When another week dawned, Bahram Gur, the sovereign of the world, set out for the hunting grounds accompanied by his wise mobads and noble chieftains. For a full month, the king lingered in the wilds, hunting wild asses and lions while holding banquets under the open sky. The quarry taken from mountain and plain exceeded all measure, and when the monarch's heart was filled with joy, he turned his army home. As dark night wrapped the world in blackness, the nobles rode alongside him, reciting tales of ancient kings.
From afar, a brilliant fire gleamed through the shadow, radiating like a grand festival flame. Gazing toward the light, the king beheld a lush, pleasant village with a watermill standing at its edge. On one side sat the elders of the village, while beside the fire, four maiden daughters of the miller had arranged a merry gathering. Each wore a crown of fresh blossoms upon her head, surrounded by musicians. They sang ballads of the king's battles and grandeur—their faces beamed like full moons, their locks scented with musk, jewels gleaming on their robes as they held flower bouquets, half-intoxicated with joy and wine. Their voices echoed into the night: 'Long live King Bahram! He whose countenance shines with divine glory, he who hunts none but lions and wild asses, wherefore he is called Bahram Gur!'
Hearing their songs, the ruler pulled his reins and rode toward the flame. Seeing the plain transformed into a garden of moon-faced maidens, he ordered his cupbearers to bring crystal goblets of wine. Four renowned sisters stepped forward from the midst—Meshk, Sisanak, Nar, and Susanak. Wearing golden bracelets, with spring-like cheeks and tall statures, they sang praises to Bahram. The king was enchanted and asked: 'Fair maidens, whose daughters are you, and why do you light this flame?' One replied: 'Our father is an old miller who hunts in the high crags; he will return as the darkness deepens.'
Presently, the old miller descended from the mountain laden with game. Seeing the magnificent rider, he pressed his face to the dust in homage. Bahram commanded that a golden goblet of wine be presented to the old man, then asked: 'Why have you not wed these four sun-faced maidens?' The miller bowed, replying: 'They are chaste and pure maidens, yet they possess no dowry, no land, no silver, nor cattle.' Bahram smiled and said: 'Their poverty matters not to me; give all four to me as my brides.' The miller joyfully consented. Bahram accepted them before God and ordered his retinue to convey the maidens to the royal quarters.
The miller and his wife stood in utter amazement through the night. At dawn, Rozbeh, the village headman, arrived to inform the miller that his guest had been none other than King Bahram Gur himself, and that the king had granted him governance over the district. Overwhelmed by grace, the old man and his wife fell to their knees, praising Yazdan for the miraculous turn of fortune.