you. My father is King of India; I, his only daughter, am called Lusa.
That magician Cachnur, who has enchanted you, has also plunged me into
this misery. He came one day to my father, and desired me for a wife
to his son. But my father, who is a quick-tempered man, ordered him to
be pushed down the stairs. The bad man contrived to meet me under
another form; and once, when taking refreshments in my garden, he
brought me, in the person of a slave, a draught in a cup, which
changed me into this frightful shape. Powerless from fright, he
brought me hither and cried in my ear: 'Here shalt thou remain, hated
and despised, even by the beasts, until thy death, or until someone,
with free will, shall desire thee for his wife, even in this horrible
shape. In this way I revenge myself upon thee and thy proud father!'
"Since then many months have passed. Solitary and disconsolate, I
dwell within these walls, scorned by the world, a horror even to the
beasts. Beautiful nature is locked up from me, for, like all owls, I
am blind by day, and only when the moon pours her pale light over
these ruins does the veil fall from my eyes."
The owl stopped speaking and wiped the tears again from her eyes, for
the telling of her sorrows had drawn them forth anew.
During the story of the Princess, the Caliph appeared deep in thought.
"If everything does not deceive me," he said, "there is a secret
connection between our fates; but where can I find the key to this
riddle?"
The owl replied: "Oh, my lord, I also have such a thought, for it was
once told me when I was a very little girl that a stork would one day
bring me great happiness, and I may know perhaps how we may be
rescued."
The Caliph was much astonished, and asked her in what way she meant.
"The magician who has made us both miserable," said she, "comes once
in every month to these ruins. Not far from this chamber is a hall.
There he is accustomed to feast with many of his companions. I have
often listened there already. They tell one another their histories,
and what they have been doing since last they met. Perhaps on the next
occasion they may talk over your story, and let fall the magic word
that you have forgotten."
"Oh, dearest Princess," exclaimed the Caliph, "tell me when does he
come and where is the hall?"
The owl was silent for a moment and then spoke. "Take it not
ungraciously, but only upon one condition can your wish be granted."
"Speak out! speak out!" cried the Caliph. "Command, and whatever it is
I will obey?"
"It is this: I also would gladly be free, and this can only happen if
one of you offer me his hand." The storks seemed somewhat confused at
this proposition, and the Caliph made a sign to his follower to
withdraw for a moment with him.
They talked together for a long time, the Caliph urging the Vizier to
consent; but he said it was not possible, as he was already an old
man, "whilst you, my lord and master, are but young in years." The
Caliph at last saw that the Vizier would rather remain a stork than
accept the owl, so he resolved to fulfil the condition himself. The
owl was overjoyed, and she said they could not have come at a better
time, for the magicians would most likely meet that very night.
She then left the chamber in company with the storks, in order to lead
them to the hall. They walked for a long time through a dark
passage-way, when at last a bright light shone upon them from an
opening in a ruined wall. When they had arrived thither the owl
advised them to keep perfectly quiet. From the opening near where they
stood they had a good view of the hall. It had many pillars, and the
whole apartment was richly decorated. In the middle was a round table
covered with rich food of various kinds; round the table were placed
seats, upon which sat eight men. In one of these men the storks
recognized the merchant who had sold them the magic powder. The one
who sat next him desired him to relate his history and what had been
done during the last few days. He did so, and among the other things
he told the story of his visit to the Caliph and Grand Vizier of
Bagdad.
"What kind of a word hast thou given them," asked the other magician.
"A very hard Latin one; it is Mutabor."
As the storks heard this from their place of concealment they became
almost beside themselves for joy. They ran so quickly with their long
legs to the door of the ruin that the owl could scarcely follow them.
There, the Caliph addressed the owl with much emotion.
"Saviour of my life, and the life of my friend, as an eternal thanks
for what thou hast done for us, accept me as thy husband"; then he
turned himself toward the east and toward Mecca. Three times the
storks bent their long necks toward the sun, which, by this time, was
rising above the distant hills: "Mutabor!" they exclaimed. In a
twinkling they were changed, and in the delight of newly restored
life, master and servant were laughing and weeping in each other's
arms. But who can describe their astonishment as they looked about
them?
A beautiful maiden in a splendid dress stood before them. She held out
her hand to the Caliph saying: "Do you no longer recognize your night
owl?"
Yes, it was indeed that bird. The Caliph looked with wonder at her
beauty and grace, and said: "It is my greatest happiness that I have
been a stork."
The three now started to travel together for the city of Bagdad. The
Caliph found in his clothes not only the box with the magic powder,
but also his purse of gold. By this means he purchased at the nearest
village all that was necessary for their journey, so that they very
soon arrived at the gates of Bagdad. The arrival of the Caliph excited
the greatest wonder. They had supposed him dead, but the people were
overjoyed to have their beloved lord again.
Their hatred was intense against the deceiver Mirza. They entered the
palace and took the old magician and his son prisoners. The Caliph
took the old man to that same chamber in which the Princess had lived
so long as an owl, and ordered him to be hung up there. But to the
son, who did not understand the wicked arts of his father, he offered
the choice of either to die or take snuff.
He chose the latter when the Grand Vizier offered the box. A good
pinch, and the magic word of the Caliph changed him into a stork. The
Caliph then directed that he should be put into a cage and placed in
his garden.
Long and happily the Caliph Chasid lived with his wife, the Princess.
His happiest hours were when the Grand Vizier visited him in the
afternoon. They never tired of talking about their storks' adventure,
and when the Caliph was more than usually merry he would imitate the
Grand Vizier, and show how he looked when he was a stork. He walked
gravely up and down the chamber with slow and solemn steps, made a
clacking noise, flapped his arms like wings, and showed how he, to no
purpose, bowed himself to the east and called out: "Mu--Mu--Mu." This
was always a great delight to the Princess and the children, which
were afterward born to her, until they also took delight in calling
out to one another: "Mu--Mu--Mu."
So for very many years happiness reigned in the palace, and not only
in the palace, but throughout the city of Bagdad, the capital of the
ancient Saracen Empire.
_The Five Queer Brothers_
An old woman had five grown-up sons that looked just alike. The eldest
could gulp up the ocean at a mouthful; the second was hard enough to
nick steel; the third had extensible legs; the fourth was unaffected
by fire; the fifth lived without breathing. They all concealed their
peculiar traits, and their neighbours did not even guess that they
were queer.
The eldest supported the family by fishing, going alone to the sea,
and bringing back loads of spoil. The neighbours often besought him to
teach their sons how to fish, and he at last let all their boys go
with him, one day, to learn his art. On reaching the shore, he sucked
the sea into his mouth, and directed the boys to the dry bottom, to
collect the fish. When he was tired of holding the water, he beckoned
to the boys to return, but they were playing amongst strange objects,
and paid no heed to him. When he could contain the sea no longer, he
had to let it flow back into its former basin, and all the boys were
drowned.
As he went homeward, he passed the doors of the parents, who inquired
how many fish their sons had caught, and how long they would be in
coming back. He told them the facts, yet they would not excuse him,
and they dragged him before the magistrate to account for the loss of
their children. He defended himself by saying that he had not invited
the boys to go with him, and had consented to their going only when
the parents had repeatedly urged him; that, after the boys were on the
ocean-bed, he had done his utmost to induce them to come ashore; that
he had held the water as long as he could, and had then thrown it in
the sea-basin solely because nothing else would contain it.
Notwithstanding this defence, the judge decided that, since he took
the boys away and did not bring them back, he was guilty of murder,
and sentenced him to decapitation. He entreated leave to pay one visit
to his aged mother before his execution, and this was granted. He went
alone and told his brothers of his doom, and the second brother
returned in his stead to the judge, thanked him for having given him
permission to perform a duty required by filial piety, and said he was
then ready to die. He knelt with bowed head, and the headsman brought
the knife down across the back of his neck, but the knife was nicked
and the neck was left unscathed. A second knife, and a third of finer
steel, were brought and tried by headsmen who were accustomed to sever
heads clean off at one stroke. Having spoiled their best blades
without marring his neck, they took him back to prison and informed
the judge that the sentence could not be executed.
The judge then decreed that he should be dropped into the sea which
covered his victims. When he heard this decision, he said that he had
taken leave of his mother supposing that his head was to be cut off,
and that, if he was to be drowned, he must go to her and make known
his fate, and get her blessing anew. Permission being given, he went
and told his brothers what had happened, and the third brother took
the place of the second, and presented himself before the judge as the
criminal that was to be sunk in the sea. He was carried far from shore
and thrown overboard, but he stretched his legs till his feet touched
bottom and he stood with his head in the air. They hauled him aboard
and took him farther from land, but still his extensible legs
supported him above the waters. Then they sailed to mid-ocean, and
cast him into its greatest depths, but his legs still lengthened so
that he was not drowned. They brought him back to the judge, reported
what had been done, and said that some other method of destroying him
must be followed.
He was then condemned to death by being boiled in oil; and while the
caldron was being heated, he begged and obtained leave to go and tell
his mother of his late survival, and, of the manner in which he was
soon to be taken off. His brothers having heard the latest judgment,
the fourth one went to bear the penalty of the law, and was lowered
into the kettle of boiling oil, where he disported himself as if in a
tepid bath, and even asked the executioners to stir up the fire a
little to increase the warmth. Finding that he could not be fried, he
was remanded to prison.
Then the populace, the bereaved parents, and the magistrate joined in
effort to invent a sure method of putting him to death. Water, fire
and sword all having failed, they finally fixed upon smothering him in
a vast cream-cake. The whole country round made contributions of flour
for the tough pastry, sugar for the viscid filling, and bricks for a
huge oven; and it was made and baked on a plain outside the city
walls. Meanwhile the prisoner was allowed to go and bid his mother
farewell, and the fifth brother secretly became his substitute. When
the cake was done, a multitude of people, with oxen, horses, and
ropes, dragged it to the execution ground, and within it the culprit
was interred. As he was able to exist without air, he rested
peacefully till the next midnight. Then he safely crawled forth, and
returned to his home, where he dwelt happily for many years with his
remarkable brothers.
_The Lac of Rupees_
A poor blind Brahman and his wife were dependent on their son for
their subsistence. Every day the young fellow used to go out and get
what he could by begging. This continued for some time, till at last
he became quite tired of such a wretched life, and determined to go
and try his luck in another country. He informed his wife of his
intention, and ordered her to manage somehow or other for the old
people during the few months that he would be absent. He begged her to
be industrious, lest his parents should be angry and curse him.
One morning he started with some food in a bundle, and walked on day
after day, till he reached the chief city of the neighbouring country.
Here he went and sat down by a merchant's shop and asked alms. The
merchant inquired whence he had come, why he had come, and what was
his caste; to which he replied that he was a Brahman, and was
wandering hither and thither begging a livelihood for himself, his
wife and parents. Moved with pity for the man, the merchant advised
him to visit the kind and generous king of that country, and offered
to accompany him to the court. Now, at that time it happened that the
king was seeking for a Brahman to look after a golden temple which he
had just had built. His Majesty was very glad, therefore, when he saw
the Brahman and heard that he was good and honest. He at once deputed
him to the charge of this temple, and ordered fifty kharwars of rice
and one hundred rupees to be paid to him every year as wages.
Two months after this, the Brahman's wife, not having heard any news
of her husband, left the house and went in quest of him. By a happy
fate she arrived at the very place that he had reached, where she
heard that every morning at the golden temple a golden rupee was given
in the king's name to any beggar who chose to go for it. Accordingly,
on the following morning she went to the place and met her husband.
"Why have you come here?" he asked. "Why have you left my parents?
Care you not whether they curse me and I die? Go back immediately, and
await my return."
"No, no," said the woman. "I cannot go back to starve and see your old
father and mother die. There is not a grain of rice left in the
house."
"O Bhagawant!" exclaimed the Brahman. "Here, take this," he continued,
scribbling a few lines on some paper, and then handing it to her, "and
give it to the king. You will see that he will give you a lac of
rupees for it." Thus saying he dismissed her, and the woman left.
On this scrap of paper were written three pieces of advice--First, If
a person is travelling and reaches any strange place at night, let him
be careful where he puts up, and not close his eyes in sleep, lest he
close them in death. Secondly, If a man has a married sister, and
visits her in great pomp, she will receive him for the sake of what
she can obtain from him; but if he comes to her in poverty, she will
frown on him and disown him. Thirdly, If a man has to do any work, he
must do it himself, and do it with might and without fear.
On reaching her home the Brahmani told her parents of her meeting with
her husband, and what a valuable piece of paper he had given her; but
not liking to go before the king herself, she sent one of her
relations. The king read the paper, and ordering the man to be
flogged, dismissed him. The next morning the Brahmani took the paper,
and while she was going along the road to the darbar reading it, the
king's son met her, and asked what she was reading, whereupon she
replied that she held in her hands a paper containing certain bits of
advice, for which she wanted a lac of rupees. The prince asked her to
show it to him, and when he had read it gave her a parwana for the
amount, and rode on. The poor Brahmani was very thankful. That day she
laid in a great store of provisions, sufficient to last them all for a
long time.
In the evening the prince related to his father the meeting with the
woman, and the purchase of the piece of paper. He thought his father
would applaud the act. But it was not so. The king was more angry than
before, and banished his son from the country.
So the prince bade adieu to his mother and relations and friends, and
rode off on his horse, whither he did not know. At nightfall he
arrived at some place, where a man met him, and invited him to lodge
at his house. The prince accepted the invitation, and was treated like
a prince. Matting was spread for him to squat on, and the best
provisions set before him.
"Ah!" thought he, as he lay down to rest, "here is a case for the
first piece of advice that the Brahmani gave me. I will not sleep
to-night."
It was well that he thus resolved, for in the middle of the night the
man rose up, and taking a sword in his hand, rushed to the prince with
the intention of killing him. But the prince arose and spoke.
"Do not slay me," he said. "What profit would you get from my death?
If you killed me you would be sorry afterward like that man who killed
his dog."
"What man? What dog?" he asked.
"I will tell you," said the prince, "if you will give me that sword."
So he gave him the sword, and the prince began his story:
"Once upon a time there lived a wealthy merchant who had a pet dog. He
was suddenly reduced to poverty, and had to part with his dog. He got
a loan of five thousand rupees from a brother merchant, leaving the
dog as a pledge, and with the money began business again. Not long
after this the other merchant's shop was broken into by thieves and
completely sacked. There was hardly ten rupees' worth left in the
place. The faithful dog, however, knew what was going on, and went and
followed the thieves, and saw where they deposited the things, and
then returned.
"In the morning there was great weeping and lamentation in the
merchant's house when it was known what had happened. The merchant
himself nearly went mad. Meanwhile the dog kept on running to the
door, and pulling at his master's shirt and pajamas, as though wishing
him to go outside. At last a friend suggested that, perhaps, the dog
knew something of the whereabouts of the things, and advised the
merchant to follow its leadings. The merchant consented, and went
after the dog right up to the very place where the thieves had hidden
the goods. Here the animal scraped and barked, and showed in various
ways that the things were underneath. So the merchant and his friends
dug about the place, and soon came upon all the stolen property.
Nothing was missing. There were all the articles just as the thieves
had taken them.
"The merchant was very glad. On returning to his house, he at once
sent the dog back to its old master with a letter rolled under the
collar, wherein he had written about the sagacity of the beast, and
begged his friend to forget the loan and to accept another five
thousand rupees as a present. When this merchant saw his dog coming
back again, he thought, 'Alas! my friend is wanting the money. How can
I pay him? I have not had sufficient time to recover myself from my
recent losses. I will slay the dog ere he reaches the threshold, and
say that another must have slain it. Thus there will be an end of my
debt. No dog, no loan.' Accordingly he ran out and killed the poor
dog, when the letter fell out of its collar. The merchant picked it up
and read it. How great was his grief and disappointment when he knew
the facts of the case!
"Beware," continued the prince, "lest you do that which afterward you
would give your life not to have done."
By the time the prince had concluded this story it was nearly morning,
and he went away, after rewarding the man.
The prince then visited the country belonging to his brother-in-law.
He disguised himself as a jogi, and sitting down by a tree near the
palace, pretended to be absorbed in worship. News of the man and of
his wonderful piety reached the ears of the king. He felt interested
in him, as his wife was very ill; and he had sought for hakims to cure
her, but in vain. He thought that, perhaps, this holy man could do
something for her. So he sent to him. But the jogi refused to tread
the halls of a king, saying that his dwelling was the open air, and
that if his Majesty wished to see him he must come himself and bring
his wife to the place. Then the king took his wife and brought her to
the jogi. The holy man bade her prostrate herself before him, and when
she had remained in this position for about three hours, he told her
to rise and go, for she was cured.
In the evening there was great consternation in the palace, because
the queen had lost her pearl rosary, and nobody knew anything about
it. At length some one went to the jogi, and found it on the ground by
the place where the queen had prostrated herself. When the king heard
this he was very angry and ordered the jogi to be executed. This stern
order, however, was not carried out, as the prince bribed the men and
escaped from the country. But he knew that the second bit of advice
was true.
Clad in his own clothes, the prince was walking along one day when he
saw a potter crying and laughing, alternately, with his wife and
children. "O fool," said he, "what is the matter? If you laugh, why do
you weep? If you weep, why do you laugh?"
"Do not bother me," said the potter. "What does it matter to you?"
"Pardon me," said the prince, "but I should like to know the reason."
"The reason is this, then," said the potter. "The king of this country
has a daughter whom he is obliged to marry every day, because all her
husbands die the first night of their stay with her. Nearly all the
young men of the place have thus perished, and our son will be called
on soon. We laugh at the absurdity of the thing--a potter's son
marrying a princess, and we cry at the terrible consequence of the
marriage. What can we do?"
"Truly a matter for laughing and weeping. But weep no more," said the
prince. "I will exchange places with your son, and will be married to
the princess instead of him. Only give me suitable garments, and
prepare me for the occasion."
So the potter gave him beautiful raiment and ornaments, and the prince
went to the palace. At night he was conducted to the apartment of the
princess. "Dread hour!" thought he; "am I to die like the scores of
young men before me?" He clenched his sword with firm grip, and lay
down on his bed, intending to keep awake all the night and see what
would happen. In the middle of the night he saw two Shahmars come out
from the nostrils of the princess. They stole over toward him,
intending to kill him, like the others who had been before him; but he
was ready for them. He laid hold of his sword, and when the snakes
reached his bed he struck at them and killed them. In the morning the
king came as usual to inquire, and was surprised to hear his daughter
and the prince talking gaily together. "Surely," said he, "this man
must be her husband, as he only can live with her."
"Where do you come from? Who are you?" asked the king, entering the
room.
"Oh king!" replied the prince, "I am the son of a king who rules over
such-and-such a country."
When he heard this the king was very glad, and bade the prince to
abide in his palace, and appointed him his successor to the throne.
The prince remained at the palace for more than a year, and then asked
permission to visit his own country, which was granted. The king gave
him elephants, horses, jewels, and abundance of money for the expenses
of the way and as presents for his father, and the prince started.
On the way he had to pass through the country belonging to his
brother-in-law, whom we have already mentioned. Report of his arrival
reached the ears of the king, who came with rope-tied hands and
haltered neck to do him homage. He most humbly begged him to stay at
his palace, and to accept what little hospitality could be provided.
While the prince was staying at the palace he saw his sister, who
greeted him with smiles and kisses. On leaving he told her how she and
her husband had treated him at his first visit, and how he escaped;
and then gave them two elephants, two beautiful horses, fifteen
soldiers, and ten lacs of rupees' worth of jewels.
Afterward he went to his own home, and informed his mother and father
of his arrival. Alas! his parents had both become blind from weeping
about the loss of their son. "Let him come in," said the king, "and
put his hands upon our eyes, and we shall see again." So the prince
entered, and was most affectionately greeted by his old parents; and
he laid his hands on their eyes, and they saw again.
Then the prince told his father all that had happened to him, and how
he had been saved several times by attending to the advice that he had
purchased from the Brahmani. Whereupon the king expressed his sorrow
for having sent him away, and all was joy and peace again.
_The Emperor's Nightingale_