rence reached the king, who ordered some of the fruit to be brought to him. He gave some of the youth-restoring fruit to his old wazír, who ate it, and was at once changed into a strong young man, as people remembered him half a century before.[1] When the king saw this he was very sorry, and grieved much for the favourite parrot that he had so cruelly killed.
"Surely you would not do the same to me?" said the prince.
"No," she replied.
By the time the prince had concluded this story it was morning, and the other inmates of the house were about.
Thus was the prince saved. Of course he wished to depart, and would have immediately started, but the master of the house would not hear of it. He prevailed on him to stay that day also, and promised to allow him to go on the morrow. The prince was waited on with every attention, and fed in the same sumptuous manner as before, and at night was shown to the same room, whither the host's daughter also came to do his bidding. That night, too, the prince would not close his eyes in sleep. He was afraid what the girl might do to him. At midnight she arose, and taking a sword in her hand, was going to kill him, when he rose up and spoke.
"Do not slay me," he said. "What profit would you get from my death? If you killed me you would be sorry afterwards, like that man who killed his dog."
"What man? What dog?" she asked.
"I will tell you," said the prince, "if you will give me that sword."
So she gave him the sword, and the prince began his second story:—
"Once upon a time there lived a wealthy merchant who had a pet dog. By some unforeseen circumstance this merchant was suddenly reduced to poverty, and obliged
- ↑ Cf. Folk-Tales of Bengal, pp. 154-158; Indian Antiquary, vol. xir. p. 109; Orientalist, vol. ii. p. 54.
