One evening, after the signatures were over, Durbuddhi stopped for a while as if desirous to speak. “What do you want?” said the old king. “Nothing but your favour,” was the only reply, after which he retired. Thus he went on for some days and weeks. Every day he stopped for a few minutes after the state business was over, and when the old king asked the reason for it went on giving evasive answers. At last one evening the old king was extremely provoked. The cunning Durbuddhi had purposely intended this.
“What a big fool are you to stop every day as if wishing to speak and never to utter a word,” broke out the old king.
“I beg pardon of your honour; I was thinking all the while whether I should let out my secret or not. At last, I have come to the conclusion that I will keep it to myself,” replied the diabolical Durbuddhi.
“No, you shall let it out,” roared the old king, whose curiosity was more roused than abated by the words, purposely obscure, of the minister’s son. Durbuddhi, after simulating much reluctance at disclosing the supposed secret, loudly began his harangue:
“My lord, ever since I came here I have been making enquiries about the nobility of your family, about the sacrifices that you and your ancestors have
