When the thief had seen all this, he slipped away nimbly, and the night, which was spent in tumult, gradually passed away, and then the merchant’s son was taken by his father-in-law to the king, together with his wife who had been deprived of her nose. And the king, after he had been informed by them of the circumstances, ordered the execution of the young merchant, on the ground that he had maimed his own wife, rejecting with contempt his version of the story. Then, as he was being led to the place of execution, with drums beating, the thief came up to the king’s officers and said to them, “You ought not to put this man to death without cause; I know the circumstances, take me to the king, that I may tell him the whole story.” When the thief said this, they took him to the king, and after he had received a promise of pardon, he told him the whole history of the night from the beginning. And he said, “If your Majesty does not believe my words, look at once at the woman’s nose, which is in the mouth of that corpse.” When the king heard that, he sent servants to look, and finding that the statement was true, he gave orders that the young merchant should not suffer capital punishment. But he banished his wicked wife from the country, after cutting off her ears also, and punished his father-in-law by confiscating all his wealth, and being pleased with the thief, he made him chief magistrate of the city.
“So you see that females are naturally wicked and treacherous.” When the parrot had told this tale, the curse imposed on him by Indra lost its force, and he became once more the Gandharva Chitraratha, and assuming a celestial form, he went to heaven. And at the same moment the maina’s curse came to an end, and she became the heavenly nymph Tilottamá, and went at once to heaven. And so their dispute remained undecided in the judgment-hall.
When the Vetála had told this tale, he again said to the king, “So let your Majesty decide, which are the worst, males or females. But if you know and do not say, your head shall split in pieces.”
When the king was asked this question by the Vetála, that was on his shoulder, he said to him, “Chief of magicians, women are the worst. For it is possible that once in a way a man may be so wicked, but females are, as a rule, always such everywhere.” When the king said this, the Vetála disappeared, as before, from his shoulder, and the king once more resumed the task of fetching him.
Note.
Oesterley tells us that in the Vetála Cadai the two stories are told by two parrots, and the same is the case in the Turkish Tútínámah, Rosen, 2, p. 92.
The 1st story is found in the Turkish Tútínámah. The principal difference is that the parents of the extravagant man die after his first crime; after he has spent his property, he begs in a cemetery, and is there recognized by his wife; they live some time together, and then set out to return to his house. On the way they pass the old well, and there he murders her. There are some similar points in the 11th story of the Siddhikür. [See Sagas from the Far East, pp. 120–125.]
The second story is found in Babington’s Vetála Cadai, p. 44. The lover receives a mortal wound, being taken for a thief, and in the agony of death bites off the nose of the adulteress. She smears her husband’s betel-knife with the blood, and accuses him of the murder. The city-guards clear the matter up.
The 2nd story is found in a very different form in the Siddhikür, No. 10; in Jülg, p. 100. [See Sagas from The Far East, pp. 115–119.] Here a younger brother is not invited to supper by an elder, so he determines to rob him out of revenge. He observes his brother’s wife go to a cemetery to see her dead lover, who, when she tries to feed him by force, bites off her nose and the tip of her tongue. Of course when she accuses her husband, the younger brother reveals the secret.