A Thousand And One Arabian Nights
The Story of Two Sisters Who Were Jealous of Their Younger Sister
Once upon a time there reigned over Persia a Sultan named Kosrouschah,
who from his boyhood had been fond of putting on a disguise and seeking
adventures in all parts of the city, accompanied by one of his officers,
disguised like himself. And no sooner was his father buried
and the ceremonies over that marked his accession to the throne,
than the young man hastened to throw off his robes of state,
and calling to his vizir to make ready likewise, stole out in the simple
dress of a private citizen into the less known streets of the capital.
Passing down a lonely street, the Sultan heard women's voices
in loud discussion; and peeping through a crack in the door, he saw
three sisters, sitting on a sofa in a large hall, talking in a very
lively and earnest manner. Judging from the few words that reached
his ear, they were each explaining what sort of men they wished to marry.
"I ask nothing better," cried the eldest, "than to have the Sultan's
baker for a husband. Think of being able to eat as much as one wanted,
of that delicious bread that is baked for his Highness alone!
Let us see if your wish is as good as mine."
"I," replied the second sister, "should be quite content
with the Sultan's head cook. What delicate stews I should
feast upon! And, as I am persuaded that the Sultan's bread is used
all through the palace, I should have that into the bargain.
You see, my dear sister, my taste is as good as yours."
It was now the turn of the youngest sister, who was by far the most
beautiful of the three, and had, besides, more sense than the
other two. "As for me," she said, "I should take a higher flight;
and if we are to wish for husbands, nothing less than the Sultan
himself will do for me."
The Sultan was so much amused by the conversation he had overheard,
that he made up his mind to gratify their wishes, and turning to
the grand-vizir, he bade him note the house, and on the following
morning to bring the ladies into his presence.
The grand-vizir fulfilled his commission, and hardly giving
them time to change their dresses, desired the three sisters
to follow him to the palace. Here they were presented one by one,
and when they had bowed before the Sultan, the sovereign abruptly
put the question to them:
"Tell me, do you remember what you wished for last night, when you
were making merry? Fear nothing, but answer me the truth."
These words, which were so unexpected, threw the sisters into
great confusion, their eyes fell, and the blushes of the youngest
did not fail to make an impression on the heart of the Sultan.
All three remained silent, and he hastened to continue: "Do not
be afraid, I have not the slightest intention of giving you pain,
and let me tell you at once, that I know the wishes formed by
each one. You," he said, turning to the youngest, "who desired to
have me for an husband, shall be satisfied this very day. And you,"
he added, addressing himself to the other two, "shall be married
at the same moment to my baker and to my chief cook."
When the Sultan had finished speaking the three sisters flung
themselves at his feet, and the youngest faltered out, "Oh, sire,
since you know my foolish words, believe, I pray you, that they were
only said in joke. I am unworthy of the honour you propose to do me,
and I can only ask pardon for my boldness."
The other sisters also tried to excuse themselves, but the Sultan
would hear nothing.
"No, no," he said, "my mind is made up. Your wishes shall
So the three weddings were celebrated that same day, but with a
great difference. That of the youngest was marked by all the
magnificence that was customary at the marriage of the Shah of Persia,
while the festivities attending the nuptials of the Sultan's baker
and his chief cook were only such as were suitable to their conditions.
This, though quite natural, was highly displeasing to the elder
sisters, who fell into a passion of jealousy, which in the end
caused a great deal of trouble and pain to several people.
And the first time that they had the opportunity of speaking to
each other, which was not till several days later at a public bath,
they did not attempt to disguise their feelings.
"Can you possibly understand what the Sultan saw in that little cat,"
said one to the other, "for him to be so fascinated by her?"
"He must be quite blind," returned the wife of the chief cook.
"As for her looking a little younger than we do, what does that matter?
You would have made a far better Sultana than she."
"Oh, I say nothing of myself," replied the elder, "and if the
Sultan had chosen you it would have been all very well; but it
really grieves me that he should have selected a wretched little
creature like that. However, I will be revenged on her somehow,
and I beg you will give me your help in the matter, and to tell
me anything that you can think of that is likely to mortify her."
In order to carry out their wicked scheme the two sisters met
constantly to talk over their ideas, though all the while they
pretended to be as friendly as ever towards the Sultana, who,
on her part, invariably treated them with kindness. For a long
time no plan occurred to the two plotters that seemed in the
least likely to meet with success, but at length the expected
birth of an heir gave them the chance for which they had been hoping.
They obtained permission of the Sultan to take up their abode in the
palace for some weeks, and never left their sister night or day.
When at last a little boy, beautiful as the sun, was born, they laid
him in his cradle and carried it down to a canal which passed
through the grounds of the palace. Then, leaving it to its fate,
they informed the Sultan that instead of the son he had so fondly
desired the Sultana had given birth to a puppy. At this dreadful
news the Sultan was so overcome with rage and grief that it was with
great difficulty that the grand-vizir managed to save the Sultana
from his wrath.
Meanwhile the cradle continued to float peacefully along the canal till,
on the outskirts of the royal gardens, it was suddenly perceived
by the intendant, one of the highest and most respected officials
in the kingdom.
"Go," he said to a gardener who was working near, "and get that
cradle out for me."
The gardener did as he was bid, and soon placed the cradle
in the hands of the intendant.
The official was much astonished to see that the cradle, which he had
supposed to be empty, contained a baby, which, young though it was,
already gave promise of great beauty. Having no children himself,
although he had been married some years, it at once occurred to him
that here was a child which he could take and bring up as his own.
And, bidding the man pick up the cradle and follow him, he turned
"My wife," he exclaimed as he entered the room, "heaven has denied
us any children, but here is one that has been sent in their place.
Send for a nurse, and I will do what is needful publicly to recognise
it as my son."
The wife accepted the baby with joy, and though the intendant saw
quite well that it must have come from the royal palace, he did
not think it was his business to inquire further into the mystery.
The following year another prince was born and sent adrift,
but happily for the baby, the intendant of the gardens again
was walking by the canal, and carried it home as before.
The Sultan, naturally enough, was still more furious the second time
than the first, but when the same curious accident was repeated
in the third year he could control himself no longer, and, to the
great joy of the jealous sisters, commanded that the Sultana should
be executed. But the poor lady was so much beloved at Court that not
even the dread of sharing her fate could prevent the grand-vizir
and the courtiers from throwing themselves at the Sultan's feet
and imploring him not to inflict so cruel a punishment for what,
after all, was not her fault.
"Let her live," entreated the grand-vizir, "and banish her
from your presence for the rest of her days. That in itself
will be punishment enough."
His first passion spent, the Sultan had regained his self-command.
"Let her live then," he said, "since you have it so much at heart.
But if I grant her life it shall only be on one condition, which shall
make her daily pray for death. Let a box be built for her at the door
of the principal mosque, and let the window of the box be always open.
There she shall sit, in the coarsest clothes, and every Mussulman
who enters the mosque shall spit in her face in passing. Anyone that
refuses to obey shall be exposed to the same punishment himself.
You, vizir, will see that my orders are carried out."
The grand-vizir saw that it was useless to say more, and, full of triumph,
the sisters watched the building of the box, and then listened to the
jeers of the people at the helpless Sultana sitting inside. But the poor
lady bore herself with so much dignity and meekness that it was not long
before she had won the sympathy of those that were best among the crowd.
But it is now-time to return to the fate of the third baby,
this time a princess. Like its brothers, it was found by the
intendant of the gardens, and adopted by him and his wife,
and all three were brought up with the greatest care and tenderness.
As the children grew older their beauty and air of distinction
became more and more marked, and their manners had all the grace
and ease that is proper to people of high birth. The princes had
been named by their foster-father Bahman and Perviz, after two of
the ancient kings of Persia, while the princess was called Parizade,
or the child of the genii.
The intendant was careful to bring them up as befitted their
real rank, and soon appointed a tutor to teach the young princes
how to read and write. And the princess, determined not to be
left behind, showed herself so anxious to learn with her brothers,
that the intendant consented to her joining in their lessons,
and it was not long before she knew as much as they did.
From that time all their studies were done in common. They had the best
masters for the fine arts, geography, poetry, history and science,
and even for sciences which are learned by few, and every branch seemed
so easy to them, that their teachers were astonished at the progress
they made. The princess had a passion for music, and could sing
and play upon all sorts of instruments she could also ride and drive
as well as her brothers, shoot with a bow and arrow, and throw
a javelin with the same skill as they, and sometimes even better.
In order to set off these accomplishments, the intendant resolved
that his foster children should not be pent up any longer in the
narrow borders of the palace gardens, where he had always lived,
so he bought a splendid country house a few miles from the capital,
surrounded by an immense park. This park he filled with wild beasts
of various sorts, so that the princes and princess might hunt as much
as they pleased.
When everything was ready, the intendant threw himself at the
Sultan's feet, and after referring to his age and his long services,
begged his Highness's permission to resign his post. This was granted
by the Sultan in a few gracious words, and he then inquired what reward
he could give to his faithful servant. But the intendant declared that
he wished for nothing except the continuance of his Highness's favour,
and prostrating himself once more, he retired from the Sultan's presence.
Five or six months passed away in the pleasures of the country,
when death attacked the intendant so suddenly that he had no time
to reveal the secret of their birth to his adopted children,
and as his wife had long been dead also, it seemed as if the princes
and the princess would never know that they had been born to a
higher station than the one they filled. Their sorrow for their
father was very deep, and they lived quietly on in their new home,
without feeling any desire to leave it for court gaieties or intrigues.
One day the princes as usual went out to hunt, but their sister
remained alone in her apartments. While they were gone an old
Mussulman devotee appeared at the door, and asked leave to enter,
as it was the hour of prayer. The princess sent orders at once that
the old woman was to be taken to the private oratory in the grounds,
and when she had finished her prayers was to be shown the house
and gardens, and then to be brought before her.
Although the old woman was very pious, she was not at all
indifferent to the magnificence of all around her, which she
seemed to understand as well as to admire, and when she had
seen it all she was led by the servants before the princess,
who was seated in a room which surpassed in splendour all the rest.
"My good woman," said the princess pointing to a sofa, "come and sit
beside me. I am delighted at the opportunity of speaking for a few
moments with so holy a person." The old woman made some objections
to so much honour being done her, but the princess refused to listen,
and insisted that her guest should take the best seat, and as she
thought she must be tired ordered refreshments.
While the old woman was eating, the princess put several questions
to her as to her mode of life, and the pious exercises she practiced,
and then inquired what she thought of the house now that she had
"Madam," replied the pilgrim, "one must be hard indeed to please
to find any fault. It is beautiful, comfortable and well ordered,
and it is impossible to imagine anything more lovely than the garden.
But since you ask me, I must confess that it lacks three things
to make it absolutely perfect."
"And what can they be?" cried the princess. "Only tell me, and I
will lose no time in getting them."
"The three things, madam," replied the old woman, "are, first,
the Talking Bird, whose voice draws all other singing birds to it,
to join in chorus. And second, the Singing Tree, where every leaf
is a song that is never silent. And lastly the Golden Water,
of which it is only needful to pour a single drop into a basin
for it to shoot up into a fountain, which will never be exhausted,
nor will the basin ever overflow."
"Oh, how can I thank you," cried the princess, "for telling me of
such treasures! But add, I pray you. to your goodness by further
informing me where I can find them."
"Madam," replied the pilgrim, "I should ill repay the hospitality
you have shown me if I refused to answer your question. The three
things of which I have spoken are all to be found in one place,
on the borders of this kingdom, towards India. Your messenger has
only to follow the road that passes by your house, for twenty days,
and at the end of that time, he is to ask the first person he meets
for the Talking Bird, the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water."
She then rose, and bidding farewell to the princess, went her way.
The old woman had taken her departure so abruptly that the Princess
Parizade did not perceive till she was really gone that the directions
were hardly clear enough to enable the search to be successful.
And she was still thinking of the subject, and how delightful it
would be to possess such rarities, when the princes, her brothers,
returned from the chase.
"What is the matter, my sister?" asked Prince Bahman; "why are you
so grave? Are you ill? or has anything happened?"
Princess Parizade did not answer directly, but at length she raised
her eyes, and replied that there was nothing wrong.
"But there must be something," persisted Prince Bahman, "for you
to have changed so much during the short time we have been absent.
Hide nothing from us, I beseech you, unless you wish us to believe
that the confidence we have always had in one another is now
"When I said that it was nothing," said the princess, moved by
his words, "I meant that it was nothing that affected you, although I
admit that it is certainly of some importance to me. Like myself,
you have always thought this house that our father built for us was
perfect in every respect, but only to-day I have learned that three
things are still lacking to complete it. These are the Talking Bird,
the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water." After explaining the peculiar
qualities of each, the princess continued: "It was a Mussulman
devotee who told me all this, and where they might all be found.
Perhaps you will think that the house is beautiful enough as it is,
and that we can do quite well without them; but in this I cannot
agree with you, and I shall never be content until I have got them.
So counsel me, I pray, whom to send on the undertaking."
"My dear sister," replied Prince Bahman, "that you should care
about the matter is quite enough, even if we took no interest in
it ourselves. But we both feel with you, and I claim, as the elder,
the right to make the first attempt, if you will tell me where I
am to go, and what steps I am to take."
Prince Perviz at first objected that, being the head of the family,
his brother ought not to be allowed to expose himself to danger;
but Prince Bahman would hear nothing, and retired to make the needful
preparations for his journey.
The next morning Prince Bahman got up very early, and after
bidding farewell to his brother and sister, mounted his horse.
But just as he was about to touch it with his whip, he was stopped
by a cry from the princess.
"Oh, perhaps after all you may never come back; one never can tell
what accidents may happen. Give it up, I implore you, for I would
a thousand times rather lose the Talking Bird, and the Singing Tree
and the Golden Water, than that you should run into danger."
"My dear sister," answered the prince, "accidents only happen
to unlucky people, and I hope that I am not one of them.
But as everything is uncertain, I promise you to be very careful.
Take this knife," he continued, handing her one that hung sheathed
from his belt, "and every now and then draw it out and look at it.
As long as it keeps bright and clean as it is to-day, you will know
that I am living; but if the blade is spotted with blood, it will be
a sign that I am dead, and you shall weep for me."
So saying, Prince Bahman bade them farewell once more, and started
on the high road, well mounted and fully armed. For twenty days he
rode straight on, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left,
till he found himself drawing near the frontiers of Persia.
Seated under a tree by the wayside he noticed a hideous old man,
with a long white moustache, and beard that almost fell to his feet.
His nails had grown to an enormous length, and on his head he wore a
huge hat, which served him for an umbrella.
Prince Bahman, who, remembering the directions of the old woman,
had been since sunrise on the look-out for some one, recognised the
old man at once to be a dervish. He dismounted from his horse,
and bowed low before the holy man, saying by way of greeting,
"My father, may your days be long in the land, and may all your wishes
The dervish did his best to reply, but his moustache was so thick that
his words were hardly intelligible, and the prince, perceiving what
was the matter, took a pair of scissors from his saddle pockets,
and requested permission to cut off some of the moustache, as he had
a question of great importance to ask the dervish. The dervish made
a sign that he might do as he liked, and when a few inches of his hair
and beard had been pruned all round the prince assured the holy man
that he would hardly believe how much younger he looked. The dervish
smiled at his compliments, and thanked him for what he had done.
"Let me," he said, "show you my gratitude for making me more
comfortable by telling me what I can do for you."
"Gentle dervish," replied Prince Bahman, "I come from far, and I
seek the Talking Bird, the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water.
I know that they are to be found somewhere in these parts, but I am
ignorant of the exact spot. Tell me, I pray you, if you can, so that I
may not have travelled on a useless quest." While he was speaking,
the prince observed a change in the countenance of the dervish,
who waited for some time before he made reply.
"My lord," he said at last, "I do know the road for which you ask,
but your kindness and the friendship I have conceived for you make
me loth to point it out."
"But why not?" inquired the prince. "What danger can there be?"
"The very greatest danger," answered the dervish. "Other men,
as brave as you, have ridden down this road, and have put me
that question. I did my best to turn them also from their purpose,
but it was of no use. Not one of them would listen to my words,
and not one of them came back. Be warned in time, and seek to go
"I am grateful to you for your interest in me," said Prince Bahman,
"and for the advice you have given, though I cannot follow it.
But what dangers can there be in the adventure which courage and a good
sword cannot meet?"
"And suppose," answered the dervish, "that your enemies are invisible,
"Nothing will make me give it up," replied the prince, "and for
the last time I ask you to tell me where I am to go."
When the dervish saw that the prince's mind was made up,
he drew a ball from a bag that lay near him, and held it out.
"If it must be so," he said, with a sigh, "take this, and when
you have mounted your horse throw the ball in front of you.
It will roll on till it reaches the foot of a mountain, and when it
stops you will stop also. You will then throw the bridle on your
horse's neck without any fear of his straying, and will dismount.
On each side you will see vast heaps of big black stones,
and will hear a multitude of insulting voices, but pay no heed
to them, and, above all, beware of ever turning your head.
If you do, you will instantly become a black stone like the rest.
For those stones are in reality men like yourself, who have been on
the same quest, and have failed, as I fear that you may fail also.
If you manage to avoid this pitfall, and to reach the top of
the mountain, you will find there the Talking Bird in a splendid cage,
and you can ask of him where you are to seek the Singing Tree and
the Golden Water. That is all I have to say. You know what you
have to do, and what to avoid, but if you are wise you will think
of it no more, but return whence you have come."
The prince smilingly shook his head, and thanking the dervish
once more, he sprang on his horse and threw the ball before him.
The ball rolled along the road so fast that Prince Bahman had much
difficulty in keeping up with it, and it never relaxed its speed
till the foot of the mountain was reached. Then it came to a
sudden halt, and the prince at once got down and flung the bridle
on his horse's neck. He paused for a moment and looked round him
at the masses of black stones with which the sides of the mountain
were covered, and then began resolutely to ascend. He had hardly
gone four steps when he heard the sound of voices around him,
although not another creature was in sight.
"Who is this imbecile?" cried some, "stop him at once." "Kill him,"
shrieked others, "Help! robbers! murderers! help! help!" "Oh, let
him alone," sneered another, and this was the most trying of all,
"he is such a beautiful young man; I am sure the bird and the cage
must have been kept for him."
At first the prince took no heed to all this clamour, but continued
to press forward on his way. Unfortunately this conduct, instead of
silencing the voices, only seemed to irritate them the more,
and they arose with redoubled fury, in front as well as behind.
After some time he grew bewildered, his knees began to tremble,
and finding himself in the act of falling, he forgot altogether
the advice of the dervish. He turned to fly down the mountain,
and in one moment became a black stone.
As may be imagined, Prince Perviz and his sister were all this
time in the greatest anxiety, and consulted the magic knife,
not once but many times a day. Hitherto the blade had remained
bright and spotless, but on the fatal hour on which Prince Bahman
and his horse were changed into black stones, large drops of blood
appeared on the surface. "Ah! my beloved brother," cried the princess
in horror, throwing the knife from her, "I shall never see you again,
and it is I who have killed you. Fool that I was to listen to the
voice of that temptress, who probably was not speaking the truth.
What are the Talking Bird and the Singing Tree to me in comparison
with you, passionately though I long for them!"
Prince Perviz's grief at his brother's loss was not less than that of
Princess Parizade, but he did not waste his time on useless lamentations.
"My sister," he said, "why should you think the old woman was deceiving
you about these treasures, and what would have been her object in
doing so! No, no, our brother must have met his death by some accident,
or want of precaution, and to-morrow I will start on the same quest."
Terrified at the thought that she might lose her only remaining
brother, the princess entreated him to give up his project,
but he remained firm. Before setting out, however, he gave her a
chaplet of a hundred pearls, and said, "When I am absent, tell this
over daily for me. But if you should find that the beads stick,
so that they will not slip one after the other, you will know that
my brother's fate has befallen me. Still, we must hope for better luck."
Then he departed, and on the twentieth day of his journey fell
in with the dervish on the same spot as Prince Bahman had met him,
and began to question him as to the place where the Talking Bird,
the Singing Tree and the Golden Water were to be found. As in the case
of his brother, the dervish tried to make him give up his project,
and even told him that only a few weeks since a young man,
bearing a strong resemblance to him-self, had passed that way,
but had never come back again.
"That, holy dervish," replied Prince Perviz, "was my elder brother,
who is now dead, though how he died I cannot say."
"He is changed into a black stone," answered the dervish, "like all
the rest who have gone on the same errand, and you will become one
likewise if you are not more careful in following my directions."
Then he charged the prince, as he valued his life, to take no heed
of the clamour of voices that would pursue him up the mountain,
and handing him a ball from the bag, which still seemed to be half full,
he sent him on his way.
When Prince Perviz reached the foot of the mountain he jumped from
his horse, and paused for a moment to recall the instructions the
dervish had given him. Then he strode boldly on, but had scarcely
gone five or six paces when he was startled by a man's voice
that seemed close to his ear, exclaiming: "Stop, rash fellow,
and let me punish your audacity." This outrage entirely put
the dervish's advice out of the prince's head. He drew his sword,
and turned to avenge himself, but almost before he had realised
that there was nobody there, he and his horse were two black stones.
Next: More of The Story of Two Sisters Who Were Jealous of Their Younger Sister
Return to A Thousand and One Arabian Nights