make there a guest-house?” The chamberlain said, “That youth is yet alive.  When the king commanded his death, I was about to kill him, but he said, ’That queen is my mother.  Through modesty before the king, she revealed not the secret that she has a tall son.  Kill me not; it may be that some day the truth will become known, and repentance profiteth not, and regret is useless.”  The king commanded them to bring the youth; so they brought him forthwith.  And when the mother saw the face of her son, she thanked God and praised the Most High, and became one of the Muslims, and from the sect of unbelievers came into the faith of Islam.  And the king favoured the chamberlain in the highest degree, and they passed the rest of their lives in comfort and ease.

Firuz and his wife.—­Vol.  XI. p. 125.

This tale, as Sir R. F. Burton remarks, is a rechauffe of that of the King and the Wazir’s Wife in the “Malice of Women,” or the Seven Wazirs (vol. vi. 129); and at p. 308 we have yet another variant.[FN#488] it occurs in all the Eastern texts of the Book of Sindibad, and it is commonly termed by students of that cycle of stories “The Lion’s Track,” from the parabolical manner in which the husband justifies his conduct before the king.  I have cited some versions in the Appendix to my edition of the Book of Sindibad (p. 256 ff.), and to these may be added the following Venetian variant, from Crane’s “Italian Popular Tales,” as an example of how a story becomes garbled in passing orally from one generation unto another generation.

A king, averse from marriage, commanded his steward to remain single.  The latter, however, one day saw a beautiful girl named Vigna and married her secretly.  Although he kept her closely confined in her chamber, the king became suspicious, and sent the steward on an embassy.  After his departure the king entered the apartment occupied by him, and saw his wife asleep.  He did not disturb her, but in leaving the room accidentally dropped one of his gloves on the bed.  When the husband returned he found the glove, but kept a discreet silence, ceasing, however, all demonstration of affection, believing his wife had been unfaithful.  The king, desirous to see again the beautiful woman, made a feast and ordered the steward to bring his wife.  He denied that he had one, but brought her at last, and while every one else was talking gaily at the feast she was silent.  The king observed it and asked the cause of her silence, and she answered with a pun on her own name, “Vineyard I was, and Vineyard I am.  I was loved and no longer am.  I know not for what reason the Vineyard has lost its season.”  Her husband, who heard this, replied, “Vineyard thou wast, and Vineyard thou art:  the Vineyard lost its season, for the lion’s claw.”  The king, who understood what he meant, answered, “I entered the Vineyard; I touched the leaves; but I swear by my crown that I have not tasted the fruit.”  Then the steward understood that his wife was innocent, and the two made peace, and always after lived happy and contented.