t invade his dominions:
otherwise the infidel hordes will come down like grass of the earth and
like the stars of heaven, and surround our capital." Again Naznai ran
home with a quaking heart. That night the king stationed a hundred
sentinels around the hero's house to restrain him, lest his rash bravery
should impel him to go off alone in search of the infidel horde. In vain
he tried again and again to escape from the house: the sentinels always
stopped him, and his wife worried over him as if she were afraid that he
would be carried away by some passing crow. In the morning the king
assembled all his forces, put Naznai in the midst of them, and said,
"March now, and God go with you! Whoever does not obey my son-in-law's
orders, whoever does not do exactly as he sees him do, is a traitor."
The army marched away, taking one step forward to two or three steps
backward, until they came in sight of the infidel forces. Then Naznai's
heart failed him: he grew hot under his clothes. He took off his shoes,
so as to be able to run away faster, then his coat, and finally stripped
himself as bare as a cake of ice. The soldiers all followed his example,
as the king had ordered. Just at that moment a hungry wandering dog ran
past, and seizing one of Naznai's shoes (they were greased with mutton
tallow: may their owner die!) set off with it in the direction of the
infidel army. "Hm!" exclaimed Naznai: "so you'll make me a
laughing-stock too, will you?" and, naked as he was, he started in
pursuit. After him rushed the whole naked army. "Those are not men: they
are devils," thought the infidels; and, filled with terror, they
scattered in all directions, throwing away their weapons and abandoning
their treasure. Naznai gathered up all the booty, and returned at the
head of the army to the kingdom of his father-in-law. Upon their
arrival they found that the king was dead, and the army with one voice
chose Naznai as his successor. Ever afterward, when the conversation
turned upon heroism and notable exploits, Naznai used to say, "They who
will may boast of courage: _I_ would rather have good luck."

If the reader will take the trouble to compare the above rendering of
this story with the Hindoo variant entitled "The Valiant
Chattee-Maker,"[4] and the closely-related German version called by
Grimm "The Valiant Little Tailor,"[5] he will see how far it surpasses
them both in unity of conception, in coherence of detail, in keen
appreciation