So the prince mounted his horse, and, accompanied by his dumb friend, who still remained faithful to him, he set forth to find the magician.  They took no followers, except the prince’s dog, a noble hound, who was so quick of hearing that he understood all that was said to him, and was, next to the young nobleman, the wisest person at court.

“Mark well, my dog,” said the prince to him, “we stay nowhere till we find my godfather, and when we find him we go no further.  I rely on your sagacity to help us.”

The dog licked the prince’s hand, and then trotted so resolutely down a certain road that the two friends allowed him to lead them and followed close behind.

They travelled in this way to the edge of the king’s dominions, only halting for needful rest and refreshment.  At last the dog led them through a wood, and towards evening they found themselves in the depths of the forest, with no sign of any shelter for the night.  Presently they heard a little bell, such as is rung for prayer, and the dog ran down a side path and led them straight to a kind of grotto, at the door of which stood an aged hermit.

“Does a magician live here?” asked the prince.

“No one lives here but myself,” said the hermit, “but I am old, and have meditated much.  My advice is at your service if you need it.”

The prince then related his history, and how he was now seeking the magician godfather, to rid himself of his gift.

“And yet that will not cure your temper,” said the hermit.  “It were better that you employed yourself in learning to control that, and to use your power prudently.”

“No, no,” replied the prince; “I must find the magician.”

And when the hermit pressed his advice, he cried, “Provoke me not, good father, or I may be base enough to wish you ill; and the evil I do I cannot undo.”

And he departed, followed by his friend, and calling his dog.  But the dog seated himself at the hermit’s feet, and would not move.  Again and again the prince called him, but he only whined and wagged his tail, and refused to move.  Coaxing and scolding were both in vain, and when at last the prince tried to drag him off by force, the dog growled.

“Base brute!” cried the prince, flinging him from him in a transport of rage.  “How have I been so deceived in you?  I wish you were hanged!” And even as he spoke the dog vanished, and as the prince turned his head he saw the poor beast’s body dangling from a tree above him.  The sight overwhelmed him, and he began bitterly to lament his cruelty.

“Will no one hang me also,” he cried, “and rid the world of such a monster?”

“It is easier to die repenting than to live amending,” said the hermit; “yet is the latter course the better one.  Wherefore abide with me, my son, and learn in solitude those lessons of self-government without which no man is fit to rule others.”

“It is impossible,” said the prince.  “These fits of passion are as a madness that comes upon me, and they are beyond cure.  It only remains to find my godfather, that he may make me less baneful to others by taking away the power I abuse.”  And raising the body of the dog tenderly in his arms, he laid it before him on his horse, and rode away, the dumb nobleman following him.