Time went on, and the King’s son was still waiting and waiting for his consort to turn white. Now there was an old woman in the palace who used to teach the dwellers in the harem to read and write. One day as she was going down-stairs she saw something gleaming between the planks of the floor, and going towards it, perceived that it was a bird’s feather that sparkled like a diamond. She took it home and thrust it behind a rafter. The next day she went to the palace, and while she was away the bird’s feather leaped down from the rafter, shivered a little, and the next moment turned into a most lovely damsel. She put the room tidy, cooked the meal, set everything in order, and then leaped back upon the rafter and became a feather again. When the old woman came home she was amazed at what she saw. She thought: “Somebody must have done all this,” so she went up and down, backwards and forwards through the house, but nobody could she see.
Early next morning she again went to the palace, and the feather leaped down again in like manner, and did all the household work. When the old woman came home, she perceived the house all nice and clean, and everything in order. “I really must find out the secret of this,” thought she, so next morning she made as if she were going away as usual, and left the door ajar, but went and hid herself in a corner. All at once she perceived that there was a damsel in the room, who tidied the room and cooked the meal, whereupon the old woman dashed out, seized hold of her, and asked her who she was and whence she came. Then the damsel told her her sad fate, and how she had been twice killed by the black woman, and had come thither in the shape of a feather.
“Distress thyself no more, my lass,” said the old woman. “I’ll put thy business to rights, and this very day, too.” And with that she went straight to the King’s son and invited him to come and see her that evening. The King’s son was now so sick unto death of his black bride that he was glad of any excuse to escape from his own house, so the evening found him punctually at the old woman’s. They sat down to supper, and when the coffee followed the meats, the damsel entered with the cups, and when the King’s son saw her he was like to have fainted. “Nay, but, mother,” said the King’s son, when he had come to himself a little, “who is that damsel?”
“Thy wife,” replied the old woman.
“How didst thou get that fair creature?” inquired the King’s son. “Wilt thou not give her to me?”
“How can I give her to thee, seeing that she was thine own once upon a time,” said the old woman; and with that the old woman took the damsel by the hand, led her to the King’s son, and laid her on his breast. “Take better care of the Orange-Peri another time,” said she.
The King’s son now nearly fainted in real earnest, but it was from sheer joy. He took the damsel to his palace, put to death the black slave-girl, but held high festival with the Peri for forty days and forty nights. So they had the desire of their hearts, and may Allah satisfy your desires likewise.
THE ROSE-BEAUTY
Once upon a time in the old old days when straws were sieves, and the camel a chapman, and the mouse a barber, and the cuckoo a tailor, and the donkey ran errands, and the tortoise baked bread, and I was only fifteen years old, but my father rocked my cradle, and there was a miller in the land who had a black cat—in those olden times, I say, there was a King who had three daughters, and the first daughter was forty, and the second was thirty, and the third was twenty. One day the youngest daughter wrote this letter to her father: “My lord father! my eldest sister is forty and my second sister is thirty, and still thou hast given neither of them a husband. I have no desire to grow grey in waiting for a husband.”
The King read the letter, sent for his three daughters, and addressed them in these words: “Look now! let each one of you shoot an arrow from a bow and seek her sweetheart wherever her arrow falls!” So the three damsels took their bows. The eldest damsel’s arrow fell into the palace of the Vizier’s son, so the Vizier’s son took her to wife. The second girl’s arrow flew into the palace of the Chief Mufti’s son, so they gave her to him. The third damsel also fired her arrow, and lo! it stuck in the hut of a poor young labourer. “That won’t do, that won’t do!” cried they all. So she fired again, and again the arrow stuck in the hut. She aimed a third time, and a third time the arrow stuck in the hut of the poor young labourer. Then the King was wroth and cried to the damsel: “Look now, thou slut! thou hast got thy deserts. Thy sisters waited patiently, and therefore they have got their hearts’ desires. Thou wast the youngest of all, yet didst thou write me that saucy letter, hence thy punishment. Out of my sight, thou slave-girl, to this husband of thine, and thou shalt have nought but what he can give thee!” So the poor damsel departed to the hut of the labourer, and they gave her to him to wife.