When the old man had finished the story of the frog, he said, “Brave Hatim, apply your ear to my advice, and turn back in time ere your calamity be past remedy.”—“I am confident,” replied Hatim, “that all you have stated is kindly meant; but remember that I am acting for others, not for myself, and I will never disgrace myself by abandoning a task which I have promised to accomplish: for the sake of God, then, shew me the way, and let me depart.” When the old man saw that Hatim’s resolution was not to be shaken, he yielded to necessity and conducted him out of the city till they came to two roads, when he stopped short and said, “Noble Hatim, proceed on the right-hand road, which will take you through many a city and town. At length you will come to a high mountain, where there are dangers innumerable. Should it please God that you surmount these, you will then come to a spot where the road branches into two. There I would advise you to take the left-hand path, for though that to the right be the nearer, it is highly dangerous; whereas the other, though circuitous, is safe and free from peril.”
Hatim thanked his aged friend, and said, in reply to the latter part of his instructions, “My venerable benefactor, if our life be not decreed, we cannot live; and till the hour appointed by fate, we cannot die. Do you really advise me to shun the path that is short, and hold to that which is circuitous?” The old man smiled, and said, “O Hatim, have you not heard what the poet saith?
‘Take the road that is safe, though it be long;
Marry not a shrew, even if she seem an angel.’
“Farewell, my brave and generous friend, and let me warn you of your danger, if you follow not my directions.” Hatim having taken his leave, proceeded on his way; and in the course of a few days, as he was approaching a large city, the sound of drums and trumpets reached his ear. It seemed as if the inhabitants were in the celebration of some grand festival; and when he drew nearer he found them assembled without the walls in a spacious plain, which was everywhere adorned with finely embroidered sofas and couches. In the midst of the assembly was a constellation of beautiful damsels, some enchanting the heart with their melodious song, and others occupied in the graceful movements of the dance. In another part of the plain were fires, and all the utensils of cookery employed in dressing food.
At length Hatim mingled with the joyful throng, and began to ask one of them what was the cause of such pleasure and mirth. “Stranger,” said they, “our city is every year visited by a formidable dragon, which on the occasion transforms himself into a human shape. We are compelled, on pain of death and destruction, to allow this dragon to carry off his choice of the fairest of our daughters, whether rich or poor. Those that are most beautiful are led forth to these tents, arrayed in fine apparel, adorned with costly jewels, and having their hands perfumed with fragrant scents. The monster in human shape enters the tent where the damsels are assembled, and carries off her on whom his choice rests. We are forced to make this shew of joy, though our hearts are sad, for the appointed day is arrived, and no one knows who is to be the victim. We thus celebrate the nuptials ere we know who is the bride, but for the next seven days our joy is converted into grief and lamentation.”
On hearing this strange circumstance, Hatim concluded that the dragon must be one of the genii. He said to them, “Is it not madness in you to mimic joy at your own destruction?”—“How can we act otherwise?” they replied; “who is the man that can deliver us from our calamity?”—“Be of good cheer,” returned Hatim, “this night I will endeavor, by the aid of heaven, to rid you forever of your evil.” When the people heard this promise, hopeless as it was, they informed their king and grandees of the stranger’s presence. Hatim was quickly introduced, and after the usual salutation, the king asked him, “Are you aware, brave stranger, of the nature of this calamity with which we are afflicted? You say you can avert the impending evil; if you will do so, it will be to me and my subjects the greatest of blessings.”
In reply, Hatim gave the following instructions to the king: “When this dragon has come, and made his choice of your daughters, say to him, that a neighboring prince has just arrived in your city; that he has enjoined upon you not to give away your daughters on any account without his permission. Say further, if the dragon threatens destruction to you and your city, that you will rather bear the consequences of his anger than offend the stranger prince.” The king and his ministers assented to this proposal, and for the whole of that day detained Hatim in their society. Towards evening the dragon approached as usual; and when Hatim was informed of the fact, he asked permission of the king to go and see the monster. The whole assembly came out to see the arrival of the dragon, the size of which was immense. Hatim stood astonished when he saw its head reared aloft like a tall tree, and the stones crushed into powder beneath its weight.
At length the dragon reached the tents, and in presence of the terrified assembly, lashed the ground with his tail; and having performed some fearful contortions, he assumed a human shape. The people then crowded round him to proffer their salutations, and the king invited him to his palace, and placed him upon his own throne. After they had partaken of food and drink, the genius rose up and commanded them to produce their daughters. “Let us proceed to the tent which they at present occupy,” said the king. The genius entered the tent, and after due examination, his choice rested upon the king’s only daughter, who was by far the fairest in the city. He came out and made known his choice to the king, who immediately stated his objections, saying, “A prince of great power has for some time resided at my court, and if I do aught without his consent, he will assuredly destroy both myself and my subjects from off the face of the earth. I must therefore, in the first place, consult him ere I allow one of our daughters to be carried off: if I receive his permission, good; if not, I shall refuse your claim.”
The genius, enraged at such opposition, commanded the king forthwith to produce this daring stranger. Hatim was accordingly conducted before the king of the genii, who thus addressed him: “Brave prince of Yemen, I rejoice to meet you; it is now some time since I have seen you, or even heard of your name. Tell me whence come you at present, and what is your object in exciting the people of this city to rebel against me? Do you really wish that I should destroy them in my wrath?”—“I am far from desiring what you state,” replied Hatim, “but the people of this country are now my subjects, and therefore they are right in withholding their allegiance from other powers. I am most willing, however, to bestow on you the late king’s daughter, provided you comply with the ancient customs of my country.”—“Your request is fair,” replied the prince of the genii; “let me hear, then, what these customs are.”—“The first,” said Hatim, “is this: I have a talisman which once belonged to a wise and illustrious ancestor. It is necessary, then, as a pledge of friendship, that you drink water from a cup touched by that talisman.”