In the evening the lion came home sure enough, and when they had sat down together and begun to talk, the girl asked him what he would do if any of her brothers should chance to come there. “If the eldest were to come,” said the lion, “I would strike him dead with one blow, if the second came I would slay him also, but if the youngest came, I would let him go to sleep on my paws if he liked.”

“Then he has come,” said his wife.

“Where is he—where is he? Bring him out, let me see him!” cried the lion; and when the King’s son appeared, the lion did not know what to do with himself for joy. Then they began to talk, and the lion asked him why he had come there, and whither he was going. The youth told him what had happened, and said he was going to seek the Wind-Demon.

“I know but the rumour of him,” said the lion; “but take my word for it, thou hadst better have nothing to do with him, for there is none that can cope with the Wind-Demon.” But the King’s son would not listen to reason, remained there that night, and next morning mounted his horse again. The lion accompanied him to show him the right way, and then they parted, one going to the right and the other to the left.

Again he went on and on, till he saw another palace, and this was the palace of his middling sister. The damsel saw from the window that a man was on the road, and no sooner did she recognize him than she rushed out to meet him, and led him into the palace. Full of joy, they conversed together till the evening, and then the damsel said to the youth: “In a short time my tiger-husband will be here, I’ll hide thee from him, lest a mischief befall thee,” and she took her brother and hid him.

In the evening the tiger came home, and while they talked together his wife asked him what he would do if any of her brothers should chance to look in upon them.

“If the elder were to come,” said the tiger, “I would strike them dead, but if the youngest came, I would go down on my knees before him.” Whereupon the damsel called to her youngest brother, the King’s son, to come forth. The tiger was overjoyed to see him, welcomed him as a brother, and asked him whence he came and whither he was going. Then the King’s son told the tiger of all his trouble, and asked him whether he knew the Wind-Demon. “Only by hearsay,” replied the tiger; and then he tried to persuade the King’s son not to go, for the danger was great. But the red dawn had no sooner appeared than the King’s son was ready to set out again. The tiger showed him the way, and the one went back and the other went forward.

He pursued his way, and it was endlessly long, but time passes quickly in a fairy tale, and at last a dark object stood out against him. “What can it be?” thought he, but when he drew nearer he saw that it was a palace. It was the abode of his youngest sister. The damsel was just then looking out of the window. “Alas! my brother!” cried she, and very nearly fell out of the window for pure joy. Then she led him into the house. The youth rejoiced that he had found all his sisters so well, but the lack of his wife was still a weight upon his heart.

Now when evening was drawing nigh the girl said to her brother: “My bird-husband will be here anon; conceal thyself from him, for if he see thee he will tear thy heart out,” and with that she took her brother and hid him.

And now there was a great clapping of wings, and the Anka had scarce rested a while when his wife asked him what he would do if any of her brothers came to see them.

“As to the two elder,” said the bird, “I would take them in my mouth, fly up to the sky with them, and cast them down from thence; but if the youngest were to come, I would let him sit down on my wings and go to sleep there if he liked.” Then the girl called forth her youngest brother.

“Alas! my dear little child,” cried the bird, “how didst thou find thy way hither? Wert thou not afraid of the long journey?”

The youth told what had happened to him, and asked the Anka whether he could help him to get to the Wind-Demon.

“It is no easy matter,” said the bird; “but even if thou couldst get to him, I would counsel thee to let it alone and stay rather among us.”

“Not I,” replied the resolute youth; “I will either release my wife or perish there!” Then the Anka saw that he could not turn him from his purpose, and began to explain to him all about the palace of the Wind-Demon. “He is now asleep,” said the Anka, “and thou mayest be able to carry off thy wife; but if he should awake and see thee, he will without doubt grind thee to atoms. Guard against him thou cannot, for eye cannot see and fire cannot harm him, so look well to thyself!”

So next day the youth set out on his journey, and when he had gone on and on for a long, long time, he saw before him a vast palace that had neither door nor chimney, nor length nor breadth. It was the palace of the Wind-Demon. His wife chanced just then to be sitting at the window, and when she saw her husband she leaped clean out of the window to him. The King’s son caught his wife in his arms, and there were no bounds to their joy and their tears, till at last the girl bethought her of the terrible demon.

“This is now the third day that he has slept,” cried she; “let us hasten away before the fourth day is spent also.” So they mounted, whipped up their horses, and were already well on their way when the Wind-Demon awoke on the fourth day. Then he went to the girl’s door and bade her open, that he might at least see her face for a brief moment. He waited, but he got no answer. Then, auguring some evil, he beat in the door, and lo! the place where the damsel should have lain was cold.

“So-ho, Prince Mehmed!” cried he, “thou hast come here, eh, and stolen away my Sultana? Well, wait a while! go thy way, whip up thy fleet steed! for I’ll catch thee up in the long run.” And with that he sat down at his ease, drank his coffee, smoked his chibook, and then rose up and went after them.

Meanwhile the King’s son was galloping off with the girl with all his might, when all at once the girl felt the demon’s breath, and cried out in her terror: “Alas, my King, the Wind-Demon is here!” Like a whirlwind the invisible monster was upon them, caught up the youth, tore off his arms and legs, and smashed his skull and all his bones till there was not a bit of him left.

The damsel began to weep bitterly. “Even if thou hast killed him,” sobbed she, “let me at least gather together his bones and pile them up somewhere, for if thou suffer it, I would fain bury him.”—“I care not what thou dost with his bones!” cried the Demon.

So the damsel took the bones of the King’s son, piled them up together, kissed the horse between the eyes, placed the bones on his saddle, and whispered in his ear: “Take these bones, my good steed, take them to the proper place.” Then the Demon took the girl and led her back to the palace, for the power of her beauty was so great that it always kept the Demon close to her. Into her presence, indeed, she never suffered the monster to come. At the door of her chamber he had to stop, but he was allowed to show himself to her now and then.

Meanwhile the good steed galloped away with the youth’s bones till he stopped at the door of the palace of the youngest sister, and then he neighed and neighed till the damsel heard him. She rushed out to the horse, and when she perceived the knapsack, and in the knapsack the bones of her brother, she began to weep bitterly, and dashed herself against the ground as if she would have dashed herself to pieces. She could hardly wait for her lord the Anka to come home. At last there was a sound of mighty wings, and the Padishah of the Birds, the emerald Anka, came home, and when he saw the scattered bones of the King’s son in the basket, he called together all the birds of the air and asked them, saying: “Which of you goes to the Garden of Paradise?”

“An old owl is the only one that goes there,” said the birds, “and he has now grown so old that he has no more strength left for such a journey.”

Then the Anka sent a bird to bring the owl on his back. The bird flew away, and in a very short time was back again, with the aged owl on his back.

“Well, my father,” said the Bird-Padishah, “hast thou ever been in the Garden of Paradise?”

“Yes, my little son,” croaked the aged owl, “a long, long time ago, twelve years or more, and I haven’t been there since.”

“Well, if thou hast been there,” said the Anka, “go again now, and bring me from thence a little glass of water.” The old owl kept on saying that it was a long, long way for him to go, and that he would never be able to hold out the whole way. The Anka would not listen to him, but perched him upon a bird’s back, and the twain flew into the Garden of Paradise, drew a glass of water, and returned to the Anka’s palace.

Then the Anka took the youth’s bones and began to put them together. The arms, the legs, the head, the thighs, everything he put in its proper place; and when he had sprinkled it all with the water, the youth fell a-gaping, as if he had been asleep and was just coming to himself again. The youth looked all about him, and asked the Anka where he was, and how he came there.

“Didn’t I say that the Wind-Demon would twist thee round his little finger?” replied the Anka. “He ground all thy bones and sinews to dust, and we have only just now picked them all out of the basket. But now thou hadst better leave the matter alone, for if thou gettest once more into the clutches of this demon, I know that we shall never be able to put thee together again.”

But the youth was not content to do this, but said he would go seek his consort a second time.

“Well, if thou art bent on going at any price,” counselled the Anka, “go first to thy wife and ask her if she knows the Demon’s talisman. If only thou canst get hold of that, even the Wind-Demon will be in thy power.”

So again the King’s son took horse, again he went right up to the Demon’s palace, and as the Demon was dreaming dreams just then, the youth was able to find and converse with his wife. After they had rejoiced with a great joy at the sight of each other, the youth told the lady to discover the secret of the Demon’s talisman, and win it by wheedling words and soft caresses if she could get at it no other way. Meanwhile the youth hid himself in the neighbouring mountain, and there awaited the good news.

When the Wind-Demon awoke from his forty days’ sleep he again presented himself at the damsel’s door. “Depart from before my eyes,” cried the girl. “Here hast thou been doing nothing but sleep these forty days, so that life has been a loathsome thing to me all the while.”

The Demon rejoiced that he was allowed to be in the room along with the damsel, and in his happiness asked her what he should give her to help her to while away the time.

“What canst thou give me,” said the girl, “seeing that thou thyself art but wind? Now if at least thou hadst a talisman, that, at any rate, would be something to while away the time with.”

“Alas! my Sultana,” replied the Demon, “my talisman is far away, in the uttermost ends of the earth, and one cannot fetch it hither in a little instant. If only we had some such brave man as thy Mehmed was, he perhaps might be able to go for it.”

The damsel was now more curious than ever about the talisman, and she coaxed and coaxed till at last she persuaded the Demon to tell her about the talisman, but not till she had granted his request that he might sit down quite close to her. The damsel could not refuse him that happiness, so he sat down beside her, and breathed into her ear the secret of the talisman.

“On the surface of the seventh layer of sea,” began the Demon, “there is an island, on that island an ox is grazing, in the belly of that ox there is a golden cage, and in that cage there is a white dove. That little dove is my talisman.”

“But how can one get to that island?” inquired the Sultana.

“I’ll tell thee,” said the Demon. “Opposite to the palace of the emerald Anka is a huge mountain, and on the top of that mountain is a spring. Every morning forty sea-horses come to drink at that spring. If any one can be found to catch one of these horses by the leg (but only while he is drinking the water), bridle him, saddle him, and then leap on his back, he will be able to go wherever he likes. The sea-horse will say to him: ‘What dost thou command, my sweet master?’ and will carry him whithersoever he bids him.”

“What good will the talisman be to me if I cannot get near it?” said the girl. With that she drove the Demon from the room, and when the time of his slumber arrived, she hastened with the news to her lord. Then the King’s son made great haste, leaped on his horse, hastened to the palace of his youngest sister, and told the matter to the Anka.

Early next morning the Anka arose, called five birds, and said to them: “Lead the King’s son to the spring on the mountain beyond, and wait there till the sea-horses come up. Forty steeds will appear by the running water, and when they begin to drink, seize one of them, bridle and saddle it, and put the King’s son on its back.”

So the birds took the King’s son, carried him up to the mountain close by the spring, and as soon as the horses came up, they did to one of them what the Anka had said. The King’s son sat on the horse’s back forthwith, and the first thing the good steed said was: “What dost thou command, my sweet master?”

“There is an island on the surface of the seventh ocean,” cried the King’s son, “there should I like to be!” And the King’s son had flown away before you could shut your eyes; and before you could open them again, there he was on the shore of that island.

He dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, stuck it in his pocket, and went off to seek the ox. As he was walking up and down the shore a Jew met him, and asked him what had brought him there.

“I have suffered shipwreck,” replied the youth. “My ship and everything I possess have perished, and only with difficulty did I swim ashore.”

“As for me,” said the Jew, “I am in the service of the Wind-Demon. Thou must know that there is an ox on this island, and I must watch it night and day. Wouldst thou like to enter the service? Thou wilt have nothing else to do all day but watch this beast.”

The King’s son took advantage of the opportunity, and could scarce await the moment when he was to see the ox. At watering-time the Jew brought it along, and no sooner did he find himself alone with the beast than he cut open its belly, took out the golden cage, and hastened with it to the sea-shore. Then he drew the bridle from his pocket, and when he had struck the sea with it, the steed immediately appeared and cried: “What dost thou command, sweet master?”—“I desire to be taken to the palace of the Wind-Demon,” cried the youth.

Shut your eyes, open your eyes—and there they were before the palace. Then he took his wife, made her sit down beside him, and when the steed said: “What dost thou command, sweet master?” he bade it fly straight to the emerald Anka.

Away with them flew the steed. It flew right up to the very clouds, and as they were approaching the Anka’s palace the Demon awoke from his sleep. He saw that his wife had again disappeared, and immediately set off in pursuit. Already the Sultana felt the breath of the Demon, and he had all but overtaken them when the steed hastily bade them twist the neck of the white dove in the cage. They had barely time to do so, when the Wind died away and the Demon was destroyed.

With great joy they arrived at the Anka’s palace, let the horse go his way, and rested themselves awhile. On the next day they went to their second brother, and on the third day to their third brother, and it was only then that the King’s son discovered that his lion brother-in-law was the King of the Lions, and his tiger brother-in-law the King of the Tigers. At last they reached their home which was the domain of the damsel’s. Here they made a great banquet, and rejoiced their hearts for forty days and forty nights, after which they arose and went to the prince’s own empire. There he showed them the tongue of the dragon and its nose, and as he had thus fulfilled the wishes of his father, they chose him to be their Padishah; and their lives were full of joy till the day of their death, and their end was a happy one.

THE CROW-PERI

Once upon a time that was no time there was a man who had one son. This man used to go out into the forest all day, and catch birds for sale to the first comer. At last, however, the father died and the son was left all alone. Now he did not know what had been his fathers profession, but while he was searching all about the floor he came upon the fowling-snare. So he took it, went out into the forest, and set the snare on a tree. At that moment a crow flew down upon the tree, but as the snare was cunningly laid the poor bird was caught. The youth climbed up after it, but when he had got hold of the bird, the crow began begging him to let her go, promising to give him in exchange something more beautiful and more precious than herself. The crow begged and prayed till at last he let her go free, and again he set the snare in the tree and sat down at the foot of it to wait. Presently another bird came flying up, and flew right into the snare. The youth climbed up the tree again to bring it down, but when he saw it he was full of amazement, for such a beautiful thing he had never seen in the forest before.

While he was still gazing at it and chuckling, the crow again appeared to him and said: “Take that bird to the Padishah, and he will buy it from thee.” So the youth took away the bird, put it in a cage, and carried it to the palace. When the Padishah saw the beautiful little creature he was filled with joy, and gave the youth so much money for it that he did not know what to do with it all. But the bird they placed in a golden cage, and the Padishah had his joy of it day and night.

Now the Padishah had a favourite who was grievously jealous of the good fortune of the youth who had brought the bird, and kept cudgelling his brains how he could get him beneath his feet. At last he hit upon a plan, and going in to the Padishah one day he said: “How happy that bird would be if only he had an ivory palace to dwell in!”

“Yes,” replied the Padishah, “but whence could I get enough ivory to make him a palace?”

“He who brought the bird hither,” said the favourite, “will certainly be able to find the ivory.”

So the Padishah sent for the little fowler, and bade him make an ivory palace for the bird there and then. “I know thou canst get the ivory,” said the Padishah.

“Alas, my lord Padishah!” lamented the youth, “whence am I to get all this ivory from?”

“That is thy business,” replied the Padishah. “Thou mayest search for it for forty days, but if it is not here by that time thy head shall be where now thy feet are.”

The youth was sore troubled, and while he was still pondering in his mind which road he should take, the crow came flying up to him, and asked him what he was grieving about so much. Then the youth told her what a great trouble that one little bird had brought down upon his head.

“Why this is nothing at all to fret about,” said the crow; “but go to the Padishah, and ask him for forty wagon-loads of wine!” So the youth returned to the palace, got all that quantity of wine, and as he was coming back with the cars, the crow flew up and said: “Hard by is a forest, on the border of which are forty large trenches, and as many elephants as there are in the wide world come to drink out of these trenches. Go now and fill them with wine instead of water. The elephants will thus get drunk and tumble down, and thou wilt be able to pull out their teeth and take them to the Padishah.”

The youth did as the bird said, crammed his cars full of elephants’ tusks instead of wine, and returned with them to the palace. The Padishah rejoiced greatly at the sight of all the ivory, had the palace built, rewarded the little fowler with rich gifts, and sent him home.

So there was the sparkling bird in his ivory palace, and right merrily did he hop about from perch to perch, but he could never be got to sing. “Ah!” said the evil counsellor, “if only his master were here he would sing of his own accord.”

“Who knows who his master is, or where he is to be found?” asked the Padishah sadly.

“He who fetched the elephants’ tusks could fetch the bird’s master also,” replied the evil counsellor.

So the Padishah sent for the little fowler once more, and commanded him to bring the bird’s master before him.

“How can I tell who his master is, when I caught him by chance in the forest?” asked the fowler.

“That is thy look-out,” said the Padishah; “but if thou find him not I will slay thee. I give thee forty days for thy quest, and let that suffice thee.”

So the youth went home, and sobbed aloud in his despair, when lo! the crow came flying up and asked him what he was crying for.

“Why should I not cry?” said the poor youth, and with that he began to tell the crow of his new trouble.—“Nay, but ’tis a shame to weep for such a trifle,” said the crow. “Go quickly now to the King and ask him for a large ship, but it must be large enough to hold forty maidservants, a beautiful garden also, and a bath-house.” So the youth returned to the King and told him what he wanted for his journey.

The ship was prepared as he had desired it, the youth embarked, and was just thinking whether he should go to the left or the right, when the crow came flying up, and said to him: “Steer thy ship always to the right, and go straight on until thou perceive a huge mountain. At the foot of this mountain dwell forty Peris, and when they perceive thy ship they will feel a strong desire to look at everything on board of it. But thou must allow only their Queen to come on board, for she is the owner of the bird, and while thou art showing her the ship, set sail and never stop till thou reach home.”

So the youth went on board the ship, steered steadily to the right, and never stopped once till he came to the mountain. There the forty Peris were walking on the sea-shore, and when they saw the ship they all came rushing up that they might examine the beautiful thing. The Queen of the Peris asked the little fowler whether he would not show her the ship, especially the inside of it, and he took her off in a little skiff and brought her to the vessel.

The Peri was monstrously delighted with the beautiful ship, walked in the garden with the damsels on board the ship, and when she saw the bath-room she said to the waiting-maids: “If I have come so far, I may as well have a bath into the bargain.” With that she stepped into the bath-room, and while she was bathing the ship went off.

They had gone a good distance across the sea before the Peri had finished her bathing. The Peri made haste, for it was now growing late, but when she stepped upon the deck she saw nothing but the sea around her. At this she fell a-weeping bitterly. What would become of her? she said; whither was she going? into whose hands was she about to fall? But the youth comforted her with the assurance that she was going to a King’s palace, and would be among good people.

Not very long afterwards they arrived in the city, and sent word to the King that the ship had come back. Then he brought the Peri to the palace, and as she passed by the ivory palace of the bird, it began to sing so beautifully that all who heard it were beside themselves for joy. The Peri was a little comforted when she heard it, but the King was filled with rapture, and he loved the beautiful Peri so fondly that he could not be a single moment without her. The wedding-banquet quickly followed, and with the beauteous Peri on his right hand, and the sparkling bird on his left, there was not a happier man in the world than that Padishah. But the poison of envy devoured the soul of the evil counsellor.

One day, however, the Sultana suddenly fell ill, and took to her bed. Every remedy was tried in vain, but the sages said that nothing could cure her but the drug which she had left behind her in her own fairy palace. Then, by the advice of the evil counsellor, the young fowler was again sent for to the palace, and commanded to go and seek for the drug.

So the good youth embarked on his ship again, and was just about to sail when the crow came to him and asked him whither he was going. The youth told her that the Sultana was ill, and he had been sent to fetch the drug from the fairy palace. “Well then, go!” said the crow, “and thou wilt find the palace behind a mountain. Two lions stand in the gates, but take this feather and touch their mouths with it, and they will not lift so much as a claw against thee.”

The youth took the feather, arrived in front of the mountain, disembarked, and quickly beheld the palace. He went straight up to the gates, and there stood the two lions. He took out his feather, and no sooner had he touched their mouths than they lay down one on each side and let him go into the palace. The Peris about the palace also saw the youth, and immediately guessed that their Queen was ill. So they gave him the drug, and immediately he took ship again, and returned to the palace of the Padishah. But the moment he entered the Peri’s chamber with the drug in his hand, the crow alighted on his shoulder, and thus they went together to the sick Sultana’s bed.

The Sultana was already in the throes of death, but no sooner had she tasted of the healing drug than she seemed to return to life again at a single bound. She opened her eyes, gazed upon the little fowler, and perceiving the crow upon his shoulder thus addressed her: “Oh, thou sooty slave! art thou not sorry for all that this good youth hath suffered for my sake?” Then the Sultana told her lord that this same crow was her serving-maid, whom, for negligence in her service, she had changed into a crow. “Nevertheless,” she added, “I now forgive her, for I see that her intentions towards me were good.”

At these words the crow trembled all over, and immediately a damsel so lovely stood before the young fowler that there was really very little difference between her and the Queen of the Peris. At the petition of the Sultana, the Sultan married the youth to the Crow-Peri, the evil-minded counsellor was banished, and the fowler became Vizier in his stead. And their happiness lasted till death.

THE FORTY PRINCES AND THE SEVEN-HEADED DRAGON

“Let the fortieth of you take another wife,” said the Padishah to his sons. But the forty brothers would not agree thereto, and they begged their father to allow them to go and search if haply they might find what they wanted in another empire. What could the Padishah do? He could not refuse them their request, so he gave them his permission. But before they departed he summoned them into his presence, and this is what their father the Padishah said to them: “I have three things to say to you, which bear ye well in mind. When ye come in your journey to a large spring, take heed not to pass the night near it. Beyond the spring is a caravanserai; there also ye must not abide. Beyond the caravanserai is a vast desert; and there also ye must not take a moment’s rest.” The sons promised their father that they would keep his words, and with baggage light of weight but exceedingly precious, they took horse and set out on their journey.

They went on and on, they smoked their chibooks and drank forty cups of coffee, and when evening descended the large spring was right before them. “Verily,” began the elder brethren, “we will not go another step further. We are weary, and the night is upon us, and what need forty men fear?” And with that they dismounted from their horses, ate their suppers, and laid them down to rest. Only the youngest brother, who was fourteen years of age, remained awake.

It might have been near midnight when the youth heard a strange noise. He caught up his arms, and turning in the direction of the sound saw before him a seven-headed dragon. They rushed towards each other, and thrice the dragon fell upon the prince, but could do him no harm. “Well, now it is my turn,” cried the youth; “wilt thou be converted to the true faith?” and with these words he struck the monster such a blow that six of his seven heads came flying down.

“Strike me once more,” groaned the dragon.

“Not I,” replied the youth, “I myself only came into the world once.” Immediately the dragon fell to pieces, but his one remaining head began to roll and roll and roll till it stood on the brink of the well. “Whoever can take my soul out of this well,” it said, “shall have my treasure also,” and with these words the head bounded into the well.

The youth took a rope, fastened one end of it to a rock, and seizing the other end himself, lowered himself into the well. At the bottom of the well he found an iron door. He opened it, passed through, and there right before him stood a palace compared with which his father’s palace was a hovel. Into this palace he went, and in it were forty rooms, and in each room was a damsel sitting by her embroidery frame with enormous treasures behind her. “Art thou a man or a spirit?” cried the terrified damsels.—“A man am I, and the son of a man,” replied the prince. “I have just slain a seven-headed dragon, and have followed its rolling head hither.”

Oh, how the forty damsels rejoiced at hearing these words. They embraced the youth, and begged and prayed him not to leave them there. They were the children of one father and one mother they said. The dragon had killed their parents and carried them off, and they had nobody to look to in the whole wide world.

“We also are forty,” said the youth, “and we are seeking forty damsels.” Then he told them that he would first of all ascend to his brethren, and then he would come for them again. So he ascended out of the well, went to the spring, lay down beside it and fell asleep.

Early in the morning the forty brothers arose and laughed at their father for trying to frighten them with the well. Again they set out on their way, and went on and on till evening overtook them, when they perceived a caravanserai before them. “Not a step further will we go,” said the elder brothers. The youngest brother indeed insisted that it would be well to remember their father’s words, for his speech could surely not have been in vain. But they laughed at their youngest brother, ate and drank, said their prayers, and lay down to sleep. Only the youngest brother remained wide awake.

About midnight he again heard a noise. The youth snatched up his arms, and again he saw before him a seven-headed dragon, but much larger than the former one. The dragon rushed at him first of all, but could not overcome him, then the youth dealt him one blow and off went six of the dragon’s heads. Then the dragon wished him to take one more blow but he would not; the head rolled into a well, the youth went after it, and came upon a palace larger than the former one, and with ever so much more treasures and precious things in it. He marked the well so that he should know it again, returned to his brothers, and wearied out with his great combat slept so soundly that his brothers had to wake him up with blows next morning.

Again they arose, took horse, went up hill and down dale, and just as the sun was setting, behold! a vast desert stood before them. They fell to eating straightway, drank their fill also, and were just going to lie down to sleep when all at once such a roaring, such a bellowing arose that the very mountains fell down from their places.

The princes were horribly afraid, especially when they saw coming against them a gigantic seven-headed dragon. He vomited forth venomous fire in his wrath, and roared furiously: “Who killed my two brothers? Hither with him! I’ll try conclusions with him also!”

The youngest brother saw that his brethren were more dead than alive from fear, so he gave them the keys of the two wells, in one of which was the vast heap of treasure, and in the other the forty damsels. Let them take everything home, he said; as for himself he must first slay the dragon and then he would follow after them. The thirty-nine brothers lost no time in mounting their horses and galloping off. They drew the treasure out of one well and the forty damsels out of the other, and so returned home to their father. But now we will see what happened to the youngest brother.

He fought the dragon and the dragon fought him, but neither could get the better of the other. The dragon perceived that it was vain to try and vanquish the youth, so he said to him: “If thou wilt go to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin[12] and fetch me thence the Padishah’s daughter, I will not worry the life out of thee.” To this the prince readily agreed, for he could not have sustained the conflict much longer.

Then Champalak, for that was the dragon’s name, gave the prince a bridle and said to him: “A good steed comes hither to feed every day, seize him, put this bridle in his mouth, and bid him take thee to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin!” So the youth took the bridle and waited for the good charger. Presently a golden-maned charger came flying through the air, and the moment the prince had put the bridle in its mouth, the charger said: “What dost thou command, little Sultan?” and before you could wink your eyes, the Empire of Chin-i-Machin stood before him. Then he dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, and went into the town. There he entered into an old woman’s hut and asked her whether she received guests. “Willingly,” answered the old woman. Then she made ready a place for him, and while he was sipping his coffee he asked her all about the talk of the town. “Well,” said the old woman, “a seven-headed dragon is very much in love with our Sultan’s daughter. A war has been raging between them on that account these many years, and the monster presses us so hardly that not even a bird can fly into our realm.”

“Then where is the Sultan’s daughter?” asked the youth.—“In a little palace in the Padishah’s garden,” replied the old woman, “and the poor thing dare not put her foot outside it.”

The next day the youth went to the Padishah’s garden, and asked the gardener to take him as a servant, and he begged and prayed till the gardener had not the heart to refuse him. “Very well, I will take thee,” said he, “and thou wilt have nought to do but water the flowers of the garden.”

Now the Sultan’s daughter saw the youth, called him to her window, and asked him how he had managed to reach that realm. Then the youth told her that his father was a Padishah, that he had fought with the dragon Champalak on his travels, and had promised to bring him the Sultan’s daughter. “Yet fear thou nothing,” added the youth, “my love is stronger than the love of the serpent, and if thou wilt only have the courage to come with me, trust me to find a way of disposing of him.”

The damsel was so much in love with the prince, and so eager to escape from her captivity, that she consented to trust herself to him, and one night they escaped from her palace and went straight towards the desert where dwelt the dragon Champalak. They agreed on the way that the girl should find out what the dragon’s talisman was, that they might destroy him that way if they could do it no other.

Imagine the joy of Champalak when he perceived the princess! “What joy, what rapture, that thou hast come!” cried Champalak; but fondle her and caress her as he might, the damsel did nothing but weep. Days passed by, weeks passed by, and yet the tears never left the damsel’s eyes. “Tell me at least what thy talisman is,” said the damsel to him one day, “if thou wouldst see me happy and not wretched with thee all thy days.”

“Alas, my soul!” said the dragon, “my talisman is guarded in a place whither it is impossible ever to come. It is in a large palace in a neighbouring realm, and though one may venture thither for it, no one has ever been able to get back again.”

The prince needed no more, that was quite good enough for him. He took his bridle, went with it to the sea-shore, and summoned his golden-maned steed. “What dost thou command me, little Sultan?” said the steed. “I desire thee to convey me to the neighbouring realm, to the palace of the talisman of the dragon Champalak,” cried the youth—and in no more time than it takes to wink an eye, the palace stood before him.

Then the steed said to the youth: “When we reach the palace thou wilt tie the bridle to two iron gates, and when I neigh once and strike my iron hoofs together, a door will open. In this open door thou wilt see a lion’s throat, and if thou canst not kill that lion at one stroke, escape, or thou art a dead man.” With that they went up to the palace, he tied the horse to the two iron gates by his bridle, and when he neighed the door flew open. The youth struck with all his might at the gaping throat of the lion in the doorway and split it right in two. Then he cut open the lion’s belly, and drew out of it a little gold cage with three doves in it, so beautiful that the like of them is not to be found in the wide world. He took one of them and began softly stroking and caressing it, when all at once—pr-r-r-r!—away it flew out of his hand. The steed galloped swiftly after it, and if he had not caught it and wrung its neck it would have gone hard with the good youth.

Then he mounted his steed again, and in the twinkling of an eye he stood once more before Champalak’s palace. In the gateway of the palace he killed the second dove, so that when the youth entered the dragon’s room, there the monster lay quite helpless, and there was no more spirit in him at all. When he saw the dove in the youth’s hand he implored him to let him stroke it for the last time before he died. The youth’s heart felt for him, and he was just about to hand the bird to him when the princess rushed out, snatched the dove from his hand, and killed it, whereupon the dragon expired before their very eyes. “’Twas well for thee,” said the steed, “that thou didst not give him the dove, for if he had got it, fresh life would have flowed into him.” And with that the steed disappeared, bridle and all.

Then they got together the dragon’s treasures, and went with them to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin. The Padishah was sick for grief at the loss of the damsel, and after searching for her in all parts of the kingdom in vain, was persuaded that she had fallen into the hands of the dragon. And lo! there she stood before him now, hand in hand with the King’s son. Then there was such a marriage-feast in that city that it seemed as if there was no end to it. After the marriage they set out on their journey again, and travelled with a great escort of soldiers to the prince’s father. There they had long held the King’s son to be dead, and would not believe that it was he even now till he had told them the tale of the three seven-headed dragons and the forty damsels.

The fortieth damsel was waiting patiently for him there, and the prince said to his wife: “Behold now my second bride!”—“Thou didst save my life from the dragon,” replied the Princess of Chin-i-Machin, “I therefore give her to thee, do as thou wilt with her!” So they made a marriage-feast for the second bride also, and they spent half their days in the Empire of the prince’s father, and the other half in the Empire of Chin-i-Machin, and their lives flowed away in happiness.

THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTEOUS DAMSEL

Then the sick prince said to his father: “My lord Padishah and father, no leech, no wise man can help me, wherefore weary them in vain? The World’s most beauteous Damsel is the cause of my complaint, and she will be either the life or the death of me.”

The Padishah was frightened at the words of his son, and his chief care was to drive the damsel out of the lad’s head. “’Tis dangerous to even think of such a thing,” said he, “for her love will be thy death.” But his son continued to pine away daily, and life had no joy for him. Again and again the father begged his son to tell him his heart’s desire and it should be instantly fulfilled, and the eternal reply of the son was: “Let me seek the World’s most beauteous Damsel.” Then the Padishah thought to himself: “If I do not let him go he will only perish, and he cannot therefore be worse off if he goes.” Then said he: “Go, my son, after thy love, and may the righteous Allah be merciful to thee.”

So the next day the prince set out on his journey. He went up hill and down dale, he crossed vast deserts, he traversed rugged wildernesses in search of his beloved, the World’s most beauteous Damsel. On and on he went, till he came at last to the sea-shore, and there he saw a poor little fish writhing in the sand, and the fish besought him to throw it back into the sea again. The youth had compassion upon the fish, and threw it back into the sea again. Then the little fish gave him three scales, and said to him: “If ever thou dost get into any trouble, burn these scales.”

Again the youth went on his way till he came to a vast desert, and there on the ground in front of him he saw a lame ant. The little creature told him that he was going to a wedding, but could not overtake his comrades because they hastened so quickly. Then the youth took up the ant and carried him to his comrades. As they parted the ant gave him a little piece of its wing and said: “If ever thou shouldst get into any trouble, burn this bit of wing.”

Again the youth followed his road, full of weary woefulness, and reaching the borders of a large forest he there saw a little bird struggling with a large serpent. The little bird asked help of the youth, and with one blow he cut the serpent in two. The bird then gave him three feathers. “If ever thou shouldst get into trouble,” it said, “burn these little feathers.”

Again he took up his pilgrim’s staff and went beyond the mountains, beyond the sea, till he came to a large city. It was the realm of the father of the World’s most beauteous Damsel. He went straight into the palace to the Padishah, and begged the hand of his daughter in the name of Allah. “Nay,” said the Padishah, “thou must first of all accomplish three tasks for me. Only after that canst thou make known thy wishes to my daughter.”

With that he took a ring, cast it into the sea, and said to the King’s son: “If thou canst not find it for me in three days, thou art a dead man.” Then the King’s son fell a-thinking till he bethought him of the three scales, and he had no sooner burnt them than the little fish stood before him and said: “What dost thou command, O my Sultan?”—“The ring of the World’s most beauteous Damsel hath been cast into the sea, and I want it back again,” said the prince. Then the fish sought for the ring but couldn’t find it; it dived down a second time and still it couldn’t find it; a third time it descended right down into the seventh ocean, drew up a fish, cut it open, and there was the ring. So the youth gave the ring to the Padishah, and the Padishah gave it to his daughter.

Now there was a cave near the palace full of gravel and grain. “My second task,” said the Padishah, “is that thou dost separate the grain from the gravel.” Then the youth entered the cave, took out the ant’s wing and burned it, whereupon the whole cave was swarming with ants, and they set to work upon the grain in hot haste. The day was now nearly over, and the same evening the youth sent word to the Padishah that the second task also was accomplished.

“The third task still remains,” said the Padishah, “and then thou mayest have my daughter.” With that he sent for a maid-servant, had her head cut off straightway, and then said to the youth: “Thus shall be done to thy head also if thou restore not this damsel to life again.” The youth quitted the palace in deep thought, and at last he bethought him that the bird’s feathers might help him. So he took them out and burned them, and lo! the bird stood before him ere yet his lips had commanded it to appear. And the youth complained bitterly to the bird of the task that was set him.

Now the bird had friends among the Peris, and, flying up into the air, in no very long time was back again with a cruse of water in its beak. “I have brought thee heavenly water which can give life even to the dead,” said the bird. So the prince entered the palace, and no sooner had he sprinkled the damsel with the water than she sprang up as if she had never been dead at all.

Now the rumour of all these things reached the ears of the World’s most beauteous Damsel, and she ordered the prince to be brought before her. The damsel dwelt in a little marble palace, and before the palace was a golden basin which was fed by the water of four streams. The courtyard of this palace also was a vast garden wherein were many great trees and fragrant flowers and singing-birds, and to the youth it seemed like the gate of Paradise.

Suddenly the door of the palace was opened, and the garden was so flooded with light that the eyes of