Chapter IX: Part V: The Magic Hairs (4)

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!”