兩個徒弟 The Two Disciples Confessed
那長老瞞不過，說出兩個徒弟來了。奏道：「陛下，貧僧一人，實難到此。貧僧有兩個徒弟，善能逢山開路，遇水疊橋，保貧僧到此。」國王怪道：「你這和尚大沒理，既有徒弟，怎麼不與他一同進來見朕？若到朝中，雖無中意賞賜，必有隨分齋供。」三藏道：「貧僧那徒弟醜陋，不敢擅自入朝，但恐驚傷了陛下的龍體。」國王笑道：「你看你這和尚說話，終不然朕當怕他？」那长老瞒不过，说出两个徒弟来了。奏道：「陛下，贫僧一人，实难到此。贫僧有两个徒弟，善能逢山开路，遇水叠桥，保贫僧到此。」国王怪道：「你这和尚大没理，既有徒弟，怎么不与他一同进来见朕？若到朝中，虽无中意赏赐，必有随分斋供。」三藏道：「贫僧那徒弟丑陋，不敢擅自入朝，但恐惊伤了陛下的龙体。」国王笑道：「你看你这和尚说话，终不然朕当怕他？」
逐句解 Line by line
The elder, unable to keep it hidden, brought out the matter of his two disciples. He reported, 'Your Majesty, this humble monk alone could hardly have reached this far. I have two disciples, well able to open a road where they meet a mountain and to bridge the water where they meet a river, who have brought me safely here.'
瞞不過 is "cannot keep it hidden any longer" — the confession is dragged out of him. What he offers by way of reference is the stock formula for what good disciples are for: 逢山開路，遇水疊橋, open a road when you meet a mountain, throw a bridge when you meet a river. It is still a live phrase in Chinese (usually now as 遇水搭橋) for anyone who clears obstacles as they come. Note what he leaves out.
The king said, with some displeasure, 'You are a most unreasonable monk. If you have disciples, why did you not bring them in together to see me? Were they to come to court, though there might be no gift to their liking, there would surely be a vegetarian meal befitting their station.'
A neat coincidence for a reader learning to read: 中 appears twice in this sentence with two different readings. 朝中 is zhōng, "at court"; 中意 is zhòng, "hitting the mark," hence gifts to one's liking. 大沒理 is "quite unreasonable," and 隨分 (分 = fèn) 齋供 is a vegetarian meal suited to their station — the king is being hospitable about guests he has not seen.
Said Tripitaka, 'Those disciples of mine are ugly of feature, and I dared not presume to bring them to court, for fear of alarming and harming Your Majesty's dragon-person.'
醜陋 is hideous; 擅自入朝 (朝 = cháo) is to enter court without leave; 龍體, "the dragon-body," is the royal person. Tripitaka's worry that the sight might damage it is treated as excessive politeness. It is a forecast.
The king laughed and said, 'Only hear how this monk talks! Am I, after all, to be afraid of them?'
終不然 is "surely it cannot be that...," a rhetorical brush-off. The king laughs at the idea of being frightened by two monks. Hold on to the laugh; it has three scenes to run.
The passage turns on concealment. Tripitaka has kept his disciples out of sight precisely because he can foresee what their faces will do to a court, and only the king's insistence pulls the admission out of him. The king, for his part, cannot imagine the problem: he pictures ordinary travellers deserving of hospitality, offers them a vegetarian meal befitting their station, and, when warned about their hideousness, only laughs — am I to be afraid of them? The irony is broad and deliberate, and the confident laughter is balanced on the edge of the fright to come.