When the dervish found he could not prevail upon prince Bahman, and that he was obstinately bent to pursue his journey notwithstanding his friendly remonstrance, he put his hand into a bag that lay by him and pulled out a bowl, which he presented to him. "Since I cannot prevail on you to attend to my advice," said he, "take this bowl; when you are on horseback throw it before you, and follow it to the foot of a mountain, where it will stop. As soon as the bowl stops, alight, leave your horse with the bridle over his neck, and he will stand in the same place till you return. As you ascend you will see on your right and left a great number of large black stones, and will hear on all sides a confusion of voices, which will utter a thousand injurious abuses to discourage you, and prevent your reaching the summit of the mountain. Be not afraid; but above all things, do not turn your head to look behind you; for in that instant you will be changed into such a black stone as those you see, which are all youths who have failed in this enterprise. If you escape the danger of which I give you but a faint idea, and get to the top of the mountain, you will see a cage, and in that cage is the bird you seek; ask him which are the singing tree and the yellow water, and he will tell you. I have nothing more to say; this is what you have to do, and the danger you have to avoid; but if you are prudent, you will take my advice, and not expose your life. Consider once more while you have time that the difficulty is almost insuperable."
"I am obliged to you for your repeated advice," replied prince Bahman, after he had received the bowl, "but cannot follow it. However, I will endeavour to conform myself to that part of it which bids me not look behind me as I shall ascend the mountain, and I hope to come and see you again soon, and thank you when I have obtained what I am seeking." After these words, to which the dervish made no other answer than that he should be overjoyed to see him again, the prince mounted his horse, took his leave of the dervish with a respectful salute, and threw the bowl before him.
The bowl rolled away unceasingly with as much swiftness as when prince Bahman first hurled it from his hand, which obliged him to put his horse to the same pace to avoid losing sight of it, and when it had reached the foot of the mountain it stopped. The prince alighted from his horse, laid the bridle on his neck; and having first surveyed the mountain, and seen the black stones, began to ascend; but had not gone four steps, before he heard the voices mentioned by the dervish, though he could see nobody. Some said, "Where is that fool going? where is he going? what would he have? do not let him pass." Others, "Stop him, catch him, kill him;" and others with a voice like thunder, "Thief! assassin! murderer!" while some in a gibing tone cried, "No, no, do not hurt him; let the pretty fellow pass, the cage and bird are kept for him."
Notwithstanding all these troublesome voices, prince Bahman ascended with courage and resolution for some time, but the voices redoubled with so loud a din near him, both behind and before, that at last he was seized with dread, his legs trembled under him, he staggered, and finding that his strength failed him, he forgot the dervish's advice, turned about to run down the hill, and was that instant changed into a black stone; a metamorphosis which had happened to many before him, who had attempted the ascent. His horse likewise underwent the same change.
From the time of prince Bahman's departure, the princess Perie-zadeh always wore the knife and sheath in her girdle, and pulled it out several times in a day, to know whether her brother was alive. She had the consolation to understand he was in perfect health, and to talk of him frequently with prince Perviz, who sometimes prevented her by asking her what news.
On the fatal day that prince Bahman was transformed into a stone, as prince Perviz and the princess were talking together in the evening, as usual, the prince desired his sister to pull out the knife to know how their brother did. The princess readily complied, and seeing the blood run down the point was seized with so much horror that she threw it down. "Ah! my dear brother," cried she, "I have been the cause of your death, and shall never see you more! Why did I tell you of the speaking bird, singing tree, and yellow water; or rather, of what importance was it to me to know whether the devout woman thought this house ugly or handsome, or complete or not? I wish to Heaven she had never addressed herself to me? Deceitful hypocrite!" added she, "is this the return you have made for the kind reception I gave you? Why did you tell me of a bird, a tree, and a water, which, imaginary as I am persuaded they are, by my dear brother's death, yet disturb me by your enchantment?"
Prince Perviz was as much afflicted at the death of prince Bahman as the princess; but not to waste time in needless regret, as he knew that she still passionately desired possession of the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water, he interrupted her, saying, "Sister, our regret for our brother is vain and useless; our grief and lamentations cannot restore him to life; it is the will of God, we must submit to it, and adore the decrees of the Almighty without searching into them. Why should you now doubt of the truth of what the holy woman told you? do you think she spoke to you of three things that were not in being? and that she invented them on purpose to deceive you, who had given her no cause to do so, but received her with so much goodness and civility? Let us rather believe that our brother's death is owing to some error on his part, or some accident which we cannot conceive. It ought not therefore to prevent us from pursuing our object. I offered to go this journey, and am now more resolved than ever; his example has no effect upon my resolution; to-morrow I will depart."
The princess did all she could to dissuade prince Perviz, conjuring him not to expose her to the danger of losing two brothers; but he was obstinate, and all the remonstrances she could urge had no effect upon him. Before he went, that she might know what success he had, he left her a string of a hundred pearls, telling her, that if they would not run when she should count them upon the string, but remain fixed, that would be a certain sign he had undergone the same fate as his brother; but at the same time told her he hoped it would never happen, but that he should have the happiness to see her again to their mutual satisfaction.
Prince Perviz, on the twentieth day after his departure, met the same dervish in the same place as his brother Bahman had done before him. He went directly up to him, and after he had saluted, asked him, if he could tell him where to find the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water? The dervish urged the same difficulties and remonstrances as he had done to prince Bahman, telling him, that a young gentleman, who very much resembled him, was with him a short time before; that, overcome by his importunity and pressing instances, he had shewn him the way, given him a guide, and told him how he should act to succeed; but that he had not seen him since, and doubted not but he had shared the same fate as all other adventurers.
"Good dervish," answered prince Perviz, "I know whom you speak of; he was my elder brother, and I am informed of the certainty of his death, but know not the cause." "I can tell you," replied the dervise; "he was changed into a black stone, as all I speak of have been; and you must expect the same transformation, unless you observe more exactly than he has done the advice I gave him, in case you persist in your resolution, which I once more entreat you to renounce."