Chapter 9

The three sisters' wishes, particularly that of the youngest, seemed so singular to the sultan that he resolved to gratify them in their desires; but without communicating his design to his grand vizier he charged him only to take notice of the house, and bring the three sisters before him the following day.

The grand vizier, in executing the emperor's orders, would give the sisters but just time to dress themselves to appear before him, without telling them the reason. He brought them to the palace and presented them to the emperor, who said to them, "Do you remember the wishes you expressed last night, when you were all in so pleasant a mood? Speak the truth; I must know what they were."

At these unexpected words of the emperor the three sisters were much confounded. They cast down their eyes and blushed. Modesty, and fear lest they might have offended the emperor by their conversation, kept them silent.

The emperor, perceiving their confusion, said, to encourage them, "Fear nothing; I did not send for you to distress you; and since I see that, without my intending it, is the effect of the question I asked, as I know the wish of each I will relieve you from your fears. You," added he, "who wished to be my wife shall have your desire this day; and you," continued he, addressing himself to the two elder sisters, "shall also be married, to my chief baker and cook."

The nuptials were all celebrated that day, as the emperor had resolved, but in a different manner. The youngest sister's were solemnized with all the rejoicings usual at the marriages of the emperors of Persia; and those of the other two sisters according to the quality and distinction of their husbands; the one as the sultan's chief baker, and the other as head cook.

The two elder sisters felt strongly the disproportion of their marriages to that of their younger sister. This consideration made them far from being content, though they were arrived at the utmost height of their late wishes, and much beyond their hopes. They gave themselves up to an excess of jealousy, and frequently met together to consult how they might revenge themselves on the queen. They proposed a great many ways, which they could not accomplish, but dissimulated all the time to flatter the queen with every demonstration of affection and respect.

Some months after her marriage, the queen gave birth to a young prince, as bright as the day; but her sisters, to whom the child was given at his birth, wrapped him up in a basket and floated it away on a canal that ran near the palace, and declared that the queen had given birth to a little dog. This made the emperor very angry.

In the meantime, the basket in which the little prince was exposed was carried by the stream toward the garden of the palace. By chance the intendant of the emperor's gardens, one of the principal and most considerable officers of the kingdom, was walking by the side of this canal, and perceiving a basket floating called to a gardener, who was not far off, to bring it to shore that he might see what it contained. The gardener, with a rake which he had in his hand, drew the basket to the side of the canal, took it up, and gave it to him.

The intendant of the gardens was extremely surprised to see in the basket a child, which, though he knew it could be but just born, had very fine features. This officer had been married several years, but though he had always been desirous of having children, Heaven had never blessed him with any. He made the gardener follow him with the child; and when he came to his own house, which was situated at the entrance into the gardens of the palace, went into his wife's apartment. "Wife," said he, "as we have no children of our own, God hath sent us one. I recommend him to you; provide him a nurse, and take as much care of him as if he were our own son; for, from this moment, I acknowledge him as such." The intendant's wife received the child with great joy.

The following year the queen consort gave birth to another prince, on whom the unnatural sisters had no more compassion than on his brother; but exposed him likewise in a basket, and set him adrift in the canal, pretending this time that the sultaness was delivered of a cat. It was happy also for this child that the intendant of the gardens was walking by the canal side. He carried this child to his wife, and charged her to take as much care of it as of the former, which was as agreeable to her inclination as it was to that of the intendant.

This time the Emperor of Persia was more enraged against the queen than before, and she had felt the effects of his anger, as the grand vizier's remonstrances had not prevailed.

The next year the queen gave birth to a princess, which innocent babe underwent the same fate as the princes her brothers; for the two sisters, being determined not to desist from their detestable schemes till they had seen the queen their younger sister at least cast off, turned out, and humbled, exposed this infant also on the canal. But the princess, as had been the two princes her brothers, preserved from death by the compassion and charity of the intendant of the gardens.

To this inhumanity the two sisters added a lie and deceit, as before. They procured a piece of wood, of which they said the queen had been delivered.

Khoonoo-shah could no longer contain himself at this third disappointment. He ordered a small shed to be built near the chief mosque, and the queen to be confined in it, so that she might be subjected to the scorn of those who passed by; which usage, as she did not deserve it, she bore with a patient resignation that excited the admiration as well as compassion of those who judged of things better than the vulgar.

The two princes and the princess were in the meantime nursed and brought up by the intendant of the gardens and his wife with all the tenderness of a father and mother; and as they advanced in age, they all showed marks of superior dignity, by a certain air which could only belong to exalted birth. All this increased the affection of the intendant and his wife, who called the eldest prince Bahman, and the second Perviz, both of them names of the most ancient emperors of Persia, and the princess Perie-zadeh, which name also had been borne by several queens and princesses of the kingdom.[39]

[Footnote 39: Parizadeh, the Parisatis of the Greeks, signifies born of a fairy.--D'Herbelot.]

As soon as the two princes were old enough, the intendant provided proper masters to teach them to read and write; and the princess, their sister, who was often with them--showing a great desire to learn--the intendant, pleased with her quickness, employed the same master to teach her also. Her emulation, vivacity, and wit made her in a little time as proficient as her brothers. At the hours of recreation, the princess learned to sing and to play upon all sorts of instruments; and when the princes were learning to ride, she would not permit them to have that advantage over her, but went through all the exercises with them, learning to ride also, to bend the bow, and dart the reed or javelin, and oftentimes outdid them in the race and other contests of agility.

The intendant of the gardens was so overjoyed to find his adopted children so well requited the expense he had been at in their education, that he resolved to be at a still greater; for as he had till then been content only with his lodge at the entrance to the garden, and kept no country house, he purchased a country seat at a short distance from the city, surrounded by a large tract of arable land, meadows, and woods, and furnished it in the richest manner, and added gardens, according to a plan drawn by himself, and a large park, stocked with fallow deer, that the princes and princess might divert themselves with hunting when they chose.

When this country seat was finished, the intendant of the gardens went and cast himself at the emperor's feet, and after representing his long service and the infirmities of age, which he found growing upon him, begged permission to resign his charge and retire. The emperor gave him leave, and asked what he should do to recompense him. "Sire," replied the intendant of the gardens, "I have received so many obligations from your majesty and the late emperor your father, of happy memory, that I desire no more than the honor of being assured of your continued favor."

He took his leave of the emperor, and retired with the two princes and the princess to the country retreat he had built. His wife had been dead some years, and he himself had not lived in his new abode above six months when he was surprised by so sudden a death that he had not time to give them the least account of the manner in which he had saved them from destruction.

The Princes Bahman and Perviz, and the Princess Perie-zadeh, who knew no other father than the intendant of the emperor's gardens, regretted and bewailed him as such, and paid all the honors in his funeral obsequies which love and filial gratitude required of them. Satisfied with the plentiful fortune he had left them, they lived together in perfect union, free from the ambition of distinguishing themselves at court, or aspiring to places of honor and dignity, which they might easily have obtained.

One day when the two princes were hunting, and the princess had remained at home, an old woman, a devotee, came to the gate, and desired leave to go in to say her prayers, it being then the hour. The servants asked the princess's permission, who ordered them to show her into the oratory, which the intendant of the emperor's gardens had taken care to fit up in his house, for want of a mosque in the neighborhood. After the good woman had finished her prayers, she was brought before the princess in the great hall, which in beauty and richness exceeded all the other apartments.

As soon as the princess saw the devout woman, she asked her many questions upon the exercise of devotion which she practiced, and how she lived; all which were answered with great modesty. Talking of several things, at last she asked the woman what she thought of the house, and how she liked it.

"Madam," answered the devout woman, "if you will give me leave to speak my mind freely, I will take the liberty to tell you that this house would be incomparable if it had three things which are wanting to complete it. The first of these three things is the speaking-bird, so singular a creature that it draws around it all the singing-birds in the neighborhood, which come to accompany his song. The second is the singing-tree, the leaves of which are so many mouths, which form an harmonious concert of different voices, and never cease. The third is the yellow-water of a gold color, a single drop of which being poured into a vessel properly prepared, it increases so as to fill it immediately, and rises up in the middle like a fountain, which continually plays, and yet the basin never overflows."

"Ah! my good mother," cried the princess, "how much am I obliged to you for the knowledge of these curiosities! They are surprising, and I never before heard there were such wonderful rarities in the world; but as I am persuaded that you know, I expect that you will do me the favor to inform me where they are to be found."

"Madam," replied the good woman, "I am glad to tell you that these curiosities are all to be met with in the same spot on the confines of this kingdom, toward India. The road lies before your house, and whoever you send needs but follow it for twenty days, and on the twentieth let him only ask the first person he meets where the speaking-bird, singing-tree, and yellow-water are, and he will be informed."

After saying this she rose from her seat, took her leave, and went her way.

The Princess Perie-zadeh's thoughts were so absorbed in her desire to obtain possession of these three wonders, that her brothers, on their return from hunting, instead of finding her lively and gay, as she used to be, were amazed to see her pensive and melancholy, and weighed down by some trouble.

"Sister," said Prince Bahman, "what has become of all your mirth and gayety? Are you not well? Or has some misfortune befallen you? Tell us that we may give you some relief."

The princess at first returned no answer to these inquiries; but on being pressed by her brothers, thus replied: "I always believed that this house which our father built us was so complete that nothing was wanting. But this day I have learned that it wants three rarities, the speaking-bird, the singing-tree, and the yellow-water. If it had these, no country seat in the world could be compared with it." Then she informed them wherein consisted the excellency of these rarities, and requested her brothers to send some trustworthy person in search of these three curiosities.

"Sister," replied Prince Bahman, "it is enough that you have an earnest desire for the things you mention to oblige us to try to obtain them. I will take that charge upon myself; only tell me the place, and the way to it, and I will set out to-morrow. You, brother, shall stay at home with our sister, and I commend her to your care."

Prince Bahman spent the remainder of the day in making preparations for his journey, and informing himself from the princess of the directions which the devout woman had left her. The next morning he mounted his horse, and Perviz and the princess embraced him and wished him a good journey. But in the midst of their adieus, the princess recollected what she had not thought of before.

"Brother," said she, "I had quite forgotten the perils to which you may be exposed. Who knows whether I shall ever see you again! Alight, I beseech you, and give up this journey. I would rather be deprived of the sight and possession of the speaking-bird, singing-tree, and yellow-water, than run the risk of never seeing you more."

"Sister," replied Bahman, smiling at the sudden fears of the princess, "my resolution is fixed, and you must allow me to execute it. However, as events are uncertain, and I may fail in this undertaking, all I can do is to leave you this knife. It has a peculiar property. If when you pull it out of the sheath it is clean as it is now, it will be a sign that I am alive; but if you find it stained with blood, then you may believe me to be dead."

The princess could prevail nothing more with Bahman. He bade adieu to her and Prince Perviz for the last time, and rode away. When he got into the road, he never turned to the right hand nor to the left, but went directly forward toward India. The twentieth day he perceived on the roadside a very singular old man, who sat under a tree some small distance from a thatched house, which was his retreat from the weather.

His eyebrows were as white as snow, as was also his beard, which was so long as to cover his mouth, while it reached down to his feet. The nails of his hands and feet were grown to an immense length; a flat broad umbrella covered his head. He wore no clothes, but only a mat thrown round his body.

This old man was a dervish, for many years retired from the world, and devoted to contemplation, so that at last he became what we have described.

Prince Bahman, who had been all that morning expecting to meet some one who could give him information of the place he was in search of, stopped when he came near the dervish, alighted, in conformity to the directions which the devout woman had given the Princess Perie-zadeh, and, leading his horse by the bridle, advanced toward him, and saluting him, said, "God prolong your days, good father, and grant you the accomplishment of your desires."

The dervish returned the prince's salutation, but spoke so unintelligibly that he could not understand one word he said. Prince Bahman perceiving that this difficulty proceeded from the dervish's hair hanging over his mouth, and unwilling to go any farther without the instructions he wanted, pulled out a pair of scissors he had about him, and having tied his horse to a branch of the tree, said, "Good dervish, I want to have some talk with you, but your hair prevents my understanding what you say, and if you will consent, I will cut off some part of it and of your eyebrows, which disfigure you so much that you look more like a bear than a man."

The dervish did not oppose the offer; and when the prince had cut off as much hair as he thought fit, he perceived that the dervish had a good complexion, and that he did not seem so very old.

"Good dervish," said he, "if I had a glass I would show you how young you look: you are now a man, but before nobody could tell what you were."

The kind behavior of Prince Bahman made the dervish smile, and return his compliment.

"Sir," said he, "whoever you are, I am obliged by the good office you have performed, and am ready to show my gratitude by doing anything in my power for you. Tell me wherein I may serve you."

"Good dervish," replied Prince Bahman, "I am in search of the speaking-bird, the singing-tree, and the yellow-water. I know these three rarities are not far from here, but cannot tell exactly the place where they are to be found; if you know, I conjure you to show me the way, that I may not lose my labor after so long a journey."

The prince, while he spoke, observed that the dervish changed countenance, held down his eyes, looked very serious, and instead of making any reply, remained silent: which obliged him to say to him again, "Good father, tell me whether you know what I ask you, that I may not lose my time, but inform myself somewhere else."

At last the dervish broke silence. "Sir," said he to Prince Bahman, "I know the way you ask of me; but the danger you are going to expose yourself to is greater than you may suppose. A number of gentlemen of as much bravery and courage as yourself have passed this way, and asked me the same question. I can assure you they have all perished, for I have not seen one come back. Therefore, if you have any regard for your life, take my advice, go no farther, but return home."

"Nothing," replied Prince Bahman to the dervish, "shall make me change my intention. Whoever attacks me, I am brave and well armed."

"But they who will attack you are not to be seen," said the dervish. "How will you defend yourself against invisible persons?"

"It is no matter," answered the prince; "all you can say shall not persuade me to forego my purpose. Since you know the way, I once more conjure you to inform me."

When the dervish found he could not prevail upon Prince Bahman to relinquish his journey, he put his hand into a bag that lay by him and pulled out a bowl, which he presented to him. "Since you will not be led by my advice," said he, "take this bowl: when you have mounted your horse, throw it before you, and follow it to the foot of a mountain. There, as soon as the bowl stops, alight, leave your horse with the bridle over his neck, and he will stand in the same place till you return. As you ascend you will see on your right and left a great number of large black stones, and will hear on all sides a confusion of voices, which will utter a thousand injurious threats to discourage you, and prevent your reaching the summit of the mountain. Be not afraid; but above all things, do not turn your head to look behind you; for in an instant you will be changed into such a black stone as those you see, which are all youths who have failed in this enterprise. If you escape the danger, of which I give you but a faint idea, and get to the top of the mountain, you will see a cage, and in that cage is the bird you seek; ask him which are the singing-tree and the yellow-water, and he will tell you. I have nothing more to say, except to beg you again not to expose your life, for the difficulty is almost insuperable."

After these words, the prince mounted his horse, took his leave of the dervish with a respectful salute, and threw the bowl before him.

The bowl rolled away unceasingly, with as much swiftness as when Prince Bahman first hurled it from his hand, which obliged him to put his horse to the gallop to avoid losing sight of it, and when it had reached the foot of the mountain it stopped. The prince alighted from his horse, laid the bridle on his neck, and, having first surveyed the mountain and seen the black stones, began to ascend. He had not gone four steps before he heard the voices mentioned by the dervish, though he could see nobody. Some one said, "Where is he going?" "What would he have?" "Do not let him pass"; others, "Stop him," "Catch him," "Kill him"; and others, with a voice like thunder, "Thief!" "Assassin!" "Murderer!" while some, in a gibing tone, cried, "No, no, do not hurt him; let the pretty fellow pass. The cage and bird are kept for him."

Notwithstanding all these troublesome voices, Prince Bahman ascended with courage and resolution for some time, but the voices redoubled with so loud a din near him, both behind, before, and on all sides, that at last he was seized with dread, his legs trembled under him, he staggered, and finding that his strength failed him, he forgot the dervish's advice, turned about to run down the hill, and was that instant changed into a black stone. His horse likewise, at the same moment, underwent the same change.

From the time of Prince Bahman's departure, the Princess Perie-zadeh always wore the knife and sheath in her girdle, and pulled it out several times a day, to know whether her brother was yet alive. She had the consolation to find he was in perfect health, and to talk of him frequently with Prince Perviz.

On the fatal day that Prince Bahman was transformed into a stone, as Prince Perviz and the princess were talking together in the evening, as usual, the prince desired his sister to pull out the knife to know how their brother did. The princess readily complied, and seeing the blood run down the point, was seized with so much horror that she threw it down.

"Ah! my dear brother," cried she, "woe's me! I have been the cause of your death, and shall never see you more! Why did I tell you of the speaking-bird, the singing-tree, and yellow-water! Why did I allow my peace to be disturbed by the idle tales of a silly old woman!"

Prince Perviz was as much afflicted at the death of Prince Bahman as the princess; but as he knew that she still passionately desired possession of the speaking-bird, the singing-tree, and the golden-water, he interrupted her, saying, "Sister, our regret for our brother is vain and useless; our grief and lamentations cannot restore him to life. It is the will of God. We must submit to it, and adore the decrees of the Almighty without searching into them. Why should you now doubt of the truth of what the holy woman told you? Our brother's death is probably owing to some error on his part. I am determined to know the truth, and am resolved myself to undertake this search. To-morrow I shall set out."

The princess did all she could to dissuade Prince Perviz, conjuring him not to expose her to the danger of losing two brothers; but all the remonstrances she could urge had no effect upon him. Before he went, that she might know what success he had, he left her a string of a hundred pearls, telling her, that if they would not run when she should count them upon the string, but remain fixed, that would be a certain sign he had undergone the same fate as his brother; but at the same time told her he hoped it would never happen, but that he should have the happiness to see her again to their mutual satisfaction.