So he left the Malee’s cottage, and returned to the banyan tree to talk over the matter with the parrots; for he thought they would be able to carry him on their wings across the seven ditches and seven hedges made of spears. When he reached the tree the old parrot said to him, “It is two days since you left us; what news have you brought from the village?” The Rajah answered, “The Panch-Phul Ranee still lives in the house surrounded by the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, and has vowed to marry no man who cannot jump over them; but cannot you parrots, who brought me all the way over the seven seas, carry me on your wings across these great barriers?”
“You stupid man!” answered the old parrot; “of course we could; but what would be the good of doing so? If we carried you across, it would not be at all the same thing as your jumping across, and the Princess would no more consent to marry you than she would now; for she has vowed to marry no one who has not jumped across on foot. If you want to do the thing, why not do it yourself, instead of talking nonsense. Have you forgotten how, when you were a little boy, you were taught to jump by conjurors and tumblers (for the parrot knew all the Rajah’s history)? Now is the time to put their lessons in practice. If you can jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, you will have done a good work, and be able to marry the Panch-Phul Ranee; but if not, this is a thing in which we cannot help you.”
“You reason justly,” replied the Rajah. “I will try to put in practice the lessons I learnt when a boy; meantime, do you stay here till my return.”
So saying, he went away to the city, which he reached by nightfall. Next morning early he went to where the Princess’ bungalow stood, to try and jump the fourteen great barriers. He was strong and agile, and he jumped the seven great ditches, and six of the seven hedges made of spears; but in running to jump the seventh hedge he hurt his foot, and, stumbling, fell upon the spears and died—run through and through with the cruel iron spikes.
When Panch-Phul Ranee’s father and mother got up that morning and looked out, as their custom was, toward their daughter’s bungalow, they saw something transfixed upon the seventh hedge of spears, but what it was they could not make out, for it dazzled their eyes. So the Rajah called his Wuzeer and said to him, “For some days I have seen no one attempt to jump the seven hedges and seven ditches round Panch-Phul Ranee’s bungalow; but what is that which I now see upon the seventh hedge of spears?” The Wuzeer answered, “That is a Rajah’s son, who has failed like all who have gone before him.” “But how is it,” asked the Rajah, “that he thus dazzles our eyes?”
“It is,” replied the Wuzeer, “because he is so beautiful. Of all that have died for the sake of Panch-Phul Ranee, this youth is, beyond doubt, the handsomest.” “Alas!” cried the Rajah, “how many and how many brave men has my daughter killed? I will have no more die for her. Let us send her and the dead man together away into the jungle.”
Then he ordered the servants to fetch the young Rajah’s body. There he lay, still and beautiful, with a glory shining round him as the moonlight shines round the clear bright moon, but without a spark of life.
When the Rajah saw him, he said, “Oh pity, pity, that so brave and handsome a boy should have come dying after this girl! Yet he is but one of the thousands of thousands who have died thus to no purpose. Pull up the spears and cast them into the seven ditches, for they shall remain no longer.”
Then he commanded two palanquins to be prepared and men in readiness to carry them, and said, “Let the girl be married to the young Rajah, and let both be taken far away into the jungle, that we may never see them more. Then there will be quiet in the land again.”
The Ranee, Panch-Phul Ranee’s mother, cried bitterly at this, for she was very fond of her daughter, and she begged her husband not to send her away so cruelly—the living with the dead; but the Rajah was inexorable. “That poor boy died,” he said: “let my daughter die too. I’ll have no more men killed here.”