Urad, though fearful, yet was so much overcome with fatigue and fright that she sank on the ground; and, happily for her, the enchanter was in no condition to persecute her.
"Curse on my folly," said he, as he stood fixed to the ground, "that I neglected to ask for the bag itself which held the gifts of the genius Houadir! her pretty pupil had then been my slave, in spite of the many fine lessons she had been taught by that pitiful and enthusiastic genius; but now by chance, and not by the merit of thy virtues, or thy education, art thou delivered from my seraglio. But this grieves me not so much to lose a sickly girl as that I find a superior power condemns me to declare to you the causes of your error.
"Know, then, Urad—I speak not from myself, but He speaks who, from casual evil, can work out certain good—He forces me to declare that no specious appearance, no false colours, should incline the virtuous heart to listen to the wiles of deceit; for evil then comes most terrible when it is cloaked under friendship. Why, then, had Urad so great an opinion of her own judgment as to confide in the false appearance of the son of Houadir when she might have consulted her faithful monitors? The falling of a peppercorn would have taught her to trust to no appearances, nor would she have parted with her peppercorns, which were to refresh in her memory the sentiments of virtue, chastity, and honour—no, not to Houadir herself. No adviser can be good who would destroy what he himself has first inculcated; and no appearance ought to bias us to receive as truths those things which are contrary to virtue and religion. How, then, did Urad keep to the instructions of Houadir?"
Thus spoke the enchanter, and no more; his mouth closed up, and he stood fixed and motionless. And Urad, finding her spirits somewhat recovered, hastened out of the hut, and perceived that it was morning.
She had now no more peppercorns to depend upon; wherefore she cried to Houadir to succour her; but the genius was deaf to her entreaties.
"Poor miserable wretch!" said Urad to herself, "what will become of thee, inclosed in a forest through which thou knowest no path? But," continued she, "why should I not examine the enchanter, who perhaps is yet immovable in the cottage? I saw him fold them in the plaits of his garments, and they may yet become mine."
So saying, she returned to the hut, where entering, the very sight of the dumb enchanter affrighted her so much, that it was a long time before she could venture near him. At length she put out her hand, and pulled forth her beloved peppercorns, the enchanter still standing motionless.
Away flew Urad like lightning from the hut, and ran till she had again reached the road from which she had been decoyed.
She continued her journeying for seven days, feeding on the fruits of the forest, and sleeping in the densest thickets.
The eighth day, as she was endeavouring to pass a ford where a small rivulet had been swelled by the rains, she perceived a large body of horsemen riding through the woods, and doubted not that it was the remainder of the gang of robbers whom she had before met with.