The Caliph, by the story of the Princess, was plunged into deep thought. ‘If I am not mistaken,’ said he, ‘there is between our misfortunes a secret connection; but where can I find the key to this riddle?’ The owl answered him: ‘O Master! such is also my belief; for once in my infancy a wise woman foretold that a stork should bring me a great fortune, and I know one way by which perhaps we may free ourselves.’ The Caliph was very much surprised, and asked what way she meant. ‘The enchanter who has made us both unhappy,’ said she, ‘comes once every month to these ruins. Not far from here is a hall where he holds orgies with numerous companions. Often have I spied them there. They then relate to one another their vile deeds. Perhaps he may pronounce the magic word which you have forgotten.’ ‘O dearest Princess,’ exclaimed the Caliph, ‘say when comes he, and where is the hall?’
The owl was silent a moment, and then said: ‘You must not take it ill, but only on one condition can I fulfil your wish.’ ‘Speak out, speak out,’ cried Chasid. ‘Command all, everything of me.’
‘It is this, that I may also become free, which can only be if one of you offer me his hand.’
The stork seemed somewhat taken aback at this proposition, and the Caliph beckoned to his servant to go out with him a little.
‘Grand Vizier,’ said the Caliph outside, ‘this is a sorry bargain, but you might take her.’ ‘Indeed!’ answered the Grand Vizier; ‘that my wife when I come home may scratch out my eyes? Besides, I am an old man, while you are still young and single, and could better give your hand to a young and fair Princess.’
‘That is just it,’ sighed the Caliph, whilst sadly drooping his wings. ‘Who then has told thee that she is young and fair? It is buying a pig in a poke.’
They consulted one with the other for a long time. At last when the Caliph saw that his Vizier would rather remain a stork than wed the owl, he resolved to fulfil the condition himself. The owl was immensely pleased. She confessed to them that they could not have come at a more favourable time, for the enchanters were very likely to assemble that night.
She quitted the chamber with the storks to lead them to the hall. They went a long way through a gloomy passage; at length, through a half-fallen wall, gleamed a bright light. Having arrived there, the owl advised them to remain perfectly quiet. They could, through the gap near which they stood, overlook a great hall. It was supported all round by pillars, and splendidly decked. Many brilliant coloured lamps replaced the light of day. In the centre of the hall was a round table, covered with many and choice meats. Round this table was a couch, on which sat eight men. In one of these men the stork recognised the pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour asked him to relate his latest deeds. Amongst others he also related the story of the Caliph and his Vizier.
‘What sort of word hast thou given them?’ asked another enchanter. ‘A very difficult Latin one, namely, “Mutabor.”’
When the storks heard this at their hole in the wall they were nearly beside themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so quickly to the threshold of the ruins that the owl could hardly follow them. There the Caliph addressed the owl with emotion: ‘Deliverer of my life and of the life of my friend, accept me in eternal gratitude for thy spouse for that which thou hast done for us.’ He then turned to the East. Thrice the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which just then was rising behind the mountains. ‘Mutabor!’ they exclaimed; and straightway they were changed, and in the great joy of their new-sent life master and servant fell into each other’s arms laughing and crying. But who can describe their astonishment on turning round? A lovely lady, grandly dressed, stood before them. Smiling, she gave her hand to the Caliph. ‘Do you no longer recognise your night-owl?’ she said. It was she. The Caliph was so charmed with her beauty and grace that he exclaimed: ‘My greatest fortune was that of having been a stork.’