‘I am a weaver, and from day to day can barely live. God has given me nobody to help me in my work. I have an only daughter, and she is an invalid. For nine years she has not risen from her bed; I can assure thee she gives me no help.’ When the prince heard this, he bit his little finger with vexation, and became melancholy. He did not close his eyes that night. He was thinking all the time how he might get rid of his fate.
In the middle of the night, when every one was snoring and slept like the dead, the prince rose silently, stole from his bedchamber, and quietly entered the room of the weaver’s daughter. When he saw her he was inwardly troubled, he drew forth his dagger, and plunged it into her. Then he noiselessly went away, left his money behind him, and stole forth into the night.
He went home to his father, and complained of the evil fate written for him. His father was very indignant at this, but hid his anger, and comforted his son.
Some time passed. One day the prince went out to hunt. He saw in a lonely wood a beautiful palace, and, in the palace, a maiden fair as the sun. The prince could have gazed for ever on her beauty. He looked a long time, then looking from a distance would not satisfy him. He spurred his horse, and when he came near he was even more struck with the loveliness of the maiden. He descended from his horse, came to her and asked her to marry him. When he had heard with joy her sweet words of consent, he went gaily home.
On the way, his head swam with pleasure at the thought of the welcome change; instead of the unhappy fate promised him, he was to have such a beautiful wife. He told his father what had happened to him, and asked him to prepare for the wedding. The king rejoiced at the happiness of his beloved son, and made preparations for a grand wedding.
Some days after they were married, the prince laid his hand on his lovely wife’s heart, and felt something hard like a wart. He said: ‘What is this?’ His wife replied: ‘I am a poor weaver’s daughter; for nine years I lay in bed, a helpless invalid, yellow as a cucumber. Once there came a youth to my father’s house for shelter. He plunged his dagger into me, then fled with haste, and went on his way. I was very sick, but my mother put a plaster on my side and I was completely cured. The guest left three bags of money behind him, and with these we bought a beautiful palace, my father gave up weaving, and we lived without a care.’ When the prince heard this, he said: ‘O God! Thy decrees are not vain and futile!’ Then he told his beloved wife all that had happened to him.
VI
Ghvthisavari (I am of God)
There was once a king, who had a daughter so beautiful, that he was in constant fear lest some one should carry her away by force and marry her. So he had a huge tower built in the sea. He shut his daughter up in this tower, with an attendant, and felt relieved.