Then they made a heap of the bones and the ashes， which had been carefully kept by Tribikram and Baman. As the Jogi Madhusadan proceeded with his incantation， a white vapour arose from the ground， and， gradually condensing， assumed a perispiritual form——the fluid envelope of the soul. The three spectators felt their blood freeze as the bones and the ashes were gradually absorbed into the before shadowy shape， and they were restored to themselves only when the maiden Madhuvati begged to be taken home to her mother.

　　Then Kama， God of Love， blinded them， and they began fiercely to quarrel about who should have the beautiful maid. Each wanted to be her sole master. Tribikram declared the bones to be the great fact of the incantation； Baman swore by the ashes； and Madhusadan laughed them both to scorn. No one could decide the dispute； the wisest doctors were all nonplussed； and as for the Raja——well！ we do not go for wit or wisdom to kings. I wonder if the great Raja Vikram could decide which person the woman belonged to？

　　"To Baman， the man who kept her ashes， fellow！" exclaimed the hero， not a little offended by the free remarks of the fiend.

　　"Yet，" rejoined the Baital impudently， "if Tribikram had not preserved her bones how could she have been restored to life？ And if Madhusadan had not learned the science of restoring the dead to life how could she have been revivified？ At least， so it seems to me. But perhaps your royal wisdom may explain."

　　"Devil！" said the king angrily， "Tribikram， who preserved her bones， by that act placed himself in the position of her son； therefore he could not marry her. Madhusadan， who， restoring her to life， gave her life， was evidently a father to her； he could not， then， become her husband. Therefore she was the wife of Baman， who had collected her ashes."

　　"I am happy to see， O king，" exclaimed the Vampire， "that in spite of my presentiments， we are not to part company just yet. These little trips I hold to be， like lovers' quarrels， the prelude to closer union. With your leave we will still practice a little suspension."

　　And so saying， the Baital again ascended the tree， and was suspended there.

　　"Would it not be better，" thought the monarch， after recapturing and shouldering the fugitive， "for me to sit down this time and listen to the fellow's story？ Perhaps the double exercise of walking and thinking confuses me."

　　With this idea Vikram placed his bundle upon the ground， well tied up with turband and waistband； then he seated himself cross-legged before it， and bade his son do the same.

　　The Vampire strongly objected to this measure， as it was contrary， he asserted， to the covenant between him and the Raja. Vikram replied by citing the very words of the agreement， proving that there was no allusion to walking or sitting.

　　Then the Baital became sulky， and swore that he would not utter another word. But he， too， was bound by the chain of destiny. Presently he opened his lips， with the normal prelude that he was about to tell a true tale.