[FN#46] Especially alluding to prayer. On this point， Southey justly remarks （Preface to Curse of Kehama）： "In the religion of the Hindoos there is one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers， penances， and sacrifices are supposed to possess an inherent and actual value， in one degree depending upon the disposition or motive of the person who performs them. They are drafts upon heaven for which the gods cannot refuse payment. The worst men， bent upon the worst designs， have in this manner obtained power which has made them formidable to the supreme deities themselves." Moreover， the Hindu gods hear the prayers of those who desire the evil of others. Hence when a rich man becomes poor， his friends say， "See how sharp are men's teeth！" and， "He is ruined because others could not bear to see his happiness！"
"Vile wretch，" replied the breathless hero， "know me to be Vikram the Great， Raja of Ujjayani， and I bear thee to a man who is amusing himself by drumming to devils on a skull."
"Remember the old saying， mighty Vikram！" said the Baital， with a sneer， "that many a tongue has cut many a throat. I have yielded to thy resolution and I am about to accompany thee， bound to thy back like a beggar's wallet. But hearken to my words， ere we set out upon the way. I am of a loquacious disposition， and it is well nigh an hour's walk between this tree and the place where thy friend sits， favouring his friends with the peculiar music which they love. Therefore， I shall try to distract my thoughts， which otherwise might not be of the most pleasing nature， by means of sprightly tales and profitable reflections. Sages and men of sense spend their days in the delights of light and heavy literature， whereas dolts and fools waste time in sleep and idleness. And I purpose to ask thee a number of questions， concerning which we will， if it seems fit to thee， make this covenant：
"Whenever thou answerest me， either compelled by Fate or entrapped by my cunning into so doing， or thereby gratifying thy vanity and conceit， I leave thee and return to my favourite place and position in the siras-tree， but when thou shalt remain silent， confused， and at a loss to reply， either through humility or thereby confessing thine ignorance， and impotence， and want of comprehension， then will I allow thee， of mine own free will， to place me before thine employer. Perhaps I should not say so； it may sound like bribing thee， but——take my counsel， and mortify thy pride， and assumption， and arrogance， and haughtiness， as soon as possible. So shalt thou derive from me a benefit which none but myself can bestow."
Raja Vikram hearing these rough words， so strange to his royal ear， winced； then he rejoiced that his heir apparent was not near； then he looked round at his son Dharma Dhwaj， to see if he was impertinent enough to be amused by the Baital. But the first glance showed him the young prince busily employed in pinching and screwing the monster's legs， so as to make it fit better into the cloth. Vikram then seized the ends of the waistcloth， twisted them into a convenient form for handling， stooped， raised the bundle with a jerk， tossed it over his shoulder， and bidding his son not to lag behind， set off at a round pace towards the western end of the cemetery.
The shower had ceased， and， as they gained ground， the weather greatly improved.
The Vampire asked a few indifferent questions about the wind and the rain and the mud. When he received no answer， he began to feel uncomfortable， and he broke out with these words： "O King Vikram， listen to the true story which I am about to tell thee."
