One morning early, when the prince was as usual preparing to work in the garden, the gardener prevented him, saying, “This day is a great festival among the idolaters, and because they abstain from all work themselves, to spend the time in their assemblies and public rejoicings, they will not let the Moosulmauns labour; who, to gain their favour, generally attend their shows, which are worth seeing.  You will therefore have nothing to do to-day:  I leave you here.  As the time approaches, at which it is usual for the ship to sail for the isle of Ebene, I will call on some of my friends to know when it will depart, and secure you a passage.”  The gardener put on his best apparel, and went out.

When the prince was alone, instead of going out to share in the public joy of the city, his solitude brought to his mind, with more than usual violence, the loss of his dear princess.  He walked up and down the garden sighing and lamenting, till the noise which two birds made on a neighbouring tree led him to lift up his head, to see what was the matter.

Kummir al Zummaun was surprised to observe that the birds were fighting furiously:  in a very little while, one of them fell down dead at the foot of the tree; the victorious bird took wing again, and flew away.

In an instant, two other large birds, that had beheld the battle at a distance, came from the other side of the garden, and pitched on the ground, one at the feet, and the other at the head of the dead bird:  they looked at it for some time, shaking their heads in token of grief; after which they dug a grave with their talons, and buried it.

When they had filled up the grave with the earth they had turned up, they flew away, but returned in a few minutes, bringing with them the bird that had committed the murder, one holding one of its wings in its beak, and the other one of its legs; the criminal all the while crying out in a doleful manner, and struggling to escape.  They carried it to the grave of the bird which it had lately sacrificed to its rage, and there killed it in just revenge for the murder it had committed.  They opened its belly, tore out the entrails, left the body on the spot unburied, and flew away.

The prince had remained in astonishment all the time that he stood beholding this singular spectacle.  He now drew near the tree where this scene had passed, and casting his eyes on the scattered entrails of the bird that had been last killed, spied something red hanging out of the stomach.  He took it up, and found it was his beloved princess Badoura’s talisman, which had cost him so much pain and sorrow, and so many sighs, since the bird had snatched it out of his hand.  “Ah, cruel!” said he to himself; still looking on the bird, “thou took’st delight in doing mischief, so I have the less reason to complain of that which thou didst to me:  but the greater it was, the more do I wish well to those that revenged my quarrel, punishing thee for the murder of one of their own kind.”