When the Caliph had told his story the owl thanked him and said: “Now
you shall hear my story and you will then see that I am no less
unhappy than you and your vizier. My father is the King of the Indies,
and I am his only and unfortunate daughter, Lusa by name. The same
wicked magician Kaschnur, to whom you owe your misfortunes, bewitched
me also. One day he came to my father and demanded that I should be
given to his son Mizra for a wife, but my father, who is a hasty man,
ordered him to be thrown down the steps. The miserable wretch knew,
however, how to transform himself and approach me when I was walking
in my garden. Disguised as a slave, he offered me a refreshing drink,
but one which changed me into this horrible form. Fainting with
horror, I was seized by him and carried here, and before leaving me he
shrieked these words in a terrible voice--
“‘Here shall you remain, hideous and shunned even by the beasts
themselves, until your end comes, or until some person shall be
willing, in spite of your dreadful appearance, to make you his wife.
This is my revenge upon you and your proud father.’
“All this took place many months ago. Lonely and sad I have passed my
miserable days, shunned by all, even the beautiful face of Nature
turned from me, for by day I am blind, and it is only when the moon’s
faint rays pierce my prison window that the veil falls from my eyes.”
As the owl ceased speaking, she once more wiped her eyes with her
wings, for the recital of her woes had caused her tears to flow
afresh.
The princess’s story had made the Caliph very serious--“It seems to
me,” he said, “that there is a strong resemblance between your trouble
and ours, but where shall we find the key to unlock the mystery?”
The owl answered more hopefully, “My lord as I told you, it was
prophesied of me in my youth, by a wise woman, that good fortune would
come to me by the help of a stork. Now, the magician who was the cause
of all our misfortunes comes once a month to these ruins, and feasts
and makes merry with his companions in an apartment close by. Many a
time I have listened to their conversation and heard them recount
their wicked deeds; might it not happen that Kaschnur would perhaps
let fall the magic word that would release you, during one of these
revels?”
“Oh! dearest princess,” cried the excited Caliph, “tell me, I beseech
you, the date of Kaschnur’s next visit!”
The owl was silent for a short space of time, then said she--“Do not
be offended if I make a condition with you before granting your wish.”
“What is it,” cried the Caliph, “whatever it is, be sure I shall be
willing to grant it you.”
“Well, it is this,” said the owl; “I am as anxious as you are to
regain my natural form, and this can only happen if one of you will
offer me his hand.”
The storks appeared somewhat taken aback, and the Caliph beckoned his
vizier aside.
“Grand vizier,” said he, “it is a great nuisance, but you must just
take her.”
“Indeed,” replied the vizier, “and when I reach home my wife will
scratch my eyes out for my pains. Besides, I am an old man, whilst you
are young and unmarried, and are therefore a more suitable match for a
young and beautiful princess.”
“Well, that is the point,” the Caliph sighed sadly; “who told you she
was young and beautiful? I don’t care to buy a cat in a bag like
that.”
They argued together for some time, but when the Caliph found his
vizier would rather remain a stork than marry the owl, he made up his
mind to fulfil the condition himself.
[Illustration: _THE CALIPH STORK_
_“The owl warned them to be as silent as the grave”_
(_p. 25_)]
The owl was overjoyed, and assured the two storks they could not have
arrived at a more opportune moment, for the magicians were to meet
there that very night.
So she and the storks left the little room and threaded their way
along a dark narrow corridor until they came to a broken-down wall,
through the crevices of which a bright light streamed. The owl warned
them to be as silent as the grave and pointed out a hole through which
they could peep into the great hall beyond.
This hall was magnificently decorated, and lighted up by many
different coloured lamps. In the middle of the apartment stood a round
table set with a variety of the choicest dishes. Round the table were
couches, upon which eight men reclined, and one of these men the
storks immediately recognised as the pedlar who had sold them the
magic powder. His neighbour invited him to recount his latest doings,
and amongst other stories he recounted that of the Caliph and his
vizier.
“What was the magic word you gave them?” asked one of the other
magicians.
“A good difficult Latin one--it was ‘Mutabor.’”