'It is in the country of the Gangarids beyond the Ganges that Amazan my master was born. He is no king--indeed I hardly think he would condescend to be one--and, like his countrymen, he is a shepherd. But you must not suppose him to be one of the shepherds such as those you know, whose sheep are usually far better dressed than themselves. The shepherds of the Gangarids own immense flocks, for it is considered one of the blackest crimes to kill a sheep--and their wool, as fine as silk, is sought after all over the East. The soil is so rich that corn and fruits grow for the asking, while diamonds can be chipped from every rock. They have no army and need none, for a hundred unicorns can put to flight the largest host that ever was assembled. 'And now, Princess, if you are to travel as the oracle desires, will you not give me the happiness of guiding you thither?' 'Oh ... really, I ...,' answered the Princess. * * * * * The sun was already rising when the king entered his daughter's room, and after receiving the respectful greetings of the bird sat down on her bed. He did not seem quite at his ease, but at length he informed her that as, greatly to his sorrow, the oracle had decreed that she was to go on a journey before her marriage, he had arranged for her to make a pilgrimage to Araby the Blest in company with numerous attendants. To the princess, who had never been beyond either the Euphrates or the Tigris, the thought of a journey was enchanting. She could not sit still, and wandered out into the gardens with her bird upon her shoulder. The bird, for his part, was scarcely less happy than she, and flew from tree to tree in an ecstasy of delight. Unluckily, the King of Egypt was strolling about the gardens likewise, shooting with bow and arrows at everything within his reach. He was the worst marksman on the banks of the Nile, and though he never by any chance hit what he aimed at, he was none the less dangerous for that, as he usually hit something else. In this way a stray shot pierced the heart of the flying bird, who fell, all bloody, into the arms of the princess. 'Burn my body,' whispered the bird, 'and see that you bear my ashes to Araby the Blest. To the east of the town of Aden spread them out in the sun, on a bed of cinnamon and cloves.' So saying he breathed his last sigh, leaving Formosante fainting from grief. On seeing his daughter's condition, King Belus was filled with anger against the King of Egypt, and, not knowing if the death of the bird might not be a bad omen, hurried as usual to consult the oracle. For answer, the voice to which he looked for guidance, declared: 'Mixture of everything; living death; loss and gain; infidelity and constancy; disasters and happiness.' Neither he nor his council could make any sense of it, but he was satisfied with having done his duty.