Mean time my son grew up, and was ten years old, when I was obliged to undertake a journey. Before I went, I recommended to my wife, of whom I had no mistrust, the slave and her son, and prayed her to take care of them during my absence, which was for a whole year. She made use of that time to satisfy her hatred; she applied herself to magic, and when she knew enough of that diabolical art to execute her horrible contrivance, the wretch carried my son to a desolate place, where by her enchantments, she changed my son into a calf, and gave him to my farmer to fatten, pretending she had bought him. Her fury did not stop at this abominable action, but she likewise changed the slave into a cow, and gave her also to my farmer. At my return, I asked for the mother and child: Your slave, says she, is dead; and as for your son, I know not what has become of him. I have not seen him these two months. I was troubled at the death of the slave, but my son having only disappeared, as she told me, I was in hopes he would return in a little time. However, eight months passed, and I heard nothing of him. When the festival of the great Bairam happened, to celebrate the same, I sent to my farmer for one of the fattest cows, to sacrifice, and he sent me one accordingly. The cow which he brought me was my slave, the unfortunate mother of my son. I tied her, but as I was going to sacrifice her, she bellowed pitifully, and I could perceive streams of tears run from her eyes. This seemed to me very extraordinary; and finding myself, in spite of all I could do, inspired with pity, 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 compassion, and, opposing herself to an order which disappointed her malice, she cries out, What are you doing, husband? Sacrifice that cow: your farmer has not a finer, nor one fitter for that use. Out of complaisance 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. Then I put the mallet into the farmer’s hands, and bid him take and sacrifice her himself, for her tears and bellowing pierced my heart.