The King of Persia had a favourite hawk. One day his Majesty was
hunting, and had become separated from his attendants. Feeling
thirsty, he sought a stream of water trickling from a rock; took a
cup, and pouring some liquor into it from his pocket-flask, filled it
up with water, and raised it to his lips. The hawk, who had been all
this time hovering about, swooped down, screaming "No, you don't!" and
upset the cup with his wing.
"I know what is the matter," said the King: "there is a dead serpent
in the fountain above, and this faithful bird has saved my life by not
permitting me to drink the juice. I must reward him in the regular
way."
So he called a page, who had thoughtfully presented himself, and gave
directions to have the Remorse Apartments of the palace put in order,
and for the court tailor to prepare an evening suit of
sackcloth-and-ashes. Then summoning the hawk, he seized and dashed him
to the ground, killing him very dead. Rejoining his retinue, he
dispatched an officer to remove the body of the serpent from the
fountain, lest somebody else should get poisoned. There wasn't any
serpent--the water was remarkable for its wholesome purity!
Then the King, cheated of his remorse, was sorry he had slain the
bird; he said it was a needless waste of power to kill a bird who
merely deserved killing. It never occurred to the King that the hawk's
touching solicitude was with reference to the contents of the royal
flask.
_Fabula ostendit_ that a "twice-told tale" needs not necessarily be
"tedious"; a reasonable degree of interest may be obtained by
intelligently varying the details.