CHAPTER IV.
When the Caliph had told his story the owl thanked him and said: “Now you shall hear my story and you will then see that I am no less unhappy than you and your vizier. My father is the King of the Indies, and I am his only and unfortunate daughter, Lusa by name. The same wicked magician Kaschnur, to whom you owe your misfortunes, bewitched me also. One day he came to my father and demanded that I should be given to his son Mizra for a wife, but my father, who is a hasty man, ordered him to be thrown down the steps. The miserable wretch knew, however, how to transform himself and approach me when I was walking in my garden. Disguised as a slave, he offered me a refreshing drink, but one which changed me into this horrible form. Fainting with horror, I was seized by him and carried here, and before leaving me he shrieked these words in a terrible voice—
“‘Here shall you remain, hideous and shunned even by the beasts themselves, until your end comes, or until some person shall be willing, in spite of your dreadful appearance, to make you his wife. This is my revenge upon you and your proud father.’
“All this took place many months ago. Lonely and sad I have passed my miserable days, shunned by all, even the beautiful face of Nature turned from me, for by day I am blind, and it is only when the moon’s faint rays pierce my prison window that the veil falls from my eyes.”
As the owl ceased speaking, she once more wiped her eyes with her wings, for the recital of her woes had caused her tears to flow afresh.
The princess’s story had made the Caliph very serious—“It seems to me,” he said, “that there is a strong resemblance between your trouble and ours, but where shall we find the key to unlock the mystery?”
The owl answered more hopefully, “My lord as I told you, it was prophesied of me in my youth, by a wise woman, that good fortune would come to me by the help of a stork. Now, the magician who was the cause of all our misfortunes comes once a month to these ruins, and feasts and makes merry with his companions in an apartment close by. Many a time I have listened to their conversation and heard them recount their wicked deeds; might it not happen that Kaschnur would perhaps let fall the magic word that would release you, during one of these revels?”
“Oh! dearest princess,” cried the excited Caliph, “tell me, I beseech you, the date of Kaschnur’s next visit!”
The owl was silent for a short space of time, then said she—“Do not be offended if I make a condition with you before granting your wish.”
“What is it,” cried the Caliph, “whatever it is, be sure I shall be willing to grant it you.”
“Well, it is this,” said the owl; “I am as anxious as you are to regain my natural form, and this can only happen if one of you will offer me his hand.”
The storks appeared somewhat taken aback, and the Caliph beckoned his vizier aside.
“Grand vizier,” said he, “it is a great nuisance, but you must just take her.”
“Indeed,” replied the vizier, “and when I reach home my wife will scratch my eyes out for my pains. Besides, I am an old man, whilst you are young and unmarried, and are therefore a more suitable match for a young and beautiful princess.”
“Well, that is the point,” the Caliph sighed sadly; “who told you she was young and beautiful? I don’t care to buy a cat in a bag like that.”
They argued together for some time, but when the Caliph found his vizier would rather remain a stork than marry the owl, he made up his mind to fulfil the condition himself.
THE CALIPH STORK
“The owl warned them to be as silent as the grave”
(p. [25].)
The owl was overjoyed, and assured the two storks they could not have arrived at a more [!-- original location of full page illustration --] [!-- blank page --] opportune moment, for the magicians were to meet there that very night.
So she and the storks left the little room and threaded their way along a dark narrow corridor until they came to a broken-down wall, through the crevices of which a bright light streamed. The owl warned them to be as silent as the grave and pointed out a hole through which they could peep into the great hall beyond.
This hall was magnificently decorated, and lighted up by many different coloured lamps. In the middle of the apartment stood a round table set with a variety of the choicest dishes. Round the table were couches, upon which eight men reclined, and one of these men the storks immediately recognised as the pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour invited him to recount his latest doings, and amongst other stories he recounted that of the Caliph and his vizier.
“What was the magic word you gave them?” asked one of the other magicians.
“A good difficult Latin one—it was ‘Mutabor.’”