In the mean time the princess Perie-zadeh, several times a day after her brother’s departure, counted her chaplet.  She did not omit it at night, but when she went to bed put it about her neck; and in the morning when she awoke counted over the pearls again to see if they would slide.

The day that prince Perviz was transformed into a stone, she was counting over the pearls as she used to do, when all at once they became immoveably fixed, a certain token that the prince her brother was dead.  As she had determined what to do in case it should so happen, she lost no time in outward demonstrations of grief, which she concealed as much as possible; but having disguised herself in man’s apparel, armed and equipped, she mounted her horse the next morning, having told her servants she should return in two or three days, and took the same road her brothers had done.

The princess, who had been used to ride on horseback in hunting, supported the fatigue of so long a journey better than most ladies could have done; and as she made the same stages as her brothers, she also met with the dervish on the twentieth day.  When she came near him, she alighted off her horse, leading him by the bridle, went and sat down by the dervish, and after she had saluted him, said, “Good dervish, give me leave to rest myself; and do me the favour to tell me if you have not heard that there are somewhere in this neighbourhood a speaking bird, a singing tree, and golden water.”

“Princess,” answered the dervish, “for so I must call you, since by your voice I know you to be a woman disguised in man’s apparel, I thank you for your compliment, and receive the honour you do me with great pleasure.  I know the place well where these things are to be found:  but what makes you ask me this question?”

“Good dervish,” replied the princess, “I have had such a flattering relation of them given me, that I have a great desire to possess them.”  “Madam,” replied the dervish, “you have been told the truth.  These curiosities are more singular and surprising than they have been represented to you:  but you have not been made acquainted with the difficulties which must be surmounted in order to obtain them.  If you had been fully informed of these, you would not have undertaken so troublesome and dangerous an enterprise.  Take my advice, go no farther, return, and do not urge me to contribute towards your ruin.”

“Good father,” said the princess, “I have travelled a great way, and should be sorry to return without executing my design.  You talk of difficulties, and danger of life; but you do not tell me what those difficulties are, and wherein the danger consists.  This is what I desire to know, that I may consider and judge whether I can trust my courage and strength to brave them.”