Imagine the joy of Champalak when he perceived the princess! “What joy, what rapture, that thou hast come!” cried Champalak; but fondle her and caress her as he might, the damsel did nothing but weep. Days passed by, weeks passed by, and yet the tears never left the damsel’s eyes. “Tell me at least what thy talisman is,” said the damsel to him one day, “if thou wouldst see me happy and not wretched with thee all thy days.”
“Alas, my soul!” said the dragon, “my talisman is guarded in a place whither it is impossible ever to come. It is in a large palace in a neighbouring realm, and though one may venture thither for it, no one has ever been able to get back again.”
The prince needed no more, that was quite good enough for him. He took his bridle, went with it to the sea-shore, and summoned his golden-maned steed. “What dost thou command me, little Sultan?” said the steed. “I desire thee to convey me to the neighbouring realm, to the palace of the talisman of the dragon Champalak,” cried the youth—and in no more time than it takes to wink an eye, the palace stood before him.
Then the steed said to the youth: “When we reach the palace thou wilt tie the bridle to two iron gates, and when I neigh once and strike my iron hoofs together, a door will open. In this open door thou wilt see a lion’s throat, and if thou canst not kill that lion at one stroke, escape, or thou art a dead man.” With that they went up to the palace, he tied the horse to the two iron gates by his bridle, and when he neighed the door flew open. The youth struck with all his might at the gaping throat of the lion in the doorway and split it right in two. Then he cut open the lion’s belly, and drew out of it a little gold cage with three doves in it, so beautiful that the like of them is not to be found in the wide world. He took one of them and began softly stroking and caressing it, when all at once—pr-r-r-r!—away it flew out of his hand. The steed galloped swiftly after it, and if he had not caught it and wrung its neck it would have gone hard with the good youth.
Then he mounted his steed again, and in the twinkling of an eye he stood once more before Champalak’s palace. In the gateway of the palace he killed the second dove, so that when the youth entered the dragon’s room, there the monster lay quite helpless, and there was no more spirit in him at all. When he saw the dove in the youth’s hand he implored him to let him stroke it for the last time before he died. The youth’s heart felt for him, and he was just about to hand the bird to him when the princess rushed out, snatched the dove from his hand, and killed it, whereupon the dragon expired before their very eyes. “’Twas well for thee,” said the steed, “that thou didst not give him the dove, for if he had got it, fresh life would have flowed into him.” And with that the steed disappeared, bridle and all.
Then they got together the dragon’s treasures, and went with them to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin. The Padishah was sick for grief at the loss of the damsel, and after searching for her in all parts of the kingdom in vain, was persuaded that she had fallen into the hands of the dragon. And lo! there she stood before him now, hand in hand with the King’s son. Then there was such a marriage-feast in that city that it seemed as if there was no end to it. After the marriage they set out on their journey again, and travelled with a great escort of soldiers to the prince’s father. There they had long held the King’s son to be dead, and would not believe that it was he even now till he had told them the tale of the three seven-headed dragons and the forty damsels.
The fortieth damsel was waiting patiently for him there, and the prince said to his wife: “Behold now my second bride!”—“Thou didst save my life from the dragon,” replied the Princess of Chin-i-Machin, “I therefore give her to thee, do as thou wilt with her!” So they made a marriage-feast for the second bride also, and they spent half their days in the Empire of the prince’s father, and the other half in the Empire of Chin-i-Machin, and their lives flowed away in happiness.
THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTEOUS DAMSEL
There was once upon a time a Padishah who had an only son. His father guarded him as the apple of his eye, and there was not a desire of his heart that was not instantly gratified.
One night a dervish appeared to the King’s son in a dream, and showed him the World’s most beauteous Damsel, and there he drained with her the cup of love. After that the prince became another man. He could neither eat nor drink. Sleep brought him neither pleasure nor refreshment, and he all at once grew sallow and withered. They sent for doctor after doctor, they sent for wizard after wizard, but they could not tell the nature of the malady or find a cure for it.