“That’s a very slight matter:  make haste and come in and warm yourself.”

The badger, delighted with so good a reception, went into the hut, and squatting down by the fire began to warm itself; and the priest, with renewed fervour, recited his prayers and struck his bell before the image of Buddha, looking straight before him.  After two hours the badger took its leave, with profuse expressions of thanks, and went out; and from that time forth it came every night to the hut.  As the badger would collect and bring with it dried branches and dead leaves from the hills for firewood, the priest at last became very friendly with it, and got used to its company; so that if ever, as the night wore on, the badger did not arrive, he used to miss it, and wonder why it did not come.  When the winter was over, and the spring-time came at the end of the second month, the Badger gave up its visits, and was no more seen; but, on the return of the winter, the beast resumed its old habit of coming to the hut.  When this practice had gone on for ten years, one day the badger said to the priest, “Through your reverence’s kindness for all these years, I have been able to pass the winter nights in comfort.  Your favours are such, that during all my life, and even after my death, I must remember them.  What can I do to requite them?  If there is anything that you wish for, pray tell me.”

The priest, smiling at this speech, answered, “Being such as I am, I have no desire and no wishes.  Glad as I am to hear your kind intentions, there is nothing that I can ask you to do for me.  You need feel no anxiety on my account.  As long as I live, when the winter comes, you shall be welcome here.”  The badger, on hearing this, could not conceal its admiration of the depth of the old man’s benevolence; but having so much to be grateful for, it felt hurt at not being able to requite it.  As this subject was often renewed between them, the priest at last, touched by the goodness of the badger’s heart, said, “Since I have shaven my head, renounced the world, and forsaken the pleasures of this life, I have no desire to gratify, yet I own I should like to possess three riyos in gold.  Food and raiment I receive by the favour of the villagers, so I take no heed for those things.  Were I to die to-morrow, and attain my wish of being born again into the next world, the same kind folk have promised to meet and bury my body.  Thus, although I have no other reason to wish for money, still if I had three riyos I would offer them up at some holy shrine, that masses and prayers might be said for me, whereby I might enter into salvation.  Yet I would not get this money by violent or unlawful means; I only think of what might be if I had it.  So you see, since you have expressed such kind feelings towards me, I have told you what is on my mind.”  When the priest had done speaking, the badger leant its head on one side with a puzzled and anxious look, so much so that the old man was sorry he had expressed a wish which seemed to give the beast trouble, and tried to retract what he had said.  “Posthumous honours, after all, are the wish of ordinary men.  I, who am a priest, ought not to entertain such thoughts, or to want money; so pray pay no attention to what I have said;” and the badger, feigning assent to what the priest had impressed upon it, returned to the hills as usual.