The Caravan_The Caliph Stork_IV
When the Caliph had concluded his story, the owl thanked him, and said:
“Listen also to my tale, and learn that I am not less unfortunate than yourself. My father is king of India. I, his only and unhappy daughter, am named Lusa. That same Sorcerer, Kaschnur, who transformed you, plunged me also into misery. One day he came to my father and demanded me in marriage for his son Mizra. But my father, who is a quick tempered man, had him thrown down-stairs. The wretch found means, by assuming other forms, of approaching me; and one day, as I was taking the air in my garden, he appeared, dressed as a slave, and handed me a drink that changed me into this horrible shape. He brought me here senseless from fright, and shouted in my ears with a terrible voice: ‘Here you shall remain, ugly, despised by every creature, until death; or till some man voluntarily offers to marry you in your present form! Thus do I revenge myself on you and your proud father!’
“Since then many months have passed. Lonely and sad, I live as a hermit within these walls, abhorred by the world, despised even by animals, shut out from all enjoyment of the beauties of nature, as I am blind by day, and only at night, when the moon sheds its pale light over these walls, does the veil fall from my eyes.”
The owl finished her story, and once more brushed away with her wing the tears which the recital of her sufferings had caused.
The Caliph was sunk in deep thought over the story of the Princess.
“Unless I am greatly in error,” said he, “there is a hidden connection between our misfortunes; but where shall I find the key to this riddle?”
“O, Sire,” the owl replied, “I suspect that too, for when I was a little child it was foretold me by a soothsayer that a stork would sometime bring me great good fortune. And I think I know a way by which we can accomplish our own rescue.”
In great surprise the Caliph asked her in what way she meant.
“The sorcerer who has done this wrong to us both,” she answered,“comes once a month to these ruins. Not far from here there is a room in which he is accustomed to hold a banquet with many of his fellows. Many times have I heard them there. On these occasions they relate to each other their shameful deeds. Perhaps then he will divulge the magic word you have forgotten.”
“O, dearest Princess,” cried the Caliph, “tell us, when does he come,and where is the banqueting hall?”
The owl remained silent for a moment, and then said:
“Do not take it unkindly; but only on one condition can I inform you.”
“Speak out! Speak out!” exclaimed Chasid. “Whatever your condition it will be acceptable to me.”
“Well then, I am also desirous of being set free; but this can only happen by one of you offering me his hand.”
The storks were somewhat disconcerted at this proposal; and the Caliph beckoned his follower to leave the room with him.
“Grand Vizier,” said the Caliph, closing the door behind them, “this is a pretty piece of business! But you, now, might take her.”
“Indeed?” answered he, “and thus give my wife cause to scratch my eyes out, when I get home? Then, too, I am an old man; whereas you are young and unmarried, and therefore in a better position to offer your hand to a beautiful young princess.”
“That's the very point,” sighed the Caliph, as he sadly allowed his wings to droop to the ground. “It would be buying a cat in the bag; for what assurance have you that she is young and beautiful?”
They discussed the matter for a long time, until at last the Caliph, convinced that the Vizier would rather remain a stork than marry the Princess, concluded to fulfill the condition she had imposed on himself.
The owl was greatly rejoiced, and confessed that they could not have come at a better time, as it was probable that the sorcerers would assemble there that very night. The owl then left the room with the storks to show them to the banquet-room. For a long time they walked through a dark passage, when finally there streamed out bright rays of light through a broken wall. As they came up to the wall the owl cautioned the storks to remain perfectly quiet. The gap in which they stood overlooked a large room, adorned on all sides with marble columns, and tastefully decorated;countless colored lamps made the place light as day. In the centre of the room stood a round table covered with various dainty dishes, and upon the divan that encircled it, sat eight men. In one of these men the storks recognized the trader who had sold them the magic powder. The person who sat next to him called on him to relate his latest deeds. The trader then told the story of the Caliph and his Vizier.
“What kind of a word did you give them?” asked the other sorcerer.
“A very hard Latin word—Mutabor.”
