All this time Panch-Phul Ranee waited and waited for her husband, but he never came. Night approached without his having brought her any food or news of having found a place of shelter for her and the baby. At last, faint and weary, she swooned away.
It happened that that very day the Ranee (Panch-Phul Ranee’s husband’s mother) lost her youngest child, a fine little boy of only a day old; and her servants took its body to the bottom of the garden to bury it. Just as they were going to do so, they heard a low cry, and, looking round, saw close by a beautiful woman lying on the ground, dead, or apparently so, and beside her a fine little baby boy. The idea immediately entered their heads of leaving the dead baby beside the dead woman, and taking her living baby back with them to the palace; and so they did.
When they returned, they said to their mistress, “Your child did not die; see here it is—it got well again,” and showed her Panch-Phul Ranee’s baby; but after a time, when the Ranee questioned them about it, they told her the whole truth, but she had become meanwhile very fond of the little boy, and so he continued in the palace and was brought up as her son; being, in truth, her grandson, though she did not know it.
Meantime the palace Malee’s wife went out, as her custom was every morning, and evening, to gather flowers. In search of them she wandered as far as the jungle at the bottom of the garden, and there she found the Panch-Phul Ranee lying as dead, and the dead baby beside her.
The good woman felt very sorry, and rubbed the Ranee’s cold hands and gave her sweet flowers to smell, in hopes that she might revive. At last she opened her eyes, and seeing the Malee’s wife, said, “Where am I? has not my husband come back? and who are you?”
“My poor lady,” answered the Malee’s wife, “I do not know where your husband is. I am the Malee’s wife, and coming here to gather flowers, I found you lying on the ground, and this your little baby, which is dead; but come home with me, I will take care of you.”
Panch-Phul Ranee answered, “Kind friend, this is not my baby; he did not die; he was the image of his father, and fairer than this child. Some one must have taken him away, for but a little while ago I held him in my arms, and he was strong and well, while this one could never have been more than a puny, weakly infant. Take me away; I will go home with you.”
So the Malee’s wife buried the dead child and took the Panch-Phul Ranee to her house, where she lived for fourteen years; but all that time she could learn no tidings of her husband or her lost little boy. The child, meanwhile, grew up in the palace, and became a very handsome youth. One day he was wandering round the garden and chanced to pass the Malee’s house. The Panch-Phul Ranee was sitting within, watching the Malee’s wife cook their dinner.
The young Prince saw her, and calling the Malee’s wife, said to her, “What beautiful lady is that in your house? and how did she come there?” She answered, “Little Prince, what nonsense you talk! there is no lady here.” He said again, “I know there is a beautiful lady here, for I saw her as I passed the open door.” She replied, “If you come telling such tales about my house, I’ll pull your tongue out.” For she thought to herself, “Unless I scold him well, the boy’ll go talking about what he’s seen in the palace, and then perhaps some of the people from there will come and take the poor Panch-Phul Ranee away from my care.” But whilst the Malee’s wife was talking to the young Prince, the Panch-Phul Ranee came from the inner room to watch and listen to him unobserved; and no sooner did she see him than she could not forbear crying out, “Oh, how like he is to my husband! The same eyes, the same shaped face and the same king-like bearing! Can he be my son? He is just the age my son would have been had he lived.”
The young Prince heard her speaking and asked what she said, to which the Malee’s wife replied, “The woman you saw, and who just now spoke, lost her child fourteen years ago, and she was saying to herself how like you were to that child, and thinking you must be the same; but she is wrong, for we know you are the Ranee’s son.” Then Panch-Phul Ranee herself came out of the house, and said to him, “Young Prince, I could not, when I saw you, help exclaiming how like you are to what my lost husband was, and to what my son might have been; for it is now fourteen years since I lost them both.” And she told him how she had been a great Princess, and was returning with her husband to his own home (to which they had got halfway in reaching that place), and how her little baby had been born in the jungle, and her husband had gone away to seek shelter for her and the child, and fire and food, and had never returned; and also how, when she had fainted away, some one had certainly stolen her baby and left a dead child in its place; and how the good Malee’s wife had befriended her, and taken her ever since to live in her house. And when she had ended her story she began to cry.