slay him there unperceived. But the prince, who had no evil suspicion, willingly agreed to his words, and they took the path of the mountain. When they had well entered the thick wood, the minister's son fell upon the prince from behind, and slew him. The prince in dying said nothing but the one word, "Abaraschika[2]."
As soon as he had well hidden the body, the minister's son continued on his way.
As he came near the city, the King went out to greet him, accompanied by all his ministers, and followed by much people; but when he found that his son was not there, he fell into great anxiety, and eagerly inquired after him. "Thy son," answered the minister's son, "died on the journey."
At these words, the King burst into an agony of grief, crying, "Alas, my son! mine only son! Without thee, what shall all my royal power and state, what shall all my hundred cities, profit me?" Amid these bitter cries he made his way back to the palace. As he dwelt on his grief, the thought came to him, "Shall not my son when dying at least have left some word expressive of his last thoughts and wishes?" Then he sent and inquired this thing of his companion, to which the minister's son made answer, "Thy son was overtaken with a quick and sudden malady, and as he breathed out his life, he had only time to utter the single word, Abaraschika."
