Bar Shalmon could not do this, so he put his shoulder to the door and it yielded quite easily.
A strange sight met his gaze. A beautiful woman, the most beautiful he had ever seen, was seated on a throne of gold, surrounded by fairy attendants who vanished the moment he entered.
"Who art thou?" asked Bar Shalmon, in great astonishment.
"The daughter of the king," replied the princess, "and thy future wife."
"Indeed! How know you that?" he asked.
"Thou hast broken thy promise to my father, the king, not to enter this room," she replied. "Therefore, thou must die, unless—"
"Tell me quickly," interrupted Bar Shalmon, turning pale, "how my life can be saved."
"Thou must ask my father for my hand," replied the princess. "Only by becoming my husband canst thou be saved."
"But I have a wife and child in my native land," said Bar Shalmon, sorely troubled.
"Thou hast now forfeited thy hopes of return," said the princess, slowly. "Once more hast thou broken a promise. It seems to come easy to thee now."