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When they were come before the new inn,
The Arab communed with himself:
"Dear God, what great marvel is this! 290
All Stamboul hath closed its doors
Because of the great terror of my name,
Alone the door of the new inn is not closed.
Whether doth no man lodge there?
Or is there any so dull and witless,
That he knoweth not yet of my renown?"
The Arab went to the Sultan's court,
And there through the dark night he tarried.
When day dawned on the morrow,
The Sultan led forth his daughter to the Arab; 300
The damsel's garments were made ready
And twelve pack-horses took the burden.
Across Stamboul went the Arab,
With the damsel and the wedding-guests with him.
When they were come before the new inn,
The door of the inn stood ever open.
The Moor urged forward his slender mare,
For to see who might be in the tavern;
And within the tavern sat Marko,
And ever the red wine he was drinking. 310
He drank not as men are wont to drink,
But he drank from a basin of twelve okas;
Himself drank half, and half he gave to Sharatz.
Fain would the Moor have picked a quarrel,
But Sharatz tethered to the doorpost,
Suffered him not to enter in,
But kicked his mare in the ribs.
The Moor returned to the wedding-guests,
And they went on together to the market-place.
Then arose Marko Kraljević, 320
He turned his wolf-skin cloak inside out,
Inside out his cap of wolf-skin;
He made fast the girths on Sharatz,
On one side he hanged a full wine-skin,
