Part 10

Meanwhile the bald-pate had grown very hungry, and he thought to himself: “Nobody sees me, why should I not take a morsel or two from that table?” So he stretched his hand out from his hiding-place, and was just about to touch the food with it when he got such a blow on the fingers that the place swelled up. He stretched out the other hand, and got a still greater blow on that. The youth was very frightened at this, and he had scarcely drawn back his hand when a white dove flew into the room. It fell a-shivering and immediately turned into a beautiful youth.

And now he went to a cupboard, opened it, and took out a ring, a bracelet, and a lace handkerchief. “Oh, lucky ring that thou art!” cried he, “to be allowed to sit on a beautiful finger; and oh, lucky bracelet, to be allowed to lie on a beautiful arm.” Then the beautiful youth fell a-sobbing, and dried his tears one by one on the lace handkerchief. Then he put them into the cupboard again, tasted one or two of the dishes, and laid him down to sleep.

It was as much as the bald-pate could do to await the dawn of the day. But then the beautiful youth arose, shivered, and flew away as a white dove. Bald-pate too came out of his hiding-place, went down into the courtyard, and crept once more through the hole at the foot of the tower.

Outside he found his poor old mother weeping all alone, but the youth pacified her with the assurance that their troubles were nearly at an end, took her on his back again, and went to the bath. There they bathed, and immediately the old woman was able to stand on her legs, and the bald-pate got his hair back again. Then they began to tell their stories, and when the Sultan’s daughter heard what the youth had seen and heard at midnight, it was as though a stream of fresh health instantly poured into her. She rose from her bed and promised the youth a great treasure if he would bring her to that tower. So the youth went with the princess, showed her the walls of the palace, helped her through the little hole, brought her into the chamber of the doves, and pointed out to her the armoury where he had been able to hide himself. After that the youth returned home with great treasure and perfect health, and lived all his days with his old mother.

At eventide the three doves flew into the room. They scoured and cleaned, brought the meats for the table, and flew away again. Soon afterwards the white dove came flying in, and how did that damsel feel when she saw her darling little dove once more? But when the dove had turned into a youth again, and stood there like a glorious full moon, the damsel scarcely knew where she was, but gazed continuously on his dazzling face.

Then the youth went to the cupboard, opened it, and took out the ring, the bracelet, and the lace handkerchief that belonged to the daughter of the Sultan. “Oh, thou ring! how happy shouldst thou be to sit on a beauteous finger! Oh, thou bracelet! how happy thou shouldst be to lie on a beauteous arm!” he cried. Then he took the lace handkerchief and dried his tears, and at the sight thereof the heart of the damsel was nigh to breaking. Then she tapped with her fingers on the door of the armoury. The youth approached it, opened the door, and there stood his heart’s darling. Then the joy of the youth was so great that it was almost woe.

He asked the damsel how she had come thither to the palace of the Peris. Then she told him of her journey, and how sick for love she had been.

Then the youth told her that he also was the son of a mortal mother, but when he was only three days old the Peris had stolen him, and carried him to this palace and made him their Padishah. He was with them the whole day, and had only two hours to himself in the twenty-four. The damsel, he said, might stay with him, and walk about here the whole day, but towards evening she must hide herself; for if the forty Peris came and saw her with him they would not leave her alive. To-morrow, he said, he would show her his mother’s palace, where they would live in peace, and he would be with her for two hours out of the twenty-four.

So the next day the Padishah of the Peris took the damsel and showed her his mother’s palace. “When thou goest there,” said the Padishah, “bid them have compassion on thee, and receive thee in memory of Bahtiyar Bey, and when my mother hears my name she will not refuse thy request.”

So the damsel went up to the house and knocked at the door. An old woman came and opened it, and when she saw the damsel and heard her son’s name, she burst into tears and took her in. There the damsel stayed a long time, and every day the little bird came to visit her, until a son was born to the daughter of the Sultan. But the old woman never knew that her son came to the house, nor that the damsel had been brought to bed.

One day the little bird came, flew upon the window-sill, and said: “Oh, my Sultana, what is my little seedling doing?”--“No harm hath happened to our little seedling,” replied she, “but he awaits the coming of Bahtiyar.”--“Oh! if only my mother knew,” sighed the youth, “she would open her best room.” With that he flew into the room, turned into a man, and fondled in his arms his wife and his little child. But when two hours had passed he shivered a little, and a little dove flew out of the window.

But the mother had heard her son’s speech, and could scarce contain herself for joy. She hastened to her daughter-in-law, fondled and caressed her, led her into her most beautiful room, and put everything in order against her son’s arrival. She knew that the forty Peris had robbed her of him, and she took counsel with herself how she might steal him back again.

“When my son comes to-morrow,” said the old woman, “contrive so that he stays beyond his time, and leave the rest to me.”

The next day the bird flew into the window, and lo! the damsel was nowhere to be seen in the room. Then he flew into the more beautiful room, and cried, “Oh! my Sultana, what is our little seedling doing?”--And the damsel replied: “No harm hath befallen our little seedling, but he awaits the coming of Bahtiyar.” Then the bird flew into the room and changed into a man, and was so taken up with talking to his wife, so filled with the joy of playing with his child and seeing it play, that he took no count of time at all.

But what was the old woman doing all this time?

There was a large cypress-tree in front of the house, and there the forty doves were sometimes wont to alight. The old woman went and hung this tree full of venomous needles. Towards evening, when the Padishah’s two hours had run out, the doves who were the forty Peris came to seek their Padishah, and alighted on the cypress-tree, but scarcely had their feet touched the needles than they fell down to the ground poisoned.

Meanwhile, however, the youth suddenly remembered the time, and great was his terror when he came out of the palace so late. He looked to the right of him and he looked to the left, and when he looked towards the cypress-tree there were the forty doves. And now his joy was as great as his terror had been before. First he fell upon the neck of his consort, and then he ran to his mother and embraced her, so great was his joy that he had escaped from the hands of the Peris.

Thereupon they made them such a banquet that even after forty days they had not got to the end of it. So they had their hearts’ desires, and ate and drank and rejoiced with a great joy. May we too get the desires of our hearts, with good eating and drinking to comfort us!

THE SERPENT-PERI AND THE MAGIC MIRROR

There was once upon a time a poor wood-cutter who had an only son. One day this poor man fell sick and said to his son: “If I should die follow thou my handicraft, and go every day into the wood. Thou mayest cut down whatever trees thou dost find there, but at the edge of the wood is a cypress-tree, that thou must leave standing.” Two days afterwards the man died and was buried.

But the son went into the wood and cut down the trees, only the cypress-tree he left alone. One day the youth stood close to this tree and thought to himself: “What can be the matter with this tree, seeing that I am not allowed to lay a hand upon it?” So he looked at it, and considered it curiously, till at last he took his axe and went with evil intent towards the tree. But he had scarcely lifted his foot when the cypress-tree drew away from him. The wood-cutter mounted his ass and pursued the tree but could not overtake it, and in the meantime eventide came upon them. Then he dismounted from his ass and tied it to a tree, but he himself climbed to the top of the tree to await the dawn.

Next morning, when the sky grew red, he descended from the tree, and there at the foot of it lay only the bones of his ass. “Never mind, I’ll go on foot,” said the wood-cutter, and he continued his pursuit of the cypress, the tree going on before and he following after. All that day he pursued but could not come up with it. The third day also he shouldered his axe and pursued the tree, when he suddenly came upon an elephant and a serpent fighting with each other. Believe the truth or not as you will, but the truth is this, that the serpent was swallowing the elephant; but the elephant’s great tusk stuck in the serpent’s throat, and both beasts, seeing the youth staring at them, begged him to help them.

What didn’t the elephant promise him if only he would slay the serpent! “Nay, but all I would have thee do,” said the serpent, “is to break his tusk off; the work is lighter, and the reward will be greater.” At these words the youth seized his axe and chopped the elephant’s tusk right off. The serpent then swallowed the elephant, thanked the youth, and promised to keep his word and give him his reward.

While they were on the road the serpent stopped at a spring and said to the youth: “Wait while I bathe in this water, and whatever may happen, fear not!” With that the serpent plunged into the water, and immediately there arose such a terrible storm, such a tempest, such a hurricane, with lightning-flash upon lightning-flash, and thunder-bolt upon thunder-bolt, that the Day of Judgment could not well be worse. Presently the serpent came out of the bath, and then all was quiet again.

They went a long way, and they went a little way, they took coffee, they smoked their chibooks, they gathered violets on the road, till at last they drew near to a house, and then the serpent said: “In a short time we shall arrive at my mother’s house. When she opens the door, say thou art my kinsman, and she will invite thee into the house. She will offer thee coffee but do not drink it, she will offer thee meat but do not eat it; but there’s a little bit of a mirror hanging up in the corner of the door, ask my mother for that!”

So they came to the house, and no sooner had the Peri knocked at the door than his mother came and opened it. “Come, my brother!” said the serpent to the youth behind him.--“Who is thy brother?” asked his mother.--“He who hath saved my life,” replied her son, and with that he told her the whole story. So they went into the house, and the woman brought the youth coffee and a chibook, but he would not take them. “My journey is a hasty one,” said he, “I cannot remain very long.”

“Rest awhile at least,” said the woman, “we cannot let our guests depart without anything.”

“Nothing do I want, but if thou wilt give me that bit of mirror in the corner of the door I will take it,” said the youth. The woman did not want to give it, but the youth insisted that perhaps his life might depend upon that very piece of mirror, so at last she gave it to him, though very unwillingly.

So the youth went on his way with the bit of mirror, and as he looked into it he turned over in his mind what use he should make of it. As he was still turning it over and looking at it, suddenly there stood before him a negro efrit, one of whose lips touched the heavens, and the other lip the earth. The poor youth was so frightened, that if the negro had not said: “What are thy commands, my Sultan?” he would have run away for ever and ever. As it was, it was as much as he could do to ask for something to eat, and immediately there stood before him a rich and rare banquet, the like of which he had never seen at his father’s, the wood-cutter’s.

Then the youth felt very curious about the mirror, and looked into it again, and immediately the black efrit stood before him again and said: “What dost thou command, my Sultan?” Nothing would occur to his mind at first, but at last his lips murmured the word “Palace,” and immediately there stood before him a palace so beautiful that the Padishah himself could not have a finer one. “Open!” cried the youth, and immediately the gates of the palace flew open before him.

The youth rejoiced greatly in his bit of mirror, and his one thought was what he should ask it to get him next. The beautiful Sultana-damsel, the Padishah’s daughter, occurred to his mind, and the next moment his eye sought his mirror and he desired from the big-lipped negro efrit a palace in which the world-renowned daughter of the Padishah should be sitting beside him, and he had scarce time to look around him when he found himself sitting in the palace with the Sultan’s daughter by his side. Then they kissed and embraced each other, and lived a whole world of joy.

Meanwhile the Sultan learnt that his daughter had disappeared from her own palace. He searched for her the whole realm through, he sent heralds in every direction, but in vain were all his labours, the girl could not be discovered. At last an old woman came to the Padishah and told him to make a large casket, line it well with zinc, put her inside it, and cast it into the sea. She would find the daughter of the Sultan, she said, for if she was not here, she must be beyond the sea. So they made ready the great casket, put the old woman inside it, put food for nine days beside her, and cast it into the sea. The casket was tossed from wave to wave, till at last it came to that city where the Sultan’s daughter dwelt with the youth.

Now the fishermen were just then on the shore, and saw the huge casket floating in the sea. They drew it ashore with ropes and hooks, and when they opened it an old woman crept out of it. They asked her how she had got inside it.

“Oh, that my enemy might lose the sight of his little eye that is so dear to him!” lamented the old woman; “I have not deserved this of him!” and with that she fell a-weeping and wailing till the men believed every word she said. “Where is the Bey of your city?” cried she; “perhaps he will have compassion upon me and receive me into his house,” she said to the men. Then they showed her the palace, and exhorted her to go thither, as perhaps she might get an alms.

So the old woman went to the palace, and when she knocked at the door, the Sultan’s daughter came down to see who it was. The old woman immediately recognized the damsel, and begged her (for the damsel knew not the old woman) to take her into her service. “My lord comes home to-night, I will ask him,” replied the damsel; “meanwhile rest in this corner!” And the damsel’s lord allowed her to receive the old woman into the house, and the next day she waited upon them.

There the old woman was for one day and for two days, for a week, for two weeks, and there was no cook to cook the food, and no servant to keep the place clean, and yet every day there was a costly banquet and everything was as clean as clean could be. Then the old woman went to the damsel and asked her whether she did not feel dull at being alone all day. “If I were allowed to help thee pass the time away,” added she, “perhaps it might be better.”--“I must first ask my lord,” replied the damsel. The youth did not mind the old woman helping his wife to pass away the time, and so she went up to the rooms of the damsel and stayed with her for days together.

One day the old woman asked the damsel whence came all the rare meats, and who did the service of the house. But the damsel knew not of the piece of mirror, so she could tell the old woman nothing. “Find out from thy lord,” said the old woman, and scarcely had the youth come home, scarce had he had time to eat, than she wheedled him so that he showed her the mirror.

That was all the old woman wanted. A couple of days she let go by, but on the third and the fourth days she bade the damsel beg her lord for the piece of mirror so that she might amuse herself therewith, and make the time pass more easily. And indeed she had only to ask her lord for it, for he, not suspecting her falseness, gave it to her. And in the meantime the old woman was not asleep. She knew where the damsel had put the mirror, stole it, and when she looked into it the negro efrit appeared. “What is thy command?” inquired he of the old woman. “Take me with this damsel to her father’s palace,” was her first command. Her second command made of the youth’s palace a heap of ashes, so that when the young wood-cutter returned home he found nought but the cat meeowing among the ashes. There was also a small piece of meat there; the Sultan’s daughter had thrown it down for the cat.

The youth took up the fragment of meat and set out to seek his consort. Find her he would, though he roamed the whole world over. He went on and on, he searched and searched till he came to the city where his wife lived. He went up to the palace, and there he begged the cook to take him into the kitchen as a servant out of pure compassion. In a couple of days he had learnt from his fellow-servants in the kitchen that the Sultan’s daughter had returned home.

One day the cook fell sick and there was no heart in him to attend to the cooking. The youth, seeing this, bade him rest, and said he would cook the food in his stead. The cook agreed, and told him what to cook, and how to season it. So the youth set to work, roasting and stewing, and when he sent up the dishes, he also sent up the scrap of food that he had found on the ashes, and put it on the damsel’s plate. Scarcely had the damsel cast eyes on this little scrap than she knew within herself that her lord was near her. So she called the cook and asked whom he had with him in the kitchen. At first he denied that he had any one, but at last he confessed that he had taken a poor lad in to assist him.

Then the damsel went to her father and said to him that there was a young lad in the kitchen who prepared coffee so well that she should like some coffee from his hands. So the lad was ordered up, and from thenceforth he prepared the coffee and took it to the Sultan’s daughter. So they came together again, and she told her lord how the matter had gone. Then they took counsel how they should await their turn and get the mirror back again.

Scarcely had the youth gone in to the damsel than the old woman appeared. Although she had not seen him for long, she recognized him, and, looking into the mirror, caused the poor lad to be sent back again to the ashes of his old palace. There he found the cat still squatting. When she felt hungry she caught mice, and such ravages did she make upon them that at last the Padishah of the mice had scarce a soldier left.

Very wroth was the poor Padishah, but he durst not tackle the cat. One day, however, he observed the youth, went up to him, and begged his assistance in his dire distress, for if he waited till the morrow his whole realm would be ruined.

“I’ll help thee,” said the youth, “though, indeed, I have enough troubles of my own to carry already.”

“What is thy trouble?” asked the Padishah of the mice. The youth told him about the history of the piece of looking-glass, and how it had been stolen from him, and into whose hands it had fallen.

“Then I can help thee,” cried the Padishah, whereupon he called together all the mice in the world. And he asked which of them had access to this palace, and which knew of such-and-such an old woman, and the piece of looking-glass. At these words a lame mouse hobbled forth, kissed the ground at the feet of the Padishah, and said that it was his wont to steal food from the old woman’s box. He had seen through the keyhole how she took out a little bit of looking-glass every evening and hid it under a cushion.

Then the Padishah commanded him to go and steal this bit of mirror. The mouse, however, begged that he might have two comrades, sat on the back of one of them, and so went on to the old woman. It was evening when they arrived there, and the old woman was just eating her supper. “We have come at the right time,” said the lame mouse, “we shall get something to eat.” And with that they scampered into the room, satisfied their hunger, and waited for the night. They arranged between them what they should do, and when the old woman lay down they waited till she was asleep. Scarcely had she fallen asleep than the lame mouse leaped into her bed, made for her face, and began tickling her nose with the end of its tail.

“P-chi! p-chi!” the old woman sneezed, so that her head nearly leaped from her shoulders. “P-chi! p-chi!” she sneezed again, and meanwhile the two other little mice rushed out, picked up the piece of looking-glass from underneath the cushion, took the lame mouse on their backs, and hurried home again.

The youth rejoiced greatly at the sight of the mirror, then he took the cat with him so that it should do no more harm to the mice, and went into other parts. There he took out the bit of mirror, looked into it, and lo! the black efrit stood before him and said: “What is thy command, my Sultan?”

The youth asked for a raiment of cloth of gold and a whole army of soldiers, and before he had time to look round, in front of him stood costly raiment, and he put it on; and a beautiful horse, and he sat on its back; and a large army which marched behind him into the city. When he arrived there he stood before the palace, and surrounded it with his soldiers. Oh, how terrified the Padishah was at the sight of that vast army!

The youth went into the palace, and demanded the damsel from her father. In his terror the Padishah gave him not only his daughter but his realm. The old woman was given into the hands of the big-lipped efrit, but the bride and bridegroom lived happily in the midst of their glorious kingdom. And close beside them stood the magic mirror that made all their woes to vanish.

STONE-PATIENCE AND KNIFE-PATIENCE

There was once a poor woman who had one daughter, and this poor woman used to go out and wash linen, while her daughter remained at home at her working-table. One day she was sitting by the window as was her wont, when a little bird flew on to the sewing-table and said to the damsel: “Oh, little damsel, poor little damsel! death is thy Kismet!”[13] whereupon it flew away again. From that hour the damsel’s peace of mind was gone, and in the evening she told her mother what the bird had said to her. “Close the door and the window,” said her mother, “and sit at thy work as usual.”

So the next morning she closed the door and the window and sat her down at her work. But all at once there came a “Whirr-r-r-r!” and there was the little bird again on the work-table. “Oh, little damsel, poor little damsel! death is thy Kismet,” and with that it flew away again. The damsel was more and more terrified than ever at these words, but her mother comforted her again: “To-morrow,” said she, “close fast the door and the window, and get into the cupboard. There light a candle, and go on with thy work!”