The Padishah of the Forty Peris

In the old, old time, in the age of fairy tales, there was once the

daughter of a Padishah who was as fair as the full moon, as slim as a

cypress-tree, with eyes like coals, and hair like the night, and her

eyebrows were like bows, and her eyeballs like the darts of archers. In

the palace of the Padishah was a garden, and in the midst of the garden

a fountain of water, and there the maid sat the livelong day sewing and

stitching.

One day she put her ring upon her sewing-table, but scarcely had she

laid it down when there came a little dove and took up the ring and flew

away with it. Now the little dove was so lovely that the damsel at once

fell in love with it. The next day the damsel took off her bracelet, and

immediately the dove was there and flew off with that too. Then the

damsel was so consumed with love that she neither ate nor drank, and

could scarce tarry till the next day for the dove to come forth again.

And on the third day she brought her sewing-table, put upon it her lace

handkerchief, and placed herself close beside it. She waited for the

dove, and waited and waited, and lo! all at once there he was right

before her, and he caught up the handkerchief and away he flew. Then the

damsel had scarce strength enough to rise up; weeping bitterly she went

into the palace, and there she threw herself on the ground in a passion

of grief.

Her old waiting-woman came running towards her: “O Sultana!” cried she,

“wherefore dost thou weep so sorely?--what ails thee?”

“I am sick, my heart is sick!” replied the daughter of the Sultan, and

with that she fell a-weeping and a-wailing worse than ever.

The old waiting-woman feared to tell of this new thing, for the damsel

was the only daughter of the Padishah, but when she perceived how pale

the damsel was growing, and how she wept and sobbed, the waiting-woman

took her courage in both hands, went to the Padishah, and told him of

his daughter’s woe. Then the Padishah was afraid, and went to see his

daughter, and after him came many wise men and many cunning leeches, but

not one of them could cure her sickness.

But on the next day the Padishah’s Vizier said to him: “The wise men

and the leeches cannot help the damsel, the only medicine that can cure

her lies hidden elsewhere.” Then he advised the Padishah to make a great

bath, the water whereof should cure all sick people, but whoever bathed

therein was to be made to tell the story of his life. So the Padishah

caused the bath to be made, and proclaimed throughout the city that the

water of this bath would give back his hair to the bald, and his hearing

to the deaf, and his sight to the blind, and the use of his legs to the

lame. Then all the people flocked in crowds to have a bath for nothing,

and each one of them had to tell the story of his life and his ailment

before he returned home again.

Now in that same city dwelt the bald-headed son of a bed-ridden mother,

and the fame of the wonder-working bath reached their ears also. “Let us

go too,” said the son; “perchance the pair of us shall be cured.”

“How can I go when I can’t stand on my legs?” groaned the old

woman.--“Oh, we shall be able to manage that,” replied bald-pate, and

taking his mother on his shoulders he set out for the bath.

They went on and on and on, through the level plains by the flowing

river, till at last the son was tired and put his mother down upon the

ground. At that same instant a cock lighted down beside them with a big

pitcher of water on its back, and hastened off with it. Then the young

man became very curious to know why and whither this cock was carrying

water; so after the bird he went. The cock went on till it came to a

great castle, and at the foot of this castle was a little hole through

which water was gurgling. Still the youth followed the cock, squeezed

himself with the utmost difficulty through the hole, and no sooner had

he begun to look about him than he saw before him a palace so

magnificent that his eyes and mouth stood wide open with astonishment.

No other human being had ever stood in the path that led up to this

palace. All over it he went, through all the rooms, from vestibule to

attic, admiring their splendour without ceasing, till weariness overcame

him. “If only I could find a living being here!” said he to himself, and

with that he hid himself in a large armoury, from whence he could easily

pounce out upon any one who came.

He had not waited very long when three doves flew on to the window-sill,

and after shivering there a little while turned into three damsels, all

so beautiful that the young man did not know which to look at first.

“Alas, alas!” cried the three damsels, “we are late, we are late! Our

Padishah will be here presently, and nothing is ready!” Then one seized

a broom and brushed everything clean, the second spread the table, and

the third fetched all manner of meats. Then they all three began to

shiver once more, and three doves flew out of the window.

Meanwhile the bald-pate had grown very hungry, and he thought to

himself: “Nobody sees me, why should I not take a morsel or two from

that table?” So he stretched his hand out from his hiding-place, and was

just about to touch the food with it when he got such a blow on the

fingers that the place swelled up. He stretched out the other hand, and

got a still greater blow on that. The youth was very frightened at this,

and he had scarcely drawn back his hand when a white dove flew into the

room. It fell a-shivering and immediately turned into a beautiful youth.

And now he went to a cupboard, opened it, and took out a ring, a

bracelet, and a lace handkerchief. “Oh, lucky ring that thou art!” cried

he, “to be allowed to sit on a beautiful finger; and oh, lucky bracelet,

to be allowed to lie on a beautiful arm.” Then the beautiful youth fell

a-sobbing, and dried his tears one by one on the lace handkerchief. Then

he put them into the cupboard again, tasted one or two of the dishes,

and laid him down to sleep.

It was as much as the bald-pate could do to await the dawn of the day.

But then the beautiful youth arose, shivered, and flew away as a white

dove. Bald-pate too came out of his hiding-place, went down into the

courtyard, and crept once more through the hole at the foot of the

tower.

Outside he found his poor old mother weeping all alone, but the youth

pacified her with the assurance that their troubles were nearly at an

end, took her on his back again, and went to the bath. There they

bathed, and immediately the old woman was able to stand on her legs, and

the bald-pate got his hair back again. Then they began to tell their

stories, and when the Sultan’s daughter heard what the youth had seen

and heard at midnight, it was as though a stream of fresh health

instantly poured into her. She rose from her bed and promised the youth

a great treasure if he would bring her to that tower. So the youth went

with the princess, showed her the walls of the palace, helped her

through the little hole, brought her into the chamber of the doves, and

pointed out to her the armoury where he had been able to hide himself.

After that the youth returned home with great treasure and perfect

health, and lived all his days with his old mother.

At eventide the three doves flew into the room. They scoured and

cleaned, brought the meats for the table, and flew away again. Soon

afterwards the white dove came flying in, and how did that damsel feel

when she saw her darling little dove once more? But when the dove had

turned into a youth again, and stood there like a glorious full moon,

the damsel scarcely knew where she was, but gazed continuously on his

dazzling face.

Then the youth went to the cupboard, opened it, and took out the ring,

the bracelet, and the lace handkerchief that belonged to the daughter of

the Sultan. “Oh, thou ring! how happy shouldst thou be to sit on a

beauteous finger! Oh, thou bracelet! how happy thou shouldst be to lie

on a beauteous arm!” he cried. Then he took the lace handkerchief and

dried his tears, and at the sight thereof the heart of the damsel was

nigh to breaking. Then she tapped with her fingers on the door of the

armoury. The youth approached it, opened the door, and there stood his

heart’s darling. Then the joy of the youth was so great that it was

almost woe.

He asked the damsel how she had come thither to the palace of the Peris.

Then she told him of her journey, and how sick for love she had been.

Then the youth told her that he also was the son of a mortal mother, but

when he was only three days old the Peris had stolen him, and carried

him to this palace and made him their Padishah. He was with them the

whole day, and had only two hours to himself in the twenty-four. The

damsel, he said, might stay with him, and walk about here the whole day,

but towards evening she must hide herself; for if the forty Peris came

and saw her with him they would not leave her alive. To-morrow, he said,

he would show her his mother’s palace, where they would live in peace,

and he would be with her for two hours out of the twenty-four.

So the next day the Padishah of the Peris took the damsel and showed her

his mother’s palace. “When thou goest there,” said the Padishah, “bid

them have compassion on thee, and receive thee in memory of Bahtiyar

Bey, and when my mother hears my name she will not refuse thy request.”

So the damsel went up to the house and knocked at the door. An old woman

came and opened it, and when she saw the damsel and heard her son’s

name, she burst into tears and took her in. There the damsel stayed a

long time, and every day the little bird came to visit her, until a son

was born to the daughter of the Sultan. But the old woman never knew

that her son came to the house, nor that the damsel had been brought to

bed.

One day the little bird came, flew upon the window-sill, and said: “Oh,

my Sultana, what is my little seedling doing?”--“No harm hath happened

to our little seedling,” replied she, “but he awaits the coming of

Bahtiyar.”--“Oh! if only my mother knew,” sighed the youth, “she would

open her best room.” With that he flew into the room, turned into a man,

and fondled in his arms his wife and his little child. But when two

hours had passed he shivered a little, and a little dove flew out of the

window.

But the mother had heard her son’s speech, and could scarce contain

herself for joy. She hastened to her daughter-in-law, fondled and

caressed her, led her into her most beautiful room, and put everything

in order against her son’s arrival. She knew that the forty Peris had

robbed her of him, and she took counsel with herself how she might steal

him back again.

“When my son comes to-morrow,” said the old woman, “contrive so that he

stays beyond his time, and leave the rest to me.”

The next day the bird flew into the window, and lo! the damsel was

nowhere to be seen in the room. Then he flew into the more beautiful

room, and cried, “Oh! my Sultana, what is our little seedling

doing?”--And the damsel replied: “No harm hath befallen our little

seedling, but he awaits the coming of Bahtiyar.” Then the bird flew into

the room and changed into a man, and was so taken up with talking to his

wife, so filled with the joy of playing with his child and seeing it

play, that he took no count of time at all.

But what was the old woman doing all this time?

There was a large cypress-tree in front of the house, and there the

forty doves were sometimes wont to alight. The old woman went and hung

this tree full of venomous needles. Towards evening, when the Padishah’s

two hours had run out, the doves who were the forty Peris came to seek

their Padishah, and alighted on the cypress-tree, but scarcely had their

feet touched the needles than they fell down to the ground poisoned.

Meanwhile, however, the youth suddenly remembered the time, and great

was his terror when he came out of the palace so late. He looked to the

right of him and he looked to the left, and when he looked towards the

cypress-tree there were the forty doves. And now his joy was as great as

his terror had been before. First he fell upon the neck of his consort,

and then he ran to his mother and embraced her, so great was his joy

that he had escaped from the hands of the Peris.

Thereupon they made them such a banquet that even after forty days they

had not got to the end of it. So they had their hearts’ desires, and ate

and drank and rejoiced with a great joy. May we too get the desires of

our hearts, with good eating and drinking to comfort us!