise them as those which her mistress had left at 
Charudatta's place. Sarvilaka now felt truly ashamed, but he could not, even if he 
desired, restore the gams to the good man, for that act would be inconsistent with 
prudence. On Madanika's advice, he then pretended to be a servant of Charudatta's and 
sought to restore the jewels to Vasantasena. But, in the meantime, coming in search of 
Madanika, Vasantasena had been an unwilling listener to the whole conversation. Her
own recent experience of love and her innate nobility of character made her feel for the 
poor lovers, and appreciate the daring of the man and the honesty of the maid.
She accepted the casket without telling them anything, but as Sarilaka was turning to 
leave, she said to him: "Sir, will you undertake a return commission of mine?".
Savilaka naturally hesitated, for he could not, in the circumstances, carry back any 
message to Charudatta. "And this commission is-?"he faltered. "You will be good
enough to accept Madanika" replied Vasantasena quietly to the astonished man. 
"Madam, I do not understand," he faltered again. "But I do," replied Vasantasena,
"Charudatta told me that I was to give Madanika to the man who should return these 
jewels. You are therefore to understand that he makes you a present of her." "Ah,
she sees through me," said Sarilvka to himself, but he blessed Charudatta's name and 
was grateful to her for making Madanika a freed woman. 

They left with happiness in their hearts, but on the way they received hints of an 
impending political revolution. Those were days of stirring deeds, and the private affairs
of the lovers became curiously linked with a political intrigue which involved the city and 
the kingdom. King Palaka had been despite and cruel, and the wanton acts of
his brother-in-law Samsthanaka had also made the people discontented. A soothsayer 
had declared that a young herdsman, named Aryaka was to become king.
Believing in this prophecy and alarmed thereat, king Palaka had taken the innocent 
herdsman from his hamlet and thrown him into prison. This Aryaka happened to be a
friend of Sarvilaka's; and as soon as Sarvilaka left Vasantasena's house with Madanika, 
this news reached him. In spite of poor Madanika's entreaties, he leapt out of
the bullock-cart which was carrying them, directing his servant to reach his newly-made 
bride to the house of his friend Rebhila. Sarvilaka departed, vowing not only to
release his friend Aryaka but also to hasten the revolution of place Aryaka on the throne. 

In the meantime, Maitreya came to Vsantasena's place to hand over the pearl necklace 
as a recompense for the gem casket lost by Charudatta. Unaware of the
circumstance that Sarvilaka had in the meantime brought back the casket, strangely, to 
its real owner, Maitreya delivered his message. Much amused and pleased,
Vasantasena said to herself: "It was stolen by a thief, and he is so proud that he says he 
gambled it away. I love him for that." She accepted the necklace with pleasure,
in order to use it as a pretext to see Charudattaonce more, and said to Maitreya: "Sir, 
pray tell the worthy gambler Charudatta in my name that I shall pay him a visit this
evening." The suspicious Maitreya thought that the greedy courtesan was not satisfied 
with the pearl necklace and wanted to get more out of Charudatta in redemption
of the pledge. 

The same evening, during a heavy storm, Vasantasena reached Charudatta's house. 
She brought with her the gem-casket, and after discovering it and explaining how
she had come by it, she gently rebuked him for the distrust shown of her by sending the 
pearl necklace instead. The storm and rain increasing in violence in the
meantime, she was compelled to spend the night at Charudatta's house. Charudatta had 
now realised the nobility of her character, her generosity, and the depth and truth
of her love, and he came to love her in return with an equally deep and tender affection. 

The next morning, when the maid came to wake her up, it appeared all so strange to 
Vasantasena herself. She could hardly believe that she, an outcast of society, had
been able to win the love of the great Charudatta, the ornament of Ujjayini, and asked 
half-incredulously of the amid if all that were true. "What! did I find may way into
his inner apartments?," she enquired of the maid, "Not only that," replied the amid "but 
into everyone's heart." But Vasantasena was still afraid lest she had been a
source of trouble to Charudatta. "I fear his household is vexed," she asked with deep 
concern. "They will be vexed," replied the maid "only when-" "When?" she
interrupted anxiously. "When you will depart", replied the maid, Vasantasena was still 
wearing the pearl necklace which Charudatta had given her. Now she took it off,
and sent it through the maid to Charudatta's wife with the message: "Worthy 
Charudatta's virtues have won me, made me his slave, and therefore your slave also. So 
let this necklace be the ornament of your neck, to which it rightly belongs." But the 
dignified wife returned the necklace, saying that it was not proper for her to take the
necklace with which her husband had favoured Vasantasena in his affection, and that 
the only ornament she valued was her husband. Nevertheless, both Charudatta
and his wife, as well as his whole household, inclusive of the suspicious but well-
meaning Maitreys, had now recognised the truth and pity of her great love and realised
how much it would mean to her if her love were legalised. 

Vasantasena now met for the first time Charudatta's little son, Rohasena. She found the 
child peevish, because he had now only a little clay cart to play with, instead of
finer toys. A great affection and pity overwhelmed her heart, and she said to herself: "To 
think that this little child has to suffer because others are wealthy! Ah, might
Fate, the destinies of men, uncertain as the water-drops which fall upon a lotus-leaf, 
seen to thee but playthings!" She was fascinated by the lovely face of the petulant
child, which was very like his father's and stretched our her arms in than great hunger for 
motherhood which had been denied to her: "Come, my little son, embrace me".
Naturally suspicious, the child asked of his maid: "Who is she, Radanika?" Vasantasena 
replied coaxingly: "A slave of your father's, purchased by his merits", which
statement Radanika hastened to modify tactfully by saying, "This lady is your mother, 
child." "Away," replied the child, "you tell me untruth, Radanika. How can she be
my mother when she wears such fine things?" "My child", said Vasantasena, ashamed 
and in tears, "your innocent lips can say terrible things! "She took off her
ornaments and said tearfully: "Now I become your mother. You take these trinkets and 
have a gold cart made for you." "Go away." said the child again, "I will not take
them, you cry at parting with them." Wiping away her tears and smiling, she filled the toy 
clay cart with her jewels and said: "I weep no more. Go, darling, and play.
There! you must have a little gold cart to play with. "Vasantasena's love had now made 
her realise the emptiness of richness and the fulness of a pure and tender
affection. 

Vardhamanaka now came and informed Vasantasena that he was waiting at the side 
door with a covered cart to take her to the old flower-garden, named
Puspakaranadaka, where Charudatta, who had left early in the morning, was waiting for 
her, While Vasantasena was getting ready, Vardhamanaka went back with his
cart to fetch some cushions which he had forgotten. In the meantime, a comedy of errors 
happened, which nearly ended in tragedy. Samsthanaka's servant Sthavaraka
had been directed by the master to take a bullock-cart to him at the same old garden, 
which was the property of the king's brother-in-law. The highway having been
blocked by villagers wagons, Sthavaraka had stopped his cart at the side-door of 
Charudatta's orchard and had gone for a moment to put his shoulder to the wheel of
another cart which had got stuck in the mud. Finding Sthavaraka's cart at the side-door, 
Vasantasena entered it without knowing: and without knowing also Sthavaraka,
coming back, drove it on, thus cruel fate conspiring to put Vasantasena once more into 
the hands of Samsthanaka. 

Unaware of what happened, Vardhamanaka came back with Charudatta's cart and 
waited at the side-door. Soon he heard some one entering the covered cart with the
tinkling of anklet-rings, and thinking that it was Vasantasena he also drove on towards 
the garden where Charudatta was waiting. But it was Aryaka who had
surreptitiously entered the cart. With the help of his good friend Sarvilake, the young 
herdsman, who had been imprisoned by the king Palaka, had just broken jail, killed
the jailer, half broken his fetters, escaped and run away. There was treat excitement in 
the city over the prisoner's escape, and police constables were running about
everywhere in search of him. He managed to elude them all and concealed himself near 
the side-door of Charudatta's house. Finding Vardhamanaka's empty cart
presently driving up, he sought in it a temporary hiding-place, his half-broken prison-
chains having caused the tinkling sound which deceived Vardhamanaka. As
Vardhamanaka was getting up his bullocks to go, two police officers, in search of 
Aryaka, walked up and Stopped the cart of the road-side. On being informed that it
was Charudatta's cart conveying Vasantasena to the Puspakaranadaka garden, one of 
the officers Chandanaka would let it pass, Charudatta's name acting as a magic
charm; but the other officers Viraka became suspicious and would not let the cart go 
without inspection. After some discussion, Chandanaka, agreeing to inspection,
entered the cart and looked about. Aryaka immediately threw himself on his mercy, and 
Chandanaka, a softer-hearted man, agreed to protect him. But Chandanaka's
report after inspection that all was well could not convince Viraka. To save his protege in 
the cart, to whom he and given his word, Chandanaka contrived an angry
discussion and quarrel, which ended in his maltreating his brother officer and allowing 
Aryaka to escape in Charudatta's cart. Now that he had made an enemy of
Vuraja, the Chief Constable and kings favourite, Chandanaka made up his mind to throw 
in his lot with the revolutionaries, headed by Sarvilaka. In the meantime,
Vardhamanaka drove up the cart, in which Aryaka lay hidden, to the park where 
Charudatta was awaiting Vasantasena impatiently. To their amazement, Maitreya and
Charudatta discovered the Fugitive in the cart; but as Aryaka related his story and 
sought his protection, Charudatta removed his fetters, promised him friendship, lent
him the cart to escape, and left the park immediately lest he should arouse the suspicion 
of royal officers. 

Samsthanaka's servant, on the other hand, drove up to another part of the same park his 
master's cart which Vasantasena had entered by mistake. To his amazement,
Samsthanaka's courtier, who had gone forward, discovered Vasantasena sitting happy 
in the cart, and at first thought that she had come of her own accord to favour the
king’s brother-in-law. But when he learned of her mistake concerning the cart, he 
realised her peril and tried to shield and save her from the brutal and ignorant
Samsthanaka. Samsthanaka himself was at first greatly flattered that Vasantasena 
should herself come and visit him; but very soon Sthavaraka disillusioned him by
relating the story of the mistake, and Vasantasena in her turn spurned him with her foot 
in disgust, thereby rousing his fierce anger. His sense of his own importance was
outraged by Vasantasena's scornful repulse; and, passion-blind, he threatened to kill her 
for despising his proposition and for kicking him with her foot. But both
Sthavaraka and the courtier refused to aid and abet him in his cowardly and brutal 
design of murdering in cold blood an innocent and helpless woman. Sthavaraka was a
simple and God-fearing man who was not easy to win over. The courtier was a man of 
good taste and breeding who, despite his loose life and his dependence on his
patron, did his best to check Samsthanaka's intended violence. Very artfully the cunning 
scoundrel pretended to grow calm, managed to get rid of his followers by deceit,
and then seizing Vasantasena alone, began to persecute her again with his shameful 
proposals. She repulsed him with great spirit and with a fearlessness born of her
new love of Charudatta. When Samsthanaka in his anger taunted her as the inamorata 
of a beggarly Brahmin, she was not ashamedbut retorted with perfect courage:
"Delightful, words! Pary proceed, for you speak my praise." "Just let that son of a slave 
rescue you now," said Samsthanaka with a sneer, to which she replied with great
coolness: "He would have rescued me if he were here." Growing furious, Samsthanaka 
took her by the throat; she would not scream for help, for it would be a shame
that Vasantasena's helpless cry should be heard loudly outside, but she would 
remember her beloved Charudatta and bless his name. "What, still dost thou repeat that
rascal's name?" snarled Samsthanaka, blinded by rage, as he strangled her; but on the 
verge of imminent death, the name of Charudutta was still on her lips, and she
murmured in a struggling tone: " My homage be to Charudatta! "

When Sthavaraka and the courtier returned, Samsthanaka tried to deceive them; but, 
they soon discovered the horrible facts, he offered bribes to the courtier and then
tried to lay the deed to his charge. Disgusted and horrified, the courtier cursed him: and 
finding that it would be folly to remain there any longer, he also made up his mind
to leave his patron and join the conspirators, Sarvilaka, Chandanaka and the rest. The 
poor Sthavaraka was put in irons on the palace-tower by his wicked master. 

To convert up his own guilt and to complete his mean revenge on Chharudatta, 
Samsthanaka now formed the plan of going to court at once and lodging a complaint that
the merchant Charudatta had enticed Basantasena into the old park Puspakarandaka 
and strangled her there for her money. The next day the court sat for the trial,and
Cahrudatta, who could not yet believe that such a thing could happen, was summoned 
to answer the terrible accusation of Samsthanaka. In the course of the trial, it
appeared from the evidence of Vasantasena's mother (who, however, refused to bear 
witness against Charudatta) that Vasantasena had spent the night of the storm at
Charudatta's house; while Viraka, who had come to court to testify to the escape of 
Aryaka and to lodge his complaint against Chandanaka, gave evidence that she had
left Charudatta's house the next morning in Charudatta's cart to meet the latter at the 
part. It was also proved that there had been a struggle at the park, which
apparently ended in the murder of a woman, for the body of a woman, torn by wild 
beasts, was found there. The judge, a sympathetic man, was still reluctant to believe
that stain of any kind could attach to Charudatta's reputation; for it was extraordinary that 
he, whose liberality was well known throughout Ujjayini and whose sense of
honour once made him send to Vasantasena a necklace of pearls in place of stolen 
jewels, should now for a mere trifle-for her money - murder a hopeless woman
whom he loved. Was it possible that Charudatta was the man who could repay a 
woman's love with blood? But at this moment some thing happened which turned the
circumstantial evidence still more against Charudatta. 

Materya had been commissioned by Charudatta to go to Vasantasena's house and 
return the jewels which she in her affection had given to Rohasena for the mking of a
gold cart. But on the way to her house, Maitreys heard the alarming news that 
Cgarydatta had been summoned to court. Without any delay he rushed into the
court-room, and on being informed of the baseless charge against his dear friend, he 
was so indignant that he attacked the false accuser angrily with his staff, calling
Samsthanaka by all the names that he deserved. During the scuffle which ensued, the 
jewels which Maitreya had been carrying on his person fell to the ground. In view
of Charudatta's poverty and in the absence of satisfactory explanation of Maitreya's 
possession of the jewels, the incident seemed to deceive the judge and establish a
motive for the crime. Charudatta was condemned to ignominious death by king Palaka, 
although the judge recommended him, according to the law, for mercy. In his life
Charudatta had already realised that late played with men as buckets at the well, one 
rose as another fell. Aware of the vanity of all things, he could not value life
over-highly; but he valued his honour more than his life. He received the sentence of 
death with equanimity, more especially as the loss of Vasantasena had now made
him lose his new interest in life. But he was overwhelmed in so far as the condemnation 
affected his honour as a man for having murdered a woman (and the cruel irony
of it, a woman whom he deeply loved) and also that he should leave a heritage of shame 
to the little son to whom he was so greatly devoted. That such a stain should
attach to his character was unbearable to him, but he was powerless against cruel fate. 
When everything conspired to make appearances go against him, he lost all
interest in the trial and hardly made any attempt to defend himself against the hateful 
charges, which he emphatically denied but which he could not which he could not
rebut. 

The headsman, two sympathetic souls who regretted the duty they had to perform, led 
Charudatta to the place of execution through the city-streets and proclaimed as
was the custom, his guilt with the beat of drum. Charudatta was still cherished with 
affection, and as the much-hated Samasthanaka was his accuser, popular sympathy
was with him. A large crowd followed him as he was led through the streets. Sthavaraka, 
Who had been confined and enchained by his master Samsthanaka in his
palace-tower heard the shouts and the proclamation below, as the crowd passed along 
the street in front of Samsthanaka's palace. That innocent Charudatta should be
condemned to death for another's crime through the perfidy of his inhuman master 
became unbearable to him. He leapt down through an open window, broke his fetters
in his excitement and rushed out to bear witness to Charudatta's innocence by revealing 
the truth and denouncing Samsthanaka for his crime. About the same time,
Samsthanaka, coming our of his house to gloat over the downfall of Charudatta, was 
taken aback at the sight of Sthavaraka; but recovering himself quickly, he
denounced Sthavaraka's words as lies invented out of spiteful motive against his master 
who had imprisoned him for the theft of some ornaments. A disgraced slave
could convince nobody, and the cunning displayed by his master made light of his 
words. No escape now seemed possible for Charudatta, who prepared himself for
certain death after he had taken his last leave of Maiterya and his little son. 
Samsthanaka now urged the executioners to finish their work quickly, Suddenly, in great
agitation appeared on the scene a Buddhish monk, accompanied by a by, shouting with 
uplifted hands-" Good gentlemen, hold, hold!" Everyone looked up with surprise
and found with great delight that it was Samvahaka, who had turned a Buddhist monk, 
and with him Vasantasena herself, saying: "God gentlemen, I am the stretch for
whose sake Charudatta was condemned to death." 

How was it that Vasantasena could come back to life and appear on the scene at the 
last moment? When Samsthanaka pitilessly strangled her in the garden, she only
lost consciousness and fell down motionless. After Samsthanaka had left her for dead 
covering up her body with dry leaves, Charudatta's old servant Samvahaka, whom
Vasantasena had released from gambling debts and who had in the meantime turned a 
Buddhist monk, came into the garden to wash his rags in the pool there. By
chance he came near the spot where the body of Vasantasena had been buried in 
leaves, and sat down to dry his rags. Suddenly he heard a sigh proceeding from the
heap of leaves and some movements, for Vasantasena had now begin to recover 
consciousness and move her limbs. Coming to the spot, Samvahaka discovered and
recognised her, greatly delighted to find that it was Vasantasena, still alive, to whom he 
once owed his freedom. With great care he revived her and conducted her to a
monastery nearby. After hearing her story, he was conducting her next day to 
Charudatta's house; but on the way they saw the large crowd, following Charudatta, from
a distance and heard the proclamation. "Sister in Buddha" said Samvahaka, addressing 
her. "Charudattais being led to his death for murdering you." "For my wretched
sake!" replied Vasantasena in terror, "Quick, quick, oh lead me there." They rushed 
forward just in time to save Charudatta from his imminent death. 

In the meantime, the revolution started by Sarvilaka and his friends had succeeded. 
They had stormed the place, killed the wanton and cruel king Palaka and placed their
friend Aryaka, the fugitive herdsman whom Charudatta once befriended, on the throne. 
As soon as they had heard of Charudatta's distress Sarvilaka hastened with his
men to the place of execution, reaching there almost immediately after Vasantasena had 
made hr appearance. He brought the good tidings of the overthrow of Palaka's
tyrannical rule, and a message from the new king Aryaka, who had not forgotten 
Charudatta's Friendly act, that the king in grateful remembrance, had rewarded him
with the principality of Kushavati on the bank of the Vena and had bestowed on 
Vasantasena the title of wedded wife, which made her free of her profession. The
monk Samvahaka was rewarded by being appointed superior over the Buddhist 
monasteries of the realm. The crowd now dragged before Charudatta the wretched and
grovelling Samsthanaka, Who was mean enough to bet piteously for the life he had 
forfeited, and shouted for his death sentence; but he was magnanimously pardoned
by the man whom he once sought to injure most grievously.