But though the messengers journeyed far and near, they could find no parents who were willing to give their daughter to the Fish Prince. “No, no,” they said; “our daughters are worth more to us than a lac of gold mohurs. This Muchie Rajah is very large and strong and fierce, and what he wishes is not a bride, but some young girl to eat.”
Now not far from the palace there lived a fakir, whose wife had died and left him with one daughter. This girl, whose name was Balna, was very beautiful. After the death of his first wife the fakir married again. The second wife also had a daughter, but her daughter was as ugly as Balna was beautiful, and as ill-tempered as Balna was sweet and gentle.
The stepmother hated Balna and was very jealous of her, and would have done anything to rid the house of her.
One time the fakir went away on a long journey, leaving his house and all that was in it in the charge of his wife. The messengers were still seeking for a bride for the Muchie Rajah, and as soon as the fakir had gone his wife sent for them, and said, “I have a daughter whom I am willing to let you have for the Fish Prince, and as she is very beautiful I am sure you will be delighted with her.”
The messengers were very glad to hear this, and said they would come for the girl the next day, and bring a lac of gold mohurs to the woman in payment for her.
After they had gone the stepmother called Balna to her and told her what she had promised.
The girl was very much frightened. “Alas!” she cried, “what have you done? The great fish will certainly eat me. If my father had been here he would never have allowed you to sell me.”
“This is silly talk,” answered the stepmother. “Why should the fish eat you? He is lonely and wishes a companion. You ought to be proud and happy to be the wife of a Rajah, even if he is only a fish.”
She then bade the girl go down to the river and wash her saree,[1] that she might be clean and neat when the messengers came for her.
Balna took her saree and went down to the river to wash it, and as she washed it she wept bitterly.