They went therefore to the horde where the Khan of Berlas lived. They entered a large tent which served as a hospital for poor strangers, and they slept in a corner, very troubled as to how they would subsist. Calaf left his father and mother in this place and went out and visited the horde, asking charity of the passers by; he received from them a small sum of money, with which he pur­chased provisions, which he took at the end of the day to his father and mother. They could not help weeping when they knew their son had been soliciting alms.

Calaf shared their distress, and said: ‘Nothing, I admit, appears to me more mortifying than being reduced to beg; however, if I cannot otherwise procure succour for you, I shall do it, whatever shame it costs me. But,’ he added, ‘you have only to sell me as a slave, and with the money you will get, you will have means of living for a long time.’

‘What are you saying, my son?’ cried Timur­tasch. ‘You propose to us to live at the expense of your liberty! Ah! rather let the misfortune which overwhelms us endure always! If one of us three must be sold to help the two others, it is I. I am not loth to bear the yoke of servitude for you two.’

‘My lord,’ replied Calaf, ‘a thought occurs to me. To-morrow I shall go and join the porters; some one will employ me, and we shall thus live by my work. They decided on this. The follow­ing day the prince placed himself among the porters of the horde, and waited for someone to employ him, but unfortunately it happened that no one employed him, so that half the day had already passed without his having earned anything. That distressed him much. ‘If I do not do better,’ he said to himself, ‘how can I nourish my father and mother?’

He wearied of waiting in vain among the porters until some one should address him, so he left the horde to think more freely of a means of subsistence. He sat under a tree, where, after hav­ing implored Heaven to have pity upon him, he fell asleep. On awaking, he perceived a falcon of sin­gular beauty; it had a crest of a thousand colours on its head, and wore round its neck a chain of gold leaves, set with diamonds, topazes, and rubies.

Calaf, who understood falconry, offered it his wrist, and the bird perched on it. The Prince of the Nogaïs was much delighted. ‘Let us see,’ he said to himself, ‘where this will lead us; this bird, according to all appearance, belongs to the king of this horde.’ He was not mistaken; it was the falcon of Alinguer, Khan of Berlas, which the prince had lost at the chase the day before. His huntsmen and falconers were searching the country for it, with all the more ardour and anxiety that their master had threatened them with the extreme penalty if they returned to his court with­out his bird, which he loved passionately.

Prince Calaf returned to the horde with the falcon. All the people began immediately to cry, ‘There is the khan’s falcon found! Blessed be the young man who is going to rejoice our prince by bringing him his bird!’ When Calaf had arrived at the royal tent, and appeared there with the falcon, the khan, in a transport of joy, ran to his bird and caressed it a thousand times. Then, addressing the Prince of the Nogaïs, he asked him where he had found it. Calaf related what had happened. After that the khan said to him:

‘You seem to me a stranger. What country are you from, and what is your profession?’

‘My lord,’ replied the son of Timurtasch, pros­trating himself at his feet, ‘I am the son of a merchant of Bulgaria, who possessed great wealth. I was travelling with my father and mother when we met some robbers, who took from us every­thing but our lives, and we came to this horde, begging by the way.’

‘Young man,’ replied the khan, ‘I am very glad it is you who have found my falcon, for I have sworn to give to the person who brought it back to me the three things he chose to ask me, so you have only to speak. Tell me what you wish me to give you, and be sure of obtaining it.’

‘Since I am permitted to ask three things,’ replied Calaf, ‘I would wish, firstly, that my father and mother, who are in the hospital, might have a private tent in your majesty’s quarter, be kept at your majesty’s expense the rest of their days, and even served by the officers of your house. Secondly I desire one of the finest horses in your stables, all saddled and bridled; and finally, a complete and magnificent suit with a rich sabre, and a purse full of gold pieces, in order to make with comfort a journey I am meditating.’

‘Your wishes shall be satisfied,’ said Alinguer. ‘Bring your father and mother to me. I will begin from to-day to have them treated as you wish, and to-morrow, dressed in rich clothes, and mounted on the finest horse in my stables, you can go where you wish.’

Calaf prostrated himself a second time before the khan, and after having thanked him for his kindness, he went to the tent where Elmaze and Timurtasch awaited him impatiently.

‘I bring you good news,’ he said; ‘our fate is changed.’ At the same time he related to them all that had happened to him. This adventure pleased them; they looked upon it as an infallible mark that the rigour of their destiny was beginning to be softened. They willingly followed Calaf, who conducted them to the royal tent and pre­sented them to the khan. This prince received them very well, and promised them to keep faith­fully the vow he had made their son. He did not fail to do so; he gave them that very day a private tent, had them waited on by the slaves and officers of his house, and ordered them to be treated as himself.

The following day Calaf was clothed in rich garments, he received from the hand of the Prince Alinguer himself a sabre with a diamond hilt, together with a purse filled with gold sequins, and then a very beautiful Turcoman horse was brought to him. He mounted it before all the court, and to show that he knew how to handle a horse, he made it prance in a hun­dred ways, which charmed the prince and his courtiers.

After having thanked the khan for all his kind­ness, he took leave of him. He went to find Timurtasch and the Princess Elmaze,

‘I have a great wish,’ he said to them, ‘to see the mighty kingdom of China; permit me to satisfy it. I have a presentiment that I shall distinguish myself by some brilliant action, and that I shall gain the friendship of the monarch who holds under his sway such vast territory. Permit that, leaving you in a place of safety where you want for nothing, I may follow the impulse which animates me, or rather that I may abandon myself to Heaven which guides me.’

‘Go, my son,’ said Timurtasch to him; ‘yield to the noble impulse which animates you. Run to the fate which awaits you; hasten, by your virtue, the slow prosperity which must succeed our misfortune, or, by a gallant death, deserve a dazzling place in the history of unfortunate princes. Depart, we shall await news of you in this tribe, and we will regulate our fortune by yours.’

The young Prince of the Nogaïs embraced his father and mother, and took the road to China.

It is not related by historians that he met with any adventure on the road. They merely say that, having arrived at the great town of Pekin, he alighted near a house which was at the entrance, and where dwelt a little old woman who was a widow.

Calaf presented himself at the door. The old woman immediately appeared. He saluted her and said: ‘My good mother, will you receive a stranger in your house? If you can give me a lodging in your house, I dare assure you that you will not regret it.’

The old woman looked at the young man, and judging by his well-to-do appearance, as well as by his clothes, that he was not a guest to be despised, she made him a profound inclination of the head, and replied: ‘Young stranger of fine appearance, my house is at your service, as well as everything that is in it.’

‘And have you,’ he replied, ‘a fit place in which to put my horse?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have.’

At the same time she took the horse by the bridle and led it into a little stable at the back of the house.

Then she returned to Calaf, who, feeling very hungry, asked her if she had no one who could go and buy him something in the market.

The widow replied that she had a grandson of twelve who lived with her, and who would acquit himself very well of this commission. Then the prince took from his purse a gold sequin, and put it into the child’s hands, who went off to the market.

In the meanwhile the hostess was much occupied in satisfying the curiosity of Calaf. He asked her a thousand questions: What the customs were of the inhabitants of the town; how many families there were in Pekin; and, finally, the conversation turned to the King of China.

‘Tell me, pray,’ said Calaf, ‘what is the character of this prince? Is he generous, and do you think he would pay any attention to the zeal of a young stranger who offered to serve him against his enemies? In a word, does he deserve that one should attach oneself to his interests?’