When prince Camaralzaman had given all necessary orders, and made the requisite arrangements in the camp, he returned to the tent, and as he perceived that the princess had fallen asleep, he came in and sat down, without making any noise. While he was thus sitting, with the intention of sleeping himself also, the girdle of the princess caught his eye. He examined the different diamonds and rubies with which it was enriched, one by one; and he perceived a small silk purse, sewn neatly to the girdle, and tied with a piece of twist. On touching it, he felt that it contained something hard: curious to know what it was, he opened the purse, and took out a cornelian, upon which there were different figures and characters engraven, all of which were unintelligible to him. “This cornelian,” said he to himself, “must certainly be of very great value, or my princess would never carry it about with her, and take such great care not to lose it.” In fact, this cornelian was a talisman, which the queen of China had given to her daughter to ensure her happiness, which she would ever enjoy, as long as she wore this about her.
In order to examine this talisman the better, as the tent was rather dark, prince Camaralzaman went to the outside; when, as he was holding it in his hand, a bird made a sudden dart from the air upon it and carried it away.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment and grief of the prince, when he perceived the talisman thus unexpectedly taken from him by the bird. This accident, the most afflicting that could have befallen him, and occasioned to by an ill-timed curiosity, deprived the princess of a precious gift; this reflection rendered him for some minutes motionless.
The bird having flown away with his prize alighted on the ground at a little distance, with the talisman still in his beak. Prince Camaralzaman went towards him in the hope of his dropping it; but as soon as he approached, the bird flew a little way and then stopped again. The prince continued to pursue him; the bird then swallowed the talisman and took a longer flight. He again followed him, thinking to kill him with a stone. The farther the bird got from him, the more was Camaralzaman determined not to lose sight of him and obtain the talisman.
Over hills and valleys the bird drew the prince after him for the whole day, always getting farther from the spot where he had left the princess Badoura; and at the close of day, instead of perching in a bush, in which Camaralzaman might have surprised him during the night, he flew to the top of a high tree, where he was in safety.
The prince, extremely mortified at having taken so much useless trouble, deliberated whether he should return to his camp. “But,” thought he, “how shall I return? Shall I climb the hills and traverse the valleys over which I came? Shall I not lose my way in the dusk of the evening, and will my strength hold out? And even if I could, should I venture to present myself before the princess without her talisman?” Absorbed by these disconsolate reflections, and overcome with fatigue, with hunger, thirst, and sleep, he laid down and passed the night at the foot of the tree.
The next morning Camaralzaman was awake before the bird had quitted the tree, and he no sooner saw him take his flight than he got up to pursue him, and followed him the whole of that day with as little success as he had done on the preceding one, eating occasionally of the herbs and fruits he met with in his way. He did the same till the tenth day, always keeping his eye on the bird, and sleeping at night at the foot of the tree where it perched on its highest branches.
On the eleventh day, the bird constantly flying on, and Camaralzaman as constantly pursuing, they arrived at a large city. When the bird was near the walls, he rose very high above them, and bending his flight to the other side, the prince entirely lost sight of him, and with him the hope of ever recovering the talisman of the princess Badoura.
Afflicted as he was in so many ways, and hopeless of procuring relief to his sorrows, he entered the city, which was built on the sea-shore, with a very fine harbour. He walked for a considerable time along the streets, not knowing either where he was, or where to go; at length he arrived at the harbour. Still more uncertain what to do, he walked along the shore, till he came to the gate of a garden, which was open, when he stopped. The gardener, who was a good old man, engaged with his labour, happened to raise his head at the same moment; he had scarcely perceived him, and known him to be a stranger and a mussulman, before he invited him to go in quickly and shut the gate. Camaralzaman did as he desired, and going up to the gardener, asked him why he had made him take this precaution. “It is,” replied the gardener, “because I see that you are a stranger just arrived, and a mussulman; and this city is inhabited for the most part by idolaters, who have a mortal aversion against mussulmen, and treat even the few that are here very ill, who profess the religion of our prophet. You, I suppose, are ignorant of this circumstance, and I look on it as a miracle, that you should have proceeded so far as this without meeting with any disagreeable adventure. In fact, these idolaters are above all things attentive to observe mussulmen strangers who arrive; and to make them fall into some snare, if they are not aware of their wickedness. I praise God, that he has conducted you into a place of safety.”
Camaralzaman thanked this good man very gratefully for the retreat he so generously offered to shelter him from insult. He was going to say more, but the gardener interrupted him: “Let us have no more compliments,” said he, “you are fatigued, and you must want food; come and rest yourself. He took him into his little house, and after the prince had eaten a sufficiency of what the gardener had set before him, with a cordiality that quite won his heart, he begged of him to have the goodness to tell him the reason of his coming.