Part 12

“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!”

Scarcely had her mother departed with the dawn than the girl closed up everything, lit a candle, and locked herself in the cupboard with her work-table. But scarcely had she stitched two stitches when the bird stood before her again, and said: “Oh, little damsel, poor little damsel! death is thy Kismet!” and whirr-r-r-r! it flew away again. The damsel was in such distress that she scarce knew where she was. She threw her work aside, and began tormenting herself as to what this saying might mean. Her mother, too, could not get to the bottom of the matter, so she remained at home the next day, that she also might see the bird, but the bird did not come again.

So their sorrow was perpetual, and all the joy of their life was gone. They never stirred from the house but watched and waited continually, if perchance the bird might come again. One day the damsels of their neighbour came to them and asked the woman to let her daughter go with them. “If she went for a little outing,” said they, “she might forget her trouble.” The woman did not like to let her go, but they promised to take great care of her and not to lose sight of her, so at last she let her go.

So the damsels went into the fields and danced and diverted themselves till the day was on the decline. On the way home they sat down by a well and began to drink out of it. The poor woman’s daughter also went to drink of the water, when lo! a wall rose up between her and the other damsels, but such a wall as never the eye of man yet beheld. A voice could not get beyond it, it was so high, and a man could not get through it, it was so hard. Oh, how terrified was the poor woman’s daughter, and what weeping and wailing and despair there was among her comrades. What would become of the poor girl, and what would become of her poor mother!

“I will not tell,” said one of them, “for she will not believe us!”--“But what shall we say to her mother,” cried another, “now that she has disappeared from before our eyes?”--“It is thy fault, it is thy fault!” “Twas thou that asked her!” “No, ’twas thou.” So they fell to blaming each other, looking all the time at the great wall.

Meanwhile the mother was awaiting her daughter. She stood at the door of the house and watched the damsels coming. The damsels came weeping sore, and scarce dared to tell the poor woman what had befallen her daughter. The woman rushed to the

[Illustration: The Poor Woman and the Three Damsels.--p. 190.]

great wall, her daughter was inside it and she herself was outside, and so they wept and wailed so long as either of them had a tear to flow.

In the midst of this great weeping the damsel fell asleep, and when she woke up next morning she saw a great door beside the wall. “Happen to me what may, if I am to perish, let me perish, but open this door I will!”--so she opened it. Beyond the door was a beautiful palace, the like of which is not to be seen even in dreams. This palace had a vast hall, and on the wall of this hall hung forty keys. The damsel took the keys and began opening the doors of all the rooms around her, and the first set of rooms was full of silver, and the second set full of gold, and the third set full of diamonds, and the fourth set full of emeralds--in a word, each set of rooms was full of stones more precious than the precious things of the rooms before it, so that the eyes of the damsel were almost blinded by their splendour.

She entered the fortieth room, and there, extended on the floor, was a beautiful Bey, with a fan of pearls beside him, and on his breast a piece of paper with these words written on it: “Whoever fans me for forty days and prays all that time by my side will find her Kismet!” Then the damsel thought of the little bird. So it was by the side of this sleeper that she was to meet her fate! So she made her ablutions, and, taking the fan in her hand, she sat down beside the Bey. Day and night she kept on fanning him, praying continually till the fortieth day was at hand. And on the morning of the last day she peeped out of the window and beheld a negro girl in front of the palace. Then she thought she would call this girl for a moment and ask her to pray beside the Bey, while she herself made her ablutions and took a little repose. So she called the negro girl and set her beside the Bey, that she might pray beside him and fan his face. But the damsel hastened away and made her ablutions and adorned herself, so that the Bey, when he awoke, might see his life’s Kismet at her best and rejoice at the sight.

Meanwhile the black girl read the piece of paper, and while the white damsel tarried the youth awoke. He looked about him, and scarcely did he see the black girl than he embraced her and called her his wife. The poor white damsel could scarce believe her own eyes when she entered the room; but the black girl, who was jealous of her, said to the Bey: “I, a Sultan’s daughter, am not ashamed to go about just as I am, and this chit of a serving-maid dares to appear before me arrayed so finely!” Then she chased her out of the room, and sent her to the kitchen to finish her work and boil and fry. The Bey was surprised, but he would not say a word, for the negro girl was his bride, while the other damsel was only a kitchen-wench.

Now the Feast of Bairam fell about this time, and as is the custom at such times, the Bey would fain have given gifts to them of his household. So he went to the negress and asked her what she would like on the Feast of Bairam. And the negress asked for a garment that never a needle had sewn and never scissors had cut. Then he went down into the kitchen and asked the damsel what she would like. “The stone-of-patience has a yellow colour, and the knife-of-patience has a brown handle, bring them both to me,” said the damsel. So the Bey went on his way, and got the negress her garment, but the stone-of-patience and the knife-of-patience he could find nowhere. What was he to do?--he could not return home without the gifts. So he got on board his ship.

The ship had only got half-way when suddenly it stopped short, and could neither go backwards nor forwards. The captain was terrified, and told his passengers that there was some one on board who had not kept his word, and that was why they could not get on. Then the Bey came forward, and said that he it was who had not kept his word. So they put the Bey ashore, that he might keep his promise and then return back to the ship. Then the Bey walked along the sea-shore, and from the sea-shore he came to a great valley, and he went wandering on and on till he stood beside a large spring. And he had scarce trodden on the stones around it when suddenly a huge negro stood before him and asked him what he wanted.

“The stone-of-patience is of a yellow colour and the knife-of-patience has a brown sheath, bring them both to me!” said the Bey to the negro. And the next moment both the stone and the knife were in his hand, and he came back to the ship, went on board, and returned home. He gave the garment to his wife, but the stone and the knife he put in the kitchen. But the Bey was curious to know what the damsel would do with them, so one evening he crept down into the kitchen and watched her.

When night approached she took the knife in her hand and placed the stone in front of her and began telling them her story. She told them what the little bird had thrice told her, and in what great terror both her mother and herself had fallen.

And while she was looking at the stone it suddenly began to swell, and its yellow hue hissed and bubbled as if there were life in it.

Then the damsel went on to say how she had wandered into the palace of the Bey, how she had prayed forty days beside him, and how she had entrusted the negress with the praying while she went to wash and dress herself.

And the yellow stone swelled again, and hissed and foamed as if it were about to burst.

Then the damsel told how the negress had deceived her, how instead of her the Bey had taken the negress to wife.

And all this time the yellow stone went on swelling and hissing and foaming as if there were a real living heart inside it, till suddenly it burst and turned to ashes.

Then the damsel took the little knife by the handle and said: “Oh, thou yellow patience-stone, thou wert but a stone, and yet thou couldst not endure that I, a tender little damsel, a poor little damsel, should thus be thrust out.” And with that she would have buried the knife in her breast, but the Bey rushed forward and snatched away the knife.

“Thou art my real true Kismet,” cried the youth, as he took her into the upper chamber in the place of the negress. But the treacherous negress they slew, and they sent for the damsel’s mother and all lived together with great joy.

And the little bird came sometimes and perched in the window of the palace, and sang his joyful lay. And this is what he sang: “Oh, little damsel, happy little damsel, that hast found thy Kismet!”

THE GHOST OF THE SPRING AND THE SHREW

Once upon a time which was no time if it was a time, in the days when my mother was my mother and I was my mother’s daughter, when my mother was my daughter and I was my mother’s mother, in those days, I say, it happened that we once went along the road, and we went on and on and on. We went for a little way and we went for a long way, we went over mountains and over valleys, we went for a month continually, and when we looked behind us we hadn’t gone a step. So we set out again, and we went on and on and on till we came to the garden of the Chin-i-Machin Pasha.[14] We went in, and there was a miller grinding grain, and a cat was by his side. And the cat had woe in its eye, and the cat had woe on its nose, and the cat had woe in its mouth, and the cat had woe in its fore paw, and the cat had woe in its hind paw, and the cat had woe in its throat, and the cat had woe in its ear, and the cat had woe in its face, and the cat had woe in its fur, and the cat had woe in its tail.

Hard by this realm lived a poor wood-cutter, who had nothing in the world but his poverty and a horrid shrew of a wife. What little money the poor man made his wife always took away, so that he had not a single _para_[15] left. If his supper was oversalted--and so it was many a time--and her lord chanced to say to her: “Mother, thou hast put too much salt in the food,” so venomous was she that next day she would cook the supper without one single grain of salt, so that there was no savour in it. But if he dared to say: “There is no savour in the food, mother!” she would put so much salt in it next day that her husband could not eat thereof at all.

Now what was it that befell this poor man one day? This is what befell. He put by a couple of pence from his earnings to buy a rope to hang himself withal. But his wife found them in her husband’s pocket: “Ho, ho!” she cried, “so thou dost hide thy money in corners to give it to thy comrades, eh?” In vain the poor man swore by his head that it was not so, his wife would not believe him. “My dear,” said her husband, “I wanted to buy me a rope with the money.”

“To hang thyself with, eh?” inquired his affectionate spouse.

“Well, thou knowest what a hideous racket thou dost make sometimes,” replied her husband, meaning to pacify her.