The following day, when the husband returned, he again applied to the parrot to be informed of what had taken place. The bird replied, “My dear master, the lightning, the thunder, and the rain, have so disturbed me the whole night, that I cannot tell you how much I have suffered.” The husband, who knew there had been no storm that night, became convinced that the parrot did not always relate facts; and that having told an untruth in this particular, he had also deceived him with respect to his wife: being therefore extremely enraged with it, he took the bird out of the cage, and dashing it on the floor, killed it: he, however, afterwards learnt from his neighbours, that the poor parrot had told no story of the conduct of his wife, which made him repent of having destroyed it.
“When the Greek king,” said the fisherman to the Genius, “had finished the story of the parrot, he added, “You, vizier, through envy of Douban, who has done you no evil, wish me to order his death, but I will take good care, lest, like the husband who killed his parrot, I should afterwards repent.”
The vizier was too desirous of the death of Douban to let it rest here. “Sire,” replied he, “the loss of the parrot was of little importance, nor do I think his master could long have regretted it. But on what account should the dread of oppressing the innocent prevent you from destroying this physician. Is it not a sufficient reason that he is accused of attempting your life to authorise you to take away his? When the life of a king is in question, a bare suspicion ought to be equal to a certainty; and it is better to sacrifice the innocent than save the guilty. But this, Sire, by no means rests on an uncertainty. The physician Douban positively wishes to assassinate you. It is not envy that makes me hostile to him, it is the interest alone that I take in your majesty’s preservation; it is my zeal, which induces me to give my advice on so important an occasion. If my information is false, I deserve the same punishment that a certain vizier underwent formerly.”—“What had that vizier done, worthy of chastisement?” said the Greek king.—“I will tell your majesty,” answered the vizier, “if you will have the goodness to listen.”
THE HISTORY
OF THE VIZIER, WHO WAS PUNISHED.
There was formerly a king, whose son was passionately fond of hunting. His father, therefore, often indulged him in this diversion; but at the same time gave positive orders to his grand vizier always to accompany, and never lose sight of him.
One hunting morning, the prickers roused a stag, and the prince set off in pursuit, thinking the vizier followed him. He galloped so long, and his eagerness carried him so far, that he at last found himself quite alone. He immediately stopped, and observing that he had lost his way, he endeavoured to return back by the same, in order to join the vizier, who had not been sufficiently attentive in following him. He was, however, unable to find it; and riding about on all sides, without getting into the right track, he by chance met a lady, not ill made, who was weeping most bitterly. The prince immediately checked his horse, and inquired of her who she was, what she did alone in that place, and whether he could assist her. “I am,” she answered, “the daughter of an Indian king. In riding out into the country, I was overcome with sleep, and fell from my horse. He has run away, and I know not what has become of him.” The young prince was sorry for her misfortune, and proposed to take her up behind him, which she accepted.
As they passed by an old ruined building, the lady made some excuse to alight; the prince therefore stopped, and suffered her to get down. He also alighted, and walked towards the building, holding his horse by the bridle. Imagine then what was his astonishment, when he heard the female pronounce these words from within the walls, “Rejoice, my children, I have brought you a very nice fat youth.” And directly afterwards other voices answered, “Where is he mama? Let us eat him instantly, for we are very hungry.”
The prince had heard enough to convince him of the danger he was in: he plainly perceived, that she, who represented herself as the daughter of an Indian king, was no other than the wife of one of those savage demons, called Ogres, who live in desert places, and make use of a thousand wiles to surprise and devour the unfortunate passengers. He trembled with fear, and instantly mounted his horse.
The pretended princess at that moment made her appearance, and finding she had failed in her scheme, “Do not be afraid,” she cried, “but tell me who you are, and what you are looking for?”—“I have lost my way,” he replied, “and am endeavouring to find it.”—“If you are lost,” she said, “recommend yourself to God, and he will deliver you from your difficulty.”