King Baharkan, desiring one day to amuse himself with pearl-fishing, embarked in a vessel with a design to coast along the shores of his kingdom in search of pearls. An unexpected storm drove the ship into the open sea. It became the sport of the winds and the waves, and, stripped of all its rigging, ran aground on an unknown shore, and was dashed to pieces against the rocks which surrounded it. The whole crew perished. Baharkan alone was saved from shipwreck by a plank which he had had the good fortune to seize. Fortunately, he landed on the dominions of the monarch whose son had shot away his ear, and whom he had pardoned.
Night began to descend when Baharkan landed. He wanted neither courage nor vigour, and therefore took the first road that presented itself, which led to a large fortified city. But, as the gates had just been shut, he was forced to wait without till next day, and to pass the night in a neighbouring churchyard.
Day began to appear, and the gates were opened. The first persons who came from the city found, at the gate of the churchyard, a man who had been murdered. Baharkan was coming out of it at the same time. The efforts he had made in the evening to reach the coast with his plank had given him some slight wounds, from which the blood was still trickling. This proof appeared sufficient in the eyes of the bystanders: he was taken for the murderer, and carried to prison.
There this unfortunate Prince, left to his own reflections, thus communed with himself: "Heaven chastises thee, Baharkan. Thou wast cruel, vindictive, and inexorable. With thee humanity had no value. Thou sacrificedst thy brethren on the slightest suspicion. Behold thyself now on a level with the vilest of mortals. Thou hast met with no more than thy desert."
As he rendered this terrible justice to himself, he perceived in the air a vulture, which hovered above the prison in the court of which he was walking. He instinctively took a flint, and threw it with great force at the bird, which avoided the stroke; but, in falling, the stone accidentally struck the same Prince Tirkan who formerly had carried off his ear by the stroke of an arrow. It wounded him exactly on the ear, but not so severely as Baharkan had been. Pain forced a cry from the young Prince, which brought all his courtiers around him. Surgeons were sent for, who soon cured this slight wound.
The King ordered a search to be made, in order to discover the person who had thrown the stone. Baharkan was accused by his fellow-prisoners of picking up and throwing it. He was brought before the monarch, who condemned him to lose his head, since, besides this, he believed him to be the murderer of the man who had been assassinated near the churchyard. The executioner of justice had already taken off the turban which covered him, and was drawing the sword from its scabbard, when the King, examining attentively the head which had just been uncovered, perceived that it wanted an ear.
"It appears," said he to the criminal, "that this is not your first offence. For what crime have you been already condemned to lose an ear?"
Baharkan, having assumed a manly spirit since his misfortunes, replied, with boldness, "Sire, if I have committed crimes, I owe no account of them but to Heaven; and till it should have determined to punish me, human justice had no right to inflict it. I have been, in one word, your equal—I was a King. The ear which I want was unfortunately carried off by an arrow, which escaped from the bow of one of my officers, whose name was Tirkan. Impelled by the first emotion of anger, I condemned him to death. He besought my pardon, and obtained it. My name is Baharkan."
Tirkan, without giving him time to finish, had already thrown himself into his arms. He recognized at once his ancient master and his deliverer. Baharkan, far from being punished, was treated as a King, and an unfortunate one. He related the adventure which had landed him in the dominions of Tirkan's father. The latter communicated to him his own, and especially the unfortunate accident which had wounded Baharkan.
"Recollect, sire," added he, "that in soliciting a pardon, I ventured to promise you, from Heaven, the same favour which I expected from you. Here you have received it, under the very same circumstances, through the instrumentality of my father."