They discovered where it lived. That snake would lay a golden egg every single day, each one weighing a full mithqal. Delighted to have such a creature under his roof, the master of the house collected a golden egg from its burrow each morning and ordered his family to keep the secret. So matters continued for several months.

Then the snake emerged, crept up to a milk-goat belonging to the household—an animal whose milk they relied on—and bit it; the goat died. The man and his family were upset, yet they said, “What we gain from the snake is worth more than the price of the goat; Allah will replace it for us through her.”

When a full year had passed, the snake attacked the man’s donkey, his regular mount, bit it, and killed it. Distressed, the man said, “This snake keeps bringing calamity upon us, but we shall endure these losses as long as they touch only the livestock.”

Two more years went by without any harm from the snake, and they remained pleased to have it near, happy with its presence. Then, suddenly, it pounced on the man’s slave—the only servant he owned—bit him while he slept, and the slave’s cries to his master availed nothing until his flesh literally fell apart. The man was stricken and declared, “The poison of this snake is deadly to anyone it bites; I cannot be sure it will not strike someone in my own household.”

He spent several days anxious, sorrowful, and afraid. At last he told himself, “So far the snake’s venom has touched only my property, and what I gain from her is far greater than what I have lost.” With that thought he consoled himself, though still living in fear and apprehension of the danger that came with harboring the snake.