The Sorcerer laughed rather slyly. “But surely his Imperial Majesty will not grudge you the money,” said he.
“Run, Anemone, run, and ask our father!” cried Azalea.
“It would be better for you to look at the guitar before buying it,” remarked the Sorcerer.
Anemone was practical, and this idea struck her as being very wise. “Wait,” she said to her sister, “we will go down to the gate and see it.”
And the two ran down the stairs with a great rustling of silks and clacking of little heels.
When they got out of the door the Sorcerer made another low bow, and held out the musical instrument. Azalea took it eagerly in her hand, and at the same time Badoko made a whistling sound. Two men sprang from behind a bush and threw heavy cloaks over the sisters, winding them so tightly over their mouths that they could not scream, though they tried to with all their might. The wicked Sorcerer laughed aloud, and ordered his men to carry the Princesses down to the river.
The garden opened on a lonely piece of waste ground, so they met no one on the way, reaching the shore and embarking under the shade of a thick tree in a long flat boat. Soon they had pushed off and were floating down the stream, Azalea and Anemone lying covered up under some grass matting, and Badoko steering while his men rowed. Behind them, the city was losing itself in the distance.
When the Princesses were allowed to come out of their hiding-place they found themselves in a wide country; the river wound on through stretches of sand; barren mountains, like great blue stone-heaps, covered the desert. They wept very piteously as they sat huddled together. Before them, Badoko’s grim image sat stiffly against the sky, and behind them, the bare country into which they were going spread for miles and miles; all round was sand and the dry reeds rustled as they passed. They held each other’s hands, and sobbed softly for fear he should hear. They would have liked to ask him if he was going to kill them, but they were much too frightened. Besides this, they were very uncomfortable, and they had left their little fans behind. It was all very dreadful. Just before sunset they stopped by the bare stump of a tree which was sticking up among the rushes; on it sat a black raven looking very wise and cawing loudly. He looked at the matting which covered the girls, and pointed at the Sorcerer with his claw.
“What have you got there?” he asked.
“Mind your own business,” said Badoko, throwing a great stone at him.