“So?” said he, with a look which said that he did not believe it. “We have no tree in all this city, nor anywhere in all this land, but a single orange tree. No one knows how the seed came here. We worship that tree; nothing else.”
“A very pretty sentiment,” said I. “Nothing could be prettier.”
“Hideous!” said he. “The leaves that drop from that tree and die are the cause of all our evil. We fight over them, we steal them, we waste our lives in getting them, and we suffer the agony of the itching palm when they are ours. Will you help me destroy the panther that guards the tree?”
“Certainly not,” said I with a shiver.
“You have made your choice,” said the Fool. “Buffino, give me the mirror.”
The monkey, who had now returned, handed to the dwarf a large mirror, and the Fool held it up before my sister.
Instead of the beautiful person of my sister appeared in the glass the face and figure of an old woman, bent, ugly, and wrinkled. My sister started back in dismay, and the dwarf held up the mirror before myself. It showed me a gross, puffy face with three chins and pig’s eyes, horribly repulsive. I shuddered.
“Just as I thought,” said the Fool. “Tell me now, have you seen the King’s brother?”
“Yes,” said I.
“Will you marry him?” said he to my sister.