“This little foot is for my sister,
That little foot is for my brother.”
But time, as men count it, passes quickly to its fulfilment, more quickly still passes the time of fairy tales, but quickest of all flies the time of true love. Yet our little people would have lived on happily if there had not been a black female slave in the palace. Jealousy devoured her at the thought that the Padishah had taken to his bosom the ragged damsel from the tree-top rather than herself, and she watched for an opportunity of revenge.
Now there was a beautiful garden in the palace, with a fountain in the midst of it, and there the Sultan’s damsel used to walk about. One day, with a golden saucer in her hand and a silver sandal on her foot, she went towards the great fountain, and the black slave followed after her and pushed her in. There was a big fish in the basin, and it immediately swallowed up the Sultan’s pet damsel. Then the black slave returned to the palace, put on the golden raiment of the Sultan’s damsel, and sat down in her place.
In the evening the Padishah came and asked the damsel what she had done to her face that it was so much altered. “I have walked too much in the garden, and so the sun has tanned my face,” replied the girl. The Padishah believed her and sat down beside her, but the little stag came also, and when he began to stroke them both down with his fore-foot he recognized the slave-girl as he said—
“This little foot is for my sister,
And this little foot is for my brother.”
Then it became the one wish of the slave-girl’s heart to be rid of the little stag as quickly as possible, lest it should betray her.
So after a little thought she made herself sick, and sent for the doctors, and gave them much money to say to the Padishah that the only thing that could save her was the heart of the little stag to eat. So the doctors went and told the Padishah that the sick woman must swallow the heart of the little stag, or there was no hope for her. Then the Padishah went to the slave-girl whom he fancied to be his pet damsel, and asked her if it did not go against her to eat the heart of her own brother?
“What can I do?” sighed the impostor; “if I die, what will become of my poor little pet? If he be cut up I shall live, while he will be spared the torments of those poor beasts that grow old and sick.” Then the Padishah gave orders that a butcher’s knife should be whetted, and a fire lighted, and a cauldron of water put over the fire.
The poor little stag perceived all the bustling about and ran down into the garden to the fountain, and called out three times to his sister—
“The knife is on the stone,
The water’s on the boil,
Haste, little sister, hasten!”