“Indeed,” replied the vizier, “and when I reach home my wife will scratch my eyes out for my pains. Besides, I am an old man, whilst you are young and unmarried, and are therefore a more suitable match for a young and beautiful princess.” “Well, that is the point,” the Caliph sighed sadly; “who told you she was young and beautiful? I don’t care to buy a cat in a bag like that.” They argued together for some time, but when the Caliph found his vizier would rather remain a stork than marry the owl, he made up his mind to fulfil the condition himself. [Illustration: _THE CALIPH STORK_ _“The owl warned them to be as silent as the grave”_ (_p. 25_)] The owl was overjoyed, and assured the two storks they could not have arrived at a more opportune moment, for the magicians were to meet there that very night. So she and the storks left the little room and threaded their way along a dark narrow corridor until they came to a broken-down wall, through the crevices of which a bright light streamed. The owl warned them to be as silent as the grave and pointed out a hole through which they could peep into the great hall beyond. This hall was magnificently decorated, and lighted up by many different coloured lamps. In the middle of the apartment stood a round table set with a variety of the choicest dishes. Round the table were couches, upon which eight men reclined, and one of these men the storks immediately recognised as the pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour invited him to recount his latest doings, and amongst other stories he recounted that of the Caliph and his vizier. “What was the magic word you gave them?” asked one of the other magicians. “A good difficult Latin one--it was ‘Mutabor.’” CHAPTER V. As the storks heard this word they were fairly beside themselves with joy. They ran so quickly to the door of the ruin that the owl could scarcely follow them. But when they reached the open air the Caliph turned to the owl and said in moved tones:--“Preserver of my life and of the life of my friend, accept not only my eternal gratitude, but myself as your husband!” He and the vizier then turned towards the East, three times they bowed their long necks towards the rising sun and cried “Mutabor,” and in a moment they were restored to their former state, and Caliph and vizier fell into each other’s arms and embraced, congratulating each other upon the joy of their newly-found life. But who shall describe their astonishment when they looked round and saw a lovely lady, gorgeously attired, standing before them. Smilingly she gave her hand to the Caliph. “Do you not recognise your wife, the brown owl?” said she. The Caliph was so enraptured at the sight of her beauty and grace that he declared the most fortunate thing that had ever happened to him was to be turned into a stork.