night had come, and it had grown so dark that she was afraid to go, unaccompanied, to the. village oven.[1] She begged her husband to escort her; but he ridiculed her fears, and just when she was setting out called to a he-goat tethered in the yard, “Here, O he-goat! take her! take her!” He meant it as a joke, and was surprised when she did not return. He went to the oven, she was not there. No one in the hamlet had seen her. He inquired at every house, searched the whole district, but in vain. Unable to believe that she had gone off with another man, since he knew her heart was his, he could not account for her disappearance to himself or to his neighbours, who began to suspect that he had killed her for infidelity.[2]
One day, when the bereaved husband was ploughing, an aged derwish came up and entered into conversation with him. The peasant bemoaned the loss of his wife. “How much will you give me if I tell you how to recover her?” asked the derwish. “You shall have this yoke of oxen,” replied the peasant eagerly. “They would be useless to me,” said the recluse, laughing, “but give me something to eat and I shall be satisfied.”
The peasant took the derwish to his house and set before him of the best he had. When the guest had done eating, he said, “I am certain that your wife is abducted by some jinni to whom your foolish
