“Beauty in tatters!” said Babadag the Tailor
“Come,” said I, “we’ve no time for jesting.”
“But it’s the best joke!” said my daughter. “When I think how I played on those half-wits! I’ve never had such sport in my life! I promised to marry one of them, if they’d choose which—do you remember the three ballad singers?”
“And you have the Shears of Sharpness,” said I.
“How do you know that?” said she. “They’re simply mad! And I wouldn’t promise them anything unless they gave me the Shears. And they did! And I promised! And now you’ve got to get me out of it. Here are the Shears. Take them.”
“I suspect, my dear,” said I, taking the Shears from her, “that these three imbeciles meant that you should have the Shears all the time, and they’ve been making a bit of a fool of you. But there’s no time for talking. Hurry!”
I stepped quickly toward the door, and as I reached it it was blocked by a huge dark figure. It was Babadag.
“Not so fast, peddler,” said he; and then he saw my daughter, who was standing in the band of moonlight, most fairylike and beautiful. He brushed past me and stopped before her, gazing at her in astonishment and admiration.
“Beauty in tatters!” he said. “No wonder that even blind men are conquered. You make me forget the Shears. Surely there is no woman in Oogh so beautiful. Will you look on me kindly? I am powerful, and I offer you a share of my power. It is Babadag who speaks.”
He held out his hand to her, and she shrank away in horror. “No, no!” she screamed. “Father!”