When he visited the King, he excused his absence, saying, “I was on a journey with my father, but here am I, returned once more.” The King led him by the hand into the garden, and the wife of the King again perceiving him she sent for the midwife and demanded of her, “Why do you mock me again, old woman?” Quoth she, “Have patience with me for three days, O Queen; this time will be the beginning and the end.” Then she rode on her pitcher to the island, and asked the young girl, “Has thy brother brought thee the mirror?” “Yes; but still the rose sings not.” “Ah, it only sings with its mistress, who is called Arab Zandyk,” and so saying she departed. Muhammed the Discreet on his return home again found his sister disconsolate, and in answer to his inquiries she said, “I desire Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose and of the mirror, that I may amuse myself with her when you are absent.”
He at once mounted his horse and rode on till he came to the house of the ogress. “How fares it with you, mother ogress?” “What do you want now, Muhammed the Discreet?” “I wish Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose and of the mirror.” Quoth the ogress, “Many kings and pashas have not been able to bring her: she has changed them all into stone; and thou art small and poor—what will become of thee?” “Only, my dear mother ogress, show me the way, and I shall bring her, with the permission of God.” Said the ogress: “Go to the west side of the palace; there you will find an open window. Bring your horse under the window and then cry in a loud voice, ‘Descend, Arab Zandyk!’” Muhammed the Wary went accordingly, halted beneath the window, and cried out, “Descend, Arab Zandyk!” She looked from her window scornfully and said, “Go away, young man.” Muhammed the Discreet raised his eyes and found that half of his horse was changed into stone. A second time cried he in a loud voice, “Descend, Arab Zandyk!” She insulted him and said, “I tell you, go away, young man.” He looked again and found his horse entirely enchanted and half of himself as well. A third time he cried in a loud voice, “I tell you, descend, Arab Zandyk!” She inclined herself half out of the window, and her hair fell down to the ground. Muhammed the Discreet seized it, twined it round his hand, pulled her out, and threw her on the earth. Then said she, “Thou art my fate, Muhammed the Wary; relinquish thy hold of my hair, by the life of thy father the King.” Quoth he, “My father is a fisherman.” “Nay,” she replied, “thy father is the King; by-and-by I will tell thee his history.” Quoth he, “I will leave hold of your hair when you have set at liberty the enchanted men.” She made a sign with her right arm and they were at once set free. They rushed headlong towards Muhammed the Prudent to take her from him, but some of them said, “Thanks to him who hath delivered us: do you still wish to take her from him?” So they left him and went their several ways.
Arab Zandyk then took him by the hand and led him into her castle. She gave her servants orders to build a palace in the midst of the isle of the fisherman, which being accomplished, she took Muhammed the Discreet and her soldiers and proceeded thither, and then said she to him, “Go to the King, and when he asks where you have been, reply, ‘I have been preparing my nuptials and invite you, with your army.’” He went to the King and spoke as Arab Zandyk had instructed him, upon which the King laughed and said to his vazír, “This young man is the son of a fisherman and comes to invite me, with my army!” Quoth the vazír, “On account of your love for him, command that the soldiers take with them food for eight days, and we also will take our provender for eight days.” The King having issued orders to that effect, and all being ready, they all set out, and arriving at the house of the fisherman’s son, they found a large number of beautiful tents erected for the soldiers’ accommodation and the King was astonished. Then came the feasting—one dainty dish being quickly followed by another still more delicious, and the soldiers said among themselves, “We should like to remain here for two years to eat meat and not be obliged to eat only beans and lentils.” They continued there forty days until the nuptials were completed, well content with their fare. Then the King departed with his army. The King sent a return invitation, and Arab Zandyk commanded her soldiers to set out in order to precede her to the capital. When the soldiers arrived they filled the town so that there was scarcely sufficient house-room for them. Then Arab Zandyk set out accompanied by Muhammed and his sister. They entered the royal palace, and as they ascended the staircase Arab Zandyk perceived the mother of Muhammed covered with tar and in chains, so she threw over her a cashmere shawl and covered her. The servants who were standing about said to Arab Zandyk, “Why do you cover her with a shawl? Spit upon her when you go up and also when you come down.” She asked, “Why so?” Said they, “Because she gave birth to two dogs.” Then they went to the King and said, “A lady amongst the strangers has thrown a cashmere shawl over her who is fastened to the staircase, and has covered her without spitting upon her.” The King went and met Arab Zandyk and asked, “Why have you covered her?” Said she, “Give orders that she be conducted to the bath, cleansed, and dressed in a royal robe, after which I will relate her history.” The King gave the required orders, and when she was decked in a royal robe they conducted her into the divan. Then said the King to Arab Zandyk, “Tell me now the history.” Said she, “Listen, O King, the fisherman will speak,” and then Arab Zandyk said to the fisherman, “Is it true that your wife gave birth to Muhammed and his sister at one time or at separate times?” He replied, “My wife has no children.” “Where, then, did you get them?” Quoth he, “I went one morning to fish, and found them in a box on the bank of the river. I took them home, and my wife brought them up.” Arab Zandyk then said, “Hast thou heard, O King?” and turning to his wife, “Are these thy children, O woman?” Said she, “Tell them to uncover their heads that I may see them.” When they uncovered their heads, they were seen to have alternately hair of gold and hair of hyacinth. The King then asked her, “Are these thy children?” “Tell them to weep: if it thunders and rains, they are my children, and if it does not thunder or rain, they are not mine.” The children wept, and it thundered and rained. Then he asked her again, “Are these thy children?” And she said, “Tell them to laugh: if the sun and moon appear, they are my children.” They told them to laugh, and the sun and moon appeared. Then he asked her once more, “Are these thy children?” and she said, “They are my children!” Then the King appointed the fisherman vazír of his right hand, and commanded that the city be illuminated for forty whole days; on the last day he caused his other wife and the old witch (the midwife) to be led out and burnt, and their ashes to be dispersed to the winds.
The variations between this and Galland’s story are very considerable, it must be allowed, and though the fundamental outline is the same in both, they should be regarded as distinct versions of the same tale, and both are represented by Asiatic and European stories. Here the fairy Arab Zandyk plays the part of the Speaking-Bird, which, however, has its equivalent in the preceding tale (No. x.) of Spitta Bey’s collection:
A man dies, leaving three sons and one daughter. The sons build a palace for their sister and mother. The girl falls in love with some one who is not considered as an eligible parti by the brothers. By the advice of an old woman, the girl asks her brothers to get her the singing nightingale, in hope that the bird would throw sand on them and thus send them down to the seventh earth. The eldest before setting out on this quest leaves his chaplet with his younger brother, saying that if it shrank it would be a token that he was dead. Journeying through the desert some one tells him that many persons have been lost in their quest of the singing nightingale: he must hide himself till he sees the bird go into its cage and fall asleep, then shut the cage and carry it off. But he does not wait long enough, and tries to shut the cage while the bird’s feet are still outside, so the bird takes up sand with its feet and throws it on him, and he descends to the seventh earth. The second brother, finding the chaplet shrunk, goes off in his turn, leaving his ring with the youngest brother—if it contract on the finger it will betoken his death. He meets with the same fate as his elder brother, and now the youngest, finding the ring contract, sets out, leaving with his mother a rose, which will fade if he dies. He waits till the singing nightingale is asleep, and then shuts him in the cage. The bird in alarm implores to be set at liberty, but the youth demands first the restoration of his brothers, and the bird tells him to scatter on the ground some sand from beneath the cage, which he does, when only a crowd of negroes and Turks (? Tátárs) appear, and confess their failure to capture the singing nightingale. Then the bird bids him scatter white sand, which being done, 500 whites and the two lost brothers appear and the three return home with the bird, which sings so charmingly in the palace that all the people come to listen to it outside.—The rest of this story tells of the amours of the girl and a black, who, at her instigation, kills her eldest brother, but he is resuscitated by the Water of Life.
Through the Moors, perhaps, the story found its way among the wandering tribes (the Kabail) of Northern Africa, who have curiously distorted its chief features, though not beyond recognition, as will be seen from the following abstract of their version, from M. Rivière’s collection of “Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura” (Paris, 1882):
KABA’IL VERSION.
A man has two wives, one of whom is childless, the other bears in succession seven sons and a daughter. The childless wife cuts off the little finger of each and takes them one by one into the forest, where they are brought up. An old woman comes one day and tells the daughter that if her brothers love her they will give her a bat. The girl cries to her brothers for a bat, and one of them consults an aged man, who sends him to the sea-shore. He puts down his gun under a tree, and a bat from above cries out, “What wild beast is this?” The youth replies, “You just go to sleep, old fellow.” The bat comes down, touches the gun and it becomes a piece of wood; touches the youth and he becomes microscopic. This in turn happens to all the brothers, after which the girl goes to the sea-shore, and when she is under the tree the bat calls out, “What wild beast is this?” But she does not answer; she waits till the bat is asleep, then climbs the tree, and catching the “bird” (sic), asks it where her brothers are, and on her promising to clothe the bat in silver and gold, the creature touches the guns and the brothers, and they are restored to their proper forms. The bat then conducts them to their father’s house, where he asks lodgings and is refused by the childless wife. The husband takes them in however and kills a sheep for their entertainment. The childless wife poisons the meat, and the bat warns the children, bidding them try a cock, a dog, and a cat with it, which is done, and the animals die. The brothers now decline the food and ask that their sister be allowed to prepare somewhat for them to eat. Then the bat touches the eyes of the children, who immediately recognise their parents, and great is the rejoicing. The childless wife is torn in pieces by being dragged at the tail of a wild horse, and the bat, having been dressed in silver and gold, is sent back to his tree.
Sir Richard has given (p. [491], note) some particulars of the version in Hahn’s collection of modern Greek tales, which generally corresponds with Galland’s story. There is a different version in M. Legrand’s “Recueil de Contes Populaires Grecs” (Paris, 1881), which combines incidents in the modern Arabic story of Arab Zandyk with some of those in Galland and some which it has exclusively: