“But what was the Khan’s secret?” demanded the Prince, when the Siddhi-kur had finished his tale.
“Oh, that,” said the Siddhi-kur, “was very simple; haven’t you guessed it yet? The Khan had ears that were large and pointed like the ears of an ass, and he was frightfully ashamed of them. But the widow made him a tall velvet cap with lappets that came down over them, and after that he felt perfectly comfortable about himself. Of course such caps became the style in the kingdom, and I believe they are worn in the East, in court circles, this very day! [[110]]
“But I have tarried long enough! My heart yearns again for my mango tree in the cool grove beside the garden of ghost children. Farewell, O Prince! Since you have again broken silence on the homeward way, you have no longer any power to hold me!”
The shame and remorse of the Prince at having failed again were pitiful to see, but knowing that tears and self-accusation were of no avail, he turned around and set off at a smart pace after the disappearing form of the Siddhi-kur.
“I have a story in mind,” said the Siddhi-kur, as he journeyed once more in the magic sack on the back of the Prince toward the cave of the master, Nagarguna, “a very ancient story of a king’s son as faithful and wise as yourself, my friend. Come now, would you like me to tell it?”
The Prince nodded his head, resolving [[111]]within himself that on no account whatever would he open his lips this time to comment on the story. So the Siddhi-kur began at once. [[112]]