At my return, I enquired for the mother and child.  “Your slave,” said she, “is dead; and as for your son, I know not what is become of him, I have not seen him this two months.”  I was afflicted at the death of the slave, but as she informed me my son had only disappeared, I was in hopes he would shortly return.  However, eight months passed, and I heard nothing of him.  When the festival of the great Bairam was to be celebrated, I sent to my farmer for one of the fattest cows to sacrifice.  He accordingly sent me one, and the cow which was brought me proved to be my slave, the unfortunate mother of my son.  I bound her, but as I was going to sacrifice her, she bellowed piteously, and I could perceive tears streaming from her eyes.  This seemed to me very extraordinary, and finding myself moved with compassion, I could not find in my heart to give her a blow, but ordered my farmer to get me another.

My wife, who was present, was enraged at my tenderness, and resisting an order which disappointed her malice, she cried out, “What are you doing, husband?  Sacrifice that cow; your farmer has not a finer, nor one fitter for the festival.”  Out of deference to my wife, I came again to the cow, and combating my compassion, which suspended the sacrifice, was going to give her the fatal blow, when the victim redoubling her tears, and bellowing, disarmed me a second time.  I then put the mallet into the farmer’s hands, and desired him to take it and sacrifice her himself, for her tears and bellowing pierced my heart.

The farmer, less compassionate than myself; sacrificed her; but when he flayed her, found her to be nothing except bones, though to she seemed very fat.  “Take her yourself,” said I to him, “dispose of her in alms, or any way you please:  and if you have a very fat calf, bring it me in her stead.”  I did not enquire what he did with the cow, but soon after he had taken her away, he returned with a fat calf.  Though I knew not the calf was my son, yet I could not forbear being moved at the sight of him.  On his part, as soon as he beheld me, he made so great an effort to come near me, that he broke his cord, threw himself at my feet, with his head against the ground, as if he meant to excite my compassion, conjuring me not to be so cruel as to take his life; and did as much as was possible for him, to signify that he was my son.

I was more surprised and affected with this action, than with the tears of the cow.  I felt a tender pity, which interested me on his behalf, or rather, nature did its duty.  “Go,” said I to the farmer, “carry home that calf, take great care of him, and bring me another in his stead immediately.”