"Ah,
donkey of my heart!" would he exclaim, resting his burden on a
stone, and wiping the sweat from his brow- "Ah, donkey of my heart!
I warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master! I warrant me thou
missest the water-jars- poor beast."
To add to his afflictions, his wife received him, on his return
home, with whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the
vantage-ground of him, having warned him not to commit the egregious
act of hospitality which had brought on him all these misfortunes;
and, like a knowing woman, she took every occasion to throw her
superior sagacity in his teeth. If her children lacked food, or needed
a new garment, she could answer with a sneer- "Go to your father- he
is heir to King Chico of the Alhambra: ask him to help you out of
the Moor's strongbox."
Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for having done a good
action? The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh and spirit, but still
he bore meekly with the railings of his spouse. At length, one
evening, when, after a hot day's toil, she taunted him in the usual
manner, he lost all patience. He did not venture to retort upon her,
but his eye rested upon the box of sandalwood, which lay on a shelf
with lid half open, as if laughing in mockery at his vexation. Seizing
it up, he dashed it with indignation to the floor: "Unlucky was the
day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered thy
master beneath my roof!"
As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide open, and the
parchment scroll rolled forth.
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