TOLD IN THE
                            GARDENS OF ARABY

                        (UNTRANSLATED UNTIL NOW)

                                   BY
                             IZORA CHANDLER
                                  AND
                           MARY W. MONTGOMERY


                        NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS
                     CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & GRAHAM








CONTENTS


                                                               Page
    Prelude                                                       5
    The Emerald Roc                                              18
    The Story of the Beautiful Girl Who Had Her Wish             44
    The Story of the Beautiful One Who Did Not Have Her Desire   62
    Story of the Crying Pomegranate and the Laughing Bear        97
    Story of the Bird of Affliction                             130
    Story of the Water-Carrier                                  157
    Story of the Coffee-Maker’s Apprentice                      168
    Story of the Candy-Maker’s Apprentice                       182
    The Crystal Kiosk and the Diamond Ship                      203








TOLD IN THE GARDENS OF ARABY

PRELUDE


Memory swings backward to revel in a certain Garden of Delight; to
picture the high whitewashed wall, topped with red tiles, and guarding
within its quadrangle of acres clustering palms, grave cypress trees,
the fig, quince, orange, pomegranate, and mulberry; also the gray
olive, with roots twisted out of the soil as if by force and seeming to
hint that, once upon a time, giant souls were imprisoned within each
grizzly trunk and struggled themselves to death, in mad wrestlings
after freedom.

Shielded by these varied branches, roses and cabbages, lilies and
onions, jessamine and melons, the crimson-flowered oleander, pumpkins,
tomatoes, and carrots mingle in a delightful democracy. Here the day
wakens with sweet morning clearness, waxes into a scorching noontide,
and burns onward, to be extinguished by the breath of a dewy twilight.
Stars march slowly from out the vaulted shadows overhead, to halt
at awful distances. Distant mountain peaks stretch away beyond the
city, in indescribable loveliness, and melt in the distance, like
a veritable land of cloud. Upon the other hand lies the desert;
become a sea of silver under the stern light of the stars. One stands
impressed—oppressed and compelled to listen to the mighty, threatening
silence. Small wonder is it that, to-day, in the interior of Arabia,
like his forefathers during the time of Abimelech and Jethro, the
lonely shepherd is a worshiper of the stars—poised, unchanging and
serene, above the changing, tumultuous earth.

Through this Garden, in which Memory lies dreaming, a silvery stream
flows from a marble basin. Into this basin play the waters from a
tree-shaded fountain. Beside it sits a gruff old pelican, eyeing
dweller and guest with equal disfavor. This bird of desolation likes
not his fair prison. Sweeter, to his ear, is the owl’s hoot than any
music distilled by human voices.

At one corner of the great quadrangle stands the long, roomy dwelling.
Its lower story comprises the general reception room, the kitchen, and
stables. From contiguous windows in this last, two white heads lean out
and gaze, wistfully, each into the other’s eyes. One is that of the
snow-white ass, upon which the daughter of the house rides when,
attended by Ismail, she goes forth to pay visits. The other is that of
the foal, shut into a separate stall because he has grown so large that
he must be weaned. Here his greatest effort only succeeds in reaching
up and resting his funny little head upon the window sill; where he
must content himself with waving long ears and casting glances of
entreaty across at the mother, who stands helpless in all but the
expression of her sympathy.

Attention is fastened upon these patient dumb creatures. At this, the
young hostess—who, by the way, speaks Arabic, modern Greek, French,
German, English; who interprets Chopin with appealing sympathy upon the
piano in the beautiful drawing-room; and, upon occasion, picks her
mandolin to light, minor-keyed melodies—decides that the American lady
must have a ride about the garden.

Ismail, a dark-skinned boy who has haunted our footsteps in readiness
for service, and whose eyes and teeth are marvels of brilliancy, leads
forth the petted beast and tricks her out with the most gorgeous
trappings. Then the visitor is wheedled into mounting the high, smooth
saddle. This she does gingerly and sidewise, after the fashion of her
countrywomen. The baby donkey is let out to enjoy a bit of exercise,
and crowds so closely to the side of his adored parent as nearly to
crush the ankles of her nervous rider.

The white beasts trot placidly over the graveled walks of the
quadrangle, and the pastime is growing pleasant to the rider. But
“Faster! faster!” commands the young hostess. “It is not with this
sleep of the day that we should seek to amuse one who comes from the
Land of Haste! Faster! Ismail, faster!”

Time is not given in which to explain that a mild gait is preferred;
for the Arab boy at once enters into the spirit of his mistress—strikes
a resounding blow upon each snowy flank, with such immediate effect
that the unaccustomed rider slides from her insecure position and joins
in the merriment.

“Alas! the Orient has broken your spirit! It is not like this that in
your own country you would ride. Think you that I do not know?”

Hastily arranging her flowing skirts, the young girl sprang gayly
astride the high, polished saddle; leaned forward and whispered, “Away!
Babash!” During the next few moments, shadow and sunlight became a
swift kaleidoscope of gayety and color. The little animal, divining
what was expected of her, broke into a gallop of whose madness one
never would have dreamed her capable; and which made it most comical to
witness the wild attempts of her poor little foal at keeping pace, and
his bewilderment when, after viewing, with despair, her disappearance
before him, his astonished gaze discovered her hastening toward him
from behind, only to leave him again, a little farther on.

Meantime the surly pelican had waddled to an unfrequented corner, where
the gravel, flying from delicate hoofs, could not reach him. Madame,
the elder hostess, came out upon the balcony, which extended along the
second story of the dwelling, to wave her hand in enjoyment of the
sport.

At length, wearied with making exhibition of the speed which, in her
opinion, characterized the home life of her visitor, the young girl
tossed her reins to Ismail, commanded that coffee be brought, then
conducted to a beautiful summerhouse, or kiosk, where were cushions and
rugs in profusion; where the most comfortable corner hid its hand
mirror and rose-water sprinkler, and over whose lattice climbed roses
and jessamine.

Of these latter flowers—so precious to every woman of the Orient—three
were gathered and tucked into the visitor’s belt. “Three, the Oriental
number: one for health, one for wealth, and one for prosperity. If I
wish you these and to you they come, what is there more, that for it
you should ask?” was the compelling explanation, made in a voice that
was music’s own in quality and, like her manner—when not merrily
exemplifying prevailing notions of American life—was gentle as the most
fastidious aristocrat could desire.

The air was sprayed with rose water; we reclined upon the cushions.
Quiet restored, the Madame descended and joined us. Coffee was
brought—though not at once; for the moments do not urge, as in the
Occident; they weave themselves, unnoted, into slow and shining hours.
Resting thus, and, later on, tasting the cream tart of whose
deliciousness the half has never been told, it was inevitable that we
should fall into the custom of the country and relate, each to the
others, tales of our native lands.

Story-telling is a most natural blossom upon the Oriental life tree.
Silent, tropical, motionless days breed no restlessness of the life
intellectual, no ravening after to-day’s knowledge and its fleeting
fame, no feverish haste after anything. The past fades and the future
becomes dim. It is a Land of the Present Moment. In the estimation of
its people, the present moment, only, is to be compared with Paradise.
As consequence, the dreaming of dreams or the relation of marvelous
tales, concerning adventures and intrigues of imaginary characters,
serves to satisfy the indolent and luxurious character. Disinclination
to travel has found expression in “Better be a dog at home than a lion
afloat.” And universal custom exemplifies the belief that it is better
also to recline at ease, with coffee and nargileh; enfolded in such
peace that any relation of turbulence and romance is rendered thrilling
by mere force of contrast—far better is all this than to fare forth
one’s self. One does not marvel that natures pent in such inactive
bodies should require, to their better satisfaction with the stories
told them, blood-curdling elements, violence, with strange
interventions and achievements of the supernatural. By this means is
poise maintained and the slothful soul drugged into dreaminess.

Action and progress are discouraged in the Orient. Until the
authorities grant permission, a man may not rebuild his house after the
flames have destroyed it; nor may he celebrate the marriage of a child.
Only during the feast month of Ramazan is any woman permitted outside
of her walls after sunset; and a man, without his lighted lantern, is
in danger of trouble with the police. Indeed, the dwellers not only are
expected, but themselves expect, to retire at sunset into their
separate home worlds, without whose walls the strait-laced effendi
likes not to have his women seen at any time. Yet, even when within the
home, cards seldom are resorted to; and games of chance everywhere are
forbidden the good Moslem.

Then how should this be other than a land for reverie? Certain hours of
every day are witness to the sun’s terrible triumph. Its atmosphere
becomes of intolerable sultriness. Its climate renders the people
indolent in action, while permitting their intellects to remain keen
and their passions lively. They have, moreover, quick sense of the
ludicrous; a childish, untutored taste for practical jokes; a
refinement of cunning, and, often seemingly asleep, in reality they
never lose their sagacity. Only when in dispute are their voices and
actions unsubdued. As a rule, they are not good in conversation; any
point is made clear by the relation of some parallel tale; and always
the men are ready to loiter and to loaf.

Although the dairy life of the women is enriched with the arts of
cookery and exquisite needlework, it must become monotonous. They are
passionately fond of the open air; but their fullest enjoyment of it
consists in reclining upon rug and cushion, beneath some fragrant
shade, while their slow, indolent eyes traverse the beauty of garden,
sea, or sky, and the ear is soothed with some story which, at the same
time, stirs the sense, gives wing to imagination, and satisfies the
inaction of their present by calling up visions of far-away activities,
perhaps aided by the unseen and unknown.

One, for whom character needs not to consist in eternal effort, must
find great charm in these people, with their childish love for the
passing hour and readiness to give or accept friendliness. Often the
youths are of ideal beauty. Usually the men are well built, healthful,
abstemious. Always the women are splendidly robust and handsome. Nearly
everyone is unmalicious, gentle in temper, leisurely—nay,
more—loitering. Nobody is in a hurry. He who hastes is viewed with
suspicion. Even punctuality in the payment of dues is decried; and no
shopkeeper, worthy of a booth in the bazaar, will permit a customer to
depart until after bewildering his sight with the most gorgeous
properties upon the shelves. Should an unwary shopper ask the price of
any article or permit his eye to linger upon it, coffee is at once
served and the business call becomes a visit of ceremony.

With touching faith in his kismet—decreed fate—the peasant endures
whatever of ill his days may bring. He receives every stranger with
perfect faith; trusting that he may be the messenger of some
long-delayed good. The thought of seeking an occupation rarely occurs
to him—however needy he may be. With only a few piasters in his pouch
for present needs, he becomes wealthy; for, may he not dream of hidden
treasure which, when found, will supply splendors ineffable? Beside,
were he to make strenuous effort in the hope of bettering his estate,
he might thwart some beautiful on-coming providence. In this land where
gentle consideration reigns, children treat their mothers with a royal
deference, which but increases with every added year of their own
lives.

The Osmanlis will have nothing to do with hereditary rank. The
misfortunes and sins which constitute the unanswerable Eastern
Question, arise from the fact that their Prophet failed to provide a
law by which his successors might be determined. Members of the
reigning family marry the simplest family; and the genealogical records
are forgotten. Sentiment is opposed to class lines between ruler and
people; hence, in their stories, the young prince is free to marry any
maiden, be she ever so lowly.

However somber this life, the pious Moslem finds content in letting his
mind dwell upon the bliss of that life beyond. He is profoundly
submissive in the presence of death; accepts its coming with
unquestioning resignation, since his Edjel—appointed death hour—and
that of his beloved ones, was decreed by Allah and invisibly inscribed
upon the brow at birth. Dying means that one is bidden, by “the
Cupbearer of the Spheres,” to partake of the joys of Paradise. Why,
then, should one regret the summons?

Devotion is natural to him. Five times each day does the dweller in
village or city obey a call to prayer—even though the muezzin who cries
may be far from holy and his intrigues furnish the point for many a
tale. According to Lady Blunt, “nothing gives so much distinction, in
this land, as regular attendance at prayers.” The name of Allah enters
into every bargain, greeting, or conflict. To the really faithful,
every living creature has some spiritual significance. The killing of a
dog may cost a man many bushels of grain—perchance, his life. The stork
and swallow are sacred. Even the unclean vulture must not be slain. His
body is the abode of some sinful soul; and, if the bird be killed, the
poor soul forever must perish.

The Land of Midian is a mysterious, dreary land of gloomy cliffs and
broad deserts; of shadowless plains, narrow valleys, and monotonous
wilderness regions. Its mirage allures to death; and the clear
atmosphere suddenly may become dark with the burning heat of the
simoon. Through its desert God’s Chosen People are believed to have
wandered during their forty years of punishment and preparation. Fiery
serpents and scorpions made their passage hideous; and the
undisciplined wanderers were “much discouraged because of the way.”

Over this indescribably romantic country—which has been inhabited since
the earliest time and has undergone fewer changes than any other known
upon the globe—a mighty Presence seems on patient guard. One is never
freed from the sense of some Great Unseen.

At points the configuration is fantastic and weird in the character of
its desolation. It is a region of gloomy cliffs, of granite hills, of
detached, volcanic centers—like that of the true Mount Sinai—and over
whose difficult passages the complaining camel seems fittest transport.

Each tribe, in this Land of Ishmael, claims descent from some one of
the three members of Abraham’s family; and insists that social and
religious status were overthrown by Mohammed, when he subjected them to
his version of the law of the One God. To this it may be added that
there are those who believe that the enmity of Christians against the
Jews prevented the great prophet from adopting the Christian faith.

Upon his possession of Arabia does the Sultan base his title of Caliph.
With the downfall of those rulers came a relapse into the former
separate chieftaincies; so that every valley, between desert and coast,
or mountain range, now supports its wandering band. For this reason,
these people love that the stories told them should concern that time
of the Caliphs; when the country flourished as never before or after.

Yemen, a central, fertile tract in southwest Arabia, is the Arab’s
Arcadia. Here Alexander the Great determined to fix his court after he
should have conquered India. His strong nature was attracted to this
surprising land; where a single step may bear one from dreary
somberness into the most luxurious vegetation—from the desert into an
oasis, redolent with the scent of flowers, shadowed with orchards and
musical with the insect’s drone.

In a land like this, among a people of courtesy and charm, it becomes
gently imperative that the most barren imagination should indulge in
bits of phantasy and the dullest sense become susceptible to passing
beauty. A pure and refreshing fountain is certain to become a center of
romantic interest that will unseal the lips of a traveler. And, since
bachelors are looked upon with disfavor and not an old maid exists in
all the country, it is to be expected that any relation should turn
upon marriage. Nor need one fear that the tale will prove erotic, since
its creation was in a land where the modesty of a peasant will not
admit even of his staring at a company of bathers; but sends his eyes
to search the tree tops or distant mountains, until temptation is far
passed.

Perhaps it will be well to begin these stories from the Orient with a
relation of cruel intrigue and of patient revenge, aided by potent,
albeit most unlikely, supernatural forces:








THE EMERALD ROC


PART I

THE DRAGON OF THE APPLES

Once upon a time, in the pleasure garden of a king, there grew a tree
which produced three apples every year. But the king had never tasted
one of them. In the middle of the night, before they were quite ripe, a
seven-headed genie always came and carried them away.

Now, the king had three sons. One day the eldest son came into his
father’s presence, kissed the ground, then arose and stood before him.

“What dost thou wish, my son?” asked the king.

“My father,” was the answer, “thou knowest that the precious apples
should be ripe upon the morrow. To-night I would keep watch in the
garden and kill the genie.”

“Thou speakest well, my son,” said the king.

Thereupon the prince took a bow in his hand and hid himself in the
garden. At midnight there was a terrific earthquake, followed by a
black cloud, out of which the genie emerged and walked toward the tree
upon which hung the precious fruit. At sight of him the affrighted
prince forgot his determination and ran to the palace for safety. The
genie plucked the apples and carried them away.

In the morning the king sent for the prince and inquired if he had
accomplished his purpose.

“Sire,” was the reply, “I barely escaped with my life!”

When a year had passed the second son asked that he be allowed to kill
the monster. His ill fortune was like unto that of his brother. At the
end of another year the youngest prince came into his father’s
presence.

“If your majesty only consent,” he pleaded, “I will go and kill this
evil creature who trespasses upon your private grounds.”

But the king was loath to let his favorite son rush into danger, and
demurred, saying: “If thy brothers could not accomplish this hazardous
undertaking how canst thou hope to do it? Alas! thou wilt surely
perish.”

Nevertheless, upon the pleading of the boy, permission was granted him.
The grateful young prince placed the Koran in his bosom, took a
poisoned arrow in his hand, and sought a secluded spot in the garden.

Exactly at midnight there was an earthquake, after which appeared a
dense cloud, out of which emerged the seven-headed genie and approached
the tree which bore the precious fruit.

“By the power of Allah!” cried the young prince as he threw the
poisoned arrow. It passed through all the seven heads of the monster,
who, uttering a cry that made the earth to tremble, sank upon the
ground.

The prince gathered the apples, ran with them to his father, and told
what he had done.

“Brave art thou, my son!” cried the king. “I perceive that thou hast
great courage.”

But the prince was not content. Kissing the ground before his father,
he asked permission to remove the body of the genie from off the face
of the earth. And, although the king had grave fears for his son’s
safety, he was persuaded to yield consent.





PART II

THE DRAGON OF THE WELL

Very early upon the following morning the prince, taking his two elder
brothers with him, entered the royal garden. A strange sight met their
eyes. The body of the genie had turned to blood and was flowing away in
a stream.

The young prince, fearing that this boded mischief to the kingdom of
his father, determined to follow the course of the stream. After
walking for several days the princes found that it came to an end at
the mouth of a well.

Now, the well was covered with an immense stone, which the two elder
brothers tried in vain to remove. As soon, however, as the youngest had
touched it with his finger, they lifted it without difficulty.

This youngest, then, desired to descend at once and kill the dragon.
But the eldest detained him, saying, “It is not for thee to do this
while I, the eldest, am here.”

So they tied a rope around the waist of the eldest and began to let him
down into the well. But he was scarcely inside when he cried: “Alas! I
am burning. Pull me out, quickly!”

The others drew him out and tied the rope around the second prince’s
waist. But he had no more than entered the mouth of the well when he,
also, called out. “Alas! I freeze!” were his words. “Pull me up!”

The youngest prince then said to his brothers: “It surely is permitted
me to try. But should I cry, ‘I burn!’ or ‘I freeze!’ you shall pay no
heed; but hasten the more to let me down.”

The others agreed to this. And when the youth called out that he was
burning or freezing, they gave out more rope. After some time the
bottom was reached by the brave young prince, who freed himself from
the rope and began to walk through a long hall which stretched before
him.

Presently he came to a room, in which a beautiful maiden sat knitting.
He did not tarry, however, but passed on into another room, where was
another maiden, also knitting, who was more beautiful than the first.
Still the prince tarried not. He entered a third room, where—what
should he see? A maiden whose beauty exceeded all imagery, who dazzled
the eyes of a beholder as if a sun had dropped into the room. The
prince could not look into her face. He fell deeply in love with her
from that moment and cried:

“Maiden, art thou human?”

“I am human,” the maiden answered. “But, O, my knight, how didst thou
reach this place? Knowest thou not that there dwelleth a dragon within
this well? If he hear thee he will surely kill thee.”

“I am come to kill this monster,” replied the youth. “So do thou
quickly show me where he may be found.”

The maiden, although she loved him, gave the desired direction, because
she saw that Allah must have led him thither.

When the prince entered the door pointed out to him—what should he see!
A genie who was like a minaret for height, and so huge that a common
knight must lose his senses at the mere sight of him.

When this being perceived his visitor he lifted his thousand-pound
stick and, uttering a sound that shook the earth, rushed upon him. The
prince almost gave himself up for lost. But, seizing his sword, he
shouted, “Through the power of Allah!” and struck upward with such
force that the giant’s head was completely severed from his body. He
sank to the ground, delivering up his soul to Hades.

At once the prince returned to the maiden; after which he gathered all
the jewels he could find and, together with the three princesses,
returned to the bottom of the well. After calling to his brothers to
let down the rope, he tied it about the first maiden. “Here, my elder
brother, is thy portion!” he shouted. When this one had been rescued he
fastened the rope about the second, and cried, “Here, my second
brother, is thy portion!” But when it came the turn of the maiden who
was the young prince’s own choice, she said to him:

“My prince, do thou go first and I surely will follow. Verily, I fear
that thy brothers, seeing me, will be envious and leave thee in the
well.”

But the prince would not listen. He scorned to leave his beloved one in
the gloomy prison. So the maiden, sad at heart, gave him three hairs
from her head, saying: “If it chance that they cut the rope which holds
thee, instantly rub these hairs. Two sheep will appear at the foot of
the well. If thou fallest upon the white one, thou wilt come,
instantly, out upon the face of the earth. But, alas! shouldst thou
strike upon the black one, he will carry thee seven leagues farther
under the earth.”

The prince placed the hairs in his bosom, parted tenderly with his
beloved, then calling out that she was his own portion, sent the maiden
to the top.

And the unfortunate prediction came to pass. When the brothers
perceived that the third princess was as the full moon for beauty, they
were very angry, and said: “What is this that he hath done! Will he
keep the most beautiful one for himself?” And when they had drawn him
to the very top they cut the rope. The brave young prince fell, over
and over, into the depths of the well. But, just before he reached the
bottom, he succeeded in rubbing together the three hairs which had been
given him. Instantly, two sheep appeared; and he, falling upon the back
of the black one, was borne seven leagues under the surface of the
earth.



We will now return to the wicked brothers, who conveyed the three
maidens directly to their father’s palace. Upon entering the king’s
presence they wept and cried: “Alas, father! The Genie of the Well has
destroyed our little brother! But we have rescued these three maidens.”

When the king heard these words he wept bitter tears and commanded that
there be very great mourning for his youngest son.





PART III

THE DRAGON OF THE FOUNTAIN

Let us now return to the youngest prince.

Destiny, having carried him seven leagues under the earth, surprised
him still further, by showing him there, another world. He walked until
evening, when he reached a city and knocked at the first door. It was
opened by an aged woman, who asked what he desired.

“Mother, wilt thou take me in for the night?”

“Ah, my son,” was her reply, “I have no place to sleep myself. How,
then, can I harbor thee?”

Her sense of hospitality was so quickened by the gift of three gold
pieces that she conducted the prince to an upper chamber. He then asked
for a draught of water; at which the old woman went to the cupboard and
brought a jar of water, in the bottom of which lay a finger’s depth of
slime. When the prince saw that no beast would taste of such water as
had been offered to him he asked:

“How is this, mother, that you offer me such as this with which to
quench my thirst?”

Thereupon the old woman made answer: “O, my son! The water of this
country is cut off by a huge dragon, who demands every year that a
maiden be given to him. During the time that he is tearing her into
pieces and eating her, water flows from the spring which supplies this
city. At other times we have none. So thou canst see how we suffer.
Just now we are hard pressed, because it is the end of the year.
To-morrow they will give the king’s daughter to the dragon. Haply, that
sacrifice may suffice for all time. And if they do not give her, Allah
have mercy! We must all perish!”

When the brave young prince heard this he became lost in thought. Very
early the next morning he found his way to the fountain, where were
great multitudes of people, each with jugs in their hands. Presently
slaves appeared leading the king’s daughter, who was dressed in red
garments richly adorned. When they had led her to the brink of the
fountain they left her there. It was near the time appointed for the
appearance of the monster, and the poor young princess was weeping
bitterly.

At this pitiable sight the spirit of the young prince became heavy with
sorrow. He made a great decision that he would endeavor to rescue the
sufferer. Approaching her, he said:

“Fair princess, get thou behind me. Hold fast to me, and have no fear!”

The maiden obeyed gladly. The prince then bent his bow and stood in
readiness. Very shortly there appeared in the west a seven-headed
dragon. Fire flashed from his mouth and nostrils. The earth trembled as
he approached. “Aha!” he cried. “Hitherto hath my portion been one. Now
has it become two.” And from half an hour’s distance he tried to draw
the prince and the young maiden to him.

But the prince, bracing his feet, stood firmly; and, although the
dragon used such force that, had they been a mountain, it must have
come to his mouth, he could not move them. He came nearer and tried
again.

Then the prince took a firmer stand and cried, “Bismillah! Through the
power of Allah!” and let fly an arrow which entered the open mouth of
the fiend and came through his neck. He leaped three times, then fell
with such force as to raise a great cloud of earth about him. So much
blood ran from his mouth and nose that the water was hidden quite. But
after a few minutes it was washed away, and the water became clearer
than it had been before.

The maiden secretly dipped her finger in the blood of the dragon and
made a mark upon the back of her deliverer. Then, the cloud being so
dense that neither her departure nor that of the prince was visible,
she hastened to the palace.

When the king saw that his daughter was still living he was afraid, and
began to upbraid her. She acquitted herself by telling the
circumstances of her deliverance and assuring her father that her
promise had not been broken. The king could not believe the great good
fortune. He went, himself, to see the dead dragon, which was so awful
in its proportions as to make the spectator lose his senses. Then the
king, being exceedingly desirous of rewarding their rescuer, asked his
daughter whether she could surely recognize him. The princess insisted
that she would be able to do this, whereupon the king sent out criers,
commanding that all the inhabitants of the country, between the ages of
one and seventy, should pass before the palace.

Let us return to the prince. After having freed the land from the cruel
curse of the dragon, he returned to the house of the old woman and sat
down in his chamber. But the woman rebuked him for disregarding the
decree of the king, and bade him go to the palace.

The prince believed in obeying the commands of a sovereign. He became
one in the long line which marched past the palace of the king. The
princess saw his approach, from the window behind which she was hidden,
and made a sign to the guards, who laid hold upon him and conducted him
into the presence of the king. The mark of blood upon the back of the
prince convinced everyone that he indeed was the one who had saved
them.

The king then bade the prince ask anything that his heart wanted. The
modest youth wished for his majesty’s health, and that whenever it
should near the end it might be renewed. At this the king answered: “My
son, thou profitest nothing through my good health. Ask something for
thyself.”

Then the prince desired to be granted three days in which to render a
decision; after which he returned to the house of the old woman.





PART IV

THE FRIENDLY ROC

The prince was very sad. He longed for his home; for his father, the
king; for his princess, who was like the full moon for beauty. He was
vexed with the cruelty of his two brothers, against whom he had done no
harm. Upon the next day he took his bow and went to the mountains. As
the day was warm, he sat down under a tree and fell asleep.

Now, it chanced that in this very tree was the brood of an emerald roc,
to which the mother-bird brought food once each year. This day chanced
to be the very one upon which she was to come. While the prince was
sleeping, an immense snake began to climb the tree. The screams of the
young birds wakening the prince, he sprang up, discovered the snake,
and straightway nailed it to the tree with an arrow. Again he lay down
and slept.

Presently the mother-bird appeared in the sky, saw the prince, and,
fearing that he had killed her young ones, was about to fall upon him,
when the little ones cried out, “Mother, mother! this sleeping prince
has rescued us from our mortal enemy, the Great Black Snake.” And,
verily, there was the snake, still hanging from the tree.

The great bird descended softly, sat down beside the prince, and spread
one wing to shield him from the rays of the sun. After a little the
prince awoke, and thought that a tent had been spread above him. When
the grateful bird knew that he had wakened she bade him ask from her
any favor that he desired. The prince requested to be taken to the
surface of the earth.

The roc replied that this would be exceedingly difficult. However, even
at the cost of her own life, she would endeavor to satisfy him, since
he had saved the lives of her children. In order that she might be able
to undertake this task, she required that he supply her with forty
sheep and forty casks of wine; that whenever, upon the journey, she
said “Hah!” he could give her meat, and when she said “Huh!” he would
be able to give her drink.

Upon this the prince went to the king and requested that he be given,
graciously, forty sheep and forty casks of wine. These were carried to
the bird, who placed the sheep on one wing, the wine upon the other;
the prince mounted her back, and immediately the journey was
undertaken.

The prince supplied the great bird with food and drink, according to
her direction, until there came a day when she said “Hah!” and there
was no meat to give her. The command was repeated. The prince hastily
cut off the calf of his leg and gave it to her. The bird, perceiving
that it was human flesh, put it in a corner of her mouth and would not
eat it. Shortly after this they arrived at the mouth of the well;
whereupon the bird said, “My prince, we have reached the face of the
earth. Go, now. And may Allah be with thee!”

But the prince could not walk, because of his leg. And as he did not
wish to reveal this to the roc he answered, “Do thou depart first, I
pray thee; then will I go.”

The bird knew the reason for this answer, and, taking the piece of
flesh from her mouth, she replaced it in such marvelous manner that the
leg was better than before.

The prince then bade the bird good-bye. And with that he found himself
in his own country. Before he should be recognized, he secured a tight
cap of skin, which gave him the appearance of baldness. It was more
than this. There were upon the cap certain marks which gave an
impression that the wearer was suffering from a disease of the scalp.
This was so designed that no one would approach too near the person of
the prince and thus discover him. He then changed garments with a
shepherd, and in this garb went directly to the pleasure garden of his
father, where he asked the gardener to take him as an assistant.

The gardener refused; but the pleadings of the youth finally forced him
to consent. After a few days the gardener gathered a great bunch of
roses and went away, leaving the pleasure garden in charge of his
seemingly faithful assistant.





PART V

THE MAGIC HAIRS

No sooner was the gardener gone than the prince took the hairs given
him by the princess and rubbed them together. Immediately a slave
appeared and asked, “What are thy commands, O prince?”

“Bring me a fine horse, a fine suit of clothes, and a set of weapons,”
was the answer.

In another moment the slave brought all that had been commanded, and
assisted the young man to dress and mount his horse. After this the
prince rode all about the garden, trampling upon and destroying the
plants. As he rode he glanced toward the palace and rejoiced to see
that the three princesses were there and that he was recognized by
them. He then gave the horse, clothes, and weapons to the slave and
retired to a corner of the garden.

When the gardener returned—what should he see! The beautiful garden
nearly in ruins, and the bald-headed assistant weeping in a corner. He
began beating him, but the maidens called from a window: “Do not beat
the lad! Verily, a rider from without came and destroyed the plants.
Thy assistant is not to blame.”

After a few days the gardener again went away, and left the boy in
charge of the place. The second time he called for a horse, destroyed
many things which had escaped before, then sat down and awaited the
return of the gardener. The maidens had fully recognized him this time.
They rejoiced that the good prince had returned to the face of the
earth, but, not knowing his plans, they bided his time and said
nothing.

The gardener returned shortly, and was so greatly incensed at what he
saw that he was about to chastise his assistant severely, when the
maidens called commanding him to cease. A third time was the young
prince left alone, and a third time did he despoil the garden—this time
so grievously that not a branch was left. When the gardener returned he
found nothing growing. Taking hold of the youth, he threw him without
the gate.

Now, the prince was desirous of learning about the affairs of the
kingdom. He had found that his brothers had not the courage to
challenge one who appeared and behaved disrespectfully unto their
father, the king. He went therefore to a jeweler and requested to be
taken as an apprentice. The jeweler had no need of an assistant, but as
the lad asked that he be permitted even to carry his coals, he was
accepted.

Now, when the maidens had been brought unto the palace the king
commanded that the first two prepare for their wedding. They, however,
begged to be allowed forty days in which to prepare. When they had
recognized the good prince they hoped for release, and, to assure
themselves that he was upon the earth continually, they asked many
things which none but he would have power to grant. One wanted a golden
shuttle and a golden needle which would make lace without hands. The
second asked for a golden tray, upon which must be a golden hen with
forty golden chickens and all eating golden grains of barley. The third
demanded a golden tray around which a golden rabbit and a golden hare
were chasing each other.

Now, the wicked princes, believing that they had destroyed their
brother, desired that the people might become dissatisfied with their
father’s rule; so they pressed him to fulfill the requests of the
princesses. The king did according to their desire; for he was very sad
at heart and had no wish to live longer. Therefore he summoned all the
jewelers of his kingdom and commanded that they execute the three
orders. The jewelers, after consulting together, begged that they be
granted forty days of grace. This request was granted by the king, who
threatened certain death to all of them if, upon the fortieth day, his
demands were not fulfilled. Thereupon, very much cast down in spirit,
the jewelers were permitted to return to their homes.

The apprentice prince, seeing his master in this state, asked the cause
of his anxiety. The master answered him roughly; but, as the youth
persisted, he replied that the king’s sons had rescued three
princesses, each of whom demanded a special article made of gold,
before the two who were designed for them in marriage would consent to
the nuptials. When asked to describe the articles, and after he had
done so, the apprentice cried: “My master, I thought it had been some
impossible thing that was required of thee. Trouble thyself no longer.
Furnish me with a bag of nuts for food, another of raisins, and with
forty candles. Thou shalt have these curious articles upon the morning
of the fortieth day. Fear not!”

“Since the boy craves nuts and raisins,” said the master to himself, “I
will permit him to have them. For myself, I shall need nothing long.”

The prince shut himself into a room, ate the nuts and raisins, burned
his candles, and enjoyed himself. He was learning much about the
kingdom and his brothers. Upon the fortieth night he rubbed the magic
hairs which the maiden had given him, and commanded the slave, who
appeared, to bring the articles demanded by the three princesses. They
were brought and placed within a carved casket which stood in the room.

At early morning the jeweler appeared. He was pale with fear as he
demanded how the boy had spent his time. “Why dost thou ask? My answer
lies hidden within the casket.”

With trembling hands the master opened the casket, and was so
overpowered at what he saw that he fell upon the apprentice’s neck in a
swoon. When he had revived, he hastened to the palace and spread the
precious creations before the king. Then were the three maidens very
happy, for they knew that the good prince was not only upon the face of
the earth, but that he possessed great power.

When the jeweler returned to the shop he was grieved because the
apprentice requested his freedom, and would not be persuaded to remain.
“Have I not saved thy life and the lives of thy fellow craftsmen? And
wilt thou refuse me freedom?” asked the young man. So the jeweler
permitted him to depart.

Then the prince went directly to the shop of a tailor, and again asked
that he might serve an apprenticeship; and, although the tailor had no
need of help, he refused to be turned away. This he did because he had
heard of another request made by the maidens. They desired to gain more
time and had asked for three robes, which had not been cut with
scissors, nor sewn by needles; and each of which should be brought them
in a filbert shell.

The king felt that he was in the power of some strange evil. At the
urgent request of his sons he summoned the tailors of the kingdom and
gave them the command. Now, the tailors had trembled greatly when they
learned what had been required of the jewelers. They felt assured that
not one of them could fulfill the imperial order; nevertheless, since
they wished to live as long as possible, they asked for forty days in
which to prepare the three robes. “Very well,” replied their sovereign,
“but if my command is not obeyed, upon the forty-first day you all
shall lose your heads.”

When the master of the prince returned, in great dejection, to his
shop, the new apprentice asked the cause of his anxiety. “Do not vex
me!” was the impatient answer. But, as the day wore on, the prince
learned the cause of his master’s hopelessness. “Is that anything to
trouble thee?” asked the youth. “Give to me forty bags of nuts, forty
bags of raisins, and forty candles. Upon the forty-first day thou shalt
have what thou desirest.” The tailor, because he did not like to grieve
a lad who showed so much interest, gave to him all that he had asked.
The prince shut himself up as beforehand, and upon the fortieth night
bade the slave, whom he had summoned with the magic hairs, to bring the
three robes and place them within a brazen casket upon the table. When
morning came the tailor, without experiencing any degree of hope, came
to the door and asked what had been accomplished. The apprentice
desired him to open the casket and behold the fulfillment of his
promise. The tailor was overjoyed, and hastened to the palace;
whereupon the king at once gave order that the wedding festivities
should begin.

A tournament of javelin throwing was arranged to take place upon the
running grounds, in which, upon the first day, the eldest prince was to
show his skill. The whole city turned out to witness the spectacle; and
the grateful tailor said to his apprentice, “Come, let us go together
and see the eldest prince play Zerid.” But the youth objected on
account of his baldness; saying that he feared something might hit him
accidentally and hinder the healing of the sores.

So the tailor left him alone in the shop. The prince then summoned the
slave of the magic hairs and commanded that a tall black horse, a set
of javelins, and a black suit of clothes be brought him. This was done
immediately. The prince cast off his hateful headdress, arrayed himself
in the handsome clothing, mounted his horse, and rode to the place of
tournament, where the eldest son of the king was playing. It was easy
to recognize his brother. Riding directly to him, the newcomer
challenged to single combat, and, with a wonderful throw, so wounded
him in the arm that he fell off his horse. In the confusion which
followed, the victor returned to the shop of the tailor, gave back the
horse, the javelins, and the clothing, sent the slave to his place
under the earth, and sat down to await the coming of his master.

When the tailor appeared he cried: “O, my son! It is well that thou
didst not go with me to-day.” Then he sat down and related all that had
passed. But, during the relation, the prince learned that there was a
great uprising planned against the king, and that the son of the grand
vizier was to murder the two princes and take the throne. This had all
come about through the restlessness of the people, which had been
caused by the long unkindness of the king’s sons.

The next day, when the second son of the king was to rule the
tournament, the tailor again took his departure. His apprentice
instantly summoned the slave of the magic hairs, and ordered a yellow
horse, a suit made from cloth of gold, and a set of gold-mounted
javelins. When these were furnished him he rode to the place of
tournament, and dismounted his second brother by wounding him in the
leg; after which he returned quickly to the shop, resumed his former
appearance, and sat down to await the coming of his master. When the
tailor returned, and related the events of the day, the apprentice
praised Allah that he had not accompanied him.

Now, upon the third day was the son of the grand vizier to rule the
exhibition of skill. So the prince was exceedingly anxious to see his
master depart. When the tailor was once out of sight, a white horse and
a silver-embroidered suit with silver-mounted javelins were ordered
from the slave of the magic hairs. When these arrived the prince made
haste to array himself and to depart, as before, to the running ground.
The grand vizier’s son was challenged, and with rare skill he was run
through the heart and killed.

This time the victor did not disappear, as he had done upon each of the
previous days, but continued to ride about openly, until he was
arrested and dragged before the king. Before his entrance there the
king had given orders that the murderer should have his head stricken
off. As the prince approached the throne he said: “O, most noble and
gracious sovereign! My brothers abandoned me in the well; the son of
the grand vizier plotted against thy most precious life; and wilt thou
now kill me, thy faithful son?”

When the king knew indeed that it was the son whom he had so deeply
mourned, he was overjoyed. Falling upon the neck of the young prince,
he wept and asked: “My son, what dost thou desire? Shall I command the
death of thy two brothers?” But the young man was as noble when victory
crowned him as when the bitterness of defeat had taxed his powers. He
answered: “My father, since I am so happy as to find thee still
unharmed, let us say, Allah be praised! Allah’s will be done! But do
thou, I pray thee, give a palace, far away from thine own, unto each of
my brothers; command that the elder be married to the first princess,
the second to the second princess; then do thou graciously permit me to
marry the youngest, whom I deeply love and through whom it has been
possible for me thus to rescue thee and preserve unto thee thy
kingdom.”

So it all came about as the brave young prince had requested. The two
brothers were given palaces at a distance from that of the king; there
was feasting and rejoicing upon the part of all the people during forty
days; after which the youngest son of the king was married to the most
beautiful princess and lived happily ever afterward.

Here endeth this story, with Salaam! which meaneth peace.








THE STORY OF THE BEAUTIFUL GIRL WHO HAD HER WISH


The teller of tales says that, once upon a time, there lived a woman
whose only child was a daughter, so beautiful that, of all who saw her,
not one had ever beheld her equal. And this daughter not only was fair
to look upon, she was gentle and kind to everyone and very loving and
obedient to her mother. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing wanting to
the happiness of these two.

Her mother had taught the young girl to weave the most delicate lace,
and during some portion of every day she sat in her own room and
carefully wrought out the pattern. Late one afternoon, as she was
engaged thus, a bird flew in at the window. This did not seem strange
to one with whom the birds were so friendly that every day they came to
eat from her hand. But as she looked upon this little visitor, he
seemed unlike those that came to her daily.

Lowering his head three times, he opened his bill and spoke to her. The
words that he said were very terrible: “Gentle maiden,” quoth the bird,
“during forty nights shalt thou keep watch beside a corpse. After that
it shall happen to thee according to thy strongest wish.”

The young girl was so surprised and alarmed that she could not command
her tongue to ask the bird why this must come to her. Before she became
calm the bird had flown.

Now, because the girl loved her mother very deeply, she delayed to
speak of this strange matter. At night she went to bed and slept, and
when morning came, took up her accustomed duties. At the approach of
evening the strange bird came again, spoke as before, and flew away.

Sick at heart, the poor girl ran to her mother and confided all that
had passed. The mother, greatly alarmed, questioned her daughter
closely. “Dost thou fear another visit from the bird, my child?”

“Twice has he come to me. He will surely come once more. Thou knowest
well, my mother, that one who has a second warning surely must receive
a third.”

“Ai, my daughter!” exclaimed the mother. “And at what time will the
bird visit thee?”

“To-morrow, toward evening,” answered the girl.

Accordingly, when the shadows lengthened upon the morrow, the mother
hid herself in a closet at one end of her daughter’s room. At the
expected time, while the girl sat working upon her lace, the same bird
entered, lowered his head three times, and spoke the same words—with
this slight difference, that he addressed the maiden as sultana.

After the words were spoken, the bird turned to the window and was soon
beyond sight.

The poor mother had overheard all. As the two flew to embrace each
other the mother cried: “Ai, my daughter, let us fly! Let us try to
escape from the power of this cruel bird.”

And the girl answered, “Let us fly together, mother, come what will!”

They made haste to gather those goods which were light in weight but
heavy in worth; after which they closed the doors of their home and set
forth, with all speed, upon a journey which they well knew must be
perilous.

They rested but little, one of them always keeping watch. After several
days of travel they came to a magnificent palace. Hastening to its
walls, they sat down in the shadow and considered what they would
better do next. Being weary, they lay down in a hidden spot, and
although the mother was firm in her will to remain awake, a strange
power took hold upon her that she could not resist. Sleep closed her
eyes. She became unconscious.

Upon this the strange bird again made its appearance, and, although it
seemed not larger than an ordinary songster, it possessed such strength
as to lift the sleeping girl. Gently it bore her over the wall and into
a room of the palace, where it laid her upon a beautiful golden divan.

Almost immediately the sleeper opened her eyes, and discovered that she
was separated from her mother and within the palace. She arose and
looked about her. Lying upon a bier in the middle of the room, under a
white, transparent covering, was a corpse.

When her eyes fell upon this the poor girl nearly went out of her
senses for terror, and exclaimed: “Evil is upon me! That which the bird
foretold was, indeed, very truth.”

Then she sought eagerly to find a way out, in order that she might
bring her mother within. The rooms of the palace were very large and
magnificent; but no person could be found in them. And whenever she
entered one of them and hastened to another door, she found herself, as
if by magic, in the one where had been her awakening and beside the
stately bier.

Hour after hour she struggled. Every trial ended with the same
experience. She found herself, again and again, in the lonely room with
only the body upon the bier for company. At last she was exhausted, and
began to understand that escape was impossible—that some mighty power
had torn her from her beloved mother. In the hope that obedience to
fate would make her sentence lighter, she said: “I will bear whatever
is allotted to me. Afterward, if Allah will, it may be for the best.”



Let the girl remain here while we return to the mother.

Morning came, and, the strange influence having spent itself, the woman
awakened. Turning toward the place where she had last seen her beloved
daughter, she reached out her arms for an embrace. But they were empty.
The alarmed woman made haste to seek all about the hiding place, in the
vain hope that the girl had gone to look about them. But no trace of
her child could be found—no footprint in the soft earth, no portion of
her clothing.

When this became real to the seeker, her heart was crushed with fear.
“Alas!” she cried, “in rescuing my beloved one from the bird I have
lost her unto myself!”

Thereupon, with grief so heavy that she was many days in journeying the
distance over which they two had sped so swiftly, she returned to her
own home, went into mourning for the daughter whom she believed dead,
and awaited whatever might be ordered unto herself.



Now let us return to the girl.

During the long nights that followed she slept not, but kept her dreary
watch beside the bier. In some mysterious manner, fresh food appeared
every morning upon a golden salver, and whatever remained from the
previous day was spirited away. Although the girl endeavored to
discover this change, she was unable to do so.

At first, by means of a bit of charred wood which she found upon the
floor, she kept the strictest account of the days as they passed. With
this she made a mark upon the marble for each day. But as they wore by
she forgot to number them. Dreary monotony made her spiritless.

Now, in front of the palace flowed the sea. One window of the room was
directly over that portion of the castle walls which were washed by the
waves. Long before sunrise, one morning, as the maiden sat beside this
window, looking out with heavy eyes, a ship appeared. It came from the
direction of Iram. When it was directly before the palace the girl made
a sign with her hand. The captain lowered a boat which came to the
walls of the palace.

The air was very still, and the voice of the young girl, though not
loud, was clear. “Bring me a beautiful slave girl,” she said, “and I
will give you these ten thousand piasters.”

The boat returned to the ship. Very soon it came back. In it was
another person. The watcher saw that it was a young girl, like herself.
Overjoyed, she let down a rope, made from the silken coverings of the
divan. At the end of this rope she had fastened the money.

When the men had secured the gold they tied the rope about the body of
the slave girl, and with great difficulty she was drawn up far enough
to enable her to climb within. Her young mistress greeted her with
kindness, and, because of her joy, took the string of gold coins from
her own neck and fastened them around the neck of the newcomer. And she
said, “Thanks be to Allah! I have found a companion.”

The slave girl had been cruelly treated by the captain of the ship. But
she did not tell her mistress that she was glad to be rescued.

Now, the fortieth night was completed, though the young girl knew not
that it was so. After she and the slave had both bathed in an inner
chamber, and after they had eaten of the delicate food upon the golden
salver, the mistress said to her slave: “Now, do thou watch here a
little, while I go to walk through the rooms of the palace. After my
return thou canst do likewise.”

Thereupon she went out; and had barely gone when the body upon the bier
returned to life. It was that of a young man, very tall and worthy to
be looked upon. He threw off the covering, and disclosed the
embroidered garments of royalty. He stretched out his hands and opened
his eyes. They fell upon the slave girl. After his long torpor she
seemed beautiful to him. And the gold coins about her neck were not
such as one sees upon a slave.

“Maiden,” he asked, “was it thou who watched beside me through the
forty nights?”

“Yes,” answered the slave; “for forty nights have I watched beside
thee.”

Now, it so chanced that the person who had been lying upon the bier was
a young prince. And before the evil spell was cast upon him by an enemy
of his father, he had made a vow, saying, “Whoso watches by me during
the forty days of my enchantment, her will I marry immediately upon
waking.”

It was because of this vow that he asked the question. And because
within his heart he had felt another presence, he called the slave to
him and asked whether any other beside herself had been there.

The slave was very quick-witted. She was scheming and wicked of heart.
In a moment she knew all that the question might mean to her.
Forgetting the kindness of her young mistress in redeeming her from the
cruel captain and in making of her a beloved companion, rather than a
slave, she quickly made this answer:

“There is my slave girl, whom I bought with much money. Only these gold
pieces about my neck have I saved. She is now in another room.”

Then the prince took her by the hand and said, “Before Allah do I take
thee for my wife.” And he kissed her upon the cheek.

As these words were spoken there came the sound of light footsteps. The
young mistress entered.

“Come, girl!” arrogantly called the slave. “Thy master, my husband,
hath wakened. He calleth for thy service. Hasten to do his bidding!”

The gentle maiden saw that matters were not as they had been when she
began her promenade through the great rooms. But, being obedient of
heart, she said to herself: “This, too, comes from Allah. It must be
borne patiently.”

At the first opportunity she made haste to count the marks upon the
marble which she had made every day with the bit of charcoal. They
numbered forty. Then she felt that there was no hope for her, and
meekly put herself in the place of her own slave, doing every service
that was required of her. The real slave was bitterly cruel, and asked
the most menial offices of this beautiful girl, although upon the full
awakening of the prince the palace had become filled with the usual
number of servants.

A little time later on the prince said to the one whom he had taken for
his wife: “I am going on a long journey. What is thy wish that I bring
thee?”

“Bring me a hundred diamonds and one hundred turquoises,” said the
woman.

Then the prince turned to her whom his wife called slave. “And what
wouldst thou have, my child?” he asked.

“If it be thy gracious pleasure,” came the low answer, “I would beg
thee to bring me a patience stone.”

“A patience stone!” sneered the other. “The prince will never remember
that.”

Then the young girl turned to the slave mistress. “Should he permit
himself to forget this simple request of one who serves you both
faithfully,” was her answer, “may a cloud, black as pitch, form in
front of his ship, so that the way of return cannot be seen. And behind
them may the sky remain clear!”

The prince was not a little surprised at all this. He had taken note of
the perfect manner of the one whom his wife called slave, and had
compared the two. But, without comment, he made his adieus and set
forth upon his journey toward Yemen.

After his arrival there months passed, while he attended to matters of
state. When the time came that he could return, he purchased all that
his wife had ordered. So many things had occurred that it was not
strange that he should forget the servant’s commission.

While the ship was upon her homeward journey, suddenly it became dark
as pitch before the vessel, while behind it the skies were quite clear.
This made it impossible to navigate the ship. Fear came upon everyone.

Thereupon the captain summoned all who were on board. “If there be
anyone among you,” he said, solemnly, “who has forgotten a promise or
forgotten a vow, let him stand forth!”

When the prince heard this command, he remembered the commission of his
wife’s servant and her low-spoken prediction, when the scornful words
had been uttered. He believed that the danger had come upon them
because of those words.

To the great surprise of all, their prince stepped forward. “I am the
one in fault,” he said. “This evil has come upon us because I have
broken a promise made to a slave. Turn the ship about. Let us return to
port, while I fulfill that which became a duty as soon as I had given
my word.”

Immediately upon the ship’s turning, the cloud began to follow them.
Soon they were back at Yemen, where the prince made haste to purchase
the patience stone. Afterward, by the grace of Allah (the Just One) the
ship flew so fast on its homeward voyage that it seemed like a bird,
and the palace was reached in an incredibly short space of time.

When the prince entered the palace, his wife, followed by her servant,
came down the broad staircase to meet him. Afterward they escorted him
up the stairs and into the pleasantest room of the castle. The wife
asked eagerly for the precious gems, and was wild with delight when
they were spread before her.

“Come, hither, slave!” she commanded, “and deck thy mistress in a
manner fitting to her station!”

The young girl obeyed without a murmur, although her heart was very
sore. When the task was finished, and the vain and wicked one sat
before a polished steel mirror admiring herself, the seeming slave
turned to the prince.

“My gracious master,” she said, very gently, “is it permitted me to ask
if thou rememberedst my humble request?”

The prince then delivered the stone, which was received with becoming
gratitude. “May Allah bless thee!” were her words.

Now, the only room in the entire palace which was at all mean had been
given to her, and everything that could add to her comfort had been
removed by command of her mistress. When the night came on she went to
this room and sat down to deliberate.

Grief at the loss of her mother tore her heart. The injustice of her
own slave was more than she could endure longer. It seemed as if Allah,
in whom she had hoped, must have forgotten her. Tears fell from her
beautiful eyes and sighs shook her frame. Long she sat there after the
hour for retiring.

When the palace became still and the prince was in his bed, he
bethought him of his wife’s supposed slave and wondered what she would
do with the patience stone. There was a mystery about her which he fain
would solve. More than once had he checked his wife in her heavy
demands upon the frail young girl; more than once had he been stirred
with the thought that she and not the one he had married should be the
princess. So, after his wife had fallen asleep, he arose lightly and
went to the door of the servant’s room, taking with him his faithful
Ahmed to bear witness to what he should discover.

The gift, that had been brought her, was about the size of a pea. As
the prince came to the door he saw the young girl wash the stone with
her tears. Afterward she placed it upon the broken table before her and
thus addressed it:

“Ai, patience stone! I was my mother’s only and precious child. One
day, as I, innocent and happy in her affection, sat in my room weaving
the lace that she had taught me to make, a bird came through the window
and spoke to me, saying: ‘During forty days shalt thou keep watch
beside a corpse. But upon the morning of the fortieth day it shall
happen to thee according to thy strongest desire.’

“The bird appeared to me three days and uttered the same message. Upon
the third day my mother, concealed within a closet, heard all that was
said. She, as well as I, was terrified. She determined to save me by
flight. But, while we slept, some mysterious power took me from her
side and placed me in this palace.

“I have not seen my mother since, and do not know whether she is dead
from the grief of our separation. As for myself, during forty days and
nights I watched beside the bier of this prince who is now my master.
Hadst thou been in my place, O stone! couldst thou have been utterly
patient?”

As she thus spoke, the patience stone began to swell with sympathy. As
it did so, it whispered, “Bravo! bravo!”

“With the first streak of light upon the fortieth morning,” continued
the speaker, “a ship passed the palace. Loneliness was heavy upon me. I
signaled it and asked that I might buy a slave girl. For her I offered
ten thousand piasters of the money my mother had put upon me.

“They sent me this slave who is now my mistress. I received her gladly.
I kissed her and put my own gold coins about her neck. I was kind to
her and felt that it was good to have companionship other than a stiff
and silent corpse.

“When the morning had fully dawned I, being restless, left my slave to
watch for a little while beside the bier while I wandered through the
beautiful rooms of the palace.

“Scarcely had I left his presence, when the spell was broken and the
noble prince was restored to life. I returned to find that he had made
my slave his princess. Immediately upon my return this false princess
spoke roughly to me, calling out that I was her slave.

“Since then she has required bitter things of me. Often in the absence
of the prince she beats me. Now she threatens my life. O, thou wise
stone, couldst thou have had patience to endure all this?”

When this pitiful question was sobbed forth, the patience stone cried
“Bravo!” once again, then it burst into a thousand pieces.

“O, patience stone,” cried the girl, “if thou couldst not bear this
that has been put upon me, how can I longer do so? Let me rather hang
myself, before my cruel slave mistress tortures me to death.”

Thereupon she took her sash, wound it about her throat, stepped upon a
wretched stool, and threw the other end of the sash over a beam in the
roof. She was upon the point of being strangled when the prince and his
faithful Ahmed broke into the room, caught her in their arms, and
brought her to the floor.

“Ah, my sultana!” said the prince, very tenderly, “so it was thou who
watched beside me during those bitter days! Why hast thou kept this
long silence?”

“Because I believed in Allah,” was the reply. “If he so willed my life,
I must not try to change it But I was unable longer to bear it.”

“Henceforth art thou my beloved,” said the prince. And he kissed her
three times upon the forehead. “This other, who won thy place through
falsehood, shall receive her just deserts.”

He then conducted the real sultana from the wretched room into a most
beautiful chamber, seated her upon a divan rich with cloth of gold,
then commanded very tenderly—for his heart was touched with her
suffering, “Remain here, my beloved, until I return to thee.”

He then went to the bedside of the false one, struck her with his
stick, and called fiercely: “Haste thee! Arise to receive thy just
punishment for the evil which thou hast brought upon thy innocent
mistress.”

The slave fell upon her face before him and besought his pardon. But he
would not listen. “Wilt thou have forty blows or shall forty crows be
summoned to bear thee out into the night?” he demanded.

“O!” cried she, “let the forty blows fall upon the heads of my enemies!
I ask that forty crows come. Perchance they will bear me back to my
home.”

Thereupon, at the prince’s command, slaves brought a basket, lifted and
placed her within it, then opened a window overlooking the sea. Forty
giant crows came, seized upon the basket with their beaks, and flew so
far away that neither the prince nor his beautiful sultana ever heard
of her again.

Then the young girl, who had been rescued from death by the prince,
begged that messengers be sent to relate her good fortune to her
mother—if haply she were yet alive—and that a camel might also be taken
to fetch her to their marriage feast.

This request was readily granted. And the mother, who had mourned her
daughter as dead, came hastily and with joy to greet her again. The
wedding feast lasted forty days and forty nights. Throughout it all
everything happened according to the wish of the kind and beautiful
girl. Salaam!








THE STORY OF THE BEAUTIFUL ONE WHO DID NOT HAVE HER DESIRE


The narrator of tales relates that, once upon a time, there lived a man
and his wife who were so poor that they had no home. So the woman
begged of her husband to seek a place for her in the bamam, or bath
house. Now, the bamam was a large building, with many rooms. When the
bamamjy, or keeper, had listened to the tale of the poor man he
answered: “There will be room for your wife to-morrow. Let her come
then.”

The husband returned with joy, and, on the morrow, accompanied his wife
to the bamam, where the keeper made her quite welcome. In a few days
there was born to the poor woman a little girl child, who was like a
ray of light for beauty and sweetness. As the mother sat gazing upon
her child, the wall of the bamam opened and three dervishes made their
appearance. Gifts were in their hands of those things that would add to
the woman’s comfort.

The first dervish approached with a great roll of very soft clothing.
“Thou shalt name this child,” said the dervish, “The Beautiful One Who
Does Not Obtain Her Desire.” Thereupon he withdrew, and the second
dervish came near, with a gift of sweet perfumes and ointments, and
said: “Whenever water shall touch the crown of this child’s head, it
shall turn into pieces of gold and roll to the ground. Roses shall fall
from about her cheeks whenever she laughs; and if, unhappily, she shall
weep, the tears will become pearls. When she is grown strong enough to
walk upon the earth, green grass shall spring up in her footsteps.”

Having spoken thus, the second dervish disappeared. The third then drew
near. His present consisted of a bracelet of gold. “Let this,” said the
third dervish, “be fastened about her arm. And if thou wouldst keep thy
child alive, then must thou guard well this amulet; for as long as it
remains upon her arm she shall live, but when once it is removed, then
death shall claim her.” Thus saying, the third dervish disappeared, as
had the others, and the walls of the bamam became as if they had not
been opened.

When the mother had recovered from her astonishment, she fastened the
amulet upon the infant’s arm; after which she began to bathe the little
one. All went as is usual, until she poured water from the basin upon
the child’s head, when, as the second dervish had predicted, the water
turned into gold pieces and fell to the ground in a shower.

The mother gathered the money and hid it; after which she made haste to
dress her child. When the little one had fallen asleep she called the
keeper of the bamam, and, giving him a handful of the coins, bade him
send for her husband. The keeper was surprised at receiving such an
amount from one who had seemed so poor, but, being a wise man, he asked
no questions and did as he had been requested.

When the husband came he greeted his wife and their newborn beautiful
infant; after which his wife told him of the visit from the three
dervishes and the wonderful things they had each foretold. The poor man
was nearly beside himself for joy that now he would be able fitly to
provide for his beloved little family. Tenderly he lifted the child in
his arms, and together they two set out to seek an abiding place.

They ordered a fine large house built and completely furnished. Back of
the house they caused a beautiful garden to be planted. In the middle
of this garden the fortunate parents ordered a kiosk builded; and when
it was finished they called the goldsmith and bade him cover it with
gold. This he did; and when the work was completed, its beauty could
not be described, it was so great. Thus did these happy parents prepare
a worthy place for the child whose coming had brought them such great
and good fortune.

The kiosk was made the immediate dwelling place of the little one, who
was guarded most tenderly. And, as the years went by, it continued unto
them as the second dervish had said; until they grew to possess such
wealth that they lost all idea of its value.

Time came and went until fifteen years had passed; and never in all the
world had there been so beautiful a blue-eyed, golden-haired,
rosy-cheeked damsel. To one who looked at her, it was as if a sun had
arisen.



We will now leave these people and go far away, unto the son of the
king at Yemen.

It must have been that Allah intended the beautiful girl to be the wife
of the young prince; for, one night, a dream was sent to him in which
she appeared. He was told her name, her father’s name, and the exact
country in which was her dwelling. So very real was her presence and so
clear the picture of her home that, upon waking, his heart was torn
with sorrow that it was only a dream. He called for a piece of
parchment and made a chart of the way through which they must pass who
should go to bring her unto him.

When the morning dawned, the young prince went directly to his queen
mother and, coming to speech, said: “My honored mother, may Allah give
happiness unto you! Last night, whether sleeping or waking, I know not,
but a marvelous vision passed before my eyes. I am so haunted with the
memory of it that life will be unto me as nothing, if thou do not
realize my vision unto me.”

To which the queen made reply: “What is this that thou askest of me, O,
my son! Well thou knowest that my heart is as thine, when the happiness
of my child is concerned. Speak! Relate unto me the vision. Then ask
what thou wilt, and, if Allah forbid not, it shall be done for thee.”

“O, mother!” the young man responded, “in a certain garden is a kiosk.
It is covered with beaten gold. But, beautiful as is the casket, much
more beautiful is the treasure for which it was created. The kiosk have
I seen; and the way unto it so plainly was shown to me, that I have
here a chart of that way—even of the waters, which lead unto it.”

“And what does the casket contain that can be worthy of such
magnificence, and worthy thus to disturb the peace of my son?”

“Within this kiosk, O, my mother, there dwelleth a maiden who is
innocent, gracious, pure, and altogether charming. So innocent is she
that, at her smile, roses form beside her cheeks and fall about her; so
gracious is she that when water is poured upon her head, it turns into
golden coins, with which can be done beneficent things; so pure is she
that when, perchance through grief at another’s woe, she may be caused
to weep, the tears change to pearls as they fall to the ground; and so
charming is her presence that, wherever she may walk—even upon the most
barren earth—soft grasses spring up to kiss her feet.”

When he had spoken thus the queen replied: “It is well, O, my son, that
thy beginning is as one who telleth a dream. For this that thou
relatest to me is an impossible thing. There is no golden kiosk; there
can be no maiden with this remarkable power.”

Then was the young man grieved as he answered: “And is it thus that my
mother turns aside that which concerns my life or my death? Since thou
wilt not believe me, then inquire of others. If it be false unto them
all, then let it be false unto thee!”

The love which this mother felt for her son and her grief at his
sorrow, caused her to send for the public criers—who are, also, the
newsmongers of that country. As these passed before the queen, the
prince caused that each one should be questioned as to whether, in all
the countries he knew, there were such a garden in which dwelt so good
and charming a maiden.

Each crier was astonished at so strange a question, until one came who
knew of the garden, the golden kiosk, and the charming maiden.
Prostrating himself before the royal personages, he made this answer:
“True it is, O prince, that there is such a place and that such a being
really exists. The outside of the garden do I know well. But the walls
are high and difficult to scale. One day, however, when I was without,
the gates were opened to permit the entrance of a visitor; and the
maiden of whom thou speakest walked before the golden kiosk that stands
beside a fountain in the middle of the garden. And, between the opening
and the closing of the gate, it was permitted that I should witness the
wonders of which thou questionest.”

Neither the prince nor his mother had further doubts concerning the
truth of the vision.

“Honored mother!” the prince entreated, “if thou really dost love me as
thou sayest, then permit me to beg that, with thy slaves and guard,
thou shouldst embark upon the morrow and seek out this maiden. If these
things be really true of her, and if she be willing, engage her to me
and cause that she return with thee.”

Upon the morrow the mother set out to fulfill the request of her son.
The way was long, and several months passed before the ship reached the
far-distant country. After disembarking she, with her attendants,
entered the city and asked the way. It was pointed out to them. They
went to the house and knocked at the door. It was opened, and they were
permitted to enter.

The queen was invited into the garden, where, very often, the guests
were received. Here her eyes discovered the golden kiosk. She, also,
was so fortunate as to find the parents, together with their daughter,
whom she was seeking.

After sitting down, they all conversed courteously; and the visitor was
more than delighted with the presence and manner of the young girl. But
her real object was to test the truth of those qualities which were
ascribed to her. Accordingly she said, “Verily, my child, it will
trouble you greatly, but I am wearied with my long journey and would be
gratified if you would bring a glass of water, with which to quench my
thirst.”

Then the maiden graciously arose and hastened to bring water unto this
guest from a far country. And everywhere that her light feet touched
the earth, soft grass sprang up. This caused astonishment and delight
in the mind of the queen, who took the cup when it was presented to her
and, as the young hostess made obeisance in its presentation, contrived
to spill a few drops of the water upon the beautiful bowed head.

The drops immediately rolled off as gold pieces. At this the queen—as
if in a paroxysm of weariness—caught the girl by the wrist and held so
tightly that her nails entered the soft flesh. Although no cry came
from the sweet lips, tears were forced to form in her eyes. These tears
afterward dropped upon the ground in exquisite pearls.

Then the visitor seemed to recover herself and related a story of her
adventures while on the way thither. The tale was so amusing that the
young girl began to smile. At which instant a rose appeared near each
exquisite cheek and dropped upon the rug on which the visitor sat.

There was now no longer any doubt in the mind of the queen. The object
of her journey had been gained. She therefore discovered her rank to
the parents; after which she said to them: “Verily, we have heard of
the beautiful qualities of this, your daughter. By the will of Allah,
and according to the law of the Prophet, I would marry her unto my son,
the prince. What is your will concerning this?”

Then were the parents greatly astonished and pleased. The mother,
coming to speech, made this reply: “O, my queen! we will not refuse our
daughter to such as you. Your orders are upon our heads. And may Allah
graciously give his blessing!”

Then the queen engaged the daughter unto her son; after which she gave
direction, saying: “With the half of my slaves and the half of my guard
will I now return. With those that remain do you conduct your daughter,
with all speed, to our palace. Verily, we shall make haste with the
preparations for the wedding and the festivities.”

Thereupon the lady queen arose, embraced the maiden most tenderly, made
her adieus, and, taking the half of her slaves and of her guard, began
her homeward journey. When, after many days, she reached the palace,
the prince came to welcome her and to ask, eagerly, concerning the
result of her quest.

“Most happy am I to answer thee, O, my son!” was the glad reply.
“Verily, it is according to that which the vision revealed unto thee.
There liveth such a maiden as thou hast believed in, and all those
bright qualities belong unto her. One who sees her desires to look
again—of such beauty is she possessed. I have been so fortunate as to
engage her unto thee. She will come to thee presently.”

When the prince learned this, great fear lest evil should befall her
whom his soul desired came upon him. His mind became filled with
sadness; his hands and feet began to tremble. He bent to kiss his
mother’s hand, after which he sat down and was lost in meditation. As
preparations for the wedding began, he could look only with grave and
longing eyes along the road over which his betrothed was to come.



Let these remain here, while we return to the other place in the story.

Heavy silken garments were prepared, with all skill, for the maiden who
had been engaged to the prince. They were bound into a great package.
All things necessary for the journey were made ready, when the
mother—wishing to make certain changes in her own wardrobe—called the
woman who had been nurse to her daughter and said unto her: “Verily, I
give into your care a most precious charge. Take my daughter—whom
before this I have intrusted to you—watch over her most carefully, and
with these slaves and guard, conduct her safely to Yemen, to the palace
of the king. After a few days her father and I will follow, with all
speed.”

Thereupon the nurse asked permission that her own daughter might
accompany them, as the way was long, the distance very great and her
heart would be sore at the parting. Permission was granted, and the
little company embarked.

At evening, when the bride-to-be asked for food, the nurse made answer:
“Fearing that harm might come to thee from eating of the ship’s
rations, I prepared such food as is best for one who journeys, for the
first time, upon the sea.” So saying, she cut off some slices of salted
sausage, which she had prepared especially for an evil purpose, and
gave them to the girl.

In about half an hour the maiden became very thirsty. “O, mother,” she
asked of the nurse, “give me some water, I pray!”

To this the woman made reply: “It is not well that you should have
water now.” And, although the same request was spoken frequently, no
water was permitted to come near the maiden.

As the night wore on, her thirst became more violent; until, at last,
she was maddened with it and cried: “Give me water or let me die!”

Then the evil woman said: “My girl, if you will let me take out one of
your eyes, you shall have water; but, otherwise, you shall have none.”

To which, after this cruel reply had been repeated many times, the
sufferer made answer: “It is possible to live with only one eye; but
impossible to live without water. Take thy desire and give unto me
mine!”

The woman, overjoyed, made haste to remove one of the eyes; after which
she permitted her charge a slight draught of water. But this could not
long appease such thirst as had been created by the salted sausage.
Again the poor girl moaned: “Verily, mother, I am thirsty!” To which
was made no answer.

As the hours wore on and the suffering grew past all endurance, the
woman said again: “Verily, girl, if you will give me the other eye, I
will give you as much water as you can wish.”

What could the poor girl do? Beside herself with thirst and maddened
with pain, she hesitated but a little; then, losing all self-control,
sobbed: “Alas! what evil is come upon me! I am powerless in your hands.
Do unto me whatever you will, only permit me to quench this thirst,
which devours my throat and causes my tongue to swell.”

The woman, delighting in evil, removed the other eye, and, afterward,
gave all the water desired by the sufferer. It was swallowed eagerly;
but, alas! although her thirst was assuaged, she had been made blind!

Now, all this happened while the slaves and the guard were in another
part of the ship, and only the wicked nurse and her daughter were near
to her who was to become bride to the young prince.

As the ship neared land, the nurse removed the bridal clothing from her
charge and put it upon her own daughter, whose face she covered with a
veil. The clothes of her own girl were then put upon the maiden and her
face was covered, as before.

Upon landing, the nurse said to the others: “Do you remain here for a
little, while I conduct my daughter to the house of a relative, where
she will stay until my return.”

She then led the maiden without the city and left her alone, upon a
mountain. After that, she wrote a letter to the parents of the maiden
and gave it to the master of the port, with the command that he should
find, upon the next incoming ship, the persons to whom it was addressed
and deliver it to them. The letter read as follows:

“Do not continue your journey. Your daughter died upon the way to this
port. She was buried in the deep sea. As for me, my grief is so great
that I shall never return.”

Having done this, she hastened to rejoin those whom she had left; and
the little company proceeded upon its journey to the palace. The
nurse’s daughter guarded the secret well, so that no one dreamed of the
sad thing that had happened. With all speed they pressed upon their
way, and were soon met by the people of the palace, who conducted the
woman and her daughter into the presence of the queen.

Now, the lady queen, after greeting the girl—who was brought to her in
most splendid attire—regarded her attentively and said to herself:
“This is not the one who so charmed me in the quiet garden. There is
something wrong. Let us see unto what the end will bring us.”

With this seeming discovery she sat down to meditate; while the girl,
who desired to become a princess, was led to her own room, and everyone
about the palace made haste with preparations for the wedding.

That evening they married the nurse’s daughter to the prince. And all
of the guests drank a royal drink from cups that were brilliant with
gems. Afterward, the prince said to her who had become his bride, “I
wonder greatly that, with all these festivities, not once have you
smiled.”

Then, although she smiled at his word—which was a command, coming as it
did from a prince—there occurred nothing at all unusual. Neither roses
nor the fragrance of roses filled the air about her cheeks.

At this the prince, beginning to doubt, said to himself, “Most
wonderful things have been told me concerning the maiden who was to
become my princess; not one of which has manifested itself since the
coming of this person.” After reflecting thus, he determined to speak
of that which disturbed his mind.

“My princess,” he said, very gently, “it was related to me that when
you laughed, roses formed near your cheeks. But nothing of that kind
came to pass with your laughter just now. What is the meaning of this?”

“My lord,” was the careful answer, “that which has been told you is
true; but it only happens once during each year.”

Thus were the questionings of the prince quieted for a little.

When it was morning and the princess was led to the bath, the queen
mother came to accompany her. While one of the slaves washed the face
of the girl, the mother approached with a cup of water. “Permit me, my
child,” said she, and straightway poured the contents of the cup upon
the girl’s head. Not a gold piece made its appearance.

At this, although she uttered not a word, the queen’s suspicions were
strengthened. However, taking the girl’s hand, she led her from the
bath and together they hastened to the palace, where the one who had
been made princess sat down quietly, by herself.



Let these people stay here while we return to the helpless one, who had
been deserted upon the mountain.

Her poor blind eyes could not cease their weeping until, as the result
of her tears, a wall of pearls, as high as a man, piled itself before
her. A muleteer, who was coming from the other side of the mountain,
followed his path until it led him near to the suffering one. He was
lost in astonishment and pity at what he saw. When he could recover
himself, he approached the maiden and said: “Ai, my girl, what fate has
brought you to this plight?”

“Ai, baba” (which, being interpreted, means “father”), “do not ask me!
Providence has ordained it. I must be patient.”

Thereupon the muleteer, by her direction, gathered up the pearls and
put them into the donkey’s panniers; after which he took the blind girl
by the hand and led her to his own home. “Wife,” said he, “take good
care of this poor maiden, whom I found in great distress. Let no more
harm come to her!”

The wife noted the extraordinary beauty of the stranger and was deeply
touched at her suffering. She led her into an inner chamber and cared
for her as if she had been their own child. After a time, when these
people gently questioned her, the poor girl related her story from
beginning to end.

“Alas! what a pity!” they both exclaimed.

And their sympathy was so sweet to her that, lifting her face toward
them, a sweet smile passed over it. At this, roses bloomed near her
cheeks.

The muleteer and his wife were speechless with astonishment. But she,
taking the roses in her hands, held them toward the old man. “Kind
baba, if you would try to help me out of this sorrow, take these roses,
lay them in a basket, and, calling aloud that you are selling roses out
of season, go past the palace of him who should be my husband. Should
you be asked how great is your price for them, you must say that you do
not sell for money, but that you will give each handful of roses, only,
in exchange for an eye.”

“So be it, my poor child,” answered the kind old man. “With the morning
I shall do as you request.”

Accordingly, upon the morrow, the muleteer, with the roses in a basket
upon his shoulder, set out upon his journey. As he neared the palace he
began to cry: “Roses! roses out of season! I am selling roses that are
out of season!”

The false one heard the cry and said to her mother: “There is a man
with roses. Let us buy some that I may give them to the prince. I will
tell him that they grew in my cheeks this morning. Perchance I shall
find more favor in his sight.”

Those two—with the evil hearts—ran quickly to the door of the palace
and summoned the muleteer as he was passing. When he heard the voices
he turned. They motioned him to come. He approached, and let down the
basket from his shoulder.

As the beautiful flowers caught the eyes of the girl she asked eagerly,
“Well, gardener, for how much will you sell the roses?”

To which came the answer, as directed: “For money will I not part with
them. Only for an eye will I exchange each handful.”

The mother and daughter looked at each other. “Do not fear,” said the
mother, in a low voice, “he cannot know.”

“Very well, mother,” replied the daughter, in a whisper, “although you
did not know it, I placed the eyes of the one whom we destroyed in her
box. Do you detain him while I hasten to bring them. The prince must
have roses to-day!”

So saying, she hastened and speedily brought the eyes, gave them to the
supposed gardener, and received the exquisite roses in return.

The muleteer delivered the roses, and, without tarrying, hastened home,
where, with his wife, he almost ran to the room of their adopted
daughter. “Rejoice, thou wronged one!” cried they both. “Thy sight will
be restored.”

The maiden was overjoyed at this. She arose and, taking pure water,
performed ablutions; after which she prostrated herself twice, to
obtain the favor of Allah. Then, raising her hands, she prayed.

Allah was gracious. The prayer was heard. The blind girl reached forth
her hands and the muleteer let them touch the box in which were the
precious things. She took first one, then the other, and replaced it.
At that very instant, by the will of Allah, sight returned unto her and
she looked out upon his earth. So kind was he that her eyes were
better, even, than before. Thereupon, with joyful heart, she returned
thanks unto him; after which she prayed.

Some time passed, and whenever the maiden laughed, roses bloomed about
her cheeks; wherever she walked, soft grass sprang up joyfully; and
whenever she bathed, great coins of gold ran down off her head. She
grieved at the loss of her own mother, but patiently waited the will of
Allah. Meanwhile, the kind-hearted muleteer seemed to her like a
father, and she grew very fond of the old couple. As for those who were
sheltering her, they became so rich, through the presence of this
maiden, that they built a great house and filled it with servants, both
men and women. And in this house, the most beautiful apartment of all
was set apart for the young girl whose coming had so enriched them.

But, as the days went by, the maiden grew sad and made of the baba a
strange request. “Father,” she said, “I would have you build me a tomb,
made all of shim-shirak stone. Within there shall be a golden casket.
And the doors of the tomb shall be wrought so marvelously that they
shall speak. Once every hour they must open; and as they turn in each
direction, they must say, again and again, ‘The beautiful one who did
not have her desire!’”

Then was the muleteer sad of heart. “My daughter,” he answered, “let
the tomb be as you desire. If Allah wills, it shall be builded with his
blessing.”

Still heavy of heart, he arose and went to the top of the mountain,
where, at great cost, he caused such a tomb to be made as had been
described. It was all of shim-shirak stone, and within was a golden
casket. Also the doors opened of themselves and repeated the words that
had been commanded.

After having finished the tomb, the old man found it so perfect that he
stayed for a long time to admire. Then he went home and said to his
foster daughter: “Behold! I have made the tomb as you requested. I beg
that you will be sad no longer.”



Let us leave these three persons here, while we return to the intruders
in the palace.

As soon as the wicked daughter of the wicked woman had secured the
roses from the supposed gardener, she arrayed herself in the most
beautiful of the robes which had been stolen from the other, and,
taking the roses in her hands, carried them to the prince.

Now, the roses were marvelously beautiful, and their fragrance was
something passing sweet. When, therefore, the prince had received them,
he laid them against his face, and it seemed as if he could never have
enough of them. When she who had brought them saw this, it began to
appear to her whence these flowers had come; and, as the prince was so
enamored of their sweetness as to forget her very presence, anger and
fear began to stir her breast. All the night through, she lay and
pondered upon the roses, the strange price, and the rapture of the
young prince.

When morning dawned she hastened to her mother with the startling
announcement: “Mother, most surely the girl, whom we have supposed
dead, is yet alive. She is not far away. At any moment she may
overthrow our plans. Hasten! Let us send a witch to find her, and,
after that, to remove the amulet from her arm. Then, surely, must she
die.”

Throughout the night the mother had been troubled in like manner, and
of herself had resolved that something must be brought about to prevent
their undoing. Therefore she was quite ready to accept the advice of
her daughter, and ordered a slave to conduct her to the tent of a
witch, to whom she told a false story and ended with the order her
daughter had suggested.

Now, the witch, as well, was evil-minded. She listened carefully and
promised to accomplish the difficult task, for the great sum of money
which was offered her. When the woman had gone from the tent, she made
incantations. Afterward she set out, and did not pause until the very
door of the muleteer’s house was reached. It opened at her knock, and
she was led upstairs, into the room where the muleteer, his wife, and
their foster daughter received their guests. Here she was graciously
admitted and bidden to sit down.

After a little while it became evening, whereupon the witch said: “Ai!
mother, I have journeyed a long way. It is now late. I am afraid to
continue my journey at night. Indeed, the very reason of my call was to
ask you if you would permit me to pass the night under your roof.”

The muleteer’s wife was not pleased with this. She had not been pleased
with the presence of the witch. Still, it is incumbent upon the
faithful to be hospitable. Accordingly, she answered: “Very well,
mother. Here is a room. Enter it and lie down in peace! But first wait
until the evening meal is prepared. We would have you partake of it
with us.”

Very greatly was the witch pleased with this. She watched stealthily,
to learn which was the maiden’s room, and, after that, went to her own
and lay down. Soon, all the household were in their beds and asleep.
When midnight came, the witch arose and stole to the maiden’s door,
entered it, and went directly to the bed upon which the young creature
lay in a sound, sweet sleep. Creeping closely to the bedside, she
unclasped the gold band from the girl’s arm, then hastened to her own
room, put on her cloak and sandals, and left the house.

From thence she hastened to the palace, and in the very early morning
delivered up the stolen jewel to the mother of the false princess. It
was received with great rejoicing by both of the evil plotters. They
permitted themselves to be happy again, now that they felt assured of
the death of her whom they had feared.



Let these remain quiet while we turn to the muleteer’s wife.

When morning came she arose and, with misgiving, went to the room which
had been given to their weird visitor. It was as she feared. The room
was empty. Then, hoping against fear, she looked to see if the woman’s
cloak could be found. That, too, had disappeared. Thus was her fear
confirmed and her perplexity increased. She then went to seek her
foster daughter; but, finding her asleep, would not waken her, and
returned to her own room.

The hours dragged by. It was near noon, and the maiden, an early riser,
had not appeared. The foster mother began speaking to herself: “This
child, whom Allah graciously sent to us, used always to arise very
early. Now, to-day—when the person to whom we gave food and shelter has
acted so as to perplex my soul—does this daughter delay her daily
coming to me. I will go and awaken her.”

Accordingly, filled with vague alarm, she hastened to the door and
called with tender voice, “O, my daughter, why do you sleep so long?”

No answer came to her words. Again she called, and again listened in
vain. Not the slightest sound greeted her anxious ear. She entered the
door, approached the bed, and leaned over the unconscious figure. But,
leaning and listening, she found that not the faintest breath passed
those quiet lips. In desperate haste she clasped the cold hands and
began to chafe the delicate feet. Alas! they were like ice.

Then, indeed, did the heart of the muleteer’s wife become sore. She
threw herself upon the floor, began beating her head against it, and,
as she did so, she mourned: “Ai! my girl, my girl is dead! Henceforth
shall the world be accursed unto me!”

Her husband heard the cry. He hastened to her and begged to know the
cause of such grief. Whereupon she answered: “Ai, my lord, our girl,
whom we love and whom we had taught to love us, is dead. Alone, in the
night, did she die. I cannot contain myself for grief!”

When the muleteer heard this, and after he had assured himself of its
truth, tears, like rain, began to flow from his eyes. Then the whole
household came to join in mourning the death of the beautiful girl.

After a time, when they could restrain their grief, they prepared her
body and laid it in the tomb which she, with sad prophecy, had caused
to be builded. This done, these good people did not mend their grief,
but continued to mourn the gracious presence which had been lent to
them for a little while.



Let us leave them now, and return to the plotting mother in the
prince’s palace.

When this evil-minded person learned, through inquiries which she
cautiously set on foot, that the one whom she had wronged was dead, it
became unto her as if all the world were her own. And, without seeming
to realize that Allah knew of the evil which she had committed, she
even dared attribute her fortune to him! “O, praise be to Allah!” she
cried. “At last we are freed from fear!”

Later on, the prince heard—through some visitors at the court—such part
of the dead maiden’s history as was known to the world: that about such
a time she had been found in great distress by the muleteer, whose kind
heart had prompted him to take her to his own home, where she had
become as a daughter in the house. And that immediately upon her
coming, the Fates had blessed the old man and his wife, until they had
houses and lands, men and women servants. But after all this had come
to them, and when life seemed complete, the blackest of grief had
overshadowed them in the death of their adopted child.

This tale wrought deeply upon the mind of the prince. He sighed in his
soul and became very sad. After that some strange fantasy possessed
him. He could no longer endure the presence of the girl who had come to
dwell in his palace.

One day, when his soul was more than usually sad, together with his
companions, he went out to wander upon the mountains. After several
days they came to the foot of one that was higher than the others in
the range. It was evening. Wearied with this aimless pacing hither and
thither, they sat down to rest. All at once a faint, faint voice
reached the ear of the prince. And the words that it spoke were these:
“The Beauty who did not have her desire! The Beauty who did not have
her desire!”

Without a moment’s pause to consider whether it might not be a lure
into danger, the prince, who was brave of heart, arose with his
companions and hastened to the summit of the mountain. There he came
upon a tomb of shim-shirak stone, so brilliant as to dazzle the eyes of
a beholder. And its doors, opening of themselves, both inward and
outward, were repeating softly the words that had arrested his
attention.

All this aroused great wonder in the minds of the prince and his
companions. They questioned concerning the building of so magnificent a
burial place, and whether any body had been placed therein. After a
time, as was quite natural, a sad curiosity prompted the prince,
himself, to enter.

Only a golden casket, with closed lid, met his gaze. Presently he
approached, and, as the lid was unfastened, raised it and discovered,
within, a young woman who was like the full moon for beauty; and beside
her a child which reflected her brightness. The child nestled against
the arm of its mother.

At this sight the prince—who had been prepared for any marvelous
unfolding—became even more tender of heart. His eyes filled with tears,
and he gave thanks for, at least, the preservation of the infant.

He lifted the child very tenderly, wrapped it in the snowy silken
covering, and, holding it closely in his arms, rejoined his companions,
who awaited him without the tomb.

They all returned directly to the palace. As they entered, the prince
summoned the queen, the girl who had come to him, her mother, and gave
command that the child be recognized as one of the chief members in the
royal household. To the girl he said:

“You are young and strong. It is my will that you devote yourself to
the care of this babe. See that he does not cry, while I go outside and
give orders concerning his ablutions.”

Now, the child, being strong and well grown, had freed itself from the
detaining hands of the prince and slipped to the floor. After his
going, it wandered, with uncertain, childish footsteps, about the room,
playing with whatever object attracted its attention. In this way it
went up to an open drawer in which lay the bracelet, which the witch
had removed from the arm of its own mother. In a moment the bright
object was in the tiny hands.

This sight caused a great shock to the girl who was tending him. She
flew to recover the precious trinket; but the child would not let go of
it. He tightened his hold and, opening his mouth, began to scream
lustily.

The prince heard the cry. He came within and asked, angrily, why she
was making the child cry. To which she made reply: “But, my lord, the
babe has my bracelet. It is only because I would take it from him that
he cries.”

“If it were twenty bracelets, let him play!” was the response.

But as is often the manner with children when in a strange place, this
one, having once begun, would not cease his crying. Nothing would
appease him. It seemed as if he would cry his little heart out.
Thereupon the prince took him in his arms, called his companions, and,
with all speed, hastened to the tomb of shim-shirak stone.

It was the end of the hour. And the doors, opening inward and outward
of themselves, were uttering the same plaintive words which had greeted
his ears at the first.

The prince quickened his pace, entered the tomb, raised the lid of the
golden casket and laid the child where he had found it, beside the
mother. As he did this, the bracelet, of which the little fingers had
not once let go, touched the white arm of the woman. At the contact her
mouth began to quiver, and, from the waist downward, she became alive.
Her feet grew warm and stirred.

This marvelous occurrence was most unexpected. Everything was as it had
been at the finding of the child save—ah! there was the bracelet! And,
as he scanned the arm more closely, the prince was convinced that it
had been accustomed to the wearing of a band, the exact width of that
which the child, in its grief, had brought away from the palace.

Immediately upon noting this, the prince was filled with more wonder.
He felt assured that the bracelet must be an amulet from which some
life-giving power emanated. He therefore took it from the child’s
hand—who, strange to relate, yielded it up willingly—and clasped it
about the lifeless arm.

His thoughtfulness was rewarded. While he stood, breathless, a slight
convulsion stirred the figure of the woman. She sneezed, and after that
effort, made a slow movement and sat up in the casket.

The child clung to her with a new zeal, and she, gathering him tenderly
to her bosom, turned with wide-open eyes to regard the tall young
personage who stood beside her. That he was of royal birth was
evidenced by his bearing. The evidence was continued in his costume.
The mystery of life and death was upon her; therefore were her thoughts
clear. At once she was impressed that this must be the prince of whom
she had been the promised bride.

The prince, upon his part, already had been won. How much more
strongly, then, was his heart drawn to her when he beheld her living,
breathing, moving? He made courtly obeisance and thus addressed himself
to her:

“My queen, is it permitted me to ask before whom I have the honor to
stand? And whose is this child which already possesses my heart?”

To which the Beautiful One, looking first at him and then at the child,
made answer:

“My prince, I left my mother at Stamboul, and, with slaves and guard,
in charge of my former nurse and in company with her daughter, I was
coming to be your bride. Upon the way, the nurse, who had been
trustworthy until then, became jealous for the advancement of her own
daughter. First, she took out my eyes; then she exchanged our clothing,
and, finally, left me upon a mountain, alone, to die of grief and
starvation.

“But Allah heard the falling of my tears. He caused a kind old muleteer
to pass that way, who, when he espied me, was moved with compassion and
led me to his house, where both he and his wife received me as if I had
been their own child.

“Shortly afterward I caused some roses, that had bloomed at my cheeks,
to be cried before your palace; with the command that they must not be
sold for gold, but that only by the exchange of an eye, for each
handful, could they be obtained. The evil ones saw the roses. They
would secure them as a present to your Royal Highness. Eagerness
weakened their wisdom to such extent that they accepted the condition,
and thereby did I recover my eyes. As I put them in place, by Allah’s
grace, they became seeing.

“Finally, the roses which I sent were given to you, who received them
and experienced a strange influence. At that very time a golden-winged
messenger appeared to me, bearing this child in his arms and saying:
‘He will be kept for you until you shall lie in your tomb. Do not fear!
All will yet be well!’

“Then I caused this tomb to be builded, and, shortly after, a witch was
sent by my undoers, who stole this life-keeping amulet from my arm. At
that moment I died. They laid me in this tomb, where I have remained
until, at your approach, the golden-winged messenger again approached
and left the child beside me. I could stir neither hand nor foot. As to
the child, O, prince! it is yours. It was created in Paradise, when you
were holding the roses to your face.”

As this tale unfolded itself and the willing listener was convinced of
its truth, he wept so bitterly at all her sufferings that the tears
might have been of blood. Then, recovering himself, he clasped the
narrator to his heart.

He then lifted her out of the casket, gave her his arm to lean upon,
and, taking the child upon his other arm and surrounded by his
attendants, conducted her to his palace.

After his queen mother had received them, and, summoning slaves, had
made the mother and child comfortable in a most luxurious apartment,
the prince commanded that the wicked nurse and her daughter should
appear before him; when he ordered the chief headsman to strike them
dead.

The man gave them each so heavy a blow that their bones rattled. Their
souls were dispatched to Hades and their bodies were thrown out to the
dogs. Then the prince rejoiced greatly, saying: “Praise be to Allah
that, at last, he has freed me from those evil vixens! Now has my head
become clear again.”

Afterward, he sent fleet messengers to bring the parents of her whom
they had thought dead. And he also called the kind muleteer and his
wife. In the presence of all these and of his court, was he married to
the Beautiful One whose light footstep caused the grass to grow upon
the driest earth; whose laughter filled his life with roses, and whose
tears—even tears of joy at her newly found happiness—became pearls
before his eyes.

The wedding festivities extended throughout the kingdom. They continued
during forty days and forty nights. The prince and his beautiful wife,
and the child which had been given to them, lived happily ever
afterward. With the great sums of gold which rolled from the head of
the true princess whenever she performed her ablutions, the prince was
able to pay great debts which the late war had entailed upon his
country. Thus were his people relieved of the heavy taxes. Salaam!








STORY OF THE CRYING POMEGRANATE AND THE LAUGHING BEAR


The narrator of tales relates that, once upon a time, there lived a
king who had nine daughters. And because there was no son, he made a
vow that he would condemn his wife to death if their next child were
not a boy.

Time came and went until another child was born to the king. And,
although this one, also, was a little girl, the queen, with the careful
assistance of her faithful nurse, concealed the fact, and the child was
supposed to be a boy. The king rejoiced greatly, giving thanks to
Allah, because he believed that a son had come to him, who could
inherit the kingdom.

But after a number of years had gone by, and the time came when the
child was to be enrolled in the royal army corps, the queen knew that
her deceit would be discovered. She shut herself up in her room and
wept bitterly.

The child was greatly disturbed at her grief, and begged to come in and
comfort her. “My mother,” it said, “why do you weep so? What is there
that should trouble you?”

“Ai, my child!” the queen answered, “of all who weep there is no one
who has sadder cause than I. And the cause of my sorrow is this: When
you were a little baby it was told the king, your father—who greatly
desired a son to inherit his throne—that you were a boy. He has
believed it until this day. Now he will learn the truth, and I shall
lose my life.”

But the child—being very wise as well as loving—comforted her mother
with these words: “Do not fear, dearest mother! I will go to my father,
the king, and ask him to delay this ceremony for another year.”

The next morning, therefore, the child, weeping bitterly, went into her
father’s presence and kissed his hand.

“Why do you cry, my son?” asked the father. “Tears are for girls. They
should not be seen upon the face of the king’s son.”

“O! my father! I am still little. Yet you are going to make me one in
the royal army. Therefore do I weep.”

“Well, well, my son,” said the king, “dry your tears! We will postpone
this matter until your next birthday.”

At these words the girl kissed her father’s hand gratefully and
returned to her mother with rejoicing. The queen was glad, indeed. She
took the child in her arms and kissed her eyes.

The year passed most swiftly, and, at its end, the mother was so racked
with fear that, again, she began to cry. Upon this the child made bold
to approach her father, who, for her sake, delayed the initiation for
another year.

But when the third year came, the queen, knowing in her heart that
there could be no hope, went to her room and gave herself up to such
bitter tears that the child was not able to restrain her own. So they
two wept together.

Then the mother said: “Ai, my daughter! Although your father, the king,
has delayed this important ceremony for two years, I am certain that he
will not defer it a third time. You are now large and well grown. There
is no longer any respite for me. To-morrow I shall be put to death.
This is the last day of my life.”

But the girl was determined to cheer her mother, at all cost. “Ai,
honored mother!” she made answer. “If my father summons me I will beg
for a half hour’s grace, when I will go to the stable, mount a swift
horse, and fly away.”

“But what will become of you, my child?”

“Dearest mother, do not be anxious about me. I will go to foreign lands
and dwell. It will be a small sacrifice to make for your happiness.”

The next morning tents were pitched in a great open square; and when it
became known that the royal ceremony was to take place, an immense
crowd of people collected.

The king called for the supposed prince, and said: “My son, you are now
fourteen years old. The long-postponed initiation will take place
to-day.”

“Indeed, my honored father, I am now ready. Will you grant that I may
first ride, on horseback, about the square, to view the people and the
grand preparations? After that you will do with me according to your
will.”

“Very well, my son,” answered the king. “Go! Show their prince to my
people!”

The supposed prince then flew to embrace her royal mother; after which
she went to the stables and selected a most beautiful coal-black steed.
As she stood by the horse’s head, tears flowed down her cheeks.

At this occurred something most strange. The beautiful horse, seeing
the tears of the princess, began to speak: “Ai, my sultana! Why do you
cry?”

Now, the princess was surprised that, while all about supposed her to
be a prince, she should be addressed as sultana. However, she was too
distressed to cavil at anything; so made answer:

“No one has greater cause for grief than I. Ever since my birth, my
father has believed me to be a boy. Now, at the performance of this
ceremony, he will be told what you already know. In that hour he will
cause my mother to be put to death. I have half an hour, only, in which
to escape. My father has given permission that I should ride about the
square to view the people. At the end of that time, I have decided to
make my escape.”

When the princess had confided this sorrow and perplexity to the horse,
he spoke again: “Sultana,” he said, “there is no cause for grief. Mount
my back and, with the favor of Allah, I will bear you to other lands.
But, first, accept a bit of advice. When the time comes that we are to
fly, hold to my neck with all your might. Also keep fast hold upon the
reins; because my speed is so great that, if a bullet be shot off
behind us, it could not overtake me. Bear this in mind and act
accordingly!”

Thereupon the young girl mounted the beautiful coal-black steed and
rode to the public square—from one end to the other of it—while all the
soldiers stood watching one whom they believed to be their prince.

When the half hour had elapsed, the horse gave a spring, from the
admiring soldiers, and was off like the wind.

When the people saw this they believed that the spirited creature had
become frightened, and that the prince could not manage him. A crier
was sent to the king, while the soldiers set out in pursuit.

But they found no trace of the horse, nor of his rider—not so much as
the prints of hoofs in the road. Then they returned; for they felt that
search was hopeless. The king and all his people went into mourning for
the prince; and the soldiers were ordered back to their stations.



Now let us come to the princess.

In one day the strange horse brought his rider into a country whose
distance was a six months’ journey from her own kingdom. Here he
stopped and said to her:

“Sultana, this much of your rescue have I been able to accomplish for
you. I can go no farther. Hereafter you must save yourself.”

At this the princess, realizing her lonely condition, dismounted,
saying: “O, my beautiful deliverer! First, it was Allah who saved me,
then he sent me to you, and now I am left to myself. I will go on; but
if danger befall me, what am I to do?” As she spoke tears gathered in
her eyes.

The horse answered: “Ai, sultana! take three hairs from the forelock
which hangs over my eyes. Should trouble perplex you, rub them together
and I will come to your aid.”

The princess took the hairs, gratefully, and put them in her bosom.
Then, flinging her arms about the horse’s neck, she thanked him for all
he had done to help her and bade him adieu.

As she withdrew her arms, he disappeared.

The princess traveled on and on, until she entered another country. It
was evening. Before her stood a grand palace, at the side of which was
a large kitchen. Hastily removing the marks of royalty from her
clothing, she entered and asked of the cooks: “My masters, will you
take me as an assistant?”

But they were in haste and answered her roughly: “Are you blind? Can’t
you see that we are up to our elbows in work? What should we do with a
lad like you?”

However, with all the persuasion at her command, she entreated to be
allowed to try; and, finally, was accepted and set to running of
errands, upstairs and down. After a little, she asked one of the men
why they were cooking such enormous quantities of food and in such
haste.

“Ai, my son,” was the reply, “do you not know that every six years a
dragon comes to this country and feeds on the king’s liver? To-morrow
night is the time of his next coming. It is thought possible that he
may be tempted to eat of other food, if enough is spread in the
banqueting hall. That is why we are in such great haste. Possibly we
may save the life of our king.”

The princess was so amazed that she bit her finger, to learn whether,
indeed, she were awake.

All that night she was not permitted to sleep, but worked as hard as
she could, serving the cooks. When morning came she stole away, went
into the other part of the palace, and climbed the stairs. There, in a
room by herself, she saw a sultana who was dressed from head to foot in
black. Without letting herself be seen, the young explorer went to
another room, in which was seated another princess. This one, likewise,
was dressed in black, and all the room was draped in mourning. Leaving
this, she went to still another room, in which a sultana, who was
arrayed from head to foot in scarlet, was seated upon a divan. The
princess went on, noiselessly, until she came to the chamber of the
king. The court physician had administered a powder to him, and the
king lay unconscious.

During all this, more time had elapsed than the princess dreamed. It
was now evening, and time for the coming of the dragon. She knew, by
savory odors that the feast which she had helped to prepare, was spread
in the banqueting hall. It seemed to her that a time had come when she
should apply for aid. Her heart was trembling with hope and fear; but
she took the hairs from her bosom, rubbed them together, when—O, joy,
the beautiful horse stood before her once more.

“My princess, art thou in need of me?” he asked. “And what is it that
thou requirest?”

“If it be in your power, my noble deliverer, give me a sword so sharp
and strong that should I strike an enormous dragon with it, he must be
severed in two.”

Without moving from the spot, the horse turned his head and the
princess saw a sword among his caparisons. “Take it, my sultana!” he
answered. “Use it well. And remember that you must not strike a second
blow, in the same place.” With this warning he disappeared.

The princess grasped the sword. Going directly to the king’s chamber,
she hid herself in a corner.

The palace was deserted. It seemed strange that the people should leave
their beloved king to his fate; but this was in the agreement by which
the whole country had been spared. In the middle of the night a great
noise burst forth through all the sky. The moon and stars became
obscured. Everything was black as pitch. Immediately afterward, with
loud snorts, an immense dragon appeared in the middle of the room.

Scarcely had he appeared when the young princess seized the sword with
both hands and crying, “Yellah!” struck him such a blow that his head
was severed from the body.

Then a terrible sound came from the body of the dragon; and this sound
was like a voice, which formed itself into these words: “O, valiant
youth! Let me know, by striking again, whether you are, indeed, a boy.”

But the princess remembered the warning of the horse and remained
standing perfectly still, until the soul of the dragon had left his
body and gone to Hades, its rightful place. She then cut off one of his
ears, put it in her pocket, and, hiding the sword in her clothing,
returned to the kitchen and renewed her tasks, running up and down
stairs according to the directions of the cooks.

When morning dawned the king recovered from the effects of the powder,
which the court physician had given him, looked about him and exclaimed
with great astonishment at finding himself still alive. He saw the
pitch-black body of the dragon lying headless in the middle of his
chamber. Even in that condition, one could hardly view it without
losing his wits. He gave thanks unto Allah for his escape; after which
his mind was lost in wonder as to who had killed his mortal enemy.

After a little he went out of the palace. The whole populace had
gathered to express grief at the calamity which they supposed had come
upon them; but when they saw their beloved king, safe and sound, they
were beside themselves with joy and cried: “Praise be to Allah! Our
Caliph lives!”

After they had shouted thus until they were exhausted, the king found
voice to ask who it was that had killed the dragon. Upon this the
people came forward, one by one, each claiming to have accomplished the
brave feat “I killed it, my lord!” cried each one, in turn.

The king knew that this could not be true; but he was so glad to be
alive, that he gave backsheesh to each, even to the cooks. Everybody
received a present who went before the king.

The cooks, noticing that their assistant did not go, said to her: “Why
do you stand here listless? See! all we have presents from the king. Go
and receive one for yourself.”

“I am not of this kingdom. Your sovereign will not receive me,” was the
reply.

“Why should he not receive you?” cried they all. “Surely he will give
you, too, something.”

They continued to urge until the young princess went forward, as the
others had done, and, when she had come near to His Majesty, said to
him, “O, my padisha! it was I who killed your adversary, the dragon.”

But, according to her prediction, the king repulsed her, saying, “How
is that you can claim to have done this thing, seeing that you are not
of my people?”

“My padisha,” answered she, “let me prove the truth of what I say and
the falsehood of that which all these others have said to you. Here is
an ear, which I cut from the head of the monster as soon as he was
dead. Let us go and look at the dragon. You will find that his right
ear has been cut off.”

Accordingly they went, and, behold! it was as the girl had said.

Then the king turned to her and exclaimed, “My son! ask whatever you
will and it shall be given you!”

“My padisha,” was her quiet response, “I ask that Allah may continue
your life unto you.”

“Thou art most courteous, my son; but I desire that thou ask something
for thyself.”

The same request was repeated. A third time the king made his royal
offer; then the supposed youth made answer: “My padisha, I would like
it if you would give to me the maiden in the scarlet robes, who sits
upon a divan in an upper room in your palace.”

“But already I have offered to her many youths—brave as well as
handsome—and she will have none of them. Why do you ask for her? She is
a cruel coquette. In the other rooms, arrayed in black, are my two
other daughters. I will give you one of them.”

But the princess answered: “O, king! my fancy prefers the one in
scarlet raiment. If you will give any to me, let it be this one.”

So the king had no choice. And, since he realized that to the valor of
the one who made the request did he owe his life, he sent a summons;
and the girl who was dressed in scarlet came into his presence and
stood before him, showing deep respect.

“Ai, my daughter!” said the king. “This youth desires to marry you. I
command that you accept him.”

“My honored father,” was the reply. “I pray you give me a little time.
Let me dream over the matter, and, to-morrow, you shall hear the
result.”

This slight request was granted, and the king’s daughter returned to
her own apartment. When night came on and all was still in the palace,
the one who had killed the dragon, stole quietly to her door and
watched through the keyhole, to see what she would do.

The girl, who was arrayed in scarlet, set a golden basin, filled with
various kinds of perfumed waters, in the middle of the floor. Almost
immediately, a dove flew in through the open window, bathed in the
water and turned into a beautiful youth, whom the girl embraced
tenderly; after which the two sat down beside each other.

“Ai, my lord, light of my eyes!” said she. “To-day my father summoned
me into his presence and declared that he would bestow me, in marriage,
upon a youth of mean condition. I persuaded him to give me this night
of grace in which to think upon the matter. In reality, I wished to
consult with you.”

“My princess,” answered the youth, after he had thought for some
minutes, “your father should not expect to marry you to one who is not
willing to do some valiant deed to win your hand. There is a magic
mirror, which the jinns have in charge. No one is capable of securing
it from them. It has often been tried. Now, to-morrow, you must say
that you will marry this presumptuous one, if he will bring you the
magic mirror.”

When morning returned, the youth again took on the form of a dove and
disappeared through the window. After that, the one who had been
watching them went away. She saw, very clearly, that the princess who
wore the scarlet raiment was under an evil enchantment. And her love
for the deluded one was increased by her pity.

The king’s daughter, arrayed all in scarlet, went to her father with
the condition. “Verily, my king!” she said, “in a certain place, where
the jinns have charge of it, is a magic mirror—into which whoever looks
will thenceforth be happy. I would possess this mirror. If the youth
who seeks my hand will bring it to me, then will I marry him.”

Upon this the king summoned the assistant of the cooks and said to her:
“My son, it is as I told you. This foolish daughter is amusing herself.
Now, before she will marry you, she demands that you bring to her a
mirror, the securing of which will entail great danger.”

The reply came without hesitation: “My padisha, let it please you that
I go and bring the mirror unto your daughter.”

The king, assured that this would end the matter, gave most willing
consent. “Let it be so, then!” he replied. “Go and bring it.”

Having obtained royal permission to leave the palace, the supposed
youth went beyond the sight of any, took the magic hairs from her bosom
and rubbed them together. Immediately the horse appeared and was
greeted most gladly.

“O, you beautiful creature! In a certain place, protected by the jinns,
there is a mirror of which I am in need. You, who are so powerful,
bring it to me, I pray!”

“Verily, I would gladly do as you desire, O, my princess! But it is not
permitted me to touch the mirror. I will help you to obtain it for
yourself. But you have much to do. Let me ask that you mount my back.”

This done, they were off like the wind.

After going for some time, they came to a high mountain. Here the horse
stopped quite still, saying: “My princess, I have brought you as far as
is permitted me. Dismount and go to the mountain opposite, where you
will come upon the haunt of the jinns. Observe them carefully. If their
eyes are shut, be assured that they are awake; but, should their eyes
be open, you may believe them asleep. Enter softly. You will see the
mirror hanging above their heads. Secure it, and return to me with all
speed, without once looking behind.”

“Very well,” was the answer, “I will do my best.”

Then she climbed to the top of the mountain indicated, and easily found
the place where lived the jinns. Approaching noiselessly, she saw the
mirror hanging above their heads and noted, carefully, that their eyes
were open. Knowing this to be assurance that they were asleep—although
it required great faith in the word of the horse—she went in boldly,
took the mirror, turned about, and, as soon as she was beyond hearing,
ran toward the horse without once looking behind.

She was no sooner out of the place than the jinns wakened, discovered
their loss, and looked about until they espied the flying figure of the
girl.

“Youth!” they shouted, “bring back our mirror!” And as they said the
words, they rolled down stones that were like a broken mountain for
size.

But the princess, without casting the slightest glance backward, ran
until she reached the side of the horse. As soon as she was upon his
back, he gave a great bound and was off like the wind, leaving the
jinns behind, gnashing their teeth in useless rage.

After a time they two reached the palace, where the princess
dismounted, and the instant her feet touched the ground, the beautiful
coal-black steed vanished. She then entered the palace and went
directly into the presence of the king.

His Majesty was surprised at seeing her, and supposed that she had come
to say that the foolhardy undertaking had been abandoned. But, instead,
after receiving obeisance, these were the words he heard:

“Behold, O, king! I have brought the mirror which you asked of me.”

The king’s amazement was great. He summoned his daughter—who came in,
wearing the same brilliant garments—and said to her: “Look! This youth
has brought the mirror which you requested!”

For the moment the girl was too amazed to speak. However, quickly
recovering herself, she received the mirror, and made still another
request for delay, while turning it about in her hands:

“O, my kingly father! I beg you to grant another night’s dreaming;
during which I may think upon this strange feat. To-morrow shall my
answer be ready.”

“Let it be as you desire,” replied her father. “Take another night in
which to think upon the matter.”

Then the king’s daughter withdrew. The seeming youth, also, made
obeisance and went out from the king’s audience chamber to hide away
from the cooks until evening, when, as before, she stole to the door of
the one to whom had been delivered the mirror, and renewed her watch of
the night previous.

After the golden basin had been placed in the middle of the floor, the
same snow-white dove flew in at the window, alighted in the perfumed
waters, bathed, and came forth a youth—handsome, brave, and strong as a
lion. He embraced the king’s daughter, who said to him:

“O, joy of my heart! light of my eyes! my lord! Sad news have I to
tell. The youth of mean condition went to the home of the jinns and
returned with the mirror you described. I knew of nothing to do, except
to beg my father for another night in which to think upon the matter.
How shall we punish this presumptuous fellow?”

“Aha! then he was able to procure the mirror! But do not let that vex
your soul, my princess! We will ask of him something of which no human
being is capable. In another place, under the charge of the giants, is
a rare and costly diamond. None so large ever has been seen by human
eyes. Request this youth to procure the diamond for you, and when he
has failed you will be free to marry me.” This he said without the
slightest intention of marrying anyone.

During all this, the other princess was listening without. She could
see that the one who had been a bird was not in real earnest. And she
was all the more determined to rescue the maiden who had won her heart
unconsciously.

A little later, as the time came when persons were admitted to the
presence of the king, the scarlet princess approached him and said: “My
father, since this youth who asks my hand has no fortune to offer me,
let him procure something which is very precious. There is, in a
certain place under the charge of the giants, a diamond, the like of
which has never been possessed by mortals. Command that he go forth and
secure that. Then will it not seem strange that he should ask the hand
of one who is the daughter of a king.”

Her father’s judgment was affected by the specious reasoning. He sent
for the supposed youth, and, after receiving his obeisance, said to
him: “My son, the giants have a wonderful diamond in charge, of which
my daughter is very desirous. It is fitting that you bring it to her,
before you receive her hand in marriage.”

With a low bow, “Your orders shall be obeyed, my lord, or I will lose
my life in the attempt,” answered the one who had been summoned. She
then turned and quickly left the palace.

After having gone beyond the sight of any, she took the hairs from her
bosom and rubbed them together; whereupon the beautiful horse appeared
and listened to the request that had been made.

“I will do all that I can,” he made answer. “The real accomplishment of
the undertaking lies with you.”

After the maiden had mounted him, the coal-black creature became like a
fire in the image of Asdar. As he started off, a mighty cloud of dust
arose.

In a little while he had reached the foot of a high mountain, where he
stopped and signified to the princess that she must dismount; after
which he said: “Follow this crooked path until you reach the cave of
the giants. If all is quiet and you see no great eyes gleaming in the
darkness, enter. In the middle of the cave you will see a large stone.
Touch this lightly with the little finger of your left hand, and it
will open so that you will discover the diamond, shining in a great
space within the very center. Put the precious gem in your bosom and
return to me, without stopping. Should you but pause, this will be the
last day of your life. Also, be careful not to waken the giants; for
whatever curse they call down upon you will come true.”

Weighed down with the importance of following these instructions, the
brave young princess set out in the path indicated to her, and soon
came upon the cave inhabited by the giants. Entering, she caused the
stone to open, after the manner described, secured the great, guttering
diamond, and turned to fly back with it.

While she was speeding along, the sleeping giants wakened, discovered
the great stone standing open—which, in her haste, the princess had
neglected to close—found that their most precious treasure had been
stolen, and hastened after the departing figure.

But the flight had been so swift that the giants, being slow at
running, saw that they could not overtake her. Therefore they called
out: “O, divine youth! If you are a boy, may you become a girl! And if
you are a girl, may you, at once, become a boy!”

The swift young figure did not tarry, nor so much as slacken its speed
for a breath. Running up to the waiting and anxious horse, she cried,
gleefully: “Behold! thou valiant helper! Here is that which, without
thee, I could not so much as dreamed of possessing.”

But the horse did not notice the precious thing. “Did I not hear voices
calling after thee, my prince? Have the giants pronounced any strange
thing upon thee? Because, if they have, you never can be rid of it.”

The answer was most joyous: “They did pronounce a most strange thing,
indeed, my deliverer! But not a curse. At last I have the desire of my
heart; the desire of my weeping mother’s heart and the great desire of
my father, the king. I need no longer be ashamed to enter his presence;
since, now, I am really his son! Praise be to Allah, who is gracious to
all!”

At this the horse was delighted, equally with the youth, and replied:
“Verily, my prince—since you are, indeed, a prince—from this time
forth, whatever you may wish, I will do it; without in the least
disappointing you.”

Upon this the delighted pair flew back to the palace, as if upon the
wings of the wind; where, as usual, the coal-black steed immediately
disappeared.

The young prince entered the palace, and, after seeking audience with
the king, presented himself before the throne, made low obeisance, and
announced the success of his journey.

“Here, O, padisha! is the diamond which you have required at my hands.”

The king was dazzled with the magnificence of the great gem. With all
speed he sent for his daughter, to whom he said: “Verily, my child,
this valiant youth has secured the priceless jewel which you demanded.
What new trial of his patience and ardor will you now invent?”

The almost fainting girl responded: “Ai, my father! for the love of
Allah, grant to me one more night. To-morrow, surely, I will give you a
final answer.”

The king permitted himself to be curious concerning the new device
which the heart of his daughter would invent; therefore he answered:
“It is but a day. To-morrow bring me thy answer.”

The princess returned to her room, and the young prince concealed
himself until night came on, when he went to her door to observe what
would come to pass. Everything occurred as on previous evenings. The
snow-white bird, after plunging in the perfumed waters, became a youth,
as beautiful as the moon. The two embraced, after which the princess
cried: “O, my dear harbor of refuge! my lord! The ill conditioned youth
has brought the diamond to-day, as he brought the mirror yesterday.
What will become of us?”

But the young prince smiled at her distress, comforting her with a
caress, and answered:

“Do not be troubled at this, my princess! Since my father is king of
the fairies, can it be impossible for me to find a way out of this
dilemma? In the middle of our pleasure garden stands a crying
pomegranate tree, and near it a laughing bear. The moment any person
approaches the tree, or even stretches out a hand toward its branches,
the tree begins to cry. And when the bear hears the crying of the tree,
he is filled so with delight that he begins to laugh. As a consequence,
no one, except the gardener and the keeper, can go near them.

“To-morrow I will ask my father to command that all the soldiers in his
kingdom take up their arms. I will station them about the tree. Should
this presumptuous youth dare to appear, it will mean instant death to
him.

“When he comes again, announce that you have but one more request. Tell
of the tree and say that you have desired it long. Pride in those two
achievements will disarm his wisdom. He will undertake to gratify you,
and will meet the death which he deserves for having aspired to the
hand of a king’s daughter.”

Later on, at the break of day, a bird flew out of the window and did
not pause until it had reached the pleasure garden of the king of the
fairies. There, turning into his rightful form and appearing as prince
of the fairies, he commanded all the soldiers of the kingdom to take up
their arms. Then he set them to watch about the pomegranate tree.



Let us come again to the scarlet princess.

Early in the day she entered the audience chamber of her father and
approached him, saying: “O, my king! In the pleasure garden of a
certain palace stands a weeping pomegranate tree, and beside it is a
laughing bear. Should this youth be able to grant a third desire of my
heart and bring me the tree, I will be able no longer to deny his suit,
but, assuredly, will marry him.”

Whereupon the king, having already gained much, became desirous of
possessing this most curious object. He summoned the youth and said to
him:

“My son, in the pleasure garden of the king of the fairies stands a
weeping pomegranate tree, and beside it a laughing bear. If, for her
sake, you will bring this tree to me, then will I give my daughter to
you with my own hand.”

To which the young prince made modest answer: “Verily, O, king! the
other requests have I fulfilled. If Allah grant wisdom and strength, I
will bring you, also, this tree.”

Thereupon he took leave of the king and went without the palace. When
quite alone he rubbed together the hairs which were wont to bring the
horse to his aid. Immediately the beautiful creature appeared and asked
the prince what he desired.

This third request of the princess and her father was repeated, to
which the horse made answer: “My master, the accomplishment of this
feat will be somewhat difficult. Nevertheless, if need be, let my life
be given for your happiness—for, should you fail, it will mean death to
me. But you have lacked neither discretion nor valor in preceding
trials. Come! let us see what can be brought about.”

The prince mounted, and, like Asdar, emitting flames from mouth and
nostrils, the horse flew upon his way.

After going for some time, they entered another country, where they
came upon three children who were disputing, bitterly, over their
inheritance, which consisted of a goatskin, a cap, a whip, and an
arrow.

The horse came to a halt and said: “These articles are very necessary
to us, O, prince! See if you can persuade the children to yield them to
you.”

The prince went up to the three. “Children,” he said, “why are you
quarreling thus? Would you have me divide the articles between you?”

“Yes, yes!” cried all three.

Taking the arrow, he said: “Look! I will throw this. Whichever of you
brings it first, shall have the inheritance.”

All agreed to this proposition of the young stranger.

Then the prince threw the arrow with all the strength of his arm; and,
while the children ran off in search of it, he laid three gold pieces
for each child upon the ground, took the skin, the cap, the whip,
remounted the horse, and again was upon his way.

When the children returned and found the gold, they rejoiced greatly.



After going and going, the horse came to the palace of the fairy king,
when he said: “My prince—who art now, indeed, a prince—put on the cap,
mount upon the goatskin, and strike it with the whip. Thereupon you
will arise in the air and descend in the garden, where stands the tree
we have come to seek. With one motion you must pull it up by the roots
and immediately bring it to me.”

The prince did as directed. After he had struck the goatskin, he became
invisible. He arose into the air, sailed slowly until above the garden,
when the skin began to descend.

When his feet touched the marble stones he decided to enter the palace,
where great was his surprise to see the girl with the scarlet clothing,
sitting beside the one who had been a bird the night before.

The newcomer was still invisible; so, approaching, he sat down beside
them. After a little, dinner was brought. While those two were eating,
their invisible guest, being very hungry, sat upon the other side of
the table and ate with them. They were surprised to see the food
disappear from the other side of the platter.

“Princess,” exclaimed the fairy prince, “my portion is in front of me;
yours is before you; but whose is the other?”

And they were lost in astonishment.

When the meal was over, they sat down upon the divan which stood before
the window.

Now, the scarlet-robed princess had given an embroidered handkerchief
to the fairy prince, which the invisible prince took from the divan and
hid in his bosom.

When the two discovered that it was gone, they began searching for it.
Everywhere in the room they looked; but nowhere could it be found.

The invisible prince then remounted the goatskin, struck it with his
whip, mounted into the air, and sailed out of the window. By this time
it was night. As the prince reached the point directly above the
pomegranate tree, he seized and pulled it up by the roots.

At this the tree began to cry; and the bear, delighted with the misery
of the tree, began to laugh with all its might. So the brave prince
suddenly thought that he would like the bear as well. Seizing hold of
that with his other hand, he ascended into the sky bearing them both.

Within, from the window, the fairy prince and the scarlet-clothed
princess saw the tree and the bear ascending, as if without hands. In
great frenzy they called to the soldiers:

“Strike! Stand not still!”

And the soldiers, seeing no one whom to attack, became confused and
fought one with another. They believed, in the dim light, that an enemy
had come upon them. During it all, the two stood at the window,
helpless. When they saw the tree disappear, they exclaimed:

“Alas! Alas!”

Then the fairy prince said to the maiden: “It must be he who took the
handkerchief you gave me. Now, he has taken the weeping tree. I am
become helpless. No longer will I hold you from one so valorous. Marry
whom you will!”

“This strange youth has become my fate,” replied the princess.

She went out, mounted her camel, and rode to her father’s palace, where
she entered his presence and stood before him with the greatest
respect.



Let us come again to the prince.

After securing the tree and the bear, he returned to the horse,
remounted, and set off for the palace; where he alighted, entered the
presence of the king, and set down before him the pomegranate tree,
which had been crying all the time. The bear, also, came following
behind, laughing merrily at the discomfiture of the tree.

Bowing three times, the prince then straightened himself to his full
height. “Behold, O, king; this third object which has been asked of
me!”

The king was amused and gratified. He descended from his throne to
greet the prince, and cried: “Bravo, my son! You have done exceedingly
well. To whom should I give my daughter if not to the one who saved my
life from the dragon, who brought the magic mirror, the precious
diamond, and who now has added an endless source of amusement by
bringing this tree and the bear?”

Then the scarlet-clothed princess drew near, fell upon her knees before
her father, and confessed that she had been enchanted by the fairies.
She begged her father’s forgiveness for having listened to their
approaches, thus giving them power over her. She protested that the
spell was broken; that the courage and patience of a true, human prince
had won her heart.

So the two were married. And the festivities continued forty days and
nights, during which the young husband revealed his own station to all
who were at the wedding. Upon the forty-first day he took his princess,
and set out for the palace of his own father with a retinue. When this
was reached, he left his wife and servants without and went within, to
seek his mother, the queen.

Great was the joy of those two at meeting. It seemed that they never
could lose their embrace. Finally, the queen led her newly found child
to the king, where he related all the wonders that had been wrought for
him.

The king commanded that the princess be brought. The two were married
again, according to the rites of the kingdom, and another festival of
forty days and nights was celebrated.

After that, the prince went away one day, rubbed the three hairs, and,
when the beautiful steed appeared, fell upon his neck, weeping tears of
gratitude and sorrow.

“I return to thee these hairs,” he said, “O, most noble and unselfish
creature! Without thy aid I could not have accomplished my happiness,
neither that of my adored mother, nor of my honored father. I will not
keep the talisman, fearing that some evil person may come into
possession of them and ask ignoble things of you, who are most noble.
Go! and may Allah be praised for your services!”

When the prince returned he sat by himself during the remainder of the
day, in deep meditation and grief. But when the evening meal was
brought, he permitted his wife and mother to win him from his sad
thoughts.

So they all lived happily ever after.








STORY OF THE BIRD OF AFFLICTION


The tellers of stories say that, once upon a time, there lived a king
who was wise and just. And this king had a daughter who was so very
fond of the dowager queen that she was always to be found in her
company.

One day, during hour after hour, the queen sat lost in thought. At
length, the princess approached and asked of what she was thinking.

“O, my child!” the queen replied, “I have an affliction. It is upon
that I am thinking.”

“O, queen mother!” again asked the princess, “what is this that you
call an affliction? Will you not buy one for me, also, that I may be
permitted to sit beside you and meditate in your company?”

“If thou so desire. But, first, I must provide myself with money.”

Then the princess made haste to lay all that she possessed before the
queen, who, taking five or six pounds of the gold, went to the market
and purchased a bird of affliction. The slave who accompanied her bore
it to the palace, when the queen called the young girl and delivered it
to her, saying:

“Here, my princess, is a bird of affliction. It is yours. Take it.”

The princess found great pleasure in the bird. Both day and night she
played with it. After a few days, with her maids, she went to a great
pleasure garden. The bird was taken with them, and when they reached
the head of the fountains its cage was hung upon the limb of a tree.

Presently the bird began to talk. It said: “Ai, sultana, will you not
let me out for a little? I would fly about and look at the country with
the other birds. I will return to you.”

The princess, being truthful herself, had not learned to doubt those
whom she loved. She believed the bird, opened the door of his cage, and
let him go forth. After about two hours, while the maids were amusing
themselves in a distant corner of the garden and the maiden was
enjoying herself alone, watching the sparkling waters of the fountain,
the bird returned. She greeted him joyfully and held out her hand that
he might alight upon it.

The bird came nearer, suddenly turned into a jinn, laid rough hold upon
her, and carried her off.

After a flight of two hours, he left her upon the top of a very high
mountain. And as he disappeared, he cried: “There! have you learned
what an affliction is? Wait and see others of the same sort which I
shall bring to you!” So saying, he turned into a column of air and
disappeared.

When she had recovered from her terror, the princess looked about her.
All was barren and desolate. She began to wander about in the hope of
discovering some signs of life. Hungry and forlorn, she wandered day
after day, until, finally, meeting a shepherd, she said to him: “Good
shepherd, if you will give me the clothes you have on, I will give you
these silk ones, with all my ornaments.”

The shepherd agreed to do so. The princess then retired within some
encircling rocks, and when the shepherd’s clothes were thrown over to
her, took her own off and tossed them without. Then dressing herself in
the coarse garments, and tucking her hair under her cap, she set out to
continue her wandering.

After going a long way, she came to the far outskirts of a town. The
first building she reached was a coffeehouse, which she entered, and
said to the owner, “Father, will you take me as an apprentice?”

The coffee-maker, being a little short-sighted, looked at her
attentively, then answered that he had been desirous of a helper and
engaged her at once.

Time passed, and all went well until, one day, the coffee-maker said to
his apprentice: “I am going home to-night. Do you sleep in the
coffeehouse. Do not let anyone steal the goods. Take care of
everything!” Having thus commanded, he went away.

When it became quite dark, the lonely girl locked the coffeehouse and
lay down in a corner. After a time she persuaded herself that there was
no cause for fear, and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, while
deep sleep held her senses, the bird which the queen dowager had
purchased in the market entered, and broke all the nargilehs
(water-smoking pipes) and all the cups that were in the place, into
little bits. Then he went up to the girl and wakened her roughly.

What did she see? Everything that had been in the coffeehouse when she
went to sleep was destroyed. Seized with terror, she covered her eyes
with her hands to shut out the unhappy sight.

But the bird rejoiced at her misery, and cried out, with glee: “There,
do you see? Only wait a little longer. Then you will behold other
afflictions of the same sort. They are upon the way to you!” So saying,
he flew off.

All the remainder of the night the poor girl sat in her corner in dread
of the morrow. When morning came she was racking her mind to find an
answer, to give the master when he should come and question her about
the matter.

The coffee-maker arrived early, and—what should he see but every one of
his possessions broken into tiny bits! He believed it to have been done
by the malicious action of the girl. Dealing her a dreadful blow, he
seized her by the collar, and threw her out of the house.

At this she wept bitterly and protested her innocence, but the enraged
man would not listen. There was nothing left for her but to seek
another place.

Presently she reached a tailor’s shop, gathered courage, and entered.
Now, it so chanced that this was the time of a great feast. Many orders
had come from the palace, on account of which all the tailors were busy
cutting and sewing. As a consequence, when the head tailor was asked if
he would take a new apprentice, he made ready answer: “Certainly. I
have need of one. Come in and you shall have plenty of work.”

All went well for a few days, and the poor girl hoped that the bird of
affliction had not learned of her whereabouts. But, alas! one day the
tailor went to his home and commanded her to remain behind in charge of
the shop.

Fear seized upon her so that she could not sleep until near the middle
of the night, when a sort of stupor overcame her, and, sure enough! at
exactly the same hour as before, the bird entered and did not rest
until he had torn up all the clothes that were in the place.

Then he wakened the girl and bade her look about. And what could she
see but all the garments—the beautiful gold-embroidered ones, as well
as the plain—every one, and the uncut pieces of cloth, all torn into
little bits!

When her scared eyes had taken it all in, the bird laughed hoarsely and
said: “There, my sultana! Do you see? And after this you will learn
what other sort of affliction I shall bring to you!” Having said this,
he flew away.

The morning came, and also the master of the shop. He entered in haste,
for there was much to be done that day, and looking about him—what
should he see? All the gorgeous garments, which were to go to the
palace that morning, and every piece of cloth which had not been
cut—all, alike, were torn into tiny bits!

Upon seeing this, the distracted man began to beat his head on the
stones and cry: “Alas! all my work has been brought to waste! And not
only my labor is lost, but all these costly pieces of cloth have been
destroyed!” Despair lost him his senses. He fell to the ground in a
faint.

The apprentice hastened to bring water with which to bathe his temples
and to chafe his hands and feet. After some time consciousness returned
to him, and he began asking the girl who it was that had wrought such
destruction. But, however much he questioned her, she made absolutely
no answer.

Consequently, after pondering upon the matter, the tailor said to
himself: “The boy has no money that I can take in payment for my loss.
Shall I take his soul from him?” Then he dealt a heavy blow, intending
to take the life of his apprentice, and hurled the supposed boy out of
the shop.

The poor creature was stunned, but not killed. After a little, she
recovered sufficiently to be able to make her escape. Weeping sadly at
her hard lot, she went until a chandelier maker’s shop was reached,
where she asked, with trembling, if she could be taken as an
apprentice.

But the master of the shop answered her roughly. “Go away!” he cried.
“Go away, boy! What could I do with you? I don’t need anyone to look
after me; neither do I want to look after a boy.”

However, after some time, when he saw that the poor creature would not
go away, he yielded to her desire and took her for his apprentice.

Time passed and all went well. The poor girl began to hope once more.
But upon one day, among other days, it became necessary that the master
should go away to attend to some very important business. He gave the
strictest injunction to his apprentice that the shop must be taken good
care of—that everything should be so guarded that no possible harm
could come.

When night came on, the apprentice was more than usually careful in
locking every entrance. After that she lay down in a corner.

In the middle of the night the same bird came and did all the evil to
which he had been accustomed. A stupor was upon the sleeper, so that
she did not hear the crashing of glass nor the breaking of wrought
metals. It was not until the bird had wakened her, that she knew of the
havoc that had been wrought.

As she looked about her, the same words were spoken that had greeted
her ears when other troubles came upon her: “There, my sultana! Do you
see? Wait until the other afflictions come. I shall bring more to you
of the same sort.” With these threatening words he flew away.

When morning came the apprentice opened the shop, as usual, and awaited
the coming of her master, which was not long delayed. The chandelier
maker came, and—what should he see? So many chandeliers as there were
in the shop! And all of them in utter ruin!

The anger and despair of the poor man brought him to such a state that
he looked about for a place to hang himself. In so doing he discovered
the apprentice, hiding behind some boxes in a corner. He seized a
stick, gave the poor creature a sound beating, and threw her out of the
shop.

Again the poor girl went off crying. This time she thought in her
heart: “Into whatever shop I have gone, so much harm has been brought
by the bird, and so many times have I been beaten, so many blows have I
eaten! After this, in order that no harm may be brought upon others, I
shall stay by myself. I will go and wander from mountain to mountain.”

So saying, she took the path leading in that direction. When evening
came, she found herself very hungry and thirsty. Also, she had made the
unhappy discovery that wild animals, most ferocious beasts, inhabited
the mountain upon which night had overtaken her. To escape these she
climbed to the top of a tree, where she slept, as best she could,
during the night.

When it became morning, just after dawn, the son of the king of that
country went out on the mountain to hunt and saw the apprentice curled
up in the tree. The light being yet dim, he believed that he had
discovered a strange kind of bird. So he shot an arrow at it, which
flew wide of its mark and hit the tree instead.

When the prince came nearer he saw, to his horror, that it was not a
bird at which he had shot, but a human being. Fear seized upon him. He
called out, “Are you an animal or a jinn?”

“I am neither the one nor the other,” the girl replied. “I am a man.
Fear of the wild beasts drove me to seek refuge here.”

“Then descend. And with my arrows I will protect you,” answered the
prince.

After he had assisted her down, he was touched with sympathy at her
miserable state, and at once conducted her to the palace. When they had
arrived there, and the stranger was led to the bath, she told the slave
that she would like a woman servant to be sent to her. To this one she
revealed the truth that she was not a man, but had been obliged to wear
the clothing of one, for the sake of safety. The slave woman then
bathed and dressed her in garments that were fitting.

When this had been done, all those who were in the bath were surprised;
for the one who had come to them as an apprentice lad, seemed now as
the fourteenth of the moon for beauty. Her like had never been seen in
the palace.

The slaves led her from the bath and into the presence of the prince,
who, at sight of her loveliness, became as if intoxicated in his mind.
He remained thus for more than an hour. When his reason returned he
went directly into his father’s presence.

“Most revered father!” said the prince. “Yesterday I went out to hunt
and found a most strange thing—a maiden who had been frightened by the
wild animals and had taken refuge in a tree. What could I do? It is the
province of the brave to succor the weak. Therefore I assisted her to
the ground and brought her home with me. Since she has been relieved
from terror and refreshed with the bath, she appears to me as the
loveliest and most desirable maiden in the whole world. She is become
my fate. I beg that you will permit me to marry her.”

Hardly could the king restrain his astonishment at this. “What childish
tale are you telling me, my son? Lead hither the maiden! Let me look
upon her!”

The prince made haste to command her coming, for he was assured, in his
heart, that even the king must admit her loveliness.

And it was so. When the maiden had entered, and after she had answered,
modestly, his greeting, the king was so pleased with her that he no
longer wondered at the desire of his son. He yielded to importunity and
gave his consent to the marriage.

Immediately the wedding was arranged. During forty days and forty
nights the celebrations continued. Upon the forty-first day the prince
was married to the beautiful princess.

They were very happy together. Near the end of the first year a little
daughter was born to them. Then did their happiness seem complete.

Some time elapsed. The child grew and had perfect health. One night,
when the prince, the princess, and all of their attendants were asleep,
the bird, which had bided its time patiently, came into the chamber
where lay the child and its mother. He smeared the mouth of the
princess with blood, took the child under his wing, and wakened her
roughly.

“See!” he cried. “I am carrying off your child. Wait a little! You will
learn what other afflictions are in store for you!”

As he uttered these cruel words he flew away; leaving the princess
speechless with grief, and unconscious of the blood-stains upon her
lips.

Morning came. The prince arose to find his child gone and the mouth of
his wife smeared with blood! He was amazed at the sight, but did not
permit himself to speak until he had gone into the presence of his
father, to whom, with great effort to control his grief, he confided
the state of affairs.

The king’s surprise knew no bounds. “My son,” he asked, “whence came
this girl? Where did you tell me that you had found her?”

“Upon a mountain, my father.”

“Then, although she has conducted herself becomingly and has seemed
most gentle and sweet, undoubtedly there is savage blood in her veins.
One can never tell when this may manifest itself. If she will eat her
own child, whom she loved, she may, at any time, become possessed with
the desire to eat other people.”

However, the love which both the king and the prince had for the
princess, and her own undoubted grief at the loss of the child, caused
them to hesitate as to what course to pursue. Day after day went by,
and nothing was done about the sad matter.

After a considerable time another daughter was born to them, and, in
the same way as before—though both the prince and the princess, each
without letting the other know of it, had charged the nurse and
attendants to be extremely watchful—the bird came, took the child,
again smeared blood upon the mouth of the princess, and flew away.

When morning came, the prince found the same sad state of affairs which
had bewildered him before. He could not restrain his grief, the
knowledge of which was borne to his father.

The king was moved with great indignation, along with his sorrow. He
gave command that the savage woman should be put to death.

When the prince learned of this command, his grief at the loss of the
child was swallowed up in the greater one of losing his wife. All his
love for the beautiful girl, whose life with him had only these two
blots, swept over his heart. He hastened to his father, prostrated
himself before him, and begged that, once more, her life might be
spared.

The king, seeing the grief of his son, and experiencing a like
tenderness in his own heart, was gracious once more and annulled the
sentence.

Time came and went. At the end of another year a boy was born to the
young couple. When the boy had reached the age of the other children
when they disappeared, the prince began to reflect, saying within
himself: “Should the savage instincts take possession of the princess
and she, unconsciously, destroy this child, nothing would prevent my
father from commanding and insisting upon her death.”

Thinking thus, he made up his mind to remain awake all night and watch.
After the princess had gone to sleep, the prince took a needle in his
hand, and held it in such a manner against his chin that, should he
become sleepy and nod, the point would enter the flesh and waken him.
Finally, however, a strange, heavy sleep, against which he had no power
of resistance, overcame him, and the needle dropped from his hand.

About twelve o’clock the bird came, after it had smeared blood upon the
mouth and nose of the mother, and took this third child; upon which it
wakened her, saying: “Verily, my sultana, I am going to take your boy
from you. Hereafter you shall see me again. There are other
afflictions. I will bring them to you.”

The princess tried, frantically, to detain him. But it was impossible.
Neither was she able to cry aloud. Dumb with terror, she remained
helpless while the bird disappeared with her youngest child.

When morning came and the prince arose—what should he find? That his
little son was gone, no one knew whither; and that the mouth and even
the nose of the princess were all covered with blood. Horror possessed
him. He was frantic with grief, and the king, learning within the hour
of the dreadful matter, sent an order to the chief executioner that the
princess must be killed immediately.

In obedience to the royal command, the executioner bound the hands of
the princess behind her and led her toward an open square. But the
royal prisoner was so fair and seemed so innocent and heartbroken, that
even the heart of the executioner was touched. When they were beyond
sight of those in the palace, he said to her:

“O, my princess! I cannot put you to death! Fly from here. Go in any
direction you choose; only do not return to the palace. And may Allah
give you peace!” Thus speaking, he set her free.

The unhappy young woman went away weeping bitterly. Grief at the loss
of her husband’s love, and terror as to the fate of her little ones,
broke her heart. Knowing not whither, she unconsciously pursued the
path by which the prince had rescued her when upon the mountain.

But even then she was not to escape. Presently the bird appeared.

“Ai!” she cried. “And art thou come again? Hast thou not afflicted me
according to thy wish thus far? Leave me now, I beseech thee! to mourn
over all thou hast taken from me!”

But the bird lifted her by her clothing and flew off with her.

After some time they came to a palace which was all covered with
precious stones—one never before seen by human eyes nor described by a
human tongue. It was so beautiful that the eyes of any beholder must
become dazzled at the sight of it.

Into the garden of this palace the bird descended with his burden. As
soon as their feet touched the marble wall he gave himself a shake, and
at once turned into a young prince who was like the full moon for
beauty.

When the princess saw this transformation, her terror was changed to
amazement. The prince then took her hand to lead her up the steps into
the palace, when a servant met them, leading three children whose faces
shone like the beams of a star—so fair were they to look upon.

When the princess saw them her heart beat fast and her eyes filled. But
the prince would not permit her to tarry. He conducted her—the children
following them—up the stairs, through a hall inlaid with precious
stones, and into a spacious salon. Here, after seating her, he sat down
beside her.

During all this time the children had not once removed their eyes from
the beautiful princess, whom they had met upon the staircase.

Then the prince of the fairies spoke; and these are the words that he
said: “My sultana, unto you I have done many injuries. I also took your
children from you and caused that you be delivered over to the
executioner. But not once did you tell those who afflicted you that it
was I, and not you, who had done the evil. You were patient and endured
all without complaint. Consequently, I caused this palace to be built
for you. Everything is yours. And the children, whom I took from you,
have been carefully nourished. These children, whom you now see, are
those whom you have mourned as lost. All three are yours. And,
henceforth, I am your slave.”

Upon hearing this, the princess embraced the little ones, kissing them
on the eyes and pressing them to her breast. And the children threw
their arms about their mother’s neck, weeping most piteously at the
remembrance of their grief at being torn from her.

In this reunion of mother and children whole new worlds seemed to be
opened up to them. They could not bear to be separated from each other,
neither day nor night.

Let these four remain in the summerhouse of the magnificent palace,
glad in their reunion, while we return to the other prince.

The poor young man was torn with grief—now, over the death of his
children; then, because of the reawakened love for his wife; and again,
because he believed her to be dead. Both day and night he gave himself
up to lamentations.

Now, there was an old clown, whose duty it had been to come every day
and tell amusing stories to the prince. But one day his opium gave out,
and he obtained a half hour’s leave to go to the market.

While upon the way he looked before him and saw a palace, so
magnificent as to make him rub his eyes in astonishment and exclaim:
“This palace! When was it built? Here have I been passing by, at any
hour of every day, and there has not been seen the slightest sign of
such splendor. Is this a dream, or some trick played upon me?”

Thinking thus within himself, he began to walk around its walls and
investigate. While he was doing this, the fairy prince and the princess
were sitting with the children, in the summerhouse. The fairy prince
looked out through the gateway and saw the clown from a distance.

“My sultana!” he said, “here is the prince’s clown. If you command, we
will have him within and, perhaps, gain some amusement.”

“I would have that done which will please you,” was the careful answer.

Accordingly, as the clown was examining the outer walls of the palace,
the fairy prince threw an enchanted rose down upon him; which the
clown, seeing, picked up, and when he had smelled it said: “O, how
sweetly does this rose smell! Say, you, there! Can you, also, smell?”
And, although there was no sense in the words, he kept repeating them.

It became noised about the streets that the prince’s clown was losing
his senses. And all who saw him, to the number of fifty or sixty
persons, stopped to hear the foolish utterance and to shake the head,
saying, “Alas! yes; the clown is crazy!”



Let us return to the true prince.

After two hours had passed without the return of the clown, he began to
be troubled, and ordered the chamberlain to go out and learn what had
become of the old man; also, to bring him back to the palace.

The chamberlain had gone but a little way, when he noticed a large
crowd in the public square and went near, to learn the cause of the
gathering. To his surprise, he saw that the clown was in the very
middle. Making his way to this side, he said, “The prince sends for
you.”

Only the words caused by the enchantment came in answer: “Your rose
smells sweet. Can you also smell?” But this time was added, as the
speaker looked at the chamberlain: “If they throw a rose to you, from
the palace yonder, be warned! Do not pick it up!”

These words served only to arouse the curiosity of the chamberlain. He
desired to look more closely at this marvelous palace.

The fairy prince saw him approaching and said to the princess: “Aha! we
have here the prince’s chamberlain. Shall he be invited to enter?”

“Your will should answer that, my lord!” was her reply.

Then the fairy prince gave command that the gates of the palace should
be opened and, when the chamberlain entered, servants approached to
conduct him up the stairs into the palace.

The host commanded that the chamberlain’s clothes of state should be
removed before entering his presence. Accordingly, the chamberlain was
conducted to another room; but when he attempted to remove his turban,
behold! it could not be loosened from his head.

He sat down in astonishment at this strange matter. And the servants
went to their master, with news that the prince’s chamberlain could not
take off his turban!

“What manner of man is this, that he cannot remove his turban?” cried
the fairy prince, in assumed anger. “Put the fellow without!”

So they led the chamberlain to the gates of the palace, when, as he
stooped to put on his shoes, behold! his turban fell from his head!

“Well, well!” he said to himself, as he picked it up. “You are a great
fellow! You could not take off your turban when inside the palace; why
do you remove it when you are outside?”

So he threw the troublesome thing upon the ground, hastened to where
the clown was standing, and, in a low tone that could not be heard by
those standing near, told him his story. This caused the curiosity of
these two to increase greatly.



Let us return to the prince.

After he had sent the chamberlain to bring the clown and neither of
them had returned, he called the lord of the treasury and commanded him
to find the two and bring them, straightway, into his presence.

So the lord of the treasury went out, as the others had done, and,
seeing the same crowd in the public square, joined it and took notice
of the state in which were those two whom he had come to seek. He drew
near to them and inquired the cause.

“If a rose is thrown to you from the newly builded palace,” answered
the clown, “be advised; do not smell of it!”

“And if, by chance, you enter this palace,” added the chamberlain,
“remove your turban before going in.”

The lord of the treasury, unwisely, turned to look at the palace; and,
as he looked, his will became weak. He, also, was drawn toward it.

When the fairy prince saw this, again he turned to the princess: “Here
is the lord of the treasury!” he cried. “Shall he, also, be made
foolish in mind?”

“It is you who know best,” answered the princess.

Accordingly, the lord of the treasury was admitted, who carefully
removed his turban as he entered.

“Let him take off his state garments and enter my presence in
nightclothes!” commanded the one who had drawn him thither.

The lord of the treasury attempted to obey, but found that he could not
remove his coat. However hard he tugged at it, not one fraction of an
inch would it budge!

The servants ran to tell this to their master, who exclaimed: “What
sort of man is this, who cannot remove his coat? Does he expect me to
believe such a foolish statement? Put him out, quickly!”

The servants made haste to obey, and the bewildered lord of the
treasury had taken scarcely a step when, of itself, his coat fell from
his back!

“Well, well!” exclaimed the amazed man. “Since you would remain on when
I was within the palace, why do you come off now that I am without?”

In anger he threw the coat upon the ground and went to join the others.



Time passed by, and the prince, whose people loved to obey him quickly,
became very much excited with wondering what could have become of his
messengers. He went out to seek them himself, and presently came upon
the three.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Why have you all tarried
so long?”

At which question the clown made reply: “If the people in the new
palace throw a rose to you, do not smell it!”

And the chamberlain added: “If you enter there, remove your turban
before you pass the threshold.”

While the lord of the treasury murmured: “Leave your coat behind when
you go.”

At these strange answers the prince nearly lost his head. He felt that,
as their prince, it was his duty to solve the mystery. So he turned
and, without one word, went swiftly to the palace and demanded
admission.

The moment he stepped inside, the fairy prince, the princess—who could
hardly restrain her joy at seeing him—the three children, and all the
servants came forward to do him honor.

Speechless with astonishment, he suffered himself to be conducted up
the grand staircase and into the reception room. The eldest child
brought a chair, which it presented with deep obeisance; the second
spread a serviette upon his knee; while the tiny one, kneeling,
proffered a golden tray upon which was a costly plate. Upon the plate
were some pears, and a spoon lay beside the plate.

The surprise of the prince continued to grow; but, commanding himself
and wondering if he could be dreaming, he asked, “Should pears be eaten
with a spoon?”

Whereupon all the children made answer in chorus: “Should one believe
that a loving mother would eat her own children?”

At this answer the prince became dumb.

“Look!” they continued. “We are all your children. And this is our
mother, who loves us.”

At that moment the fairy prince appeared and said: “Ai, my prince! may
your eyes become luminous! This is, indeed, your princess. And these
are your children.”

When he had said this, the children threw themselves upon their
father’s neck. Then the princess came forward and embraced her lord.
And to the very depths of their souls were these five persons happy.

When their rapture had become somewhat calm, the fairy prince again
approached and, making obeisance, said: “I am your slave. Long ago I
was purchased for the princess, with her own money. Before that time I
had been very wicked. My own mother, the queen of the fairies, had
cursed me. As a consequence, I was thrown into this condition. I beg
your royal pardon for all I have unwittingly caused you to suffer.

“Now, if it be your good pleasure, and if you, graciously, will grant
permission, I will return to my own country and seek out my own father
and my mother. Perchance they may care to see me once more.”

“Since these later acts were not your immediate fault,” replied the
prince, “you have the gracious permission of my princess and myself. Go
in peace and refrain from future evil-doing!”

Accordingly, the fairy prince bade them adieu and went away, leaving
the beautiful palace, with its setting of costly gems, unto the others.

Then the princess caused a messenger to carry the news of her final
good fortune to her own father; who rejoiced, greatly, that the
daughter, whom he had mourned as dead, was still alive and living in
the estate due to her birth. He sent royal presents and his blessing.
Then were the prince and princess married again; and their second
wedding was celebrated during forty days and forty nights. They lived
happily ever afterward.

And may Allah grant the same to us!








STORY OF THE WATER-CARRIER


The tellers of stories and narrators of tales say that, once upon a
time, there was a king who had only one child and that a daughter.

Now, it happened that the king’s vizier, whose house was directly
opposite the palace, was likewise circumstanced with regard to his
family. And, moreover, the two young ladies had each a room in the very
front of her dwelling, and each was very beautiful.

One day the two were sitting at their respective windows, furtively
regarding each other across the street, when a tall and handsome
water-carrier chanced to pass. Seeing him thus, the king’s daughter
spoke.

“O, water-boy, water-boy! Which is the more beautiful, the vizier’s
daughter or I?”

The water-carrier gazed upon each in turn, then answered: “My princess,
both of you are very beautiful; but, since one must not lie to the
child of his king, the vizier’s daughter is the more so.”

This testimony so wrought upon the jealous princess that she became ill
in consequence, and was unable to rise from her bed. The king was
greatly disturbed at this. He summoned the court physician and the
other learned men, who came to discover what was her ailment and to
cure her, if possible.

The princess gave gold pieces to these men and ordered them to tell her
father that this illness would prove fatal, unless the vizier’s
daughter were killed and some of her blood given as a medicine.

The physician was a weak man and afraid to anger the daughter of his
king. He went to her father with the cruel request. Immediately a
command was sent to the vizier. But that fond and daring father killed
a little kitten and sent its blood instead.

Then, becoming afraid, he summoned a carpenter and had a walnut box
made and beautifully fitted up, inside; into which he put his daughter
and then ordered his faithful servant to take it to the market and sell
it, regardless of the price.

Placing himself in the shadow, the anxious father waited to note the
disposal of the box with its precious contents. He had not waited long,
when the water-carrier, whose truthfulness had caused all the mischief,
came by and stopped to look at the walnut box.

“Here is a handsome fellow, whose heart surely will be touched into
pity and love at sight of my daughter,” thought the vizier; so he made
a sign to the servant, who asked the young man if he would not like the
box.

“Surely I would like it,” was the response. “But the wood is valuable
and the parts are well joined. The price will be high.”

“Indeed, no,” answered the servant. “I am worn with waiting and must be
off at once. Give me five paras and the box is yours.”

The water-carrier smiled. “Aha! I see the price is naught to you. I
will give you three.”

“Take it and hasten! For I am needed already, at a great distance.”

The purchaser gave him the money, called a porter, and ordered him to
bring the box along with him to his house.

Offering a prayer to Allah for the safety of his child, the vizier,
followed by his servant, hastened away; while the porter strapped the
box upon his back and then followed the water-carrier, until, in
obedience to his direction, he placed it in the young man’s room, where
it remained that night.

After the young man had gone out, the next day, to follow his
avocation, the vizier’s daughter unlocked the box from within, opened
it, stepped out, and looked about her. The whole house was in disorder.
She was a girl of very tidy habits and decided to make the bed, sweep,
and put at rights the whole place generally. This she did and, when the
time approached for the return of her young owner, lay down again in
her box and locked it from within.

Imagine the surprise of the water-man when he returned in the evening
and found everything in delightful order!

“I wonder who has been here?” he thought. Then, being very tired with
long walking, he went to bed and slept soundly all that night.

Morning came. “I must get a locksmith to open this walnut box for me,”
he said; then went out upon his daily round.

No sooner had he gone than the maiden unlocked the casket, arose, and
did as on the day preceding. At evening she lay down in the walnut box,
as before.

The young man entered, saw everything in beautiful order, and stood for
some time thinking. Then he went to the box and tried the lock. It
would not yield.

“If anyone is within, let him come forth!” commanded the water-man.

But, though he waited long, no sound was heard in answer. He then went
to bed and slept peacefully until morning, when he arose earlier than
usual.

This caused the heart of the girl in the walnut box to tremble.
However, she remained quiet, and soon found that wisdom had impelled
her silence; for the young man returned very shortly, with a fine piece
of meat, which he had gone to the butcher’s to buy. Laying it down upon
a table, he said:

“If Allah approve, I will cook this to-morrow.” Then he took up his
water skins and went out for the day.

The maiden no longer feared discovery. She arose, swept the house, as
upon other days, cooked the meat, carefully covered and laid it away;
then, seeing many pieces of soiled clothing about, she said: “It is
better to wash clothes than to be killed at the caprice of a princess,”
and began busying herself in that way when, most unexpectedly, the
master of the house entered!

At sight of him the poor girl covered her face and cried: “Alas! alas!”

But the water-man recognized her and was filled with joy. He asked how
her condition had become so changed; and, after hearing her story, went
nearer to her and said:

“Ai, my princess! You are mine; but I, also, am yours. Let us be
married!”

The young woman gave her consent, a few of the neighbors were summoned
hastily, and, with due ceremony, they were married and lived very
happily until, both of them fearing discovery, the husband loaded forty
donkeys with merchandise, placed his wife upon another, and sent her to
the home of his mother, with whom the young woman lived for some time.

However, it is a true saying that the beauty which causes envy in the
hearts of others seldom brings happiness to its possessor. Some of the
women of the place became jealous of the newcomer and wrote a letter to
the husband, telling him that his wife had forgotten him and was in
love with another.

This so incensed the young husband that he sent word that he was coming
home, bought a dagger, and set out to kill his wife. As he approached
the house he saw her coming to meet him, with silver candlesticks in
her hands.

But when she saw that his face was dark and threatening, and that he
was drawing a dagger from his belt, she ran to the bank of a stream
which flowed in front of the house, sprang into it, and was carried
away toward the sea.

“Let her go!” cried all the neighbors, who had come out to watch the
affair. “She is not worthy of a good home nor of a kind husband.”

Now, farther down, there were fishermen upon the banks of the stream.
As the drowning girl was swept along by the current, the nets caught
her, and the fishermen, feeling something heavy in the nets, made haste
to draw them in. Their surprise upon finding a girl, instead of a heavy
draught of fishes, was very great. They hastened to work over her until
she had come to life, when—because she was very beautiful—they began to
quarrel as to whom she belonged.

Finally, as they were coming to blows, one of them said: “Let me throw
this arrow; then let all of us run after it. Whichever finds it first
shall have the prize.”

Accordingly, he threw the arrow, and all of them started off. While
they were engaged in seeking it the girl caught the opportunity to run
away. And as the one who threw the arrow was very strong of arm, they
were so long in finding it that she had accomplished a goodly distance
before they discovered their loss.

The poor girl ran and ran, until she met a Jew, who laid rough hands
upon her and said: “Ai, my girl! as you seem to belong to no one, I am
going to take you. You shall not be let to run wild in this manner.
Henceforth you are mine.”

Then the despairing girl held up the two silver candlesticks—which had
been in her hands all the time—and while he was securing them in his
pack, she ran again, until she came to a fountain, where she sat down
exhausted.

While she was sitting thus, the son of the king of that country came
by, and, seeing her, sat down and talked with her. Notwithstanding her
weariness and all through which she had passed, her attractiveness was
so great that, after he had been beside the fountain but a little
while, he asked if she would accompany him to the palace and become his
bride.

To this she made answer: “Most gladly will I do this that you ask, O,
most noble prince! if you first will grant a request of mine.”

“It is granted already, my princess! Now tell it to me.”

“Since it is beside this fountain, and because of it, that I may have
been found by you, may I ask that an agreeable place may be built here
in which travelers may drink of the water and rest a little? And, since
you seem pleased to look at me, will you have my portrait put into the
bottom of the basin, so that all who lean over to drink in the fountain
may see it?”

“All this will I have done at once, my princess,” answered the prince.
He then took her by the hand and together they went to the palace.

The fountain was builded as described, and, not far away, a tiny tower
was put up from which the prince and the young woman whom he had found
could see all those who came to drink at the beautiful fountain.

Now, it very soon happened that the fishermen, passing that way,
stopped to drink of the water which flowed clear and bright. As they
leaned over the marble basin they saw the girl’s image, and each fell
to the ground in a faint.

While they were lying thus the Jew approached, and, in stooping to
drink, he, too, lost his senses and fell down beside the others. Last
of all came the water-carrier; and no one needs wonder that
consciousness left him upon the instant.

Now, the one whose portrait had so distressed them all—the evil each
had done her being so upon his conscience that he felt the image had
come to wreak vengeance—was watching from the window of the little
tower.

“My prince,” said she, gently, “will you graciously come and look
toward the fountain?”

Upon seeing the fallen bodies of the men, he turned to her, saying:
“There is some mystery here. These men have wronged you in some way.”
And without waiting for an answer he commanded that they all be put in
irons.

When they had recovered consciousness and were safely lodged in prison,
the prince and the young woman went in to look at them.

“O, prince, gracious and kind!” said she. “These fishermen drew me out
of the water, and, while they quarreled over me, I made my escape. This
Jew met me in my flight, treated me roughly, and would have made me his
slave, but, while he was dazzled with the silver candlesticks in my
hand, I fled again. This water-carrier was my husband. Without granting
me the privilege of proving myself innocent, he believed evil reports
which jealous persons related to him, and came prepared to kill me. It
was because of this that I tried to drown myself.”

“Is all this possible?” exclaimed the astonished prince. “Then the Jew
and the fishermen shall be punished with forty stripes and forty days’
imprisonment. As for the water-carrier, do you decide what shall be
done with him. In this matter your word shall be my law.”

Thereupon the water-carrier fell down at the woman’s feet and kissed
the hem of her raiment. “Kill me, O, my beloved!” he cried, “for,
indeed, I am worthy only of death. But first grant thy forgiveness! It
was the madness of my love which drove me to kill thee, when those evil
tidings came. I had been diligent in business, praying Allah to grant
me success, so that I might build a fitting home for thee and me. And
my efforts were crowned with the answer to my prayer. At the very time
when the tidings came, I was about to come to thee with the precious
news; and, therefore, was the more easily incensed. But I ask not for
mercy, O, my beloved! Do as thou wilt with me. It will be just.”

“Then, if the prince will be gracious still, and I return unto thee,
wilt thou, henceforth, learn the truth before thou sharpenest thy
dagger?”

“Canst thou believe me, O, my wife? A thousand times, yes!”

Then the prince, whose eyes were full, gave the woman to her husband.
They returned home, were married all over again; the wedding was
celebrated for forty days and forty nights, after which they lived long
and happily. Salaam!








STORY OF THE COFFEE-MAKER’S APPRENTICE


The tellers of stories and narrators of tales relate that, once upon a
time, there was a valiant youth who had fallen into very poor
circumstances, which it seemed impossible to mend. Therefore he decided
to try his fortunes in other lands; and, the thought occurring to him
that he would not like every chance passer to discover his identity, he
disguised himself and fared forth.

After going and going, for a long time, he found himself in another
country; and, being weary, he entered the coffeehouse of an old, old
man whom, after he had refreshed himself with the unsatisfactory
coffee, he asked permission to serve as an apprentice.

The proprietor of the little shop regarded him sadly and replied: “Ai,
my son! the coffeehouse is old and does not attract customers—as you
see. I have only one or two. They bring me in not more than five or ten
paras (ten paras = one cent) a day; out of which I must buy bread for
the evening. That is all I have to live on. Even should you offer to
serve me for nothing, how could I take you?”

But this did not abash the young applicant. “Father,” he replied, “I
ask nothing whatever from you. Only I beg that you permit me to thrust
my head into this refuge, that I may know myself to be out of harm’s
way.”

It would have required a harder heart than beat in the old
coffee-maker’s bosom, to deny so simple a request. “Very well, my son,”
he answered. “Remain! and may peace be upon us! We will get on with
whatever Allah sends.”

The youth then kissed his master’s hand and went into the shop, where
he sat down to think upon his new estate and to plan what he could do
to increase the fortune of his discouraged master.

When evening came, the old man arose. “My son,” he said, “I am going
home now. When you are ready to sleep, lock the house carefully.” With
these words he went away, leaning heavily upon his stick—for he was
very old.

The apprentice locked the door after him and lay down above the
counter, where, after a little, he composed himself to sleep.

Exactly at midnight there was a knock upon the door. The sleeping youth
wakened but did not arise. Another moment and the door—which was
locked—opened, without difficulty, and a dervish entered with a salaam!

The astonished apprentice returned the salute, without feeling quite
sure whether he were asleep or awake.

“Arise, boy!” commanded the midnight visitor, “and make me a cup of
coffee; but expect no money for it.”

The boy, thus commanded, arose at once and made the coffee, which the
dervish drank without a word, and directly left the shop. The
apprentice looked after his departing figure and said: “May Allah grant
success to your journey!”

Afterward he relocked the door, lay down in his place, but could not
sleep again that night. When morning brought his master to the shop,
the two greeted each other, but no word concerning the strange visitor
of the night before passed between them.

The day passed slowly enough to the apprentice lad, and, when the shop
was closed at night, he lay down and went to sleep as before. “Such
occurrences come not often in pairs,” he said to himself. “I shall have
peace to-night.”

But exactly at midnight there was the same knock which had startled him
twenty-four hours earlier. He had only time to sit up in his place when
the door opened, noiselessly, and two dervishes entered, made each a
salaam, and commanded: “Arise, youth! Prepare us two cups of coffee;
but expect no money for them.”

Their command was obeyed; the coffee was drunk in utter silence; after
which they departed, without a word of thanks or so much as a glance
toward the one who had served them.

“May Allah grant success to your journey!” said the youth, as he closed
the door after them and returned to his place; where he lay until
morning thinking about the strange visitors and wondering what he would
better do.

The following day passed as the first one had. After the old
coffee-maker had gone at night, the lad locked the door and piled
everything he could find in front of it.

“My master’s goods shall not be devoured in this thankless way, if I
can prevent it. Should these midnight visitors be Allah’s messengers,
nothing I can do will obstruct their coming; so this will do no harm.”
Feeling quite sure that he would not be disturbed, he went to sleep.

Exactly at midnight came the same knock, followed by a great noise as
the barricade tumbled away from the door to give space for the entrance
of three dervishes, who made salaams and said, as with one voice:
“Arise, lad! Make us three cups of coffee; but do not expect us to give
you money.”

The surprised youth arose, made and served the coffee. As they received
it each one arose. The first one said: “In whatever coffeehouse this
youth chooses to be, may the coffee and sugar boxes never be empty! May
their contents continue level with the top!”

The second dervish said: “In whatever coffeehouse this youth chooses to
be, may customers never be lacking! Like ants may they flock thither!”

But the third dervish said: “May all things whatsoever this youth
desires to know, be told to him by a little bird!”

After these strange words the three left the shop; and the boy, wishing
them the customary good speed, locked the door, put the scattered
articles in their proper places, and lay down in his place. But if it
had been difficult for him to sleep after the strange occurrences of
the previous nights, how could it be other than impossible this time?

He arose earlier than usual and opened the door, to
find—verily!—customers, like ants, without; waiting, in varying degrees
of impatience, to be served.

“Praise be to Allah!” he exclaimed. “The prophecy of the second dervish
is fulfilled!”

Greeting them courteously, he hastened to the stove to prepare the
coffee, and, as he opened the boxes, behold! they were full to the top!

Without in any degree lessening his speed to serve the customers, his
thoughts ran upon all that the dervishes had said. He could not pause
an instant, for, as soon as one was served, another came to take his
place; so that when the master approached, what was there but a sight
that made him rub his old eyes, to make sure that they were not
imagining vain things?

“What mystery is this!” he exclaimed, and remained still, perfectly
overcome, having strength only to put his finger between his teeth, in
order to assure himself that it was, indeed, he, and that he stood
before his own shop. “Every day and every day I had one customer—or
perhaps two—never three. There certainly must be some magic about
this!”

Approaching nearer, with difficulty he found a place by which to enter;
but, within, there was none in which to sit. So he turned to the busy
youth and said: “My son, the coffee and sugar must be exhausted.”

“I have provided both,” was the cheery response. “Let me persuade you
to sit down, my master, and look to your own comfort and enjoyment.”

The bewildered proprietor retired to a corner and sat down; while on,
through the day, his apprentice continued to labor.

At night, when it was time to close the shop, the master went to the
money drawer; and there—above all wonders!—what should he see? It was
level to the top with money!

The gratified man almost went out of his senses. He cried: “Bravo! my
lad. Thy feet are the bearers of good fortune!” Then, in his joy, he
kissed the youth’s eyes.

The money sacks were filled, and the delighted master took them home.
The apprentice cleared up the shop and retired to his place above the
counter, where he slept undisturbed until morning.

During several months the youth remained in the coffeehouse and
continued his services to the customers, who came in such great numbers
that there was no place to put the money. When this had come to pass he
said: “Master, I desire to return to my own country once more. Will you
grant permission?”

“Ai, my son! I do not like to part with thee. Not only hast thou
brought great riches to me and my family, but I have come to love thee
from my heart.”

Nevertheless, when the request was repeated, he replied: “Very well;
go, my son! And may Allah prosper you as he has prospered me!”

Thereupon the boy kissed the old man’s hand; who went out and bought
him a suit of clothes, the like of which he had never seen. The
garments were rich with gold embroidery; and precious stones made them
fit for a prince. When the old man had delighted his eyes with looking
at his apprentice in his new garb, he let him fare forth.

After days of journeying, and before he had come into his own country,
the young adventurer decided to stop for a while. He hired a
coffeehouse, and, no sooner had he opened it, than so many customers
flocked thither that it was almost impossible to count them. In short,
this coffee-maker became famous throughout the town; so much so, that a
very rich man—one noted in those parts—was unable longer to control his
curiosity and made a visit to the coffeehouse of which he had heard
such flattering reports.

While the youth was preparing an especially delicious cup for him, the
visitor sat in almost open-mouthed admiration of his attractive young
host. After drinking the coffee he astonished the young man with these
words:

“Ai, master coffee-maker! I have a daughter whose hand many are seeking
in marriage. If Allah wills, and you so desire, I will give her to you.
What say you?”

When he had recovered himself, the youth bowed low and said, “Verily,
honored sir, would it be possible for me to refuse a daughter whom you
would give to me?”

Other conversation followed, during which the visitor was more deeply
impressed with the desirability of this young man for a son-in-law. He
proposed to take him to his own house, and, once there, summoned
guests, and the two young people were married that very day. The guests
partook of costly refreshments, wished unalloyed happiness to the young
pair, and departed.

When the festivities were over and the bridegroom had a moment in which
to withdraw from everyone, he summoned the little bird, whose services
the third dervish had promised, but of which he had not felt the need
before, and asked if his wife would love him.

The little creature hopped close to his ear and chirped into it, “How
is it possible for her to love you, when she already is in love with
her own cousin?”

This answer decided the youth to abandon his new relations and return
to the coffeehouse; which he accordingly did.

The rich man and his family asked each other, “What manner of man is
this, who leaves his wife upon the very day of their marriage?”

But all their questioning would not induce the return of the
bridegroom. “It were better to consult your daughter before giving her
in marriage to a stranger,” was all he would vouchsafe in explanation.

Shortly after, another rich man came and made the same proposal,
allowing no time for serious thought or for consultation with the small
oracle.

“There can be hardly such another case,” said the youth to himself, as
the rich man pressed his suit; so the matter was accepted and carried
out as was the other. But when the small bird was summoned, it answered
that the father had married his daughter to the coffee-maker, well
knowing that her heart had been given to a son of their neighbor.

So the second time the bridegroom left the house of his father-in-law
and returned again to his own place.

One day, not long after, as he was walking by the seashore, meditating
upon the strange way in which life was leading him, he came upon a
shepherd accompanied by his daughter. The shepherd’s lassie was young
and very winsome. It was not strange that the lonely young coffee-maker
should look at her a second and even a third time, or that he should
address the father with:

“Ai, good shepherd, is this your daughter?”

“Thanks be to Allah, yes!”

“Then, O, shepherd and dear! according to the law of the Prophet, will
you marry her to me?”

To which the father made answer, “My lord, is a shepherd’s daughter
worthy to marry such an one as you?”

“I have found her so,” was the answer; and, after further words, he led
the two to his own home and engaged the girl to himself.

Afterward he consulted the bird, which assured him that the shepherd’s
daughter had never seen anything of the world; that her life had been
plain and simple, and that her heart was pure and good.

At this the young man was filled with delight. He cried, “I have found
the one whom my heart has been seeking all my life.”



Let these stay here while we go to the rich men, whose daughters this
youth had slighted.

When they learned that he, who had spurned their daughters, was about
to marry a simple shepherd lass, they became filled with indignation
and determined to bring him before the law.

Upon receipt of the summons the accused young man went, most willingly,
to appear in court. There he found gathered together, with their
friends, all those who were against him. After the assembly was called
to order, the plaintiffs arose and said, each after the other:

“Verily, O, coffee-maker! you married my daughter in accordance with
the divine law; but you left her at once after the marriage. I demand
your reason for such action. What fault have you against my daughter?
Now I learn that you are about to marry—and with satisfaction—a
shepherd’s daughter. Is such an act worthy of you? Know, then, that I
am bringing a suit at law against you.”

Upon the utterance of these words the faces of all in the room became
severe and threatening.

However, the youth arose and made courteous answer: “My masters, let
your lady daughters be called! Examine into this matter well. If I have
committed a fault, let me receive equal punishment!”

Accordingly, while all waited, swift messengers were sent, and the
young women came, each in her own fine carriage. After all present had
gazed upon them, taking note of their gorgeous apparel and
self-consequent airs, they turned to the accused man, who summoned the
little bird and, receiving it upon his finger, held it up before them
all and asked concerning the characters of the two who had just
entered.

“They are vain, selfish, and worldly,” was the delicate, chirped
answer. “They would make unfaithful wives.”

“Did you hear, my masters? And you, assembled people? Would you take
such an one into your lives and close to your hearts?”

Although he waited, no one answered. Some shook their heads.

“And, if you would not, how can you expect it of me? And, furthermore,
I would add that should any of you have doubt concerning the
truthfulness of this little diviner, do not hesitate to express it;
and, in proof, I will call upon him to tell your characters and those
of your wives.”

But they all arose in dismay, crying: “O, no; my son! We will not ask
such foolish questions. Our time is precious. We would not vex the
little creature with further words. Take this gold and go in peace!”

They hastened out, one after another, leaving the coffee-maker and his
little bird alone.

“Ai, my birdling!” he said, smiling, “there is not one who dares
dispute thee. Let us, also, depart!”

So saying, he returned to his own house, where, during forty days and
forty nights, he celebrated his marriage with the daughter of the poor
shepherd.

So these two had peace and their hearts’ desire of happiness, and lived
happily ever afterward. Salaam!








STORY OF THE CANDY-MAKER’S APPRENTICE


The tellers of stories and narrators of tales say that, once upon a
time, there lived a woman who had a son and a daughter who were dearer
to her than all else upon the earth. She was so anxious concerning them
that they were never permitted to go upon the streets.

One day, to her great disquiet, it became necessary for her husband to
go to the Hejaz, and that the son should accompany him.

“I am leaving you and the girl under the protection of the priest,”
said the father, in an effort to lessen her anxiety. “If you should
have need of anything, ask it of him.” So saying, accompanied by the
son, he took leave of his wife and daughter and set off to the Hejaz.



Let us come to the priest.

One day, when he went up to the minaret to give the call to prayer, he
looked down into the garden of this man and woman, and saw there the
girl who had been intrusted to his care.

Now, the girl was very lovely. And when he saw her, she was engaged in
caring for the flowers in the garden. As she did so a soft melody came
from her lips. It was like the humming of a bird.

The priest’s heart was touched. He forgot his vows and fell in love
with the maiden. When he had reached home, the picture of the peaceful
garden, with its gentle occupant among her flowers, stood ever before
his eyes; and the music of her song rang through and through his heart,
until he lost all wisdom and made up his mind that he would meet the
maiden, at all costs.

He sought out a poor and aged woman among his parishioners, and, giving
her a sum of money, told her to bring the daughter of the man who had
gone to the Hejaz to some place where he would be able to talk with
her.

“That will be very difficult,” the woman replied. “The mother of this
girl has never permitted her to leave the house and garden.”

“If you want the money,” insisted the priest, “you must bring it about
that I can speak to this maiden. Otherwise—” and he reached out his
hand to take back the gold.

This decided the woman, who was very poor. “Very well,” she hastened to
say, “to-morrow, at such a time, I will bring this maiden to the house
of my friend yonder.”

Then they parted.

The next day the aged woman took a make-believe bundle of towels and
other bathing necessities, and went to the home of the mother, where
she asked that the daughter be permitted to accompany her to the
opening of a new bathing house.

“There will be fine performances there,” said she, “and very many
beautiful girls of high degree will bathe there to-day, and afterward
watch the performance. Let your daughter go with me, to join the
others. She should see something of life. I will take good care of her
and bring her back early in the evening.”

But the answer was: “Mother, up to this time my daughter has not been
one of those who gad about to different places. Just two days
ago—counting yesterday and to-day—her father went to the Hejaz. Should
I let her go out during his absence, people will say that as soon as
the father is away, then my daughter and I begin to walk the streets.
They will be surprised and scandalized.”

The old woman became importunate. “Visiting the bath is quite different
from running about to other places,” she said. “No one will talk.
Besides, I am not asking you to go; I am only asking why your daughter
must remain at home, when the daughters of so many of your neighbors
go? Do not refuse! I shall take her with me, whether or no!”

With words like these she succeeded in persuading the mother and, after
a little, set off accompanied by the girl. They soon reached the house
appointed for the meeting, when the girl expressed surprise at not
finding many people entering. But her companion assured her that it was
yet early, and that others would come speedily. She directed the
unsuspecting girl to enter and await her coming, as she had an errand
on the next street and would return speedily. At this she hastened
away, leaving the girl with nothing to do but as she had directed.

So the maiden entered the strange house and was surprised to see there
the priest of her own quarter of the city. She went directly to him and
asked if that were the bath house in which the performers were to
display feats of strength and skill; and again expressed surprise that
no others were there.

The reply was more surprising still: “Should no others come, you and I
can spend a pleasant hour together. There is water in the next room;
bathe, if you wish; afterward I will bathe also.”

The poor girl was confused—first, at meeting the priest, then at the
consciousness that she had been deceived; but she soon collected
herself.

“With your gracious permission,” she said, “I will wash your head
first.”

He expressed gratification at this; and the girl went slowly—thinking
all the way—to bring a basin of water, with soap and towels. After her
return, and when the priest had seated himself before her, she soaped
his hair thoroughly, and then poured water upon it, so that the soap
ran down into his eyes. Then, as he became blinded with pain and rage,
she made her escape to her own home.

The mother expressed delight at her early return; but questioned
whether she had enjoyed herself.

“Very well, indeed,” was the reply—given to save her mother from
vexation. “The bath was perfect.”

After his calls for help had brought assistance, the priest went home
vowing vengeance. Accordingly he sat down and wrote to the young girl’s
father, saying that, since his departure, the daughter whom he had so
cherished was running about the streets and had become a disgrace to
the town.

When this letter was received by the father, he cried: “Alas! what
humiliation! It were better that the girl were dead!”

After long dwelling upon the frightful news a sort of frenzy took
possession of him. He commanded his son to go home, cut off the head of
his sister, dip her white garment in the blood, and return with it to
him.

“Go! go at once!” he commanded; and the unwilling boy set off.

After traveling all the long way he arrived at his native place. During
those days of the journey, love for his sister and horror at the
commission put upon him filled his soul. He determined to assure
himself of the truthfulness or untruthfulness of the accusation and,
even should it prove true, to rescue his sister if possible.
Accordingly he began at one end of the town and asked all whom he met
where he would be most likely to find his sister.

“Surely, in her own home,” each replied. “No one has ever seen her
elsewhere.”

Receiving only answers like this, he reached his own home and knocked
at the gate.

“Why, it is my brother!” exclaimed the sister, as she looked through
the lattice. Then, flying down the stairs, she greeted him joyfully and
escorted him up the staircase, asking eagerly where her father was.

The boy, seeing that the mother was not in, answered: “He is on the
way. Come, let us go to meet him!”

They hastened out. The youth led the way to a mountain, where he said:
“My sister, I have sad news to tell you. A letter was sent to our
father by the priest in whose charge he left you, saying that you were
constantly running about the streets and had become a disgrace to the
place. Upon hearing this he was made into another man. His grief and
disappointment put the heart out of his body. He sent me here to kill
you. And, to assure himself of my obedience, he commanded that I should
dip your white garment in your blood and bring it to him with all
speed. This—O, sister of mine!—is the reason for my coming.”

The girl was speechless when she heard these words, and even did not
think to contradict the report. The boy hastened to kill a young lamb,
which he found in a flock near-by, dipped the garment of his sister in
the warm blood, and then said to her:

“Ai! my sister, this is our day of parting. It will be necessary for
you to go into a strange land. And may Allah be with you! May he be
your helper!”

They embraced each other and separated. The desolate girl wandered,
weeping, from mountain to mountain, while the boy took the garment that
had been dipped in lamb’s blood, and returned all the long way to the
Hejaz and gave it to his father, saying:

“Here, my father! Receive the bloody garment of your daughter, which I
have brought in fulfillment of your command.”

“Now shall my house be saved from the tongue of slanderers!” were the
only words of the father as he received the token which meant, to him,
the death of his only daughter.



Let these remain here while we return to the wandering girl.

After walking and walking from one mountain to another, she came upon a
spring, beside which grew a tree. She drank of the delicious water,
then sat down in the shade of the tree to rest. But it was evident that
wild animals were upon the mountain, and with the coming of evening the
helpless girl wondered what she should do. As she looked about her, the
tree seemed to lean down its branches as if in invitation. Taking this
as a sign, she climbed near to its top and remained there that night.

Now, it so happened that the son of the king of that country had been
hunting for ten days and nights. Upon the morning he came to the
spring, dismounted, and led his horse down to drink. The horse was
about to touch his lips to the water when he saw the reflection of the
young girl upon the surface, drew back suddenly, and would not be
persuaded to drink. All the urging of his master was of no avail,
although the prince knew that the poor creature was much in need of
water.

The surprised young man glanced about him in wonder at the strange
occurrence, when he caught sight of the girl, sitting in breathless
fear of being discovered.

“Are you a maiden or a fairy?” he asked, his heart beating.

“I am only a maiden.”

“That is much better. May it please you to descend. And if you will do
me the honor to accompany me to my father’s palace, this will be my
‘bag’ for to-day.”

After assisting the affrighted girl to the ground he took her upon the
horse behind him, and together they rode to the home of the prince.

Strange as it may seem, the king was not angry when his son told the
story of his rescue of the maiden, and asked permission to marry her.

“Let me see this strange game which you bring home after ten days of
hunting, my son,” he asked, smiling. And the maiden, when brought into
his presence, was so gentle and modest that he gave his consent to the
wedding.

Therefore, according to the will of Allah and the law of the Prophet,
these two young people were married, and their wedding feast lasted
forty days and forty nights.

In due course of time three children were born to them. This increased
the happiness of the prince and his gratitude to Allah at having been
led to the tree beside the spring upon the mountain.



We will leave these children while we attend to their mother, who had
been made princess.

One day the memory of her own mother—who had so cherished her—came to
her so strongly that tears, like drops of rain, began to flow from her
eyes. The prince, coming in, saw her sorrow, and asked, with concern:

“Why do you grieve thus, my princess! Are you not happy with all I have
done to make you so?”

“My lord, as I sat sewing to-day, I thought of my own mother. Desire to
see her again wrings my heart.”

“Is your mother yet alive?” He asked this because he had respected the
silence of his wife about her family, and had not questioned her
before—feeling almost certain that some sad tragedy had come into her
life. Therefore he asked, “Is your mother yet alive?”

“Ai, my lord! I trust so; though it is long since we parted.”

Then the prince exclaimed: “Why have you not spoken of it until this
moment? The desire of your heart shall be granted. Either we will bring
your mother here or you shall go to her. Choose, my princess! We will
do whichever your soul prefers.”

“My lord,” was the answer, “may Allah prolong your life and give you
health and happiness! If you will grant permission, let me go
to-morrow, with my children, and see her face once more, with my own
eyes, and at the same time show her my three little sons.”

“It shall be so!” returned the prince. “I will send my vizier, with a
number of soldiers, to conduct you and the children to your own
mother.”

Morning came, and the prince, true to his promise, called his vizier
and intrusted the princess to his care. Soon they were ready to set
off—the mother, with her three children, in a carriage, the vizier on
horseback, and a battalion of soldiers as escort.

But the princess was to meet other sorrows. They had not journeyed far
when the vizier—who had not spoken a word—put his head in at the
carriage window and asked, “Will you marry me, or shall I kill the
children?”

The princess was amazed beyond the power of speaking.

Then the vizier said: “Yes; certainly you will marry me. We will not
return to the prince. I have suborned these soldiers. They will obey my
commands. I have gold. We can go into another country. There is no
reason why this should not be.”

But the princess refused. Then the vizier seized one of the children,
killed it, and threw it beside the road.

After some time he repeated his question, received the same answer,
and, notwithstanding the entreaties of the princess, took the second
child, and, later on, the third. The poor woman was in despair.

Then the vizier said to her, “Verily, I will kill you, too, unless you
will become my wife.”

“I pray you to give me half an hour’s grace in which to perform my
ablutions and say my prayers. There must be a spring by that tree
yonder.”

“Very well, it is granted,” said the vizier.

He ordered the carriage to halt, tied a rope around her waist—so that
she could not escape—and permitted her to go as she had requested.

The princess went to the spring, untied the rope, fastened it about the
tree, and fled around to the other side of the mountain.

After some time the vizier pulled the rope; but, as it did not yield,
he thought the princess was saying her prayers, and waited. After a
while he said to himself: “It has been more than a half hour. What an
interminable prayer she is saying! I will go and see about this.”

As he went over the little knoll, which had hid the princess from him,
he discovered that his prey had escaped. Wild with anger, he turned
about and made all haste to the palace, where he said to the prince:

“My lord, as we were resting by the way, Her Royal Highness, the
princess, took her sons and stole away from the carriage. Is it not
true, O, my prince! that no good thing can be expected from a wild
mountain girl? That which comes from the mountains will return to
them.”

When the prince received this news his mind took leave of his body and
he fell down in a faint. Upon recovering he went into mourning, as if
for the death of his wife and children.



Let these stay here while we inquire into the fate of the second-time
wanderer.

Again did she go on and on, from mountain to mountain, weeping bitterly
over the loss of her beloved children. She felt in her heart that a
return to her husband would be futile, because the cruel vizier would
have filled his mind with falsehoods. After long wandering she came
into her own country, where she disguised herself, and, entering the
market place, came upon a shop that was almost in ruins. It belonged to
an aged maker of sweets.

After greeting him courteously she asked, “Father, will you take me as
an apprentice lad?”

“Ai, my son!” was the sad answer, “look about you and see! I cannot
earn sufficient for myself. How can I give wages to another? Besides,
with my other woes, I have forgotten how to make the sweets!”

Then the young woman answered gently: “Father, I ask no wages from you.
If you will permit, I will work as best I can, and whatever Allah
kindly sends to us we will live upon together.”

When the aged vendor of sweets heard these pious words, his heart was
touched. “Surely this lad has felt affliction,” he said to himself.
Then unto her: “Very well, my son. Come with me, if thou wilt.”

The new apprentice kissed her master’s hand and entered the shop. After
a little, she rolled up her sleeves, went to the stove, and began to
make candy, as she had done when a little girl in her own home. This
labor brought such sad thoughts that it was with great difficulty she
could refrain from weeping aloud.

When the candy was finished she placed a portion before her master. He
tasted a bit and said, in surprise: “Ai, my son! these sweets are very
good. Peace be to your hands! May Allah keep you from further harm!”

After this commendation of her work, the apprentice washed off the
stone, which served as a counter for the display of the goods, and
arranged the sweets upon it. Customers who were passing, paused to note
the beauty of the candy-maker’s lad, and, although they had no thought
of buying, were impelled to do so. They found the sweets so delicious
that all who purchased once were sure to come again. In short, the fame
of the candy-maker’s apprentice and of the sweets which she compounded
was spread abroad, by those who traveled that way, until it reached all
lands.



Let her stay here, engaged in her new work, while we return to the
prince.

One day, while thinking of his wife and children, he began—as at other
times—to sigh; and the tears fell, like rain, from his eyes. Arousing
himself, he sent for his vizier, to whom he said: “My heart is breaking
for Her Highness, the princess. Surely I must find her or kill myself!”

The wicked vizier was alarmed at this and answered: “My prince, the
woman did not care for you. She left you and ran to the mountains. All
those tears for her mother were only a part of the plot to run away.
How, then, can you desire her?”

But, however much the vizier said—and he added much more—it made no
impression upon the intentions of his master; who commanded that
preparations should be made, with all speed, and that they should enter
upon the search without delay.

Accordingly they started toward the mountains. The vizier did not lead
the way past the spot where the princess escaped; but went on and on,
in order to save himself. Thus it was that they entered the country
from which the girl had fled, at first, when her father would have had
her killed.

Being very hungry, they asked a child if there were not some cook’s
shop in the neighborhood.

“No, my lords!” answered the child. “There is no cook’s shop near. But
a little farther on is a candy-maker, whose apprentice makes such
sweets that no one is able to equal them.”

“Let us go there!” commanded the prince; and, accordingly, they went on
until they reached the shop.

When the princess saw her husband and the vizier coming, she recognized
them at once; but, pulling her cap over her eyes, she hid herself from
them.

The prince addressed her: “Candy-maker, I pray you, give us a few
cents’ worth of sweets!”

To which the princess made answer: “My masters, if you will deign to
become our guests for the night, I will make you such a batch of sweets
as you have never tasted, and will tell you an amusing story besides.”

When the prince heard these kind words, from one in a strange land, he
was gratified and answered: “That will do very well. We will stay.”

Thereupon the prince and the vizier gave their horses to the groom,
entered the candy shop, and sat down.



Let them stay there while we come to the people in the town.

Now, it seems that the evening of this very day had been chosen by the
people, upon which to have a grand candy festival. They were wondering
who should make the necessary sweets, when some one suggested that they
try to persuade the candy-maker’s apprentice to put aside the regular
customers of the shop and work for them during that evening.

Accordingly, several of the men went to the shop and asked the
apprentice if she would go with them to their quarters and prepare
candy for the people, who had sent out invitations for a grand festival
that evening.

“I am your servants, gentlemen,” replied the apprentice, “but we have
guests this evening. It is not fitting that I should leave them.”

To which the men answered pleadingly: “O, master candy-maker, let us
persuade your guests to accompany you. There is room, over our heads,
for all.”

Whereupon the apprentice, turning to the guests, said: “My masters, we
are invited to a candy festival. If you like, we will go. These
gentlemen promise that you will be amused.”

The prince was pleased with anything that might lead him to forget his
grief for a little, and readily agreed to the proposal. The aged
candy-maker expressed willingness to look after the shop alone; and the
prince, the vizier, and the apprentice accompanied the men to the place
of the festival.

Upon reaching it, the prince and the vizier were conducted up the
stairs into the grand reception room; while the apprentice remained
below to attend to her duties.

When the sweets were finished she gave portions to all guests, who were
in the rooms leading from the garden, and then went up the stairs with
her brazier of coals and kettle of candy.

She had barely entered the great upper room when she discovered, not
only the prince and his vizier, but men from her native quarter of the
town assembled there; among them were her father, her brother, and the
priest who had wrought her so much evil.

She hid her consternation under assumed activity, placed the pot of
coals in the middle of the room, and busied herself with preparing the
candy. Presently she said:

“My masters, why do you sit silent? It was promised me that there would
be amusement here. Let everyone relate any anecdote that comes to him;
thus may you be enabled to find enjoyment and rid me of the
embarrassment of having so many eyes fixed upon my work.”

The restraint, which had been upon all the guests, was removed by this
hint from the apprentice. They immediately began to relate stories from
the outside world—everyone telling that which first occurred to his
memory. After they had amused themselves in this way for some time, one
of them cried out:

“Ai, you apprentice! Since you are the one who set us to talking, now,
yourself, tell us a story and let us listen!”

“My masters,” answered she, “I have one habit. Whenever I tell a story
I do not permit anyone to leave the room. So if anyone here wishes to
go without, let him do so before I begin.”

At this they all cried out that no one wished to leave. So the
apprentice sat down directly in front of the door and began.

First she related the story of the bath house, and all the while the
priest was listening. As he became assured that he was about to be
discovered, he made believe that he was ill and arose to go, crying
out:

“My head! O, my head!”

“Keep your seat, fellow!” commanded the narratress. At which all the
others said the same.

Then she told the story of the vizier to whom was intrusted a princess
and her three children. The prince, listening but not knowing that it
was the story of his own wife and children, felt his eyes grow full.

The people were all touched by the two stories; and when the teller
felt assured that they were aroused to the necessary pitch, she arose
and said:

“O, my people! Be it known that I am that twice-wronged one. My enemies
are this priest and this vizier. This is my father; this, my brother;
and this”—here she fell upon her knees before him—“O! this is my prince
and husband!”

When she had said this she went forward, and the prince covered her
with his mantle; while the rest of the company sat quiet, biting their
fingers to learn whether, indeed, they were waking.

When the prince could command himself, and the people had become
assured of the truth of these stories, they took the priest and the
vizier away and put them to death.

The princess kissed the hands of her father and brother, embraced her
mother, who, hearing of the matter, had come, trembling, to learn if it
were true; and, after a few days, returned to the palace with her
beloved, true prince.

They were married over again, with festivities which lasted forty days
and forty nights. They also had their hearts’ desire in the gift of
children, to take the place of those who had been lost. Salaam!








THE CRYSTAL KIOSK AND THE DIAMOND SHIP


The narrators of tales and the tellers of stories relate that, once
upon a time, there was a king whose children died, one after another.
His grief was so great at this that all the wise men and physicians of
the kingdom came together in council and inquired, most diligently, of
the nurse who had cared for each child in turn. After long debating
they decided that the air of the outer world had caused the death of
the little princes and princesses; and they solemnly advised the king
to build a great room deep within the earth, to have ready should Allah
graciously favor him with another child.

Accordingly the king commanded such a room to be prepared. All the four
sides were well guarded, and the top was nearly covered with an
astonishingly great window, to let in the sunlight and moonlight and
the rays of the little stars. And into this room was placed all manner
of beautiful toys and every precious thing that could add to a child’s
pleasure.

Not long afterward a dear little princess was born to the king and
queen; who, you may suppose, was no sooner born than she was hurried
down into the beautiful room which awaited her, and a nurse was
appointed to care for her.

The king and queen spent many happy hours in the room below the earth,
watching the growth of their little daughter, whose perfection of
beauty was without equal and cannot be described. Also, she was gentle
and patient, and had been taught, from the first, that although others
came to her she must not expect to go to them.

Finally, to the great delight of her royal parents and—you can well
imagine—of those who had advised this course, the child grew to be
healthful and strong, and reached the age of fourteen years without
once having left that underground abode.

But one day, when royal ceremonies detained her parents and the nurse
was long in coming, a feeling of sadness came upon her; which was so
strong that it impelled her to make a great pile of all the chairs and
tables in the place, upon which she climbed to the highest point in the
window.

Looking out thus she could see bits of trees and plants. She had heard
the dash and roar of waves. Feeling deeply interested in the little she
saw, and desiring to learn more of all that was above her own abode,
she struck a great pane of glass with the stick used in climbing and,
after the pieces fell down in a shower, put her head out through the
opening.

Upon one side of her stretched the great blue sea; and the sun, shining
upon it, made so brilliant a light that her unused eyes refused to look
long.

“Then there are two worlds,” she said, wonderingly, “an upper and a
lower. And although the lower is very sweet and comfortable, the upper
is magnificent and boundless! I wonder that those who come to me can
remain there, shut away from all this wonder!”

Long she remained there, drinking into her soul all the loveliness that
stretched all about her. When her body became wearied standing upon the
insecure pyramid, she climbed down slowly and went and sat down in her
accustomed place.

When the nurse entered she discovered that the topmost pane of the
window was broken. “Gracious Allah!” she cried in terror. “What has
fallen through the roof of your room, my princess? Had you been
underneath, it might have killed you.”

Thereupon the princess began to speak: “Calm yourself! Nothing has
fallen through my window; and, outwardly, I am unhurt. But my soul has
become loosened. It no longer will remain pent in this prison house.
Take me out of this place, or, verily, I shall kill myself with
longing.”

The nurse returned no answer. She turned and fled to the king, before
whom she stood and related, one by one, the words which his daughter
had spoken.

The king was thrown into great torment of mind at this news. Again he
summoned the doctors and learned men in council. They shook their heads
at the revelation which had come to the princess; but, after
questioning the nurse carefully and pondering long, they gave this
advice:

“O, king, let your daughter, our princess, be removed from her
underground abode. But let the removal be most gradual, so that her
eyes may become accustomed to the unobstructed light of nature. Also
let her walk, each day, a little farther upon the earth’s surface, and
then return to her accustomed dwelling place. With care and patience,
it is our belief that the princess will, ere long, be able to remain
the entire time upon, instead of under, the earth.”

Each day, after this welcome decision, her nurse led the young girl up
the staircase and into the rose garden, where everything delighted her
unaccustomed eyes.

“It is like entering paradise after death!” she exclaimed.

But, most of all, the sea enchanted her. Hour after hour, as the days
went by, she sat gazing upon its changing waters. The king, noticing
this, asked her one day:

“What is it, my daughter? That thou lovest the sea is plain. But there
is desire in thine eyes. What wouldst thou, my child?”

“O, my royal father!” she said, turning to him, “this sea is so
splendid that I am thinking of a place from which it would seem fitting
to view its waves.”

“Tell me the place you would have, my daughter, and I will set my
carpenters at work upon it to-morrow,” answered the king, who could
never cease delighting his eyes with sight of his child—dwelling, like
other children, upon the surface of the earth.

“Then, since thou wouldst grant my heart’s desire, O, my father! build
me a crystal kiosk beside this sea which stretches before us. All the
divans shall be of gold set with diamonds, and the chairs and tables
gilded. My heart so longs for this that, unless it be granted, I fear
that death will come with my longing for it.”

But the king became sad. He felt that evil was upon him. “Alas, my
girl!” he cried at first. “Still, let the kiosk be made, according to
your wish.”

Thereupon he summoned the workers in crystal, who set about building
the kiosk. At the end of a year, at exactly the hour of the day when
the command was given, the work was finished. Word was sent to the
king, who went to look at the completed structure and found it so
brilliant as to dazzle the eyes of all beholders. The wonder was that
his workmen had not become blind during the year. Only the colored
glasses, which they wore suspended before their eyes, had protected
them. All the country about was illumined with the brilliance of this
kiosk, which no tongue could describe.

When the king returned to the rose garden and sat down beside his
daughter, she knew, by his face and the manner in which he regarded
her, that her request of a year before was fulfilled. Kneeling before
him, she kissed his hand; whereupon he said to her:

“Your crystal kiosk is finished, my daughter. And since it is your wish
to leave the palace, choose a number of servants from among those most
faithful, and go, dwell there! And may peace and happiness attend all
your days therein!”

The princess knelt before her father again, kissed his hands three
times, then, rising, summoned her maidens, and, entering into the
kiosk, took up her abode. There, surrounded by these maidens, she
lived. And most of all, she loved their daily walks beside the sea.



Let these now stay here, happy day and night, while we turn away to
take notice of the outer world.

Every day people came—some in boats and some in litters—all to see the
wonderful kiosk. The fame of it reached far away—even into other lands.

So it came to pass that the son of the king of Yemen heard of it and
was astonished at the wonderful descriptions, which all who gave them
insisted were in no degree comparable with the real splendor.

All this wrought upon the young man’s mind until he went to the king
and said: “My revered and beloved father! the Sultan of Stamboul has
built a crystal kiosk beside the sea, which is so beautiful that it has
become one of the wonders of the world. May it be your high pleasure
that I should go and view this marvel, which has been accomplished by
man. It will not require great length of time. Within three or four
months I shall return.”

The king was pleased that his son felt a desire to know of the world,
and gave his consent to the plan. The prince, accompanied by a few of
his most intimate companions, went on board an outgoing ship and began
the journey.

Day and night, without stopping, went the ship. After a considerable
space of time, one morning, as the prince and his companions were
standing upon the deck of the vessel, a most wonderful vision appeared
upon the very edge of the horizon. So brilliant was it that the whole
earth seemed illumined with the light thereof.

Then the prince turned to his companions, saying, “Verily, this which
appears in the distance must be the object we seek.”

Several more days passed. The ship sailed nearer and nearer, and every
day the wonder grew. Finally, when they were but a little distance, and
after the captain had trimmed his vessel so as to view it from three
sides, the bewildered prince exclaimed: “Do I look upon a vision
unearthly, or am I dreaming a dream?”

When it became evening the ship let down her anchor.



We will leave the prince upon the deck of his vessel, while we return
to the princess within the kiosk.

She had noticed the approach of the ship and had marveled at its
strange maneuvers. Finally, when it came to anchor directly in front of
her dwelling, she set herself to examine it closely. But the name could
not be made out; and while she, with her maids, were lost in conjecture
as to whom it could belong, she saw the prince walking back and forth
upon the deck.

Now, the prince was a youth who resembled the full moon in beauty; and,
as this princess was unacquainted with young men, she became greatly
interested and felt a strange drawing of the heart toward him.

And the prince—as if feeling the gaze upon him—stopped in his walk and
looked directly at the kiosk, where he saw the princess standing in all
her beautiful garments, and with the light of the setting sun shining
full upon her. The sight was so unexpected and bewildering that he lost
consciousness and fell down in a swoon.

After a time he recovered and looked eagerly at the window which had so
entranced him. But the princess was not there.

“O, let me see her once again!” he exclaimed, and set himself to watch
for her coming.

His companions, seeing him quiet and meditative, did not approach; but
remained in another part of the ship. One, two hours went by, and the
stillness caused him to fall asleep.

By this time the princess again appeared at her window and, seeing him
thus, thought he must be ill, sighed “Alas!” and wept bitter tears.

The spirit of the wind caught one of her tears, carried it over to the
ship, and laid it upon the prince’s cheek, thus causing him to waken at
once.

When he looked across the water, saw the princess, and knew that she
was weeping for him, a pleasant joy wakened within his heart. But his
companions—seeing that he was awake—approached and said:

“O, prince! It is you who have caused tears to flow from the eyes of
this wonderful creature. Call out to her that we are going away, and,
if she loves you, we will see that she will do some marvelous thing.
Should she accept your going calmly, you may know that she is a siren,
whose business and pleasure it is to lure men to their destruction.”

After more words of this kind, the young men so wrought upon the mind
of their prince that, looking over to the window of the kiosk where
stood the princess, he cried:

“Here is the ship, O, princess! And yonder is Yemen!”

Then he commanded the captain; the ship was made ready to sail, and
soon started off in the direction of his home. After some time it
reached Yemen, and the king was rejoiced that his son had arrived
within the appointed time.



Let us return to the princess.

With her eyes streaming like fountains, she went to her father and
said: “O, my king and father! thou who hast granted all my requests
thus far, something more would I ask of your love.”

“It is granted thee, O, my child!” answered the king, sadly, for he
feared that a time of separation had come.

“Then let me ask for a ship that shall be studded with diamonds without
and whose inner rooms shall be set with precious stones—with rubies
gleaming in the pillars thereof. Forty white slaves, all very young,
handsome, and wearing gorgeous apparel, must care for it. If this
cannot be granted, I fear that my soul must leave the body!”

“Very well, my daughter,” replied the king. “Whose desire but thine
should thy father grant? Let the ship be made as you request.”

The princess knelt before him and kissed both of his hands three times.
Then the king summoned his ship carpenters and jewelers, who set at
work that very day.

In two years’ time the strange order was fulfilled. The ship, with its
before unheard of magnificence, was delivered to the king, who, in
turn, delivered it to his daughter.

“Ai, my father!” said she. “Since you have been so gracious, will you
grant that, with my maidens, I should go for a voyage? If Allah grant
his favor, my return shall not long be delayed.”

“Thou knowest, my daughter, that thou art the most precious possession
of my whole life. Although it grieves me greatly to part with thee, I
cannot refuse anything thou askest of me. But do not keep my eyes long
watching the restless roadways of the sea. And may Allah give you safe
guidance!”

The two then embraced and kissed each other upon the eyes. After which
the princess, taking with her forty white boy slaves and forty maidens,
with all the necessary furnishing, went aboard the diamond ship and
remained there that night.

When morning came the captain commanded a salute, ordered the flag
hoisted, and set sail in the glorious light; while all of the people
who crowded the shore exclaimed, “What a clever princess we have!” And
they sent a hundred thousand bravos after her.

When the ship was well under way, the princess herself assumed command.
The captain—who was a wise old seaman—obeyed her joyfully, and was
pleased when all the slaves and maidens of her suite were drilled like
soldiers.

At last they reached Yemen—for, as you may guess, that was their
destination—and entering the harbor they cast anchor and remained there
that night.

The director of the port was notified of their arrival. He went out
upon the quay to look at the ship. When the magnificent creation met
his eyes he exclaimed:

“I am lost in wonder! Whose royal ship is this? Never has one been seen
like it. May Allah protect it from the Evil Eye!”

Then he turned and hastened to the palace, where he informed the shah,
saying: “My padisha, yesterday a ship arrived in port, of such
magnificence that no tongue can describe it. Diamonds and precious
stones gleam in every part. Your majesty should gaze upon it—for,
indeed, it is fitted only to be seen by the eyes of royalty.”

Then the shah sent his vizier to learn what visitor had come to his
kingdom; and the vizier, nothing loath, entered a little boat and was
rowed directly to the diamond ship.

When the princess saw the boat approach, she caused the entire crew to
dress themselves in scarlet clothes, and, as the boat reached the
accommodation ladder, they drew up to meet the vizier and escorted him
to the captain’s cabin; where he sat down and began to talk very
politely.

“O, my lord bey,” said he, “the shah awaits my return. Your servant has
come to secure such information as may be granted. Will you deign to
give your honored name, that I may convey it to the king?”

“I am the son of a merchant,” answered the princess-captain. “I travel
according to my own pleasure, going only where fancy leads.”

After further words, the vizier returned to his king and said: “My
padisha, this marvelous ship is a merchant’s vessel, and its captain is
so young that he has neither beard nor mustache. He is a youth who is
like unto the fourteenth of the moon for beauty; and his crew is in
keeping with himself. Everything is perfect. Surely your Royal Highness
should visit it.”

This suggestion found favor in the mind of the king and wakened his
desire to see the ship. Accordingly he got into a boat, which was rowed
by seven pairs of oarsmen, and, together with the queen, started for
the vessel.

When the girl-captain saw them coming, she ordered the crew to dress
all in yellow, and, as the royal party reached the ship’s ladder, it
was met with great honor and conducted to the captain’s stateroom.

Coffee was served, and the captain conversed so agreeably with the king
that he was lost in admiration.

Finally, after remaining as long as court etiquette would allow, they
returned to the palace, where the report of the visit was related to
the prince, with such admiring exclamations that desire seized him to
view this wonder with the rest. He hastened to the wharf, stepped into
a small boat, and was rowed directly to the ship.

When the princess-captain saw him coming she ordered her crew to dress
themselves all in green; which they did, and received their visitor
with great honor. They conducted him to the captain’s stateroom, where
he began conversing with the unknown princess.

In spite of his delicate and skillful questioning she did not betray
herself; and the prince felt the same warmth at his heart which had
affected him at sight of the maiden in the window of the crystal kiosk.
He remained until evening before he could tear himself away.



Let us return to the princess.

Word was sent to the director of the port, and arrangements were made
to anchor her ship within the inner harbor. After that, the princess,
with her attendants and belongings, went ashore and hired the finest
house that could be found. It was situated directly in front of the
king’s palace. Here she took up her abode.



Let us return to the prince.

The next day, upon going to the place where he first had seen the ship,
upon the day before, he could find no trace of it, and beat his head
upon the ground in disappointment.

Then he went to his tutor to learn if anything were known about the
matter. The tutor’s answer was one which gladdened the young man’s
heart. He returned to the palace and sat down at a window, to look at
the house across the way, if, haply, he might catch sight of the one
who had so entranced him.

Presently the princess appeared at her window; when his mind fell into
a pitiable state. “A young woman!” he said to himself. “Who can she be?
She is so like him as to be some relative of the young captain who so
enchanted me. And both are like that wonderful vision of two years
ago.”

As he continued to look at her, standing there with the curls floating
down upon either side of her face, he felt that it would be impossible
to find her like in the world.

When the princess discovered the prince looking at her, she drew back
hastily and the window was closed. But the poor young man—whose
yielding to companions had caused his undoing before—had fallen more
deeply in love this time. He determined not to be thwarted, and went to
all sides of the house, grieving miserably at his inability to find her
again. Finally, when night came on, he withdrew into his own room,
where he became lost in meditation.

At the dawn of morning he hastened out to the kiosk, to look again at
the other house; but, though he waited long, he was filled with grief
to see that the windows continued shut. Unable to bear the suspense
longer, he went to his mother, kissed her hand, and said:

“O, my queen mother! You have long wished me to marry; but I have been
unwilling. Now, in the house across the way, in the family of this
young captain, there is one with whom I am deeply in love. Take her
this jewel box, I pray. Give it into her hands and beg that I may see
her again. If this be not brought to pass, life will become of no worth
to me.”

Very much against her will, but because she was a fond mother, the
queen, accompanied by a minister of state, sought admittance at the
house of the strangers and was admitted, with due reverence, by the
princess herself, to whom the jewel box was presented.

The unknown princess accepted it courteously, then summoned the maidens
from the kitchen and, without showing the slightest interest in the
contents, gave it to them.

The queen could hardly smother her indignation and surprise, as she
announced: “The prince, my dear young lady, sends you his very special
greeting and is very desirous of meeting you. What answer shall be
returned to His Royal Highness?”

The princess seemed lost in such deep thought as to be unconscious of
any presence; and did not recover herself, although the queen addressed
her twice.

After sitting some time the royal visitors returned to the palace,
where the queen said to the prince, in great anger: “My son, I gave the
box of jewels to the ridiculous young person in question; and, while
she was courteous in receiving it from me, it was given at once to her
kitchen servants. After that, no matter how I addressed her, there was
no answer vouchsafed. She seemed unconscious, absolutely, of my
presence. I was obliged to return without an answer for you. My son,
you are no longer a child. Henceforth you must attend to your own heart
troubles.”

The prince retired to his own room and grieved all that day. The next
morning he approached his mother again and, after kissing her hand
three times, said: “O, my most revered queen mother! You hold my fate
in your hands. You are a woman. Can you not find some way to the heart
of this other woman for me?”

It was her only son who pleaded before the queen; and she, loving him
greatly, turned the matter over in her mind, until thoughts of a very
valuable string of pearls—which were her own private property—came to
her.

“I will give her the pearls,” she said to the prince. “We will see what
she will do with them.”

The grateful young man kissed both of his mother’s hands; after which
she laid the pearls out beautifully in their casket, called her
minister of state, and again went to the house across the way.

As upon the previous occasion, she was received with grave courtesy by
the young princess; to whom she delivered the pearls, along with a more
pressing message from the prince.

The young woman received the casket most graciously, opened it, turned
to her pet parrot—which hung in a cage near at hand—held before it the
box in which the beautiful pearls were lying, and waited, silently,
while the bird ate every one of them; grinding each, with a crackling
sound, in his bill and swallowing it as if priceless pearls made his
regular morning repast.

In open-mouthed astonishment the queen looked on; then, without having
the ability to utter a word, she arose, swept from the room, and, with
her minister of state, returned to the palace, from which the prince
came running to meet her, saying:

“Ai, mother, most honored and beloved! Hasten! Tell me what thou hast
to tell this time!”

“Ai, my son! Conquer this foolish madness, or no one is wise enough to
foretell what will become of us. When I gave the matchless pearls—my
most precious possession—into the hands of this mad creature, she
received them courteously, but immediately fed them—as if they had been
so many kernels of wheat—to her parrot, who swung in a cage near at
hand. I could not speak for rage!”

But the prince cared for the maiden. Pearls were of no account to one
in his frame of mind. “Calm yourself, mother dear and honored!” he
said. “It was but an evidence of girlish waywardness. It proves how
unworldly is this maiden. Do not be offended, I beseech you! Remember!
I am your son!”

All that night he lay, or walked the room, sleepless, and when morning
came went to the queen in a most humble and beseeching manner.
“Reverend and, indeed, beloved mother! I have here a most holy book. If
you will deign to comfort my heart by taking this to the maiden, I
trust that its sacredness will insure more reasonable action from her.”

Truth to say, the womanish curiosity of the queen was aroused. Without
at all suspecting it of herself, she had become interested in this very
surprising young person, and, consequently, persuaded herself to set
off again, with her minister of state, to the house of their neighbor
across the way.

At this visit the young princess, herself, came down the stairs to
greet and escort the royal visitor into her drawing room. This
surprised and gratified the queen, who, straightway, put her hand into
her bosom and drew forth the Holy Book. It was received with reverence,
kissed three times, and laid carefully away.

At this the queen was emboldened to press the suit of her son. “O, my
dear young maiden!” she said, “since seeing you, my son, the prince,
neither sleeps by night nor rests by day, for thinking upon you. If he
continues to be affected in this way, his days are numbered. Whatever
happens, his fate rests with you. Will you kindly show your face to him
once more and permit a little joy to come into his soul?”

When she had spoken thus the one addressed answered: “For no ordinary
matter will I permit myself to be looked upon by the prince.”

“Ai, my child!” urged the queen, “order whatever pleases you. If it be
possible, it shall be accomplished.”

“Verily,” was the reply, after long and slow thought, “let the prince
have a golden bridge builded, with roses planted upon either side. Let
him provide a seat at the farther end, in which, if he await me, I will
come to him there.”

“Very well, my daughter, I will report your decision,” answered the
queen. Then she returned, and, upon meeting her son, said to him:

“Of a truth, the sphinx has broken silence. But her demands are most
extraordinary. If you would see her, you are to build a golden bridge,
plant roses upon either side, prepare a seat for yourself at the
farther end, from which, if you will await her there, she will permit
you to gaze upon her. Now it is for you to say, my son, whether this
extravagant request of one who came to our shores in a ship incrusted
with diamonds shall be granted. There’s no divining her next demand.”

But the prince was blinded by love and saw nothing impossible which
would bring the object of his affection nearer. He caused the bridge to
be builded—as she had desired—the borders of roses planted, and a seat
prepared at the farther end. Then, after sending respectful assurance
that all was according to her requirement, he hastened to the place of
waiting.

Thereupon the princess caused herself to be arrayed beautifully and,
accompanied by her maidens, went to the bridge. But, in some way, as
she was crossing it, a branch from one of the rosebushes was blown out
by the wind and pricked her in the face. Upon that she complained of
being hurt, turned, and went back to her home.

Now, the prince had been waiting, in great eagerness, to see her, and
was heartstricken when she turned back. Returning to his mother, he
exclaimed:

“Everything was done according to her command; but, alas! she went away
before I could fix my eyes upon her face. I need not put into words
that which my mother can read upon my heart.”

Thereupon the queen became indignant and hastened, of her own will, to
the house of their neighbor, where, after she had been greeted, she
asked why, with one half of the agreement fulfilled, a prince should be
made to wait in vain for a simple glance at a maiden’s face.

“Ai, queen mother! I cannot go where thorns are placed to prevent my
passing. I release all claim to the bridge as well as to the prince.
Henceforth he need not vex his soul concerning me.”

“Ai, my girl!” exclaimed the distressed queen, “why will you put us so
to shame? There must be some reason for these ruses. Be gracious!
Unburden yourself to me.”

Then came this answer: “Verily, queen mother, since you seem to believe
the matter unintentional, I will speak the truth with you. Make a
golden bridge. Upon one side of it place golden and upon the other
silver candlesticks. Then let the prince die and be buried in a tomb at
one end of the bridge. Afterward I will stand beside his head and his
eyes may fix themselves upon me.”

Then the queen arose and hastened away in great anger.

“My son,” cried she, “the maiden, because of whom we are so put about,
went home because a thorn pricked her cheek!”

“Alas, that it should have hurt her sweet face!” sighed the prince.
Then, arousing himself, “But what are we to do now?” he asked.

“The final answer of this young vixen is this, my son—ah, woe is me
that the diamond ship visited our shores!—you are to build a golden
bridge, as before, and place golden and silver candlesticks upon either
side.”

“That is not difficult,” interrupted the prince.

“Wait! After that—what think you? My son, you, the prince, are to die
and lie in a tomb at one end of the bridge; after which she will deign
to come and stand at your head! O, my son! my son! Cease this madness!
Let me prevail upon you.”

But the prince became jubilant. He kissed both of his mother’s hands
three times, crying: “So she will come and stand beside me! Have
patience, my honored mother! All will be well. I will pretend that
grief for her has broken my heart unto death. For her coming one can
wait—even in a tomb!”

“Verily,” answered the queen, “you are the prince. You will have your
way. We shall see what will result from all this.”

The next day gold and silver candlesticks replaced the rosebushes along
the bridge’s sides. A tomb was built, and the prince, arrayed as for
burial, was borne upon a litter and laid therein.



Let us return to the princess.

That night she asked permission from the director of the port, who
granted it, that her ship be taken from its moorings in the harbor. All
that had been carried from it into the house was returned thereto.
Then, with her attendants, she went upon board and sailed near to the
tomb in which the prince was lying. The ship ceased plying for a
little, and, when all was still, the princess stood at the bow and
called out:

“Ai, my prince! Here is the ship, and yonder is Stamboul!”

Then all sail was hoisted, and the ship sped away.

The prince, who was listening for a light footfall, heard the words of
the princess-captain. He arose hastily and stood up, in his burial
clothes, to see the ship sailing away. When he felt assured that it was
making off, he sank down in deep despair.

Arousing himself at last, he was borne to his mother; and when she
began to pour forth her indignation he prevented her, saying: “Alas!
alas! Now am I enlightened! The fault is my own. I have been loving the
same maiden all of the time. You have known, my mother, how I was
induced to leave the weeping princess in the crystal kiosk? This is
that one, come to avenge herself. Because of my former love, this
latter has been intensified. Now do I understand why it has so swept
away my reason.”

The enlightened prince went to his father, kissed his hand, and asked:
“O, king! my most honored father, once more wilt thou grant permission
that I go abroad?”

“Most willingly, my son. Only, I pray thee, have a care for thy most
precious life! Go, and may happiness attend thee!”

Then the young man returned to the queen and said: “The way has been
made plain before me, O, my honored mother! It removes me from the
favor of thy presence for a little. Give me thy blessing, I pray!”

The queen kissed both of his eyes, gave him her blessing, and he went,
at once, to set sail upon a ship that belonged to the fleet of his
father, the king. It is needless to state that its course was directed
toward the crystal kiosk. Arriving there, he dressed himself in
princely apparel, alighted, and went directly to the radiant dwelling
of the maiden.



Now, the princess had seen the approach of his ship, and, when it drew
near, she recognized the prince. With her maidens she met him at the
outer door of the kiosk and escorted him up the stairs.

When they had entered, he stood before her and asked: “Ai, adored
princess! was it not grievous of thee to make me do all those useless
things?”

“Ai, my prince,” answered she, “was it not grievous in thee to come in
thy ship, to make me love thee, and then to sail away with those cruel
words? How does that matter stand before Allah? Was it just?”

“O, my beloved one! guilty, indeed, is he who seeks thee. But I have
suffered a hundredfold for all my fault toward thee. Is thy heart
stone? Canst thou not forgive? See, I am kneeling before thee!”

Then they embraced each other and were very happy.

Afterward the princess led her lover to the king, her father, and
related all that had passed. When the king had conversed with the
prince and found him to be just, honorable, and very greatly in love
with his daughter, his heart became glad. He thanked Allah that all had
turned out so happily.

The next day they were married, and the wedding was celebrated during
forty days and forty nights. Afterward the young couple spent one half
of each year at Yemen and the other half at Stamboul, to the great
delight of both kings. Thus two kingdoms were united and all became
peaceful. Salaam!


                              THE END