{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26358/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26358","id":"gutenberg_26358","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26358","summary":null,"tags":["Asia -- Fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories","Orient -- Fiction","Tales -- Asia"],"text":"Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Delphine Lettau, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                      _THE \"CHANDOS CLASSICS.\"_\n\n\n\n                            EASTERN TALES\n\n\n\n                                  BY\n\n                          MANY STORY TELLERS\n\n\n\n        COMPILED AND EDITED FROM ANCIENT AND MODERN AUTHORS BY\n\n                            MRS. VALENTINE\n\n       _Author of \"Sea Fights and Land Battles,\" &c., &c., &c._\n\n\n\n                     WITH  NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                LONDON\n\n                        FREDERICK WARNE & CO.\n\n                        BEDFORD STREET, STRAND\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn compiling this volume of Eastern Tales, the Editor has been careful\nto select only those best suited to youthful readers. They have been\ngathered from both ancient and modern, French, Italian, and English\nsources, and therefore offer great variety of style and subject.\n\nIn the stories taken from the Tales of the Genii, an omission of a few\nwords has been made, to fit them for their place in this volume.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                                                          PAGE\n\nJALALADDEEN OF BAGDAD                                      1\n\nTHE STORY OF HASCHEM                                      40\n\nTHE PANTOFLES                                             73\n\nSTORY OF THE PRINCE AND THE LIONS                         78\n\nTHE CITY OF THE DEMONS                                    95\n\nJUSSUF, THE MERCHANT OF BALSORA                          104\n\nTHE SEVEN SLEEPERS                                       169\n\nTHE ENCHANTERS; OR, MISNAR, THE SULTAN OF INDIA          200\n\nSADIK BEG                                                306\n\nHALECHALBE AND THE UNKNOWN LADY                          309\n\nTHE FOUR TALISMANS                                       341\n\nTHE STORY OF BOHETZAD; OR, THE LOST CHILD                366\n\nURAD; OR, THE FAIR WANDERER                              499\n\nALISCHAR AND SMARAGDINE                                  524\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nEASTERN TALES.\n\nJalaladdeen of Bagdad.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in the city of Bagdad a young man called\nJalaladdeen. It was not his native place; but, in his early days, his\nfather had taken up his abode there. He was, however, little\nacquainted with the town, in which he had grown up a sturdy youth; for\nhis father inhabited a small house in one of the suburbs, and lived a\nvery retired and frugal life. They managed their household affairs,\nand cultivated their small garden, without the aid of any domestics.\n\nOne day the father, feeling his end approaching, called for his son\nonce more to his bed-side before his death, and said to him,\n\"Jalaladdeen, my dearest son, thou seest that I have arrived at the\nbourne of my earthly career: now I should joyously quit this life,\nwere it not for the thought that I must leave thee here alone. After\nmy death, thou wilt find that thou are not so poor as thou mayest have\nconceived, and that too with good reason, from our hitherto contracted\nhabits of life. Nevertheless, guard against the impression that thou\nart in possession of inexhaustible riches. Reflect that a year has\nthree hundred and sixty-five days, and that the smallest expenditure,\nwhen it occurs daily, will in the end amount to no inconsiderable sum.\nPay careful heed, therefore, to these my instructions, and be\ncontented with the necessaries of life. Provide that which is\nindispensable to thy subsistence; but beware of purchasing\nsuperfluities. Man's wants increase daily, if he do not accustom\nhimself in his early days to practise self-denial. But shouldest thou\never be so unhappy as to neglect these my sincere cautions, and\nconsequently fall into poverty, I have only this piece of advice left\nfor thee:--Take this rope, fasten it to the nail in yonder wall, and\npull stoutly three times.\"\n\nAfter these words, with his latest strength he drew a new rope from\nunder the head of his bed, and presented it to Jalaladdeen: the next\nmoment he expired.\n\nSo remarkable was the last lesson of the dying father to Jalaladdeen,\nthat he carefully preserved the rope. The care of the funeral of the\ndeceased, and the grief for the loss of his parent, and his own\nabandonment in the world, occupied Jalaladdeen's mind for the first\nweek; but soon the household matters demanded his attention, and he\nspeedily found his father's words verified. One day he discovered in a\nchamber which his father had always kept locked, and which he himself\nhad never before entered, a great quantity of gold and jewels. He\nstill, however, persevered in his accustomed solitary and frugal life\nin the same manner as before the death of his father. He fetched his\ndaily provisions for himself, worked in his garden, and dressed his\nown food. One day it happened that as he went to fetch a piece of meat\nfrom his butcher, he passed a house adjacent to his own, from an inner\nroom of which there sounded joyous voices, jokes, songs, and laughter.\nHe felt a desire to open the door a little and to peep in; and a\ntastefully furnished chamber, hung with light blue silk draperies\nornamented with golden lace, presented itself to his view. Beneath a\ncanopy reclined five richly dressed young men at a table covered with\na costly cloth, on which stood dishes and plates. On a side-board\nstood drinking-vessels and jugs; and five slaves were busily employed\nin serving the company with viands and liquors. At sight of this\ncheerful and joyous assemblage, Jalaladdeen felt discontented with his\nlot.\n\n\"How happy are they!\" said he to himself: \"here they repose together,\nand take their refreshments in common, savoured by sprightly\nconversation and jokes. Alas! I, poor Jalaladdeen, must sit at home\nalone, and take my solitary meal!\"\n\nWhile he was indulging in these reflections, one of the young men\nobserved him; and, as Jalaladdeen was withdrawing, he stepped forward\nhastily and invited him in a most friendly manner to remain with them\nduring the day, and to pass it in a cheerful and convivial spirit.\nJalaladdeen endeavoured to excuse himself by pointing to his mean\ngarb, intimating his inability to mix in such society; but his\nobjections were of no avail. He was conducted to the table in a most\ncourteous manner, and seated with them. The slaves waited on him, and\nplaced before him viands with which he was at once pleased and\nastonished.\n\nAs one of the slaves handed him a full goblet, he held it doubtfully\nin his hand for some time, without tasting it. Upon this, one of the\nyoung men, who appeared to be the host, said, \"Why do you not drink?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied he, \"what the liquor is: I am fearful it may\nbe wine, which our great Prophet has forbidden us.\"\n\nHereupon all the company raised a hearty laugh at him.\n\n\"Do you know,\" said one, \"why the Prophet forbade his disciples to\ndrink wine?\"\n\nAs Jalaladdeen replied in the negative, the other proceeded thus: \"The\nProphet observed many of his disciples, when they had partaken freely\nof the vine, brawling and quarrelsome; and therefore he forbade it.\nThe beverage, however, was very different in its effects: some of them\nit rendered lazy and inactive; others, too, would defy the whole\nworld, when heated by its influence. But why should he order us to\nshun it? He in fact allows us to use it, so long as we do not abuse\nit; and as we are all good companions, and avoid brawls in every\npossible way, there is no danger of neglecting the Prophet's command.\"\n\nIn consequence of this explanation, Jalaladdeen lifted the flagon to\nhis mouth, and emptied it with the greatest pleasure. \"Sorry company\nspoils good liquor.\" This maxim was readily adopted. In consequence of\nhis father's precepts, Jalaladdeen had always been in the habit of\ntreating all religious tenets with the greatest respect. But fearful\nthat, by remaining long with his new acquaintance, he should neglect\nhis father's words, he contrived at first to drink very sparingly. The\nbeverage, which he had hitherto never tasted, proved very agreeable to\nhis palate; and when the host called upon him to drain his cup, \"Ah,\"\nthought he, \"I have made one false step; I have erred from the right\npath! Whether I drink little, or empty the goblet, is of no great\nconsequence; for I have broken the commandment of the Prophet.\"\n\nHe quaffed again and again, and had his cup filled so frequently, that\nhe gradually forgot all his good intentions, and felt a degree of\nexcitement which seemed to run through his veins in a manner he had\nnever before experienced. He had by this time lost all self-command;\nand as he could neither call sense nor recollection to his aid, by\ndegrees he fashioned himself to the habits of his friends, and pleased\nthem more and more.\n\n\"Here, friend,\" said one of them at last, \"your company is very\npleasant. I wish to have you always with us, that we may revel and\nenjoy ourselves together.\"\n\nThe others also approved of the plan, and pressed him to become one of\nthem.\n\n\"I would willingly do so,\" said Jalaladdeen; \"but I must first know\nwhat your society is, and whether it would be proper for me to conform\nto its customs. Some associations are dangerous.\"\n\n\"Have no fear on that account,\" said one: \"our brotherhood is\nperfectly harmless, and its aim innocent. See, we are five\nunencumbered young men, each having some independent property. We have\nlinked ourselves together, and formed a confederacy to meet at one\nanother's residences, and to enjoy ourselves day after day in comfort\nand pleasure. He to whose lot it has fallen to become host to-day\nprovides meat and drink, and if it should cost him something more than\nusual, he makes up the loss by becoming on the next occasions the\nguest of others. In this manner we pass a life devoid of care, and\nfeast, joke, and laugh with one another the livelong day.\"\n\nThe condition into which the wine and the luxuries of the table had\nbrought Jalaladdeen disposed him to be well pleased with the offer,\nand he was easily induced to identify his lot with theirs. When\nevening drew on, and he rose to take his departure, they showed him\nthe house of meeting for the morrow, and he returned to his own home\ndelighted with the events of the day, and, retiring to rest, was soon\nlocked in profound sleep, and lulled by happy dreams.\n\nWhen he awoke the next morning, he reflected on the transactions of\nthe previous day, lamenting that he had so entirely disregarded his\nfather's last words, and had totally neglected the observance of the\nProphet's command. These thoughts, coupled with the admonition of his\ndying father, occasioned great anguish to his heart; and the\nrecollection of the vast expense incurred by the feasting of the\nformer day, and the calculation of the sum he should require to\nentertain his friends with similar hospitality, made him feel an\ninclination to withdraw from the connection; but, as he had pledged\nhis word, he was reluctant to quit them at so early a stage.\n\nHe then calculated what he should require, and proceeded to the\nchamber where his riches lay. But the sight of the treasures banished\nall cares from his breast; \"for,\" thought he to himself, \"if I should\nexpend a sum similar to that of yesterday, I shall want but very\nlittle of this gold.\" He then took a bag of gold with him, and went\nout to purchase the necessaries for the banquet.\n\nOn arriving at the city he took a porter with him, and bought various\narticles for the feast: a table for six, with a costly cover and\ncarpet. From thence he proceeded to a silversmith, and purchased jugs,\nand flagons, and drinking-vessels, and other utensils for the table,\nsuperior to those of his friends. Then he visited a china-shop, and\nselected some of the handsomest porcelain china and Japan ware that\nwas to be found, and provided himself with elegant services of plates\nand dishes. He continued in this manner furnishing himself with every\nuseful and ornamental article for one of his largest rooms.\n\nWhile he was thus employed in collecting and dispatching to his house\nthese various utensils, the time for assembling at his friend's house\ndrew near. He accordingly bent his steps thither, and was most gladly\nwelcomed. They sat down to table, and when the first course was\nserved, \"You should have brought a slave with you,\" said the host, \"as\nwe do: that is one of our customs.\"\n\nJalaladdeen explained that he had not yet purchased a slave, but\nundertook to procure one by the following morning.\n\nThe day passed, like the former one, in great glee and festivity. The\nsecond supply of wine was ordered, and Jalaladdeen took his first\ngoblet with great hesitation; but this was soon dissipated by his\nfriends, and his cup was filled again and again, till he became\nexactly in the same condition as on the previous occasion.\n\nAfter three or four days, he was altogether accustomed to his new mode\nof living; and he was at a loss to comprehend how he could have\nremained so long in his old quiet habits, blaming his father in his\nmind for keeping him in retirement so many years, and for depriving\nhim of the happiness of a convivial life.\n\nHe looked back with joy to the day upon which he had formed an\nacquaintance with his new friends, and congratulated himself on the\nprospect of a closer intimacy with them. He soon provided himself with\ntwo slaves: to one he confided the duties of the kitchen; the office\nof the other was to wait upon him and his friends.\n\nWhen the young men met for the first time at his house, they were\nastonished at its meanness and the want of accommodation, owing to the\nsmall size of the rooms. Jalaladdeen apologized to them, saying it had\nbeen his father's house, and that in consequence he did not wish to\npart with it. Though his companions approved of this motive, still\nthey considered that he ought to provide a spacious dining-room for\ntheir comfort, or to build an open pavilion in the garden, where they\nmight assemble more conveniently.\n\n\"In this small chamber,\" said one, \"it is impossible to enjoy oneself\nat ease: the room is so contracted and inconvenient.\"\n\n\"Yes, brother,\" said another; \"you must do something: a pavilion must\nbe erected in the garden; and while you are about it, let it be both\nhandsome and commodious.\"\n\nThen they suggested all kinds of plans for the building, each one\npointing out some novel feature or other which he particularly begged\nmight not be forgotten in its construction.\n\nJalaladdeen was soon thoroughly convinced of the necessity of\nproviding a large room for their comfort; and pledging himself now, as\nhe knew what was required, to follow the suggestion of his friends, he\npromised to use his best endeavours to render the building conformable\nto their several tastes.\n\nHe accordingly the next day sent for an architect, who well knew how\nto enlarge upon what was necessary for the solidity of the pavilion,\nwhat was requisite for its proper appearance, and what the cost of the\nbuilding would be, and desired him to erect it. Jalaladdeen yielded to\nhis opinion on every point, hoping to gain the praise and approbation\nof his friends; and in order to carry this out more fully, he would\nnot suffer any one to enter the garden during the progress of the\nwork.\n\nAt length the pavilion was completed, and the friends were assembled\ntogether there for the banquet. Everything was deemed praiseworthy,\nand highly approved.\n\nAt last, however, one exclaimed, \"It is much to be regretted, friend\nJalaladdeen, that your garden is so small. What a miserable prospect\nyou have! On this side nothing but poor vegetable-gardens; on the\nother side that ugly old building obstructs the view. If I were in\nyour place, I would buy up the land around, pull down the barracks and\nthe little buildings adjacent, and thus make one vast pleasure-garden,\nbefitting such a splendid pavilion.\"\n\nAs the rest of the guests concurred, Jalaladdeen began to think\nhimself that to erect a large handsome pavilion on such small grounds\nwas indeed a mistake. He immediately, therefore, bought up all the\nsmall gardens, for which he was obliged to pay a very heavy\nprice--firstly, because the owners did not wish to part with them; and\nsecondly, as the produce of the ground was necessary for their\nsubsistence.\n\nAs he had now got the requisite space on all sides, he employed a\nskilful gardener to lay out the grounds tastefully; and in order to\ncultivate this new garden, and keep it constantly in proper order, he\nwas compelled to enlarge his establishment by a head gardener and\nseveral assistants. His house was too small to accommodate them. He\ntherefore built a dwelling-house for them on a suitable spot of the\ngarden. Thus one foolish expenditure always renders another outlay\nnecessary.\n\nSoon, by degrees, their manner of living became more and more\nexpensive, as each endeavoured to excel the others in the splendour of\nhis hospitality, and to procure for the next meeting at his house\nscarcer viands and more costly wines. In this manner they vied with\neach other, increasing their expenses with savoury spices and the most\ndelicious perfumes.\n\nThis daily intercourse, however, was soon discontinued; and they\nassembled every day at Jalaladdeen's pavilion. He took a delight in\nbeing continual host, on account of the praise they lavished upon him,\nand the assurance they gave him that his table produced the best fare,\nand that the taste of his saloon was of the most superior order. By\nthis means, in a short time his treasures of gold were expended; still\nhe comforted himself with his precious stones, of which he possessed\nan immense quantity. At last these gems were squandered away; and he\noffered one costly article after another to a jeweller for sale, who\non each occasion named a less price than before. Soon his only\nremaining valuable ring was sold for a small sum; and Jalaladdeen\nentertained his friends for the last time.\n\nIn the course of the banquet, he took the opportunity of explaining\nthe state of his affairs, and begged some one of them to undertake the\noffice of host, as they had been in the habit of doing. But his\nfriends on this occasion received his announcement with great\nsurprise.\n\n\"Is it thus with you?\" said one, in astonishment.\n\n\"Are you obliged to have recourse to such means?\" said another. \"You\nhave invited us here, and furnished your table most sumptuously; and\nare matters thus with you? If it be so, you are rightly served. Your\nprofligate habits have led us into great expenses. 'T is good; you\nhave given us a proof of what such things lead to.\"\n\n\"What!\" said a third, \"do you wish us to take up the office of host in\norder to come to the same end at which you have arrived?\"\n\n\"I will give you some sound advice,\" said a fourth: \"whenever you meet\nwith a fool who is inclined to lay out his money in the purchase of\nsuch a poor tasteless garden as you have made, dispose of it to him,\nand with the proceeds take a little shop, and support yourself by\ntrade.\"\n\n\"Look to yourself,\" said the fifth: \"I am very sorry for you; but I\ncannot help you.\"\n\nThey then left him, some upbraiding him, others shrugging their\nShoulders with pity.\n\n\"These are friends indeed!\" said Jalaladdeen, bitterly, as they\ndeserted him. \"Oh, why did I neglect my father's injunctions? Even on\nthe first day of our acquaintance, I should have taken warning by\ntheir carelessness in disregarding the Prophet's commandment\nconcerning the abuse of wine. Ah me! I am justly punished.\"\n\nHe immediately began to retrench his household expenditure, and\nshortly his handsome tapestries and costly goods were all sold off,\nand he was reduced to the necessity of economizing most rigidly. But\ndeeply as he felt the loss of those comforts which he had so lately\nenjoyed, his reflections bore still heavier upon him.\n\nIn his contemplations one day on his unhappy lot, he laid himself\ndown in the same chamber in which he had received his dying father's\ncommands. Here he experienced the most bitter anguish for the\npast--looked forward with sorrow and amazement to the future, as he\nhad no one to advise and counsel him. Here his eye lighted upon the\nnail in the wall; and the last words of his father rung again in his\nears--\"Take this rope; you will see a nail in the wall; fasten it, and\npull three times.\"\n\nJalaladdeen immediately opened a drawer where the rope lay, fetched a\nstool to the spot, made fast the end of the rope to the nail, and\npulled with all his might. At the third pull he found he had torn the\nnail out of the wall, which had brought with it a square piece of\nboard, thus leaving a large opening: he observed, too, that this was\nnot the effect of chance, but of design. How great, then, was his\nastonishment when, on fetching a ladder, and looking into the opening,\nhe discovered a much larger bag of gold, pearls, and other precious\nstones, than that one he found on a previous occasion, and which he\nhad so thoughtlessly squandered. He now perceived that his father had\nprevented his touching this treasure until he should have learnt by\nmisfortune how easily vast riches are dissipated, and should have been\nconvinced by experience of the truth of his fatherly instructions and\nwarning.\n\nIn order to avoid falling again into the hands of his profligate\nfriends, should they hear of his improved circumstances, and to rid\nhimself of their company for ever, he sold his house, and bought\nanother, moderately large, pleasantly situated in an open plain in the\nneighbourhood of a mosque. He fitted it up conveniently; for his\nwealth, though not limited, was still not superfluously large.\n\nWhen he took possession of his new house, the person who had sold it\nto him said, \"I must leave something of my own here with you, as I\nhave not been able to remove it, though with the best intention.\" He\nthen conducted him into one of the apartments in which was standing a\nlarge copper vessel of elaborate workmanship. The cover of the vessel\nwas sealed, and on the seal Jalaladdeen perceived the letters of a\nstrange language.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the former owner, \"this chest has stood in this room from\ntime immemorial. My father forbade me to break the seal, and declared\nthat he who should lay his hand on it for such a purpose would suffer\nseverely for his foolhardiness. I have, I confess, in former times\nfelt a strong inclination to loosen the seal, but fear has hitherto\ndeterred me; but to-day as I had all my furniture removed from this\nhouse, I had this chest also conveyed to my new dwelling; but scarcely\nhad the porter placed it down, when it disappeared. However, I found\nit shortly afterwards in this room again, and ordered its removal a\nsecond time; but it was soon standing here again in its old place.\nPerhaps a tutelary genius, invisible to us, inhabits the house.\nHowever, as it will not suffer itself to be removed, you may keep it\nhere in the name of the Prophet. But forget not my warning--leave the\nseal unbroken.\"\n\nJalaladdeen felt half inclined to doubt these words; but nodding his\nhead, he said to the man, \"Well, well, leave the chest here; and if at\nany time I find it inconvenient, you will not, of course, object to\nremove it.\"\n\nScarcely had the man quitted the house, when Jalaladdeen called a\nslave, and desired him to place the vessel in a corner of the house.\n\n\"'T is an old chest,\" said he: \"remove it; its old appearance does not\ncorrespond with the decorations of this room, which I intend to use as\nmy sleeping-chamber. Now,\" said he to himself, \"I shall see if the man\nhas told the truth.\"\n\nThe slave removed the chest without ceremony, and Jalaladdeen\ncontemplated, for some time, with great earnestness, the spot where it\nhad lately stood; and as it did not appear again, he fancied that he\nhad rid himself of it for ever. All at once, however, it was standing\non the same spot once more, without his having observed by what agency\nit had been done. He had it then removed again and again, and on each\noccasion it returned to the same chamber. Seeing at last all his\nefforts fruitless, he permitted it to remain. The adventure, however,\nwas too remarkable to make no impression on his mind. He threw himself\ndown in his clothes on his couch; but sleep was denied to him. A train\nof thought on the subject of the wondrous chest, and his fear on\naccount of the warning he had received, disturbed his mind, and\nprevented him from taking any rest. There he lay awake till midnight,\nand saw the chest glittering in the light of the moon, which fell\nupon it as it streamed through the window.\n\nCuriosity at once overcame his fear: he started up and procured an\niron tool with which he could break the seal of the cover, and took a\nhammer and chisel with him. With the aid of these instruments he broke\nthrough the leaden seal; but scarcely had it given way, when the lid\nopened, and a blue curling smoke arose from it, and from the midst of\nit issued a hideous old woman in a strange dress. She carried a crutch\nunder her left arm, and held another in her right hand. She limped\nover the side of the vessel, and hobbling towards the astonished\nJalaladdeen, said,\n\n\"Fool, fool that thou art! is it befitting for thee, so young as thou\nart, to stand there like an old idler? Go forth into the world, and\nfetch the wonder-stone from Mount Massis, otherwise thou canst never\nbe my husband.\"\n\nAfter these words she hobbled back on her crutch to the copper vessel,\ngathered herself together, as it were, into a ball, tumbled hastily\nin, and closed the cover on herself.\n\nOvercome with fear and astonishment, Jalaladdeen threw himself upon\nhis couch; but the dawn of morning found him still awake. He\nendeavoured to beguile the day in the arrangement of his house; but,\nnevertheless, he could not chase from his memory the wonderful\nspectacle which he had witnessed, and the portentous words that\nattended it. He felt an uneasiness which he endeavoured in vain to\nsubdue, nor could he rest satisfied until he had investigated the\ncause of his anxiety.\n\nAt length he was so exhausted by the business of the day, fatigue, and\nwant of rest, that he laid himself down early in the evenings and fell\nasleep; but at the hour of midnight he awoke again. He saw the vessel\nopen, and the blue smoke arising from it, and from the midst of it the\nugly old woman hobbled towards him, and cried out, as she swung her\ncrutch to and fro in the air,\n\n\"Fool, fool, young idle fool! think of the stone of Mount Massis,\notherwise thou canst not be my husband.\"\n\nAfter these words she limped back again, gathered herself up as\nbefore, and the lid of the urn closed once more of itself.\n\nThis occurred every night; but after that Jalaladdeen had recovered\nfrom the agitation caused by her first appearance, he slept as soundly\nas ever: still the old woman woke him night after night by thrusts in\nthe ribs with her crutch, and on every occasion repeated the same or\nsimilar words.\n\nBut she generally awoke him in the midst of a dream, in which he\nalways saw a very beautiful young lady, who rose from a kingly throne\nnear him, and touched him with her golden sceptre. To this succeeded\nthe reality of the hideous old woman; and instead of the sceptre, the\ncrutch was wielded against him.\n\nHe often endeavoured by day to get the vessel removed; and sometimes\neven it was thrown into the river which flows by Bagdad; but still it\nalways found its way back to his chamber at night. He then caused his\ncouch to be removed to another room, but this was to no purpose, as\nthe vessel always followed it. Thus matters went on, till the nightly\ndisturbances, and still more the disturbed state of his mind, affected\nhim to such a degree, that his health was very much impaired. He\nsought the advice of physicians, who prescribed all kinds of\nstimulants and restoratives; but their combined skill could not\nrestore him to his lost rest. At length one of the physicians said to\nhim,\n\n\"My skill has done all it can, my medicines avail nothing: if your\nillness were really that of the body, you would have been restored to\nhealth long since; but if your indisposition has its source in the\nmind, my prescriptions cannot aid you. Seek a magician--that is my\nadvice: he by his occult science may be enabled to discover the cause\nof your bad health, and to effect a cure.\"\n\nJalaladdeen felt the truth of these words.\n\n\"It cannot be denied,\" said he, \"that the cause of my illness is\nseated in my mind, and till that be removed, my health cannot be\nrestored.\"\n\nHe then sought out one of the most skilful magicians of the day, and\ndisclosed to him the circumstances of his nightly disturbance,\nassuring him, that before the first night on which the old woman had\nmade her odious appearance out of the vessel, his rest had never been\nimpaired. He ended by begging and entreating of him that he would use\nall his skill to make the vision cease, and to rid his house of the\nfatal urn.\n\nThe magician consulted for some time with himself, and then addressed\nhim thus:\n\n\"You tell me that this vessel was fastened down by a leaden seal; if\nit be loose, let me see it.\"\n\nJalaladdeen immediately conducted the magician to his house, and\nshowed him the vessel, to which the seal was still attached. The\nmagician studied with great attention the inscription on the seal, and\nthen turning to Jalaladdeen, spoke thus:\n\n\"All my skill put together could not accomplish your wishes: know that\nthis is the seal of the great Solomon; and it is inevitable, that he\nwho breaks it must become an inmate of the vessel. To counteract this\nfate is not in the power of the most mighty magician. You are in the\nhands of this old woman, and no human power or wisdom can extricate\nyou from it.\"\n\nThis speech involved Jalaladdeen in the greatest perplexity; he threw\nhimself upon the ground, beat his breast, and sobbed and wept\nviolently.\n\n\"Whence,\" exclaimed he, \"is the power of this hideous old woman? Shall\nI, to the end of my days, remain in her trammels? Shall she, even when\nI have recovered from my illness, and lie wrapped in sweet dreams,\napproach my couch, and rouse me with her crutch to listen to her\ncroaking voice? Whither can I fly for comfort? I would rather die than\ndrag on a miserable existence in such trouble and anxiety. Take this\ndagger, I pray you, and stab me, and thus put an end to my illness.\"\n\nWith this he handed a dagger to the magician, and prayed him with many\ntears, as he bared his breast, to plunge it in, and rid him of his\nsufferings.\n\n\"Heaven forbid that I should commit such an act,\" replied the\nmagician. \"You are, without doubt, destined for great deeds, which\nwill be worthy of you, one of which is, that you should break the seal\nof the great Solomon. You tell me that the old woman has desired you\nto fetch the wonder-stone from Mount Massis; follow her advice,\njourney to the mountain, and work out your good fortune. Perhaps your\nfate may take another and a more prosperous turn.\"\n\nHe lengthened out his speech in the same tone and spirit, and spoke\nseriously for some time, till at length he succeeded in quieting\nJalaladdeen; so that he embraced the hope of being restored one day to\nperfect health.\n\n\"But,\" said he to the magician, \"whither shall I bend my course? where\nis Mount Massis? and even if I succeed in reaching it, how shall I\ndiscover the wonder-stone?\"\n\nHereupon the magician promised to consider all these points, and to\ngive him the necessary instructions on the morrow.\n\nOn the following night the ugly old woman appeared again out of the\nvessel; but did not, as on former occasions, rouse him with her\ncrutch; but it seemed as though he woke of his own accord, and found\nher standing by his bed-side.\n\n\"Now,\" said she to him, \"will you at last be wise, and give up this\nidleness? it will prove advantageous both to you and me.\"\n\nShe then addressed him in the most friendly terms, and left him in her\nusual manner.\n\nThe next morning the magician made his appearance again, and gave him\nthe necessary information as to the course to be pursued. He told him\nthat the wonder-stone lay concealed in a stone castle about midway up\nMount Massis; but that the enterprise required great patience,\nperseverance, and skill. With such words as these he brought his\nspeech to a close, and left Jalaladdeen to his own reflections.\n\n\"The mountain is difficult of ascent, and is guarded by vigilant\ngenii: he who cannot comply with their singular demands must certainly\nsink under the dangers to be encountered, or at least withdraw from\nthe attempt without bringing it to completion.\"\n\nJalaladdeen assured the magician that he had sufficient patience to\ncarry him through any trial, and that he was ready and willing to\nsubmit to any labour, if by that means he could rid himself of the\nillness from which he was at that time suffering.\n\n\"Then,\" said he, \"where is Mount Massis? which I have never before\nheard of.\"\n\n\"You will know it, perhaps, by another name; it is also called Mount\nArarat. There was, at some time or other, a great flood upon the\nearth, which destroyed every creature, man and beast, save one, who,\nwith his wife and family, was warned by Allah; and placed in a large\nvessel, which floated upon the waters; then, as soon as the flood\nsubsided, the ship remained fixed on one of the two ridges of the\nmountain; from this time the mount has been considered holy, and the\nspot most devoutly worshipped.\"\n\n\"I have heard of it,\" replied Jalaladdeen; \"but in which direction am\nI to journey, in order to discover this wonder-stone?\"\n\n\"You must follow the course of the Tigris,\" said he, \"and then you\nwill be at no great distance from the place.\"\n\nJalaladdeen immediately set his house in order, hired some armed\nattendants, took from his chest some gold and valuable jewels, and set\noff on his journey, following the windings of the river. The road\nappeared pleasant to him, and no danger or misfortune occurred to\nannoy him; the weather was fine, and he feasted his eyes upon the\nvarious features of the country, which were most beautiful and\nenchanting, travelling cheerfully onward. He began to forget his old\nsorrows and grievances, and to enjoy an unusual degree of happiness,\nas he left behind him the vision of the ugly old woman; for she never\nvisited him again from the time he quitted his home.\n\nAt length he arrived with his suite on a high eminence, from which he\nbeheld a most beautiful expanse of country, and in the distance the\nmost charming scenery, from morning till night. In a corner of the\nvalley a single hill towered up to the sky; farther on rose a chain of\nmountains; but the little hill was formed at the summit into two\npeaks. A cloud floated over their tops, one of which shot up more\nlofty than the other, and the sun cast a brilliant light upon them.\nBut it was remarkable, that the nearer one approached the hill, the\nhigher it appeared, and more majestic. At its base lay a very fruitful\nplain, and on the other side stood at little city.\n\nJalaladdeen inquired the name of the city, and was told that it was\nSemaenum.\n\n\"What!\" said he, \"Semaenum? How did it acquire this extraordinary\nname?\"\n\nThe people laughed at his simplicity, and inquired whether or not he\nhad heard of the great flood from which only one man and his wife, and\nthree sons with their wives also, escaped.\n\n\"These eight persons,\" added they, \"on their descent from the\nmountain, took up their abode here, and laid the foundation of the\ncity.\"\n\nAfter this Jalaladdeen heard that the castle in which the wonder-stone\nwas concealed lay on the other side of the hill; but still no one knew\nanything of the stone, nor had the inhabitants a satisfactory idea of\nthe castle. But he was informed that so many extraordinary and\ngigantic masses of stone were standing in the various clefts of the\nmount, that their appearance was certainly that of a castle, and that\nthe lofty crowning point in the distance resembled a tower.\n\n\"However,\" added the relaters, \"yonder spot is not accessible, nor has\nit ever been heard of, within the memory of man, that any one ever\ndreamt of attempting its ascent. Everybody dreads the road on that\nside of the hill, as it has been said that mighty genii carry on their\norgies there; and there is also a tradition, that a traveller once\nundertook to attain the summit, but that he had never been known to\nreturn.\"\n\nAs soon as Jalaladdeen had clearly ascertained from the inhabitants on\nwhich side of the hill the so-called castle was situated, he felt a\nstrong inclination to journey on towards it at that minute, regardless\nof the warnings of the neighbouring people and the entreaties of his\nguide. He accordingly took some of his gold and jewels with him, and\nset off on his journey, ordering his guide to remain behind. He gave\nthese last instructions to his servants:\n\n\"If I return not in three months, you may regard my property here as\nyour own; then go back each one to his home, or wherever his\ninclination may lead him.\"\n\nHe soon lost his road, and arrived at unknown and intricate paths,\nwith which the foot of the mountain was surrounded. Gradually the\ntrees and all traces of vegetation disappeared, save here and there a\ntuft of close underwood, which sprang up in the clefts of the rocks.\nRound about him were piled blocks of stone of monstrous size, and his\nfarther progress was soon altogether stopped. There rose before him a\nmassive stone wall like a tower, which was so steep and smooth, that\nit was impossible to pass it. He therefore made a wide circuit round,\nand at last found himself in a broad chasm of the rock, which seemed\nto extend far into the mountain.\n\nWild and unfrequented as this appeared, nevertheless he ventured to\ndescend. The way was very laborious; he was often obliged to mount\nsharp-pointed masses of rock, often to wind along between crags and\nbriars, often again to descend into deep abysses, down which rapid\nstreams rushed violently, and then again to clamber up on the other\nside. At times he hung suspended from one side, searching out in vain\na resting-place for his foot, to furnish him a support in his\nprogress.\n\nAt length, after long and incessant labour through a dangerous\npathway, he arrived at the steep summit, from which he discovered\nmassive walls and lofty towers, that appeared to be constructed of\nrough unhewn stone. With the last exertion of his exhausted strength,\nhe ascended these heights, and found himself before an opening. He\nknew not whether this was merely a cleft in the rock resembling a\ndoorway, or a doorway hewn in the rough rock like a natural chasm. It\nwas formed of upright blocks of stone, on which was cast another of\nwonderful size; but there was no door. He laboured now more\nassiduously than ever through the thorns and pointed stones, which lay\nhere and there over the little level space that extended in front of\nthe opening, till he stood before the dark entrance. The gloom\nconcealed the nature of the interior of the cavity from his view, and\nhe stood for a short time on the threshold, thinking on his past\ntrials and collecting his scattered senses. As he was about to enter,\na man stepped up to him, armed with a bow and bearing on his back a\nquiver of arrows.\n\n\"Take the bow,\" said he to Jalaladdeen, \"choose yourself an arrow, and\ngo do your duty.\"\n\nSo surprised and astonished was he, that he seized the bow, drew an\narrow from the quiver, and asked,\n\n\"What is my duty? What shall I do?\"\n\n\"There,\" answered the man, pointing in the distance, \"far beyond you\nmust go; there is a great sea, which you must compass to its southern\nside, and then proceed through a wide expanse of plain until you\narrive at a large inland lake, called the Eagles' Lake. There, every\nmorning immediately after sunrise, you will see a swarm of black\neagles on the shore, and among them a single white one. This kill,\nand, in proof of what you have done, bring back here the left wing.\"\n\nThis announcement came like a thunderbolt upon the miserable\nJalaladdeen, who had fancied that he had arrived very near the end of\nhis journey. But now he was ordered to proceed still farther through\nan unknown tract of land. On looking back he saw that the sun had\nalready sunk in the heavens, and that dusky and humid clouds were\ngathering over the sky; so, turning to the man, he said,\n\n\"The night is fast drawing on, and I am very weary; and if I were to\nbe exposed for so many hours in the abyss of this rocky ravine, I\nshould certainly perish. May I not be permitted to pass the night\nhere?\"\n\nThe man nodded assent, and ordered Jalaladdeen to follow him. They\npassed into a dark hall from the entrance, with a vaulted roof formed\nof rough blocks of stone, from which hung a single iron lamp, that\nspread a feeble and dim light around. His conductor left him here\nalone, and two domestics soon appeared. They brought him an ottoman,\nand made him understand by signs that he was to sit down. They then\nplaced a table before him with meat and drink, and stationed\nthemselves at a respectful distance from him, waiting to serve him. He\nate and drank and refreshed himself after the labours of the day,\nwhile the attendants handed everything to him with the greatest\nattention.\n\nAs soon as he had satisfied the craving of his appetite, they removed\nthe table with its appendages, and beckoned to him to follow them.\nThey conducted him through a side passage to a door, and when they had\ndrawn back the curtain which hung before it, Jalaladdeen stood mute\nwith astonishment.\n\nThe chamber was precisely like his sleeping-room at Bagdad: every\narticle of furniture was of the same size and colour as his, and\noccupied exactly the same position.\n\n\"You are surprised at this chamber,\" said one of the attendants: \"our\nmaster wished to make it as comfortable for you as possible after your\nlong journey, and he thinks that a man never experiences more comforts\nthan in his own house.\"\n\nWith this they saluted him, and retired; but Jalaladdeen was too much\nastonished to sink to rest immediately; he accordingly walked round\nthe room and inspected everything. It was his own chamber, with his\nown cushions, tapestries, and carpet; the curtains which he had\npurchased on entering his new house were there, and even the most\nminute article of furniture was the same; and that nothing might be\nwanting, there stood, on the precise spot, the fatal vessel which he\nhad not been able to remove from his room by any means. Disagreeable\nas this last was, still he was so taken with surprise at the strange\nresemblance to his own chamber, that it made no impression on his\nmind; and at last he laid himself down on the couch, and Nature soon\nasserting her rights, he slumbered. He slept soundly throughout the\nnight, and experienced the same happy dream which had so often visited\nhim when at home. He saw a beautiful young maiden in princely garb,\nadorned with the most costly jewels, and at the moment that she raised\nherself from her queenly throne, and bent towards him her golden\nsceptre, he awoke, and the hideous old woman hobbled up to him.\n\n\"Commit no rash act of folly,\" said she, in a hoarse croaking voice;\n\"do not go without a dog: they _must_ give you one.\"\n\nShe then turned herself about, shook her crutch at him in a menacing\nmanner, and disappeared all at once into the vessel, as on every\nformer occasion.\n\n\"A dog!\" said Jalaladdeen to himself: \"what shall I do with such an\nunclean animal? However, she seems to know of the journey in store for\nme.\"\n\nAnd revolving the matter in his mind, it appeared to him better to\nfollow her advice. In the midst of his thoughts he again fell fast\nasleep; and when he awoke, he found, to his no small surprise, that\nhe had been slumbering in a chasm of the rock upon a bed of dried\nmountain grass.\n\nThe sun shone in upon him, and before him stood the man who had given\nhim the bow and arrow, and who immediately reminded him of his\njourney, and urged him to prepare speedily to do his duty. He arose at\nonce, and declared himself ready.\n\n\"But,\" said he, calling to mind the old woman's words, \"could I not\nhave a dog to accompany me on the way?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied the man; and at his call a large dog with broad\npaws made its appearance, and began to run round him in a friendly\nmanner, barking for joy. He then tore off a small piece of the hem of\nhis garment, and having shewn it to the dog, gave it to Jalaladdeen,\nand said,\n\n\"So long as you bear this with you, the dog will follow you wherever\nyou go; be therefore careful of it. Now proceed, turn not back to the\ntown, but go straight on to the east.\"\n\nThe dog immediately bounded forward, and, on issuing from the hollow\nof the rock, turned toward the east. Jalaladdeen followed, and found,\nto his astonishment, a winding path, not altogether level, but still\nnot very inconvenient. Whenever a dangerous spot showed itself at\ntimes, the dog discovered another path by which the danger might be\navoided. Jalaladdeen therefore allowed him to run on before, and\nfollowed his steps.\n\nThey soon reached the plain, and arrived at a hilly district, where\nthe mountains rose higher and higher behind them in the distance. The\nland on the other side declined gently; and, afar off, they beheld the\nsea. Many days, however, passed before he was able to make the wide\ncircuit which led to the southern side. He then found himself in a\nflat country, and, after a journey of fourteen days, arrived at the\nshores of the Eagle Lake. Jalaladdeen threw himself down, in the\nevening, upon a dry spot of the shore; for in the course of his long\njourney he had habituated himself to rest on the earth under the broad\ncanopy of heaven.\n\nIn the morning, his dog awoke him by a low barking and lively\nindications of restlessness. He had hardly risen from the ground, when\nthe dog sprang joyously up to him, looking to one side, as though to\ndirect his attention. On turning his eyes towards the spot, he\ndiscovered a great multitude of black birds hovering over the trees,\nand felt satisfied that they were the eagles. He then looked anxiously\nfor the white one, which he was to kill; but in vain. Whilst he was\nengaged in the search, the dog made a circuit, and crept close to them\nbeneath some bushes; then, by a sudden loud bark, he dislodged them\nfrom the spot, and they flew in the direction of Jalaladdeen, across\nthe lake. He, on a sudden, discovered the snow-white eagle among the\nothers, and bent his bow, and, although the bird was now at so great a\ndistance that no ordinary shot could have reached it, still the arrow\nflew straight to its mark, and he saw the object of his aim fall far\nfrom the shore into the blue waters of the lake.\n\n\"What avails my fortunate shot?\" said he, looking with vexation on the\nwaves which bore it farther from the shore.\n\nImmediately the dog plunged hastily into the water, and swimming with\nextraordinary rapidity, seized the eagle in his mouth, and brought it\nsafely to his master. Jalaladdeen quickly drew out the arrow, which\nhad pierced it through the middle of the body, and cutting off the\nleft wing, secured it to his person. During this operation, he had\nsmeared his fingers with blood; and, as he was wiping it off on the\ninside of his girdle, the little piece of the man's garment, which he\nhad hitherto kept safely, fell to the ground without his noticing it.\nHereupon the dog caught up the body of the eagle, which Jalaladdeen\nhad thrown away, and ran off with it at full speed.\n\nJalaladdeen called repeatedly to the dog, and coaxed him to return,\nbut in vain; so he proceeded home on his way alone. He certainly met\nwith nothing of material import to molest him in his journey;\nnevertheless he had to encounter a thousand little obstacles, which\nvery much impeded his progress. He could not discover the path by\nwhich he had originally come, but frequently arrived at places where\nthere was no road, or at thick forests, through which he was obliged\nto hew a path with his sabre, and to pass the night upon the naked\nearth beneath the open sky.\n\nAfter a much longer journey than before, and many different detours,\nhe arrived at a spot from which he could see the two-pointed head of\nMount Massis. When, after some days, he came to the foot of the mount,\nhe was in hopes of finding the path by which he had descended in\ncompany with the dog; but he looked for it in vain, and was obliged to\nclimb up by one of the dreadful rocky ravines, at the risk of his\nlife, as on a former occasion.\n\nAt length, weary and exhausted, he arrived at the opening, and was\nabout to enter, with the eagle's wing in his hand, when the man who\nhad given him the bow and arrow presented himself before him, and\nsaid,\n\n\"Hast thou done thy duty?\"\n\nJalaladdeen immediately placed the wing in his hands.\n\n\"Good,\" replied the other; \"I will see if it be the right one.\"\n\nHe then called the dog by name, who immediately appeared from the\ncastle, carrying the eagle's body in his mouth.\n\nAs soon as the man had applied the wing to the place from which it had\nbeen cut, and compared it with the other, he said to him, nodding\napprovingly, \"'T is well: I have that which I wanted. But stay here a\nmoment; my brother will come to you, and inform you what you must do\nfor him, if you wish to have your desire fulfilled.\" With these words,\nhe entered the hollow again, and the dog accompanied him.\n\nJalaladdeen followed him with his eyes; and then, sighing deeply,\nsaid, \"Another labour still! I fancied I had already discovered the\nwonder-stone of Mount Massis, and now I must journey out into the\nworld again on anew adventure. God knows whither the brother will send\nme.\"\n\nHis soliloquy was interrupted by the appearance of a man, who stepped\nforward from the opening, and presented to him a lance with a\nglittering steel head.\n\n\"Take it,\" said he, \"and with it do thy duty.\"\n\nJalaladdeen took it, and intimated his readiness to undertake the\nmission, at the same time asking, \"What is my duty?\"\n\nThe man answered, \"On the way hence to Mount Lebanon, on the other\nside of the Tigris and Euphrates, the traveller comes, after a journey\nof some days, to a vast desert. There, in the middle of a large\nbarren and sandy plain, lies a fruitful oasis, watered by a little\nstream, on whose brink grow tall palms, refreshing the wanderer with\ntheir shade and fruit. But the neighbourhood of the palms is\nfrequented by a monstrous lion of a dark colour,--the only one that\nhas wandered into the district,--and his ferocity renders it dangerous\nto rest beneath their shade. This you must kill--not only for the\nsafety of future travellers, but in order to accomplish your own\nwishes. Then bring here to me the lion's tail; you will hereafter need\nit.\"\n\nAgain it was evening; and Jalaladdeen begged permission to recruit his\nstrength and refresh himself by a night's rest. The man assented, and\nmade a sign that he should follow him. In the hall he was again\nprovided with meat and drink by the two attendants; and after his\nrepast, they conducted him to the same door, drew back the curtain\nfrom before it, and he again, to his utter amazement, found himself in\nhis own sleeping-chamber at Bagdad. Once more he recognized every\narticle of furniture as his own, or exactly similar to his own, and\nthe copper vessel standing precisely on the same spot. He then threw\nhimself on his couch, and was soon locked in deep slumber. But at the\nhour of midnight he was again roused from his dream by the hideous old\nwoman, who stood by his bed-side, flourishing her crutch in a\nthreatening attitude, and calling upon him in a hoarse, croaking\nvoice,\n\n\"See thou commit no rash act of folly,\" she cried. \"Go not on foot to\nthe desert, otherwise the floating clouds of sand will bury thee for\never before thou arrivest at the palms; or if thou shouldest attain\nthe spot, the lion will tear thee in pieces if he find no other booty.\nThey must give thee a camel: see that thou demand it.\" At these words\nshe shook her crutch at him, and disappeared into the vessel.\n\n\"A camel!\" said Jalaladdeen to himself: \"can they possibly have camels\nin this unfrequented place? And even if they had, how could I descend\nto the plain with such a beast, through the clefts in the rocks, from\nthis height?\"\n\nHis weariness was so great that, amid a chain of thoughts that\nattended the vision, he fell fast asleep again. The next morning he\nwas awoke by the man who gave him the lance, and he discovered himself\nat the opening of the rock, as on a former occasion. The sun again\nshone through the hollow, and the man said to him,\n\n\"'T is time that you should make ready to do your duty: take the bow\nand arrow, together with my lance, and journey on to the desert.\"\n\nAt the moment he called to mind the injunction of the old woman, and\nanswered, \"For my passage through the desert I shall require a camel.\"\n\n\"Then thou shalt have one,\" replied the man; and, on emerging a second\ntime from the opening, there stood a camel, ready furnished with many\nnecessaries for his comfort and convenience during the journey.\n\nTo his astonishment, after he had mounted the animal, it proceeded by\nan easy pathway down the side of the mountain; and, although he could\nsee nothing but impassable spots, huge blocks of stone, and deep\nabysses both before and behind, still the camel travelled on by a\nlevel and gently declining track.\n\nOn this occasion, too, his journey was more prosperous and far more\nspeedy than at the first. He arrived at the desert without any mishap,\nand in the evening reached the fruitful strip of land where the palms\nstood. The camel immediately refreshed itself with water, while\nJalaladdeen's repast consisted of dates from the neighbouring trees.\nHe then allowed the camel to browse upon the brink of the stream,\nwhile he resigned himself, without care, to rest beneath the shade. He\nwas soon, however, terrified by the roar of a lion, which sounded\nclose to him; accordingly he sprang up hastily, seized his arms, and\ntook up a position behind some large palms, which concealed him from\nthe sight of his approaching enemy. Soon the lion drew on with rapid\nstrides, and was about to rush upon the browsing camel, when\nJalaladdeen shot an arrow, which took effect in his right eye.\nScarcely had the dart reached the lion, when he sprang vengefully\nforward on his foe, whom he had but that moment discovered.\nJalaladdeen, nothing daunted, stepped boldly forwards, and thrust at\nhim with the point of his lance; but the lion bounded on with such\nforce, that he could not withstand the attack: he fell, and the whole\nbulk of the lion rolled over him. Jalaladdeen gave himself up for\nlost: he lay senseless some time, and when he had recovered\nsufficiently to comprehend his dreadful situation, the moon was high\nin the heavens. He was very weak, and bruised all over the body, and\nhe felt some great weight upon him. By means of considerable exertion,\nhe released himself, and remarked for the first time that his clothes\nwere saturated with blood. He immediately fancied that he had been\nwounded by the teeth or claws of the lion, and accordingly rolled over\nto the water and washed himself; but, after a very careful examination\nof his person, he could not discover a wound. The coolness of the\nwater refreshed his limbs, and eased the pain of the bruises in the\nvarious parts of his body. After this he was soon enabled to stand up,\nand he found that the weight which had been pressing upon him was the\nlion, dead and stiff, and soaked in his blood. In its bound forward it\nhad pierced itself with the lance, and had fallen to the ground, in\nconsequence of the furious attack it was designing. The body of the\ndead lion proved a soft pillow, and its bulk was so immense that\nJalaladdeen could recline at full length upon its back with great\nease. In this manner he slept on, and did not rise till broad\ndaylight, when he felt himself fully refreshed and well. He then cut\noff the lion's tail, and remounted the camel, which had strayed to a\nshort distance from the spot.\n\nThe return to the castle on the mount was prosperous, and not marked\nby any particular adventure. He soon left the desert behind, and found\nhimself at the foot of Mount Massis. But as evening was approaching,\nhe considered whether it would be better to rest till morning, and\nthen ascend the acclivity; the camel, however, perseveringly trotted\non with that zeal which animals generally show when approaching their\naccustomed dwelling.\n\nThe last gleam of day had not disappeared in the western sky when he\nfound himself in the little chamber before the well-known entrance of\nthe castle. Although the distance from the foot of the hill thus far\nup to the castle, notwithstanding the rapid steps of the beast, had\noccupied the greater part of a whole day, yet it appeared that it\ncould now be accomplished in the short space of a single hour.\nJalaladdeen could not comprehend how he had reached it so rapidly; but\nit occurred to him for the first time that he had never seen so\nextraordinary a pathway, or one accompanied with so much difficulty\nand danger. He contemplated with surprise the rapidity with which he\nhad completed this journey, and made a sign to the camel to kneel, to\ngive his rider an opportunity of descending and unloading him. He took\nhis arms and the lion's tail, and entered the gate of the castle.\n\nOn his entry he was met by a man, who took his lance from him and\nsaid, \"Hast thou done thy duty?\"\n\nAnd as Jalaladdeen presented to him the lion's tail, he said that he\nhad failed in nothing.\n\n\"Good,\" said he; \"but still I will put it to the test, to prove\nwhether you are right.\"\n\nHe then called out aloud four names, upon which immediately appeared\nfour large dogs out of the chasm in the rock, dragging after them the\ndead body of the dark lion. The man now applied the tail to the lion's\nbody, and on finding that it corresponded, \"Good,\" said he; \"I have\nnow what I desire. Wait, however, a short time, and my brother will\ncome and tell you what he requires you to do for him, if you are\ninclined to see your wishes fulfilled.\" With these words he retired\ninto the castle, and the four dogs dragged in the lion after him.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Jalaladdeen, \"I have not yet accomplished my labours! Who\nknows how many brothers may be dwelling here together? And if I\nreceive only a slight demand from each of them, a year may elapse ere\nI obtain the wonder-stone.\"\n\nHe had scarcely uttered these words when the third brother advanced,\nand handing to him a basket made of rushes, accompanied it with the\nwords, \"Go and do thy duty.\"\n\nHe inquired what was his duty, and received this answer: \"Go and fetch\nwater.\"\n\n\"What!\" said he; \"fetch water in a basket! It will run out between the\nrushes!\"\n\nThe man shrugged up his shoulders, and said, \"That is for you to look\nto: water you must bring in this basket, and without the aid of any\nother vessel; for you will stand in need of the water.\"\n\n\"That is impossible,\" replied Jalaladdeen. \"Set me to any other kind\nof work--send me into a distant country on the other side of the\nCaucasus, let me herd with wild beasts, and I will, without making any\nobjection, obey your injunctions, even at the risk of my life; but do\nnot require impossibilities of me.\"\n\n\"'T is not impossible,\" answered the man. \"Reflect: I dare not say\nanything more to you. You have till morning to consider what you will\ndo. Come in here and refresh yourself with food and rest.\"\n\nJalaladdeen followed him, and was conducted into a chamber, where he\nwas abundantly supplied with viands and liquors. The bed-room\nappropriated to him was that in which he had formerly rested and known\nas his own; and he laid himself down, exhausted and overcome with\ngrief on account of the new demand made upon him. He awoke again at\nmidnight, and the little old woman stood once more before him with her\nuplifted crutch.\n\n\"Commit no rash act of folly,\" said she. \"Seek not water out of the\ndeep: carry _that_ not in thy basket; the water which thou must bring\nin it will not escape through it. Step out; above thou wilt find the\nwater I speak of; thence thou must fetch it. Dost thou hear? Be not\nfoolish: hast thou lost thine understanding?\"\n\nAfter she had disappeared, as on previous occasions, Jalaladdeen\nrolled about for some time on his couch, sleepless and perplexed with\ncare. It appeared to him like an unsolvable riddle.\n\n\"What! shall I not fetch water from the depth, whence commonly springs\nand streams flow? and yet shall I go upwards? and am I to carry it in\na simple wicker basket?\"\n\nAt last, however, he fell asleep again, and was awoke in the morning,\nwith positive orders to make ready to do his duty. As he was\npreparing, he said, \"The way up the rock and the oft-frequented path\nis dangerous; could I not get a travelling-staff to help me?\"\n\n\"Here is one ready,\" answered the man, handing him a long pole, made\nof a light tough wood, with a strong iron spike fixed to it. He then\nshook him heartily by the hand, and let him out of the opening.\n\nWhen he gained the exterior, he looked all around him. He hoped to\ndiscover some track which would indicate in what direction he should\nset out; but stones and ruins, the effects of a great convulsion of\nnature, surrounded, in a wild and unnatural confusion, the small and\neven spot before the entrance of the castle. But what most astonished\nhim was, that the road which had appeared formerly to be impassable\nfor his camel should now present an even and unencumbered path. At\nlast, after various attempts, by great good fortune, he found a part\nwhere, by help of his travelling-staff, he was able to climb up the\nprojecting mass of rock. On the other side he found a spot by which he\ncould, without much danger, descend into a large plain. It seemed to\nhim like the same piece of rock on which he, in the first instance,\nhad got in proceeding from the castle. He was nearly, from this\ncircumstance, led to descend there; but he thought of the warning\ngiven to him by the old woman in good time, who had advised him not to\nfetch water from the bottom, but from the summit, and he accordingly\nbent his steps upwards. But here the road lay through enormous\nfragments of rock, choked up at intervals with briars and thorns. At\nlength, after frequently-repeated efforts, he succeeded in journeying\non a short distance by the help of his travelling-staff, when a spot\npresented itself where there was a chasm in the rock, which it was\nimpossible for him to surmount. He was accordingly obliged to turn\nsideways till he had passed it, in order to follow up his prescribed\nroute. He toiled on with intense exertion, endeavouring to reach the\nsummit of the rock, for more than an hour; but, from various\nobstacles, had not made any great progress. At last, worn out with\nfatigue, he sat himself down beneath the shade of an overhanging crag,\nto recruit his strength, in order to renew the attempt with increased\nvigour.\n\nUp to this time, through all his wanderings, he had not found a stream\nfrom whose source he was able to draw water. He had certainly seen in\ndeep hollows small rivulets issuing from the rock, which by their\nfall covered the neighbouring plain with white flakes of foam. Still,\nalthough he persevered assiduously, he could not discover one spot\nwhich he could approach sufficiently near.\n\nHe was by this time suffering intensely from thirst; for,\nnotwithstanding the height at which he had arrived, where the cold was\nmore severe than in the hollows beneath, still his anxiety, and his\njourney upwards beneath the midday sun, had parched his lips, and he\nhad not yet been able to reach a stream at which to moisten them.\n\n\"Fool, fool that I am!\" exclaimed Jalaladdeen, bitterly; \"why should I\nthus exhaust my strength? If I attain the summit of the hill, I shall\nmeet with no water; or even if I were to find a spring at the top of\nit, still I should not be able to carry its waters in a rush basket.\"\n\nHe then reasoned with himself whether or not it were better to return;\nbut then the thought flashed across his mind that the words of the old\nwoman had on two previous occasions been fully verified. He therefore\ndetermined to follow her advice once more.\n\n\"Did she not assure me,\" said he, \"that I should find water enough\nabove me? 'T is passing strange: the streams certainly flow thence, or\nremain still in their channels.\"\n\nWith this he set forward again on his ascent, and it now appeared that\nhe had advanced much farther than he had been aware of, and in a\nshorter space of time. He had not proceeded far when he arrived at a\nspot hollowed out, and sheltered from behind by a large mass of rock.\nIn this cavity was a quantity of snow and ice, which the air at that\nheight could not melt, and to which the rays of the sun could not\npenetrate through the surrounding masses.\n\nJalaladdeen laid himself down to rest at the edge of the snow, and\nrefreshed himself with its grateful coolness by taking a small\nquantity in his hands, and by applying it to his lips. He first of all\nmoistened the exterior of his mouth, and then swallowed a little with\ngreat pleasure. This at once solved the mystery of the problem.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, \"is a large expanse of snow: the tops of the\nmountains are covered with it. What is snow but water? and such water\nI can easily carry in my rush basket; and even if some should melt in\nthe journey, it cannot all dissolve and escape.\"\n\nHe then began immediately to fill the basket with clean snow from the\nmiddle of a heap, and to render it more firm, he pressed it together\nwith his hands. As soon as he had filled his basket, he set off\njoyously on his return; but it seemed as though he must again have\ntaken a different route, as he did not meet in the course of his way\none of the thousand obstacles that had impeded his progress on his\njourney in search of this water.\n\nThe last traces of sunlight were fast disappearing in the west when he\nfound himself at the entrance of the castle. Immediately the three\nbrothers advanced to meet him.\n\n\"See,\" said the third, who had imposed this last mission on him, \"see,\nthou hast brought us water in a rush basket.\"\n\nWith these words they ushered him into the interior, and gave him the\njoyful intelligence that he had now accomplished everything that was\nnecessary to put him in possession of the wonder-stone.\n\n\"You must know,\" said they, \"that the wonder-stone is concealed in an\niron chest; but the bolt, by lapse of time, is so thoroughly rusted\nthat no power has yet been discovered sufficient to force it back and\nto disclose the contents. There is, however, a tradition that he who\nshall be deemed worthy to possess this treasure, and who shall have\nsuccessfully performed all our commands, shall be endued with power to\ndraw back the bolt--a feat which has been deemed impossible for many\nhundred years. But, as destiny often depends on circumstances which\nmortals consider trivial and insignificant, so in this case a\ncombination of materials is requisite, by whose agency alone a sure\nand happy success can crown our hitherto prosperous attempts. It\nwould, doubtless, be imagined that a rusty bolt might be moved by the\napplication of a little oil or grease, of whatever nature it might be;\nbut in this case nothing save that portion of marrow which is\ncontained in the lion's tail will be efficient, and this, too, must be\nboiled in water fetched in a rush basket. Nor is this all: the marrow\nmust be applied with three feathers plucked from the left wing of a\nwhite eagle, the king of eagles in Eagle Land.\"\n\nAfter these words they conducted him into a chamber; in the middle of\nit stood a large iron chest, whose cover was fastened down by seven\nstrong iron bolts.\n\n\"Behold the chest in which the wonder-stone is hid,\" said they. \"Let\nus proceed to work immediately.\"\n\nHereupon they brought in a cauldron, and filled it with snow from the\nrush basket, and placed it on a fire in the kitchen. The lion's tail\nwas then cut into pieces and thrown into the water; the fat was soon\nextracted, and floated at the top. Then the first of the three\nbrothers brought in the eagle's wing, and Jalaladdeen was ordered to\npluck out the three outside feathers, and with them to anoint the\nbolts. While he was thus occupied, a drop of the fat fell upon his\nhands, which he rubbed over them.\n\n\"Right, right!\" said another brother, who had observed it with great\nsatisfaction; \"it is very strengthening to the limbs.\"\n\nAnd he accordingly rubbed both his hands and feet, and immediately\nexperienced a pleasurable sensation of new vigour.\n\nJalaladdeen had been exceedingly fatigued by the toils of the day;\nnevertheless by this application he felt as recruited as he had on\nother occasions in consequence of a prolonged and peaceful slumber.\n\n\"The marrow has done its work,\" said the second brother; \"it has\nalready unclosed the bolt. Approach, then, and open the chest.\"\n\nJalaladdeen bowed, and with great apparent ease withdrew the bolts. As\nsoon as he had lifted up the lid he beheld a beautiful gem, which\nappeared to be a rare specimen of the onyx. In the middle of it was a\ngolden hook, to which a chain was attached, by which it might be\nsuspended from the neck. Upon the stone was an engraving of an altar,\nupon which a sacrificial fire was burning, and before it a suppliant\nfamily bowed the knee; over this was thrown a white vestment archwise\nin the form of a rainbow.\n\n\"Is this really the wonder-stone?\" said Jalaladdeen, gazing on it with\nrapture.\n\n\"It is,\" replied the brothers; and continuing, \"Hail, thou happy\nyouth!\" they exclaimed; \"hail, prince! thou wilt shortly be seated on\nthe throne of thy fathers.\"\n\n\"A Prince!\" cried Jalaladdeen, in astonishment; \"a Prince! My father\ndied at Bagdad, a quiet, retired man, and never in the whole course of\nmy life did I hear him say that he had ever been a King.\"\n\n\"He was a King,\" exclaimed one of the brothers; \"but his subjects made\nwar against him, and drove him into exile; they then elected another\nSultan, who sat upon the throne there many years. He is since dead,\nand the people are not unanimous in raising his daughter to the\nqueenly station. They are divided into two factions, opposed to one\nanother with the most dreadful hatred and animosity. Go thither, and\ngive thy people peace.\"\n\n\"Whither shall I go?\" asked Jalaladdeen, anxiously. \"How shall I\nprocure myself to be recognized as their lawful monarch?\"\n\n\"That will be easily accomplished,\" answered one of the brothers, \"by\nthe agency of this wonder-stone. Place the chain round thy neck, and\nsupport the gem on thy breast. Now come,\" said they, as soon as he had\ncomplied with this direction; \"thou hast no time to spare: refresh\nthyself, as though for a long journey, with meat and drink, and then\nset out.\"\n\nThey then conducted him into an adjoining room, and waited upon him\nthemselves; after his repast they handed to him a crystal goblet\nfilled with a liquor most agreeable to his palate, superior to any\ndrink he had formerly tasted.\n\n\"Now proceed onward,\" said they: \"this is the first step towards your\nhappiness.\"\n\nOne of them then traced a small cross with his forefinger upon the\nwall, and immediately there opened a small vaulted chamber.\n\n\"What!\" said Jalaladdeen, \"am I to enter that gloomy hole?\" shuddering\nand involuntarily drawing back, in consequence of the cold damp vapour\nthat issued from it.\n\n\"Hand him another goblet to refresh himself,\" said one of the\nbrothers, and at the same time filling one for him.\n\nThen the third brother presented to him the eagle's wing and the tip\nof the lion's tail, which had been reserved from the cauldron, and the\narrow and lance, too, with which he had killed them.\n\n\"Forward! On, in the name of the Prophet!\" was the next command.\n\n\"I obey,\" answered Jalaladdeen; \"but suffer me before my departure to\nask, Who are ye?\"\n\n\"We are three genii,\" said they, \"sent here by the King of Spirits, as\nkeepers of the mysteries of the holy Mount Massis. But proceed, in\norder that thou mayest arrive in due time at thy destination.\" They\nled him to the opening, and as he was stooping down to enter it,\n\"See,\" said they, \"if thou shouldst return by this way, throw upon the\nground this wing of the eagle and the tail of the lion, and call out\nin a loud voice our names, Arjeh, Neschar, and Mana-Guma. We shall\nthen know what thou requirest.\"\n\nWith these words the passage closed upon him, and he found himself in\nsuch dense darkness that there was not a single glimmer of light\nthrough the whole space. The ground as he advanced was even, and for\nthe first few steps he could walk upright, so that it did not seem\ninconvenient. Suddenly, however, he came to a gradual declivity, and\nafter a few steps he felt the bottom sinking beneath his feet. He\ncould no longer remain upright, but sank upon his knees, and\neventually sat himself down; for it gave way more and more, and the\nmore he struggled the lower he sank. At last he bent forward with his\nhead laid upon his knee, as he was completely exhausted, in\nconsequence of the rapid though gradual fall of earth. How long he\nmight have been descending he could not tell, as his self-possession\nhad entirely deserted him; and when he recovered himself, he seemed to\nbe just awakening out of a sound sleep. This commotion was suspended\nfor a moment, and he felt the spot on which he was seated rising up\nagain; but it soon descended, and continued to ascend and descend with\nunceasing force and rapidity. But at times he lost all consciousness,\nand recovered his recollection again as the motion changed and\nproceeded downwards. In this manner was he driven from sleeping to\nwaking, overcome with exhaustion and perplexed with the darksomeness\nof his journey. How long he was in this gloomy passage he knew not: at\none time he thought that the journey had been one of several days; but\nthen this could not be so, as he had not even once experienced the\ncravings of hunger or thirst: as he had not suffered in this\nparticular, he felt convinced that the time that had elapsed was much\nless, and that it must have appeared so from his total abstinence.\n\nAt length he perceived a small gleam of light at the farther end of\nthis way, and by it he observed that he was in a narrow part of a\nsubterranean chamber, which seemed scarcely large enough to admit his\nbody. His movements, however, were so quick that he brought himself\nnearer and nearer to the light at every step, till at last he\nsucceeded in extricating himself. He found himself standing upon a\nmount on a spot hitherto unknown to him, which was illumined by the\nsun from the opposite horizon. Here he remained, gazing joyously\naround, and breathing now for the first time the pure fresh air.\n\nOn a sudden he heard a loud warlike sound at the foot of the hill;\nand, on a closer inspection, he discovered several companies, ranged\nin battle order half-way up the hill, and preparing for the attack.\nWithout allowing himself time for reflection, he threw the lion's tail\nand eagle's wing to the ground, exclaiming at the same time in a loud\nvoice the names of the three genii of Mount Massis, \"Arjeh, Neschar,\nMana-Guma!\"\n\nScarcely had he uttered the last word, when he found himself mounted\nupon a noble white steed with a black tail, the arrow in his left\nhand, and the spear in his right; and without his taking hold of the\nreins, which were ornamented with gold and precious stones, the\ntractable steed flew along the hill rapidly, and bore him safely\nbetween the two contending factions.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" exclaimed Jalaladdeen in a tone of anger to both\nparties, who immediately ceased their hostile contentions, through\ntheir amazement at the sudden appearance of the stranger horseman.\n\"What is the cause of this deadly feud?\"\n\nAt these words a joyous train of voices proceeded from the band upon\nhis right hand; and the combatants immediately threw down their\nweapons, exclaiming,\n\n\"This, this is he who shall bring peace to our people! This is the\nappointed Sultan! Lo! it was prophesied that he should appear upon a\nwhite horse with a black tail, upon the longest day of the year. Hail,\nSultan! all hail!\"\n\nUpon this the commander of the company approached Jalaladdeen with\nsubmission, bending before him with his arms crossed upon his breast;\nand the troops threw themselves upon the earth, each one bowing low\nwith his forehead to the dust.\n\nHereupon the leader of the opposite faction sprang forward, crying\nout, \"Down with them! down with them!\"\n\nBut Jalaladdeen's horse turned towards him instinctively, and bore him\nto the band.\n\n\"Why would you prolong the strife and contest?\" cried he. \"What is\nyour complaint?\"\n\n\"They carry arms for Gulnaschare,\" was the answer. \"Dost thou not know\nthat a young maiden dares to rule over a people of warlike\ncustoms--that she arrogates to herself a right to the throne, alleging\nthat thus it hath been decreed she should reign until the son of the\nlate banished Sultan shall appear, who is the appointed one to share\nthe sovereignty? Canst thou be such a stranger in the country as to be\nignorant of the prediction of the prophet and the astrologers? and how\nshe has led her subjects into grievous error, to the effect that the\nPrince Jalaladdeen would appear in a wonderful manner in the country\non the longest day of the year, and fall upon his enemies with the\nstrength of a lion and the swiftness of an eagle?\"\n\nUpon this Jalaladdeen cried out aloud, \"The people have not been led\ninto error, nor have they been deceived; they have heard the truth.\nBehold, I am Jalaladdeen; and if ye do not all, to a man, cease from\nyour hostilities, ye shall be made to feel the strength of the lion\nand the swiftness of the eagle.\"\n\nBut the leader of the party said, \"What! hast thou suffered thyself to\nbe deceived, and to be made an advocate of the imposition? Now our\narms must decide it.\"\n\nAt these words they pressed upon him and drew near, when Jalaladdeen\nwielded his lance with the swiftness of lightning, and with\nextraordinary strength and courage beat them off, one after the\nother. His steed gave a joyous neigh, and bounded forward among the\ncrowd; while the troops of Gulnaschare followed after him, seeing his\nperilous position.\n\nWhen the enemy saw their leader weltering in his blood, and the\ncourageous youth heading their antagonists, they fled in disorder;\nsome even threw their arms from them, and surrendered at discretion.\n\nJalaladdeen and his troops pursued the fugitives; but so fleet was his\nsteed, that he found himself alone in the midst of the flying, while\nhis band had not yet come up. As soon as the enemy perceived this,\nthey surrounded him and enclosed him in a large circle. In this\nemergency the swiftness of the eagle and the strength of the lion\nproved necessary to him; and his steed, as though endued with reason,\nturned itself about continually, shooting quick glances like lightning\nfrom its eyeballs, so that Jalaladdeen could perceive every man in the\ncircle who stood near him. In this manner he struck them to the\nground, or shot them through before they had determined upon their\nmethod of attack, or could see through his manoeuvres. But, to his\nastonishment, he found that he had a fresh arrow in his hand after\nevery shot from his bow. In a short time there was a large circle of\nkilled and wounded round him. At length his own army arrived; and the\nenemy again took to flight. Jalaladdeen pursued after them again, to a\nnarrow pass, whence there was no escape. Here they threw themselves\nupon their faces, and humbly sought for mercy. Jalaladdeen then\nproceeded to the capital of the country, followed by his warriors, and\naccompanied by a train of many thousand prisoners and captured foes.\n\nThe news of his appearance upon the hill, and the account of the\nvictory which he had subsequently gained, had already reached the\ncity; and the elders poured out to the gate to meet him. The prophets\nand astrologers also flocked together to welcome him as the appointed\nSultan, and to escort him to the royal palace. The streets through\nwhich they passed were magnificently decorated; and the joy of the\npopulace was such as greets an ancient and once loved lord on his\nentry into his capital.\n\nIn the palace yard the upper officers of the household, the servants\nof the Court, and the slaves, were drawn up to welcome him with\nbecoming respect. Here he dismounted from his horse, passed up the\nsteps, and proceeded through the colonnades and antechambers which led\nto the throne-room, where Gulnaschare was seated, surrounded by a\nsplendid retinue.\n\nThe royal maiden rose from her throne at his entrance; but how amazed\nand confused was Jalaladdeen! She was not altogether unknown to him;\nfor he now saw before him in reality the young maid who had been so\noften present to him in his dreams, out of which he had been so\nrepeatedly roused by the old woman belabouring him with her crutch.\nShe gazed upon him with an affectionate smile; and as he drew near,\nshe descended the steps of her throne, extended to him the golden\nsceptre, and touched him with the point of it.\n\n\"Hast thou the wonder-stone from Mount Massis?\" said she.\n\nJalaladdeen was too confused to reply to her; but the gem suspended\nfrom his neck assured her as to his identity.\n\n\"That is it,\" said she, in continuation. \"The possession of that stone\nproves thee destined to become my husband, and to reign over the vast\nempire of the Moguls, from which thou, with thy father, wast banished\nin thine early days.\"\n\nShe then took him by the hand, led him up the steps, and seated him\nupon the throne, bent before him, and delivered the sceptre into his\nhand.\n\n\"Behold,\" said she to the surrounding multitude, \"behold your rightful\nsovereign! It was written in the book of fate that Janghiz his father\nshould, in consequence of his covetousness, be driven into exile by my\nfather Khamar; then that the innocent son, after many severe proofs\nand labours imposed by the King of Spirits, if deemed worthy, should\nshare the throne with me.\"\n\n\"He has been tried, and is found worthy!\" exclaimed all the prophets\nand astrologers.\n\n\"Hail to him! hail, Sultan!\" immediately burst from the lips of all\npresent in the palace; and the multitudes in the streets and\napproaches reiterated the shout.\n\nThen Jalaladdeen, advancing from the throne, addressed the throng:\n\n\"Heartily do I thank Allah and the Prophet that my fate has taken so\nwondrous and happy a turn; but, above all, I prize my good fortune in\nbecoming the husband of this amiable Princess.\"\n\nJalaladdeen thus concluded his address; and Gulnaschare said to him,\n\n\"Didst thou so often wish for me when I, in the guise of an old woman,\nroused thee night after night from thy peaceful slumbers and happy\ndreams with my crutch?\"\n\n\"How!\" exclaimed Jalaladdeen; \"wast thou that hideous old woman?\nimpossible!\"\n\n\"Passing strange, perchance, it may seem; but nevertheless it is so:\nall things are possible to the King of Spirits, which mortal mind can\nbarely comprehend.\"\n\nThe marriage ceremony was now ordered to take place; and one festivity\nfollowed another; happiness, and joy, and peace, reigned together.\n\nJalaladdeen ruled for many years over the kingdom of the Moguls, and\nenlarged it by many prosperous conquests; he brought it to a state of\npeace and tranquillity which it had never experienced in former years,\nand which, after his death, it did not long enjoy.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Haschem.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE LOST SON.\n\n\nMore than a thousand years ago, there lived in the famous city of\nBagdad a man called Naima, who, although he was now grey with age, had\nstill the lusty strength of earlier days. The opening of his life was\ndevoted to trade; and in pursuit of it he made many journeys, by which\nhe not only gained great intellectual treasures and experiences, but\nalso acquired property, which afforded him, not certainly the means\nfor extravagant expenditure, but still sufficient to live in comfort.\nHe had the good sense and wisdom to be satisfied with such moderate\npossessions, and to enjoy them in peaceful quiet--labouring meanwhile\nfor the improvement of his only son. Many of his acquaintance,\nhowever, sought to amass greater wealth, forgetting, as it would seem,\nthat by such constant efforts, life itself, after its meridian, would\nbe but lost without some new and higher enjoyment. The city of Mossul\nwas his home in early days; but he quitted it, and took up his abode\nin Bagdad, partly owing to the suggestions of a friend with whom he\nhad been on the most intimate and confidential terms from his\nyouth--partly, too, for the sake of the education of his son, as he\nexpected that a residence in that city would produce worthy and\nlasting impressions on the mind of the young man.\n\nBagdad was, at this time, under the rule of the famed Caliph Haroun al\nRaschid, and was the resort of strangers from all parts of the globe,\nwhere artists and sages of that country mingled among those of the\nneighbouring lands. Nor had Naima conceived a vain expectation. His\nson Haschem was a young man gifted with good natural abilities, and\nendowed with a pure unsullied heart. He used every opportunity which\nchance threw in his way to extend his knowledge, cultivate his mind,\nor to improve his disposition; nor was he deficient in bodily\nexercises and warlike accomplishments; so that through good discipline\nhe became powerful in body and strong in mind. He was, therefore, as\nwas natural enough, not only the joy and pride of his father, but was\nloved and esteemed by all who knew him, and was often pointed out by\nthe elders, to others of his own age, as an example worthy of\nimitation. As the father saw his greatest treasure in the person of\nhis only son, so he, with all the fervour of a well-directed mind,\nclung to his father.\n\nSome years passed over them in this mutual love, heightened still more\nby the companionship of their friend Saad, and their happiness was\nfull and uninterrupted. It chanced one day that Naima and Saad were\ntaking their accustomed walk in the princely gardens adjoining the\ncity in front of the gate. The heat of the summer's day had been\ndiminished by a gentle rain, and the two strolled on in happy\nconversation, and extended their walk beyond its ordinary length. The\nlast gardens were already left behind them, and they wandered on over\ngreen meadow-land; behind a little wood, at the entrance of which\nstood high palms, whose shadows invited to repose. A fresh spring\ngushed from a neighbouring rock, and meandered sparkling among the\nverdant herbage and variegated flowers.\n\nThe two friends lay down in the shade, and conversed on the dangers to\nwhich the most virtuous men are subject, and how easily one may,\nthrough passion, be led into a false step, if he allow himself to\nconfide in his own firmness of purpose.\n\n\"I have known men,\" continued Saad, \"who, although among the best and\nnoblest whom I have ever known in the course of my life, were led\nunawares, by too great self-confidence, to an action which they might\neasily have avoided by a little caution, but which has been the\nbeginning of a long chain of transgressions and vices, ending in their\ncomplete ruin.\"\n\nNaima maintained that a heart accustomed from early youth to virtue\nwould, on the contrary, not be easily led to commit a serious fault;\nand even if it should happen so, that it would readily find its way\nback from a slight error to the right road.\n\nThey talked still longer on these subjects, each endeavouring to\nconfirm his assertions by examples. Haschem, stretched beside them,\nlistened with attention to their instructive conversation; but\nsuddenly he sprang to his feet, and ran quickly up the woody hill, at\nthe foot of which they were reposing. Saad and his father looked after\nhim with astonishment, as they could not comprehend what had\noccasioned his sudden departure. Then they saw that a little bird, as\nwhite as snow, was flying before him, which he was trying to catch. He\nwas soon lost to their view among the bushes; they cried to him, and\nbegged him to come back--but in vain. They waited for a quarter of an\nhour, and still Haschem did not return. Uneasy as to what had become\nof him, they advanced in the direction in which he had disappeared;\nbut they could discover nothing. They called his name: the wood echoed\nit. At last the sun set; then said Saad,\n\n\"Let us return home: your son is a robust and strong young man; he\nwill easily find his way back into the city. Perhaps he has gone home\nsome other way.\"\n\nAfter long opposition, the father was at last persuaded to return\nwithout his son; but he was still full of anxiety, which no arguments\ncould overcome. When they arrived at the city, his friend accompanied\nhim to his house. They entered hastily, and inquired for Haschem; but\nhe had not returned. Saad's hopes were of no more avail; Naima would\nno longer listen to him, but weeping, threw himself on his couch. Saad\nrebuked him for this weakness, and represented to him that it might\neasily have happened that the young man had lost his way in the\npursuit of the bird, and could not recover the track.\n\n\"He has certainly found a shelter where he will remain till morning,\"\ncontinued he; \"he will return here early to-morrow, and will laugh\nheartily at your unmanly spirit and desponding grief.\"\n\nWhen Saad was gone Naima gave free scope to his feelings. He wept\naloud, tore his beard, and threw himself upon the ground, like a\nmadman. The servants and slaves of the house stood around in\nmotionless astonishment, as they were not accustomed to see their\nmaster exhibiting such passionate emotion; others sought to console\nhim, but fruitlessly; so they cried and bewailed with him for his dear\nson, who was beloved by them all. After a sleepless night, the\nafflicted father was not at all quieted. He wished early in the\nmorning to send messengers in all directions; but Saad, who had come\nto hear if the lost one had returned home, explained to him how\nfoolish this step would be.\n\n\"Remember,\" said he, \"that your Haschem has most probably found a\nnight's lodging, and slept better than you. If he had set out on his\nway at daybreak, he could not be here now; and if you send these\nmessengers after him, he may perhaps come home by a shorter path,\nwhile they will be searching for him in vain. Wait, at least, till\nnoon.\"\n\nNaima yielded: he appointed the messengers to be ready at noon, and in\nthe meanwhile walked through the gardens and in the country round\nabout the city, where they had been on the preceding day. His friend\naccompanied him, although he pointed out that Haschem might, in the\ninterval, have reached home while they were walking, and that he was\nthus perhaps giving himself more grief than was necessary.\n\n\"I have given up to you in the rest,\" replied Naima; \"let me at least\nin this instance have my own will, that I may walk here.\"\n\nThey went together to the fountain in the rock near the palms; they\nclimbed the neighbouring heights; they called the name of the lost one\nin all directions; but no sound was heard in reply. At noon they went\nhome, and asked all they met if they had not seen a young man, whom\nthey accurately described. Nobody could give them any information\nabout him. Naima now sent out his messengers in all directions; to\neach he promised a rich reward, but tenfold to that one who should\nlead the lost one back to his arms. They set out joyfully, each one\nhoping to gain the tenfold sum, and they all intended to return home\nin the evening; but these hopes were disappointed. Naima with earnest\ndesire expected them in the evening; none came. At last a few returned\non the third day. They had gone a day's journey in the appointed\ndirection, had sought everywhere, had described the wanderer to all\nthey had met, but none had seen him. The rest of the messengers also\nreturned, one by one, and none had discovered the least trace of him.\nThe hopes of the sorrowing father had almost disappeared: only one of\nthe dispatched messengers was not yet come back. Although it was\nprobable that this one might remain away without success, he still\nclung to the hope that he at least might discover a trace of his son,\nwho had disappeared in so unaccountable a manner. But when this last\nmessenger returned on the tenth day, and reported that all his\nresearches had been without success, the parent's grief knew no\nbounds. His friend Saad stood by him comforting him, and inquired,\ntogether with all his friends, whether no tidings could be learned of\nHaschem. He could not have been killed, for then his corpse would have\nbeen found; he had no cause to conceal himself; he could not have been\nattacked by enemies, as he had none: might he, in the pursuit of the\nbird, have been led to the brink of the stream, and have thrown\nhimself in, and been carried away by the waves? Scarcely did the\npossibility of this idea arise, when two messengers were dispatched to\neach side of the river to make fresh search, from its junction with\nthe Euphrates above Balsora to the spot where it flows into the\nArabian Sea, to ascertain if the corpse of Haschem had been washed\nashore. But these messengers also returned to the anxious father, and\nhad not found what they sought. Now the father and his friend gave up\nHaschem for lost; Naima's manly spirit was broken; grief for his lost\nson shortened his life; he soon became old: all joy had by this time\nfled from his mind; and his sorrow was only a little alleviated when\nhis faithful friend Saad sat by him in the evening, talked with him of\nhis son, relating the virtues by which he had been distinguished, and\ntold him how it had been his darling wish that this excellent young\nman should marry his daughter Zoraine.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE SYMPATHIZING RULER.\n\n\nIn a few days the Caliph Haroun al Raschid went, as he was accustomed,\nin disguise, with his Grand Vizier Giafar, and Mesrour his\nChamberlain, through the streets of Bagdad, to see with his own eyes\nand to hear with his own ears how justice and order were maintained by\nhis servants, and whether his people were happy and prosperous. He\nhad, as usual, chosen the last hour of the evening for this walk,\nbecause he thought that at this time he could look deeper into men's\njoys and pleasures, as they had then ended their daily toils, and were\nseeking comfort and repose in the bosom of their family. In his\nprogress he came to a street distinguished by peculiar silence and\nquiet. As he approached a house, before the door of which two men were\nstanding whispering, Haroun al Raschid addressed them with these\nwords:\n\n\"Why do you whisper, as if you were concerting a crime? is not this\nstreet lonely enough, that you cannot hold your discourse aloud? Can\nyou tell me why this street is so quiet, as though every inhabitant\nwere dead?\"\n\n\"I can easily tell you, my lord,\" answered one of the whisperers:\n\"here, in the next house, lives the unfortunate Naima, and, as usual\nat this hour, his friend Saad sits with him to console him. Now, all\nthe inhabitants of this street respect this man, and wish not to\nremind him, by any outburst of joy, that happier men than himself live\nin his neighbourhood.\"\n\nBefore the Caliph could answer him, he turned away and went into the\nhouse, and the other followed him.\n\n\"Have you ever heard of this unfortunate Naima before?\" asked Haroun\nal Raschid of his Grand Vizier; and as he answered in the negative, he\nsaid, \"Let us rap at the door of the next house, where this Naima\ndwells; perhaps we may discover the cause of his sorrow.\"\n\nThey drew near, and saw the light from the inner court shining through\na crevice. The Caliph placed his eye at this crevice, and after he had\nwatched for some time, he beckoned his followers to him, and said,\n\"Two grey-headed men are sitting in this court by a lamp, and one\nseems to be comforting the other; but this latter continues to weep\nmore bitterly. Both seem of the same rank; and I am desirous to know\nwhat sorrow oppresses the unfortunate Naima. Order him to appear at my\npalace early to-morrow morning; perhaps it may be in my power to\nlighten his calamity.\"\n\nThe next day the Grand Vizier executed his commission. Naima was\nfrightened when his presence was required at the palace. He was led\ninto the great hall where the divan usually assembled; but he was\nquite alone there when the servants had left him. He reviewed the\nwhole of his past life, to see if he had sinned in any way so as to\nbring on him the displeasure of the righteous Caliph; for he knew that\nHaroun al Raschid often, in a mysterious manner, discovered the faults\nof his subjects, and punished them accordingly. But he could not call\nto mind any deed of which he, felt ashamed, nor any that deserved\npunishment. Whilst he was thus meditating, a curtain was drawn back,\nand the Caliph entered, followed by his Vizier and his Chamberlain.\nNaima rose from the ground, and bowed with his head even to the carpet\non which the Caliph stood.\n\n\"Naima,\" said the Caliph, \"a heavy weight of grief oppress you; and by\nthe anxiety which your neighbours manifest to show respect for the\nsorrows of your soul, I must consider you as a man of great worth. I\nwish to know the cause of your despondency: will you confess it before\nthese two witnesses, or would you rather confide to me alone the\nreason of your tears?\"\n\n\"Ruler of the Faithful,\" answered Naima, \"sorrow is great and deep in\nmy soul; but still the cause of it is unworthy to distract for a\nmoment the attention of the Caliph from the cares of his kingdom.\"\n\nBut Haroun al Raschid answered, \"That which fills the heart of the\nmeanest of my subjects with such grief that it consumes his life is\nnot unworthy of my care. When I am careful for my whole kingdom, this\ncare extends to each individual; if, then, I am careful for one, this\none is a member of the whole, and thus my care is not lost. But speak,\nwhat is the cause of your sorrow and your tears?\"\n\nThen Naima recounted the mysterious disappearance of his son; how he\nhad sought for him everywhere, and how all trouble had been useless,\nso that all his messengers had returned home without the least trace\nof him. \"I must therefore weep for him as one that is dead\"--thus he\nended his relation; \"and tears, perhaps, might appease my sorrow, if\nat the same time a ray of hope did not dart through my heart that\npossibly he is still alive; but where does he live, if indeed he be\nstill alive? This ray of hope keeps the wound in the father's heart\nalways open.\"\n\n\"You have real cause for grief,\" answered the Caliph, \"and I\ncomprehend that the uncertainty of your son's fate must be as terrible\nto bear as would be the mournful certainty of his death. You did wrong\nin not applying to me before: my power extends not only over\nbelievers, but also in foreign lands. Other kings and rulers I have as\nmy servants, whose eyes see for me, whose ears hear for me, and whose\nhands perform what is necessary for my pleasure. That which was not\npossible to yourself, your friends, and your servants to accomplish,\nmight perhaps have been easy to me. Now go home, and believe that you\nshall obtain news of your son, if he lives on the earth, in any land\nwhere my power can reach.\"\n\nWith these words he dismissed him, after he had first inquired the\nmarks by which his lost son might be recognized.\n\nWhen Naima again sat with his friend Saad in the evening, he related\nto him the gracious and comforting words of the Caliph. Saad perceived\nthat hope was again revived in his friend's heart, and that he\nconfidently trusted to find his son. He thought it therefore his duty\nto damp this hope, and said,\n\n\"Beloved friend, I have once heard a speech, which by its truth sank\ndeeply in my memory: it is, 'Trust not in princes; they are but men.'\nThe moral of which is, that the mightiest on earth are subject to\nfate. If the Caliph have influence in distant lands, it must be in a\nconfined and narrow limit. That which is but a span distant is under\nthe control of all-governing fate, even from the meanest slave to the\nRuler of the Faithful.\"\n\nBut if the power of Haroun al Raschid were bounded by the immensity of\nfate, yet he did all he could to fulfil the hope he had raised in\nNaima's heart. He gave a commission to all his servants in his\nkingdom, high and low, and to his ambassadors in the neighbouring\nkingdoms, and even sent into distant lands, with the princes of which\nhe was friendly, and on the same day dispatched messengers with the\ncharge to search for Haschem with all diligence, and gave them a\ndescription how they might recognize him if they found him. But week\nafter week passed away, month after month, and even a whole year\nelapsed, without intelligence being received either of the life or\ndeath of the lost one. So all hope of finding him now deserted the\nfather for ever.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE CAPTIVE.\n\n\nHaschem was not dead; he still lived, but in such retirement that it\nwas impossible to discover his abode. He followed the snow-white bird\ntill evening, without clearly knowing why: he was induced to think he\ncould catch the curious creature, particularly as it flew at such a\nmoderate height from the ground, and so slowly that he hoped quickly\nto reach it. The tardiness of its flight made him conjecture that it\nmust have a defect in its wing: he often stretched out his hand to it,\nand drew near it, but the bird again raised its wings, and flew a\nlittle in advance. Haschem now felt himself tired, and would have\ngiven up the pursuit, but the bird also seemed fatigued; he approached\nit, but again the bird flew a little farther off. In this chase he\nreached a hill, which he climbed; he was now in a narrow\nmeadow-valley, which he ran along; twilight came, but the snow-white\ncolour of the bird still lighted him on. At last the pursued bird\nperched in a thicket; he hastened to it, but when he closed his hand\nto take his prisoner, it flew away, leaving only one feather of its\ntail behind, which he had tightly grasped; still he saw it through the\ntwilight flying before him, and he hastened after it. The bird seemed\nnow to quicken its pace; and as he followed and had once nearly caught\nit, he continued the pursuit with more eagerness: he ran through the\nhigh grass, and with his strained sight fixed on this glimmering white\nobject, he saw nothing else. Thus he came unexpectedly to a little dam\nwhich lay across his path; he jumped in and tried to climb the other\nside, but it was so steep that he fell in with some of the crumbling\nearth: while the water rushed over his head he lost all consciousness.\nWhen he came to himself, he lay on the turf, and a tall, grey-headed\nman, of strange appearance, stood before him, clothed in a long black\nrobe, which reached to his ankles, and was fastened by a glittering\ngirdle of a fiery colour. Instead of a turban, he wore a high pointed\ncap on his head, at the end of which was a tassel of the same hue as\nthe girdle.\n\n\"Has your life returned to you?\" he asked: \"you deserved to be\nsuffocated in the mud. Come, we must go farther before daylight quite\nleaves us.\"\n\nWith these words he raised him from the ground, passed his left arm\nround his body, and flew with him through the air as quickly as an\narrow. Haschem again momentarily lost recollection: it is not known\nhow long he remained in this condition. He awoke at last as from a\ndeep sleep; and as he looked around, the first thing he recognized was\na cage of gold wire, which hung from the ceiling by a long golden\nchain, and within was the snow-white bird he had so long followed. He\nfound himself alone with this bird in a hall, the roof of which was\nsupported on pillars of white marble, and the walls were built of\nsmooth pale-green stones. The openings to the windows were skilfully\ncontrived with so many windings and narrow gratings, that even the\nwhite bird could have found no space to pass through, even if it had\nescaped from the cage. Beside one wall stood a crystal urn; and from\nthis fell a stream of clear water, which, passing over the curved brim\nof the urn, dripped into a white basin beneath, from which it\ndisappeared unseen.\n\nWhilst he observed this, and wondered what had happened to him, and\nhow he came there, he suddenly heard the old man in the black robe\nenter from behind a curtain. He carried a small golden box in his\nhand, and approached him with these words:\n\n\"You have now caught the white bird; you now have it in a cage: in\nthis box is food for it, and there is water; take diligent care of it,\nand mind that it does not escape.\"\n\nAs he said this he disappeared. Haschem now arose and walked round the\nhall: he looked through the windows, and ascertained that he must be\nin a foreign land, as the forms of the mountains and trees were quite\ndifferent to any he had before seen. The hall seemed high, as if it\nwere the upper storey of a lofty tower. No other edifice was to be\nseen, and from the windows he could not distinguish the trees and\nplants which bloomed beneath. He drew the curtain aside, and\ndiscovered an outlet; but there was a thick metal door which he could\nnot open. He was now very much embarrassed, for he began to feel\nhungry, and could find nothing that would serve him for food. He\nexamined the walls, to see if he could discover any concealed outlet.\nHe tried to open the windows, that he might put his head out to see if\nthere was anybody in the building beneath, to whom he might cry out.\nThere was no door: he could not open the windows; and as far as he\ncould stretch his sight in every direction, he could see nobody. He\nthrew himself in despair on the pillow on which he recovered his\nconsciousness, and wrung his hands, and wept, and cried,\n\n\"I am, then, imprisoned--imprisoned in a dungeon where splendour and\nriches are lavished around! Of what avail is it that these walls are\nbuilt of precious stones? that this lattice is of fine gold? that this\ncage is of gold, and hangs on a golden chain? I am as much a prisoner\nbehind golden lattices as I should be behind iron.\"\n\nAs hunger pinched him still more, he cried out, \"How much rather would\nI be in the vilest prison, with the coarsest food, than be confined in\nthis splendid hall, where I must die of hunger!\"\n\nThen he again called out of the lattices, in hopes that his voice\nmight be heard, and aid brought; but nobody appeared, and no one\nanswered him. When he again threw himself, weeping, on his couch,\nafter such useless attempts, he observed that the white bird fluttered\nrestlessly in its prison, and pecked on the golden dish, where food\nwas placed, without finding any.\n\n\"Poor brother in misfortune!\" said Haschem, \"you shall not suffer\nwant; I will take care of you: come, I will bring you assistance.\"\n\nHe took the pans from the cage, and filled one with water from the\nurn, the other with grain from the gold box which the old man had\ngiven him. Scarcely had he hung the last on the cage, when, on turning\nround, he saw a table behind him covered with costly viands. He was\nastonished, and could not understand how all this had happened; but\nstill it was not long before he attacked the meats with the zest of a\nyoung man who has fasted for several days. Although these viands were\naltogether different from those he had been accustomed to taste in his\nfather's house, still they all appeared excellent. He ate till he was\nfully satisfied, and then took a golden cup from the table, with which\nhe quenched his thirst with pure water from the urn. Afterwards he\nthrew himself on a couch and fell asleep.\n\nWhen he awoke, he felt strong and well. He arose and walked round the\nhall, and he then observed that the table with the meats had\ndisappeared. This did not please him, as he had thought to make a good\nsupper of the remainder. He did not allow this, however, to trouble\nhim much, as he was now sure that he was not to die of hunger. He had\nnow leisure enough to examine his prison more closely. He searched\nall anew pillars, walls, and floor; but he could nowhere find a\ncrevice or a fissure: all was fast and whole. His view from the\nwindows did not allow him to make any discovery: he only saw that he\nwas very far from the earth, and in a spacious valley. Mountains were\nto be seen in the distance, with curiously pointed summits: the\nnearest offered no change of prospect, and the farthest was too\ndistant to raise his spirits by its contemplation: it was a high,\nwearisome abode. As soon as he had completed this examination, and\nfound there was nothing to occupy him, he turned his attention to the\nwhite bird in the cage. Here was still life; and if the cage was\nnarrow, yet the prisoner could hop about on the different perches.\nSoon it remained still, and looked at him with its bright eyes; and it\nseemed as if sense and speech lay in these eyes, only the\ninterpretation was wanting. Night put an end to these reflections.\n\nOn the next morning he observed that the bird again wanted food. He\nfilled its seed-box with grain from the golden box, and gave it fresh\nwater from the urn. Scarcely had he done this, when the table, covered\nwith meats, again stood in the same place as the day before. This day\npassed like the former, and the following in the same manner. Haschem\nwept and mourned, took care of the little bird, fed it, and was every\ntime rewarded in the same manner with the table covered with dishes,\nas soon as he had filled the bird's seed-box. He could not perceive\nwho brought the table, nor how it disappeared. It always came when he\nstood beside the cage with his back turned, and without any noise.\n\nOn the ninth day the old man suddenly appeared to him, and said,\n\"To-day is a day of repose for you: you have performed your duty\nduring the preceding days in giving the bird its food; now you may\namuse yourself in the garden till evening.\"\n\nHe led him through a door into a narrow passage, at the end of which\nthey descended twenty steps. Then he opened a small metal trap-door,\nand Haschem again descended twenty steps more. They came to a similar\ndoor; and after descending twenty more steps to another, and so on,\ntill after passing the ninth door, they found themselves in the open\nair.\n\n\"Remain here till you are called,\" said the old man, who went back\ninto the building through the same doors, which he shut after him.\n\nHaschem was very curious to examine more closely the building in which\nhe had been imprisoned: he therefore went round it, and narrowly\nobserved it. It was a tower of nine storeys, each about fifteen feet\nin height. The tower had nine angles and nine flat walls; in each\nstorey were three windows, so contrived that for every two walls\nwithout a window, the third had one. These windows were not directly\nover one another in the storeys, but alternate; so that only three\nappeared in each wall. This distribution of regularity and order\nreigned throughout the whole building. The walls were made of large\npieces of gold, quite as smooth as glass, like large stones; and these\nwere so skilfully put together that, even when closely looked at, the\njoints could not be discovered. The lattices of the windows were all\nof gold, like those in the upper hall, and the lower doors through\nwhich he had passed were of a yellow metal, inclining to green.\n\nAll these considerations were not calculated to lessen his conviction\nthat no man could possibly find him out in such a prison. Suddenly a\nnew hope awoke in him.\n\n\"I am no longer shut up in the tower,\" said he to himself; \"here I am\nin the open air, in a garden: I can clamber and jump like a monkey. I\nmay possibly find some outlet from this garden, by which I can\nescape.\"\n\nHe immediately turned from the tower, and hastened through the\ngardens, seeking freedom; but he soon discovered that this hope was\nvain. With a few steps he reached the end of the garden, and stood\nbefore a gate of lattice-work of strong smooth iron bars, so close\ntogether that he could scarcely pass his arm through. He tried to\nclimb it by holding by the upper bars with his hands; but his feet\nslipped on the smooth iron, and he hurt his knee so much that, in\nconsequence of not being able to bear the pain, he fell backwards on\nthe earth. He now examined the lattice closely to see if there were no\nmeans of escape; but all was in vain--everywhere the bars were high,\nthick, and like polished glass. Mournfully he wandered round the\ngarden: the sun's rays darting down scorched up the grass, and he\nsought some shade where he might screen himself from their influence.\nHe lay down on a neighbouring mossy bank, and meditated anew on his\nfate. Besides his own grief at his imprisonment, the thought of his\nfather's sorrow at his loss pained him. The exhaustion consequent on\nhis tears and loud lamentations, joined with the noontide heat, at\nlast caused him to fall into a deep sleep. When he awoke, the table\ncovered with meats was again before him: he ate, and wandered anew\nmournfully through the garden, meditating whether he could not make a\nladder from the trees around him, to aid him in his escape over the\nlattice. But there was something wanting for this work: he had not\neven a dagger or a pocket-knife. During these thoughts the old man\nappeared, and said,\n\n\"Evening is drawing on. Follow me in.\"\n\nHe led him again to the upper room of the tower, and locked the metal\ndoor upon him.\n\nThere was no change observable in his prison--only the bird seemed\nharassed and mournful: it sat quiet and still on the lowest perch; its\nplumage was rough, and its eyes dull.\n\n\"Poor creature,\" said Haschem, \"what is the matter? Are you ill?\"\n\nIt seemed as if the bird was affected by these sympathizing questions;\nbut it soon sank again into its former dejection. He mused long upon\nthis.\n\nThe next day and the following ones passed like the former; but on the\nninth the old man again appeared, led him into the garden, and at\nnight conducted him back into the hall. He took care of the bird; and\nas soon as he had given it food and water, he always found the table\ncovered with meats behind him. In the intervals he stood at the\nlattice of one of the three windows looking on the plain below,\nearnestly hoping to catch sight of some person to free him from his\ncaptivity.\n\nIn such monotonous employment many months passed away. Every ninth day\nthe old man appeared, and gave him leave to walk in the garden; but he\ndid not derive much amusement from his strolls in this narrow\nenclosure. In the meantime he asked the old man many times the reason\nof his imprisonment, and how long it was to last. No answer was\nvouchsafed but these words: \"Every man has his own fate. This is\nthine.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE DELIVERANCE.\n\n\nOne day the old man appeared and led him into the garden; but he had\nnot been there more than a quarter of an hour, when he returned,\ncalled him in, and then quickly retired with marks of disquietude.\nHaschem also remarked that the white bird, which he loved more every\nday, sat at the bottom of its cage, more mournful than usual after his\nvisit. He drew near, and observed a little door, which he had never\nbefore seen. He examined it closely, and found a fine bolt which\npassed into a ring of gold wire. These were made so skilfully, like\nconcealed ornaments, that nobody could have discovered them if his\nattention had not been drawn to them by accident. Haschem pushed back\nthe bolt and opened the door; the bird moved as if some sudden joy had\nseized it, hopped out, and as soon as it touched the floor, it was\ntransformed, and in its stead a young maiden stood before Haschem,\nclothed in a white silk robe; beautiful dark locks streamed over her\nneck and shoulders, and a thin fragrant veil fell over them, fastened\nto a forehead-band set with precious stones; her finely-formed\ncountenance was as white as ivory, relieved by the softest shade of a\nrose.\n\nSurprised and astonished, Haschem started back and said, \"By the beard\nof the Prophet, I conjure you to tell me whether you are of human\nrace, or whether you belong to the genii?\"\n\n\"I am a weak maiden,\" said she, \"and implore you to deliver me from\nthe hands of this cruel magician. I will reward you handsomely for it.\nKnow, I am the only daughter of Kadga Singa, King of Selandia; and\nthis wicked enchanter has cunningly carried me off from my father's\npalace, and shut me up in this cage. He has one son, as ugly as night,\nwhom he wishes me to take for my husband. Every ninth day he comes,\nbrings him with him, and praises his excellent qualities--presses me\nfor my consent, and threatens me with cruel tortures if I give it not\nat the next new moon. On that day he will have kept me a year in\nimprisonment, and longer than a year he says he will not wait, and\nstill give good words: then will the time of my punishment begin. I\nconjure you, therefore, to help me!\"\n\nAt these words she burst into a flood of tears.\n\n\"Noble royal maiden,\" answered Haschem, \"how willingly would I help\nyou! but, alas, I am only a weak man, and cannot free myself. But tell\nme--how is it possible? You say the enchanter brings his hateful son\nwith him: why, then, have I never seen him?\"\n\n\"He always sends you away when he comes,\" answered the Princess.\n\n\"Well,\" pursued Haschem, \"the son could not conceal himself from me on\nthe steps, or in the narrow passage.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" she answered, \"he carries him in his pocket.\"\n\nThen Haschem cried out in his astonishment, \"In his pocket! How can\nthat be?\"\n\nThe Princess related to him that the young man was every time a white\nbird, like herself; that the enchanter put him into the cage with her,\nand that she felt such a dislike to him that she always fluttered\nabout the cage to avoid getting near him; but that he, with his\ncontrary friendly feeling, would follow her and settle confidingly\nnear her.\n\n\"Oh,\" she continued, \"you must have remarked how tired and mournful I\nalways was when you returned on the ninth day.\"\n\nHaschem, astonished at this explanation, assured her of his\nwillingness to help her, but bewailed his helplessness. But the\nPrincess would not give up hopes of their safety.\n\n\"It seems to me,\" said she, \"a good omen that the enchanter has to-day\nreceived a message which caused him to leave so early and in such\nhaste that he did not securely close the cage, and that you returned\nso early to-day from the garden. This day is my birthday, the only day\nthat I can be delivered from the magician's power. On any other day I\nshould still have remained a dumb bird if you had freed me from my\ncage; only on this day has my touching the floor restored me to my\nnatural form: the enchantment lies in the cage.\"\n\nHaschem then seized the cage, and said, \"If it be so, we will break\nthe enchantment.\" He threw the cage to the ground, stamped on it with\nhis feet till it was quite flat and its shape no longer\ndistinguishable, then he rolled it together, and threw it into a\ncorner of the hall.\n\nAt this moment a frightful noise resounded through the air like\nviolent thunder, a gale of wind seemed to shake the hall, and suddenly\nthe doors opened, the curtains were drawn aside, and the magician\nstood before them with a countenance full of anger.\n\n\"Ah!\" cried he, \"weak worms, what have you presumed to do? How did you\nlearn to break my charm in this manner? Who bid you destroy the cage?\"\n\nHaschem, terrified, could answer nothing. Then the enchanter turned to\nthe Maiden, and cried,\n\n\"And you, you thought this miserable worm could defend you against my\npower: I will show you how useless it is to oppose me.\"\n\nHe felt in the pocket of his black robe, and pulled out a thin box.\nThis he opened, and a white bird flew out and perched on the table.\nThen he took a small box from his girdle and opened it: it was filled\nwith grains of millet. From these he took one, laid it before the\nbird, who had scarcely eaten it before such a distorted man stood in\nits place, that both Haschem and the Princess screamed aloud. His head\nwas large and thick, his eyes red and dark, his nose small and pressed\nquite flat, his lips thick and bluish-red, his chin broad and\nprojecting, and on his head grew a few stiff white hairs; a hump grew\nout of his breast, and a similar one from his back, and his shoulders\nwere quite drawn up: his head was so jammed between them that his ears\ncould not be seen. His head and upper part of his body were so\nunshapely, and his legs so weak and thin, that it was wonderful how\nthey supported him: he tottered about incessantly, balancing himself\nfirst on one leg, then on the other.\n\n\"Go in, my son,\" said the enchanter to this misformed creature:\n\"behold! there is your bride. She does not wish to wait till the new\nmoon, which I fixed upon for your betrothal: to-day she has effected\nher change by the help of this friend. Go, my son, give your bride a\nkiss, and then thank this young man.\"\n\nThe deformed creature approached the Princess with a horrible fiendish\nlaugh. She averted her face with disgust, and stretched out her arms,\nmotioning him away. And now courage returned to Haschem. Resolved to\nventure all, he stepped before the Princess, and gave the deformity\nsuch a blow that he reeled. He instantly assumed the form of a\nterrible dragon; but Haschem, drawing a scimitar which he still wore,\ncut him down. He fell with such violence on the corner of the pedestal\nof one of the marble pillars that it was broken to pieces: a stream of\nblood flowed from the wound, and, resuming his former shape, the\nmonster gave a hollow groan. Now Haschem thought of the father's rage\nand revenge, and gave up his life for lost. But the enchanter stood\nquite confounded as he observed his son's mortal wound; then, threw\nhimself down beside him, and examined it, and wrung his hands,\nforgetting his revenge in his sorrow. Haschem quickly seized the hand\nof the Princess, and led her through the door and down the steps. All\nthe doors were open, and they fortunately came into the garden. Soon\nthey stood before the lattice of the iron wicket, which was closed to\nthem.\n\n\"Of what use is our flight?\" said Haschem; \"we are still in the power\nof the enchanter; and even if we were on the other side of the wicket,\nand concealed ourselves in the deepest cavern, he would discover us by\nhis knowledge, and wreak his vengeance on us.\"\n\n\"I am of a different opinion,\" said the Princess. \"I know there are\nthings of which men think little, but on which the superior power of\nthe magician depends. It appears to me that if we could get out of\nthis place, we should be safe.\"\n\nThey went farther, and came to a spot where many trees had been\nuprooted by a hurricane. One of these lay overturned, with its crown\nresting on the lattice, and its boughs and branches hanging far over\nthe other side. At this sight the young man rejoiced: he climbed\nquickly up the trunk, pulled the Princess after him, and led her with\ngreat care and tenderness into the crown of the tree. They then\nclambered over the spiked top of the wicket, and let themselves down\non the other side by the overhanging branches. They did not quite\nreach to the ground, but near enough for them to leap down: when they\nlet go their hands, they fell softly to the earth. They quickly jumped\nup, and proceeded as rapidly as the strength of the Princess and the\nunknown way would allow them through the thickets, underwood, and\nplains studded with prickly plants, towards the distant mountains.\n\nAfter the two fugitives had continued their flight for several\nsuccessive hours without looking back on the scene of their\nimprisonment, the Princess felt her strength exhausted, and could go\nno farther; she begged her companion to repose for a short time.\nHaschem sought a place free from bushes, and clad with moss and long\ngrass. They seated themselves there, and Haschem entreated her to\nrelate her history. She was soon ready, and commenced thus:\n\n\"My early history is very simple and unimportant. I am called Handa,\nthe only daughter of the Sultan of the island Selandia. My mother was\nbrought from beyond Arabia and Mount Caucasus over the wide-stretching\nsea, and was sold to him as a slave. Soon attracted by her excessive\nbeauty and pleasing manners, he raised her to the dignity of his\nprincipal wife. My earliest youth was spent in pleasing sports under\nmy mother's eyes. She died before I had passed the age of childhood,\nas the change from the mild climate of her land to the heat of my\nfather's shortened her days. After the loss of my mother, which did\nnot much affect me, as I was too young to feel it, I enjoyed many\nhappy days. My father loved me as his greatest treasure, and was wise\nenough to confide me to a careful nurse. Every evening I passed\nseveral hours with him, as soon as he was released from the cares of\ngovernment, and one whole day in each week he devoted to conversation\nwith me. We then went together in a light bark to a neighbouring\npromontory, where he had a beautiful palace and gardens. The air\nthere blew cooler and more refreshing, the trees and shrubs were\nclothed with fresher green than in the shut-up garden in the capital,\nand we passed the whole day in the open air. In the meantime I had\noutgrown childhood, and was beloved by a Prince, the son of a\nneighbouring King, to whom I was betrothed, and who was to succeed my\nfather in his kingdom. This Prince, whose name was Mundian Oppu, also\noften took part in these visits to the castle on the promontory.\n\n\"It happened one day, as we were sitting on a terrace by the sea, a\nforeign ship anchored just below us. A foreigner caused himself to be\nlanded in a little boat, and asked us permission to appear before us,\nas he had many costly wares to offer for sale. I was desirous to see\nthe stranger's wares, and begged my father to grant the desired\npetition. The man laid many costly trinkets of gold and precious\nstones before us, and my father bought some, with which I was much\npleased. I remarked that the merchant watched me closely, but he did\nthis with such evident pleasure that my vanity ascribed it to his\nopinion of my pleasing expression, and found no harm in it. Whilst he\nshewed his wares, he let fall some words which intimated that he had\nleft his most precious articles behind in the ship. He had there many\ncurious birds, particularly a snow-white bird, which was the most\nbeautiful of all creatures of this kind. He managed thus to raise my\ndesires so much that I begged my father to allow me to go with the\nstranger to his ship to see these silken stuffs: my father was weak\nenough to comply with this unreasonable wish. A suitable train should\nhave accompanied me, but the stranger prevented this. He said his boat\nhad only room in it for three people, and that he should not like to\nshow his wares if many people came into his ship. 'They are only\nthings for the royal Princess,' he said, 'and I dare not expose her to\ndanger. I can never forget that a powerful King has entrusted his only\ndaughter to my care; therefore your betrothed Prince Mundian Oppu may\naccompany you as a watchful protector.' We went with the merchant to\nthe ship. There we found an immense number of extraordinary things and\nunknown animals. In the place where in other ships the rowers sat\nwere great apes; on high on the mast sat an eagle; in the inner rooms\nwere many large and small cages of smooth ebony with thick gold bars,\nbehind which moved a confused multitude of animals.\n\n\"My desire was now directed to the snow-white bird, about which I made\ninquiry. He showed it me high up in a box, and as I could not see it\ndistinctly, he took it out and put it on my hand. 'It is quite\nsingular,' said he, 'when the bird is here, it can only remain a few\ndays alive, but I have found the corn of life, which I give it each\nweek, and it is then refreshed for nine days.' We asked for the corn\nof life, of which we had never heard, and he opened a little box and\ntook out three grains. He gave me one to give the bird, the other I\nwas to try, and the third Prince Mundian Oppu. When I offered the\ngrain to the bird, it refused to peck it; and when I pressed my hand\ncloser, the bird drew back, lost its balance, and fell down with\noutspread wings. I hastened to it, picked it up perhaps somewhat\nroughly, and as it tried to escape, I held some of its tail-feathers\nfast, so that it lay fluttering in my hand. I was very much\nfrightened, and the merchant seemed so also. He soon laughed with\nmalicious joy, and said that I should swallow the corn, because it\nwould prevent the flight of the frightened prisoner. He said the same\nto the Prince, and we swallowed the grains in the same moment. I felt\na wonderful transformation pass over me, and found that I was changed\ninto a snow-white bird; and when I looked towards the Prince, in his\nstead I saw a black bird. Now the stranger, who was no other than the\nenchanter, seized me, and shut me up in the golden cage which you have\ntrodden to pieces. The apes began to ply the oars, and the ship moved\nwith unusual swiftness over the sea. I still saw my father sitting on\nthe terrace, and the wonder of the servants as they saw the ship\ndepart: I believed that I heard their voices calling us back. But what\ncould I do in my cage? The black bird flew to the promontory; and from\nthat moment I have neither heard nor seen anything of Prince Mundian\nOppu.\n\n\"When my home was far in the distance, and even the summit of the\nmountain could no longer be distinguished, the enchanter rose with my\ncage high in the air, leaving his ship behind, and bore me into the\nhall of the tower. How he brought the other white bird, I don't know:\nI only know that he took it out of his pocket and put it into the\ncage. 'Now you have a companion,' said he. As I took him for a real\nbird, I considered myself, though unfortunate, superior to him, and\ndrew myself back into a corner. But the bird came nearer, and followed\nme. At last I lost patience, and pecked his eyes. When the enchanter\nsaw this, he took out a little box, and took from it a grain, which he\nlaid before the bird, who picked it immediately. It was then changed\ninto a man, as ugly as you saw him in the tower. He desired me, as I\nhave already told you, to take that deformity for my husband, and\npromised me that, on my consent, I should be immediately restored to\nmy proper form, and assured me that otherwise I should always remain\nas a bird, except on my birthday. I have now no other wish than to\nreturn to my father in Selandia, because I know he is living in great\naffliction, if, indeed, sorrow at my loss have not already brought him\nto the grave.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE FAITHFUL CONDUCTOR HOME.\n\n\nAt the conclusion of this relation, Haschem thought with compassion of\nhis father, and had his mournful countenance and bowed-down form\nbefore his mind. He knew, from the great love he had always shown him,\nthat he must have pined for his loss.\n\n\"Princess,\" said he, \"your desire cannot be greater than mine. Still,\nI swear to you that I will not return to my father till I have safely\nconducted you to your native land, or have given you over to safe\nguides to bring you to your father; if I do not, may Heaven not grant\nmy father life to receive this joy!\"\n\nThey journeyed on with renewed vigour. But evening was drawing near,\nand they must find a resting-place for the night. Fortune was\nfavourable: they soon found a spot, shadowed, by a high bush.\n\nHaschem broke away the boughs so as to form a hedge, which quite\nconcealed the Princess, and to which he only left a narrow entrance,\nbefore which he lay down to watch. Night passed without danger.\nHowever anxiously Haschem strove against sleep, to watch over his\ncompanion, it at last weighed down his eyelids, and they both awoke\nwith the first rays of the sun. Their good star soon led them to a\nspot where they found refreshing wood-berries, the names of which were\nunknown to them, and they were anxious to discover if they were\npoisonous; but hunger made them venture. They wandered the whole day,\nresting alternately. At every step the journey became more hazardous.\nThe thickets became thicker and higher; they were often obliged to\ncreep between the boughs, and their clothes hung in rags. On the\nfourth day they reached the foot of the mountain. There they found\ncultivated land and human habitations. Haschem inquired where they\nwere, and asked for the sea. The people told them the name of the\ncountry, which was unknown to Haschem and the Princess Handa. On the\nother side of the high mountain lay a large flat land, whose coast was\nwashed by the sea. They received this information with great joy. They\ndescended the mountain, came to the flat land, and at last, after a\nwearisome journey, during which they had seen the sun rise and set\nseven times, they arrived at the sea-coast. A ship lay ready at\nanchor, and when they inquired its destination, the steersman\nanswered, \"We are going to Selandia to fetch a cargo of cinnamon.\" To\nHaschem's question where they came from, and what this land where they\nwere was called, he received for answer, \"that the ship belonged to a\nmerchant of Balsora, and that it had been cast on these unknown shores\nby a violent storm.\"\n\nWhen the Princess perceived that the ship was going towards her native\nland, she was very much rejoiced. She took one of the precious stones\nout of her forehead-band, and gave it as a reward for her and her\ncompanion. The following morning they weighed anchor, and, after a\nprosperous voyage, they reached the same place where the enchanter's\nship had formerly lain at anchor when he carried off the Princess.\n\nThey were landed in a small boat, and Handa led her deliverer into\nthe beautiful leafy walks of the imperial gardens. In this way they\ncame to a terrace, from which they could see the ship. Instead of\npressing quickly forwards, they concealed themselves behind a bush. A\nvery melancholy old man sat on this terrace, looking over the sea; and\nwhile a flood of tears ran down his face,\n\n\"Ah!\" cried he, \"it was just so on the day that my sorrows began!\nThere lay the ship of the robber, there landed the boat which carried\naway my beloved daughter and her betrothed. It was even at the same\nhour of the day. I have sent messengers into all the neighbouring\nlands; I have caused the opposite sea-coasts to be searched; but all\nhas been in vain! I must die, and never see my child again.\"\n\nHe pronounced these words aloud, and covered his face as he bowed\nhimself forward on his hands.\n\nPrincess Handa wished to hasten to him, but Haschem held her back, and\nsaid, \"Let me first prepare him for your arrival, else joy may kill\nhim.\" And he sprang forward, and bowed before the sorrowing old man,\nmaking his forehead touch the ground.\n\nThe King then said, \"Who are you? Are you a beggar, and do you need\nany gift? It shall be given you: go to my palace.\"\n\nHaschem stood up and answered, \"In such circumstances you might well\ntake me for a beggar, O great King Kadga Singa. But know that under\nthese ragged clothes is concealed a magician, who is come to change\nyour tears into smiles, your sobs into transports of joy.\"\n\n\"Can any man on earth do this?\" asked Kadga Singa.\n\n\"I have only to speak three words,\" he answered, \"and it will happen.\nAre you strong enough to support the highest joy that your heart can\nconceive and feel?\"\n\nAt these questions a ray of hope in the soul of the mourning father\nbeamed through his tearful eyes. \"What is it? Who are you who can\npromise this?\" asked he.\n\nAnd Haschem repeated his question, \"Do you feel strong enough?\"\n\n\"I think so,\" answered the King, regarding him with hopeful looks.\n\n\"Draw near, Princess Handa, your father is prepared,\" cried the youth;\nand she sprang forwards into her father's open arms.\n\nThen was Haschem's word fulfilled: his tears were changed into smiles,\nhis sobs into transports of joy. Their embrace continued long. At last\nKadga Singa raised himself, beckoned Haschem to approach, and said,\n\"You are a magician; such an one I have never before seen. By your\nmagic words you have changed the mournful course of my life into the\nbrightest sunshine. I will not now ask you who you are, and what I\nhave to thank you for; I will not now inquire what chance brought you\nto my daughter; I shall only give myself up to joy at her return.\"\n\nThey went back to the capital in a kingly boat, and soon the joyful\nnews of the unexpected reappearance of the Princess spread everywhere.\nNumbers assembled at the palace to ascertain if the news were true;\nand Princess Handa went out to the gate and down the steps. Then arose\na shout of joy of a thousand voices, and loud wishes for her health\nand happiness.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nREWARD.\n\n\nThe next day, after the King had heard the history of her imprisonment\nrelated by his daughter, and with what devotion Haschem had watched\nover her, and when Haschem had narrated his history, Kadga Singa was\nvery thoughtful, and caused his council to assemble to deliberate how\nthey should reward him.\n\n\"If he were not so young,\" said some of them, \"he might be made Grand\nVizier, the next in dignity to the King, or be appointed Governor of a\nprovince. But his youth prevents his being raised over the people next\nto the King.\"\n\nAfter longer consultation, the eldest of the councillors rose, and\nsaid, \"Kadga Singa, my King and lord. The youth has certainly\nperformed a great service to you and the Princess Handa; therefore it\nseems to me that his reward ought to come from you. It seems to me\nthat the King, having received from him good in his family, must\nreward him from his family. Were I in such a case, I would appoint him\nas Mundiana, and give him for a wife the daughter whom he has\nrestored.\"\n\nThe whole assembly were of the same opinion, and the King gave them to\nunderstand that this was also his wish.\n\n\"I am old,\" he said, \"and can easily perceive that the cares of this\nland will soon need other hands to support them. I shall be much\npleased to see my daughter with a noble husband. Prince Mundian Oppu\nhas disappeared, whom I had before chosen; and this youth, although of\nmeaner origin, is of noble soul, and will soon, under my guidance,\nacquire the necessary circumspection to promote justice and order in\nmy kingdom.\"\n\nHe did not delay, but immediately caused Haschem to be called. A\ncostly band of gold and silver was fastened round his forehead, and\nthe King then said, \"I herewith appoint you Mundiana.\"\n\nAnd the assembled councillors cried out, \"We congratulate you, hail,\nMundiana!\"\n\nBut Haschem laughed, and said, \"Forgive my ignorance: what is\nMundiana?\"\n\nThe eldest councillor stepped forward, and said, \"This name points out\nthe highest step of honour which the King can bestow. You are found\nworthy of this honour; and no other lives who bears this title,\nbecause Prince Mundian Oppu has disappeared.\"\n\nAn elephant covered with costly trappings was now brought in by its\nkeeper, and upon it was a richly ornamented seat. On this the new\nMundiana was placed, and led through the streets. Heralds went before\nhim, and cried aloud, \"Listen to what Kadga Singa makes known to all\npeople. This youth has restored to him his dearest jewel which he had\nlost. In gratitude, the King has nominated him Mundiana, and has\nappointed his daughter Handa for his wife. To-morrow will the\nbetrothal be celebrated; and everybody is requested to come into the\ncourt of the palace to partake of the joy of the festival.\"\n\nHaschem knew not how all this had come about. He received clothes and\nrich arms as a present from the King; and the King so highly favoured\nhim that he was not only to be husband of the Princess Handa, but was\nto succeed Kadga Singa on the throne, and to reign over that beautiful\nand rich land. In this happiness he forgot his early life, his\nfather's sorrow, and even Zoraine his playfellow in youth, his\nfather's faithful friend Saad, and thought no more of his home or his\nfatherland. The next day his betrothal with the Princess was\ncelebrated with great pomp.\n\nThe Princess had willingly yielded to her father's wish, without\nmanifesting any particular joy, or showing any affection for her\nfuture husband; although she felt very friendly towards him, and\ntreated him with great respect and attention, as her grateful heart\ndid not forget in prosperity how much she had owed to him in\nmisfortune.\n\nThe first days and weeks passed in the delights of joy: then he was\nintroduced by the King into the council, and taught the business of\nthe State. The King and councillors had often reason to wonder at his\nacuteness in judgment in difficult cases, and, above all, at his\nperception of right and wrong. Soon no sentence was pronounced without\nhis opinion being first consulted; and it often happened that it was\ncontrary to that of the rest of the council; but the reasons for his\ndecision always prevailed. In all lands the justice and wisdom of the\nKing's future son-in-law were praised, and it was hoped that fortune\nwould permit him to rule over the land.\n\nA whole year had now elapsed, and the day was fast approaching when he\nwas to marry the Princess and ascend the throne. One day, as usual, he\nsought his betrothed, the Princess Handa, in her apartments. As he was\nannounced by a servant, he went in quickly, and saw the Princess\nhastily wiping her eyes; and as he drew nearer, he found the traces of\nher tears. Sympathizing with her, he asked the cause of her grief, and\nshe tried to avoid answering him; but as he continued to urge her, she\nat last said, \"I dare tell you why these tears flow, because you are\ngood and compassionate, and will not consider it a crime that I have a\nfeeling and sympathizing heart. You know that I was formerly beloved\nby Prince Mundian Oppu, the son of the neighbouring King. I related\nto you that this Prince was changed into a blackbird by the enchanter,\nand flew from the ship to the promontory of the island where our\ncountry seat was situated. Now, I must tell you that I grieve so much\nthe more about this Prince's fate, as from my own change I can\ncompassionate his mournful condition. I could not repress this desire,\nand I have obtained certain news of his life and present condition by\nthe secret knowledge of a clever Tirinaxian. And in this manner I have\nlearned that he still lives in his new form, and that he has flown,\nfrom fear of the snares of the hunter, whom we call Dodda Waddas, out\nof the land into distant regions; and that it is ordained by fate that\nhe shall never regain his human form if I give my hand to another\nhusband. Sorrow at this mournful destiny has drawn these tears from my\neyes, the traces of which you observed.\"\n\nThis narrative made a deep impression on Haschem: he discovered also\nthat Handa had acceded to her father's wish only from gratitude and\nfilial obedience, whilst her affection was fixed on the absent Prince.\nHe saw that he must purchase the good fortune to be husband of the\nnoble Princess, and son-in-law of the great King Kadga Singa, and\nafter him to be King of Selandia, only by the misfortunes of Prince\nMundian Oppu. He asked himself if this were right, and was obliged to\nconfess that his reason and knowledge of justice and honour were\nopposed to it. He saw that the intoxication of good fortune had\nhitherto blinded him. Then the remembrance of his father came before\nhim, and he imagined him pining away at the uncertainty of his son's\nfate. He bitterly reproached himself for his long forgetfulness, and\nfor not having sent an embassy to announce his safe arrival in\nSelandia.\n\nScarcely had these thoughts and feelings arisen in his breast, than he\nmade up his mind. He took Handa's hand, and promised her that he would\ndo all he could to find her former lover, and restore him to her. Then\nhe went to the King, told him all, and begged him to let him go to\nfulfil a son's duty to a father whom he had too long neglected. Kadga\nSinga sighed deeply at these disclosures of his future son-in-law: he\nproposed to send a ship to bring his father, so that he might end his\nlife in sharing his son's good fortune and companionship. But Haschem\ndeclared to him, with determination, that he could never be his\nson-in-law or successor to the throne.\n\n\"I cannot purchase such good fortune at another's expense,\" said he.\n\"It was otherwise before I knew the decision of fate; but now that I\nknow the Prince Mundian Oppu must, through my happiness, always remain\nin his present condition, if I thus take away the possibility of his\never returning to human form, I should be in the highest degree\nculpable. Therefore I voluntarily give up my good fortune.\"\n\nAll the persuasions and urgings of Kadga Singa were useless. The\ncouncillors also, and the Grand Vizier and the Governors of the\nprovinces, begged him to continue in the land, and to take still more\nshare in the government. He remained firm in his resolution. He\npromised the Princess, who was astonished at his honourable spirit,\nthat as soon as he had seen and comforted his father, he would demand\ninformation of Prince Mundian Oppu from all the sages and magicians of\nhis native land, and that he would try all means to restore him to his\nformer condition. As he was determined to set out, the King gave him\ncostly presents, besides many precious stones from his treasury, and\nprovided him with a ship, and all necessaries for the voyage. He took\nleave, and the good wishes of all who knew him accompanied him.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE RETURN TO HIS FATHER.\n\n\nThe heavens seemed to favour the resolution of the returning son: the\nwarmest weather and most favourable winds seconded his journey, and\nthe ship anchored in the harbour without accident. He took some\nservants; bought some camels, which he loaded with the King's\npresents, and so went through Balsora along the river to Bagdad.\n\nOne beautiful evening he came near the city to the place where he had\nlain at the feet of his father and Saad, and listened to their\ndiscourses: their last discourse there returned to his memory.\n\n\"Well,\" said he to himself, \"it is true that it is easy for a man to\nbe seduced from virtue into one false step, if he is not watchful, but\nrelies on his own power: so it happened to me. I thought that my heart\nwas always right, and neglected to try if what I did was just. In this\nmanner have I so much forgotten my love for my father, and had nearly\ncommitted a great wrong; whilst I, in the intoxication of good\nfortune, was about to sacrifice to my vanity the happiness of the\nPrincess and her betrothed. And you, my dearest father, were also\nright when you maintained that a heart accustomed to virtue from early\nyears would only for a short time wander from the right road. I have\nmyself experienced the truth of these words, and I therefore thank you\nwith tears that you always accustomed me to what was good.\"\n\nWhilst he spoke, he lifted up his eyes, and saw a single hut where the\npalm-trees used to stand. A venerable old man, much marked by sorrow,\nappeared at the door: he stood still before the threshold, and watched\nthe youth with astonishment. The young man gazed earnestly at him. He\nsuddenly recognized the features of the old man, and threw himself on\nhis knees before him, seized his hand, and bowing his head on it,\nbedewed it with his tears, and covered it with kisses.\n\n\"My father!\" cried he: \"is it so indeed? Have you so much altered in\nthe course of so few years?--that is my fault. Father, forgive your\neasily offending son, who forgot you in the height of prosperity.\"\n\nNaima stretched his other hand to him, blessed him, and said, \"Rise\nup, my son, rise: he who feels repentance is forgiven.\"\n\nHe rose and threw himself into his father's arms.\n\nWhen he looked up, he saw a man approach, leading a maiden whose\nfeatures he recognized. It was Saad and his daughter Zoraine,\nHaschem's playfellow. After welcoming him, they sat down, and Haschem\nrelated to them all that had happened to him since that evening. He\nrelated, truly and candidly, how he had forgotten his father, and\nnearly fallen into greater crimes, because he had been blinded by\nfortune, by empty greatness, and honour. Whilst they were sitting,\nthey observed three birds, who came from a distance, and seemed to\npursue one another. They soon perceived a black bird, which flew\nanxiously, and seemed followed by a bird of prey. He would soon have\nreached his prey, had he not been pursued by a larger bird; and to\navoid this, he was often compelled to go from side to side: at last\nthey came to close conflict. The pursued black bird flew into\nHaschem's lap; the bird of prey, struck by his pursuer, fell to the\nground at their feet, and was, by his strong hooked bill and sharp\nclaws, soon killed and torn to pieces. Scarcely had the last\noccurrence taken place, when the conqueror changed into a\nvenerable-looking sage. He turned to Haschem, who was quite\nastonished, and said,\n\n\"Dip quickly your forefinger in the blood of this slain one, and\nanoint with it the beak of the black bird.\"\n\nHaschem obeyed immediately; and scarcely had he touched the black\nbird's beak with the blood, than it changed, and a handsome youth in\nkingly dress stood before them.\n\n\"Guess who this is,\" said the genius.\n\n\"Mundian Oppu?\" asked Haschem.\n\nAnd the genius answered, \"It is he!\" And as he stood looking at the\nyoung man with astonishment, he said, \"You do not perceive how and why\nall this has happened. I could explain to you all these mysteries; but\nto what purpose? It is not necessary for weak men to know the threads\nby which their fates are linked together: suffice it to know that it\nwas necessary that you should perform all this, that you might be\ntried. You are found worthy, and Heaven rewards you with Zoraine, the\nearly companion of your youth, now to be your wife.\"\n\nThen Haschem turned towards Zoraine, and looked inquiringly at Saad,\nher father. This latter said,\n\n\"With joy I listen to the will of fate: the highest wish of my heart\nwill now be fulfilled.\"\n\n\"Know,\" continued the genius, \"that the slain bird was the enchanter\nwho had changed the Princess Handa and the Prince Mundian Oppu. They\nwere also to pass through trials: thus it was decreed by fate.\nBecause the enchanter only fulfilled the will of fate from selfish\nmotives, and carried his revenge beyond it, and contrary to it, the\nKing of the Genii commanded me to slay him.\"\n\nWith these words he disappeared from their sight. They returned now in\nhappy union to the city; and Naima, who had built his hut at the edge\nof the wood, to be always near the place of his sorrow, dwelt again\nwith his children. Prince Mundian Oppu went back to Selandia in the\nsame ship that had brought Haschem. He was received there with\nimmeasurable joy, and was soon married to his early love. But\nHaschem's name lived long in their memory, and in that of all the\ninhabitants of that island.\n\nWhen the Caliph Haroun al Raschid heard of Haschem's return, he had\nhim called before him, and made him relate his history. The Caliph was\nso pleased with him, that he took him into his palace, and gave him an\nimportant post in his Court. His history he caused to be inscribed in\nthe records of his kingdom. As Giafar, his old Vizier, wished to end\nhis life in quietness, the Caliph raised Haschem to be Grand Vizier;\nand he continued long in this office, to the pleasure of his relatives\nand the happiness of the people, by whom he was greatly beloved.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Pantofles.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn Bagdad lived an old merchant, of the name of Abon Casem, who was\nfamous for his riches, but still more for his avarice. His coffers\nwere small to look at--if you could get a sight of them--and very\ndirty; but they were crammed with jewels. His clothes were as scanty\nas need be; but then, even in his clothes, there was _multum in\nparvo_: to wit, much dirt, in little space. All the embroidery he wore\nwas of that kind which is of necessity attendant upon a ragged state\nof drapery. It meandered over his bony form in all the beauty of\nill-sewn patches. His turban was of the finest kind of linen for\nlasting: a kind of canvas, and so mixed with elementary substances\nthat its original colour, if it still existed, was invisible. But, of\nall his habiliments, his slippers were most deserving the study of the\ncurious. They were the extreme cases, both of his body and his dirt.\nThe soles consisted chiefly of huge nails, and the upper leathers of\nalmost everything. The ship of the Argonauts was not a greater\nmiscellany. During the ten years of their performance in the character\nof shoes, the most skilful cobblers had exercised their science and\ningenuity in keeping them together. The accumulation of materials had\nbeen so great, and their weight was so heavy in proportion, that they\nwere promoted to honours of proverbialism; and Abon Casem's slippers\nbecame a favourite comparison when a superfluity of weight was the\nsubject of discourse.\n\nIt happened one day, as this precious merchant was walking in the\nmarket, that he had a great quantity of fine glass bottles offered him\nfor sale; and, as the proposed bargain was greatly on his side, and he\nmade it still more so, he bought them. The vendor informed him,\nfurthermore, that a perfumer having lately become bankrupt, had no\nresource left but to sell, at a very low price, a large quantity of\nrose-water; and Casem, greatly rejoicing at this news, and, hastening\nto the poor man's shop, bought up all the rose-water at half its\nvalue. He then carried it home, and comfortably put it in his bottles.\nDelighted with these good bargains, and buoyant in his spirits, our\nhero, instead of making a feast, according to the custom of his\nfellows, thought it more advisable to go to the bath, where he had not\nbeen for some time.\n\nWhile employed in the intricate business of undressing, one of his\nfriends, or one whom he believed such--for your misers seldom have\nany--observed that his pantofles had made him quite the bye-word of\nthe city, and that it was high time to buy a new pair.\n\n\"To say the truth,\" said Casem, \"I have long thought of doing so; but\nthey are not yet so worn as to be unable to serve me a little longer.\"\nAnd, having undressed himself, he went into the stove.\n\nDuring the luxury he was there enjoying, the Cadi of Bagdad came in,\nand, having undressed himself, he went into the stove likewise. Casem\nsoon after came out, and, having dressed himself, looked about for his\npantofles; but nowhere could he find them. In the place of his own, he\nfound a pair sufficiently different to be not only new, but splendid.\nAnd, feeling convinced that they were a gift from his friend--not the\nless so, perhaps, because he wished it--he triumphantly thrust his\ntoes in them, and issued forth into the air, radiant with joy and a\nskin nearly clean.\n\nOn the other hand, when the Cadi had performed the necessary\npurifications, and was dressed, his slaves looked for his lordship's\nslippers in vain. Nowhere could they be found. Instead of the\nembroidered pantofles of the Judge, they detected, in a corner, only\nthe phenomena left by Casem, which were too well known to leave a\ndoubt how their master's had disappeared. The slaves went immediately\nfor Casem, and brought him back to the indignant magistrate, who, deaf\nto his attempts at defence, sent him to prison. Now, in the East, the\nclaws of justice open just as wide, and no wider than the purse of the\nculprit; and it may be supposed that Abon Casem, who was known to be\nas rich as he was miserly, did not get his freedom at the same rate as\nhis rose-water.\n\nThe miserable Casem returned home, tearing his beard--for beard is not\na dear stuff--and, being mightily enraged with the pantofles, he\nseized upon them, and threw them out of his window into the Tigris.\n\nIt happened a few days after that some fishermen drew their nets under\nthe window, and the weight being greater than usual, they were\nexulting in their success, when out came the pantofles. Furious\nagainst Casem (for who did not know Casem's pantofles?), they threw\nthem in at the window, at the same time reviling him for the accident.\nUnhappy Casem! The pantofles flew into his room, fell among his\nbottles, which were ranged with great care along the shelf, and,\noverthrowing them, covered the room with glass and rose-water.\nImagine, if you can, the miser's agony! With a loud voice, and tearing\nhis beard, according to custom, he roared out, \"Accursed pantofles,\nwill you never cease persecuting the wretched Casem?\"\n\nSo saying, he took a spade, and went into his garden to bury them.\n\nIt so happened that one of his neighbours was looking out of window at\nthe time, and seeing Casem poking about the earth in his garden, he\nran to the Cadi, and told him that his old friend had discovered a\ntreasure. Nothing more was requisite to excite the cupidity of the\nJudge. He allowed the miser to aver, as loudly as he pleased, that he\nwas burying his slippers, and had found no treasure, but at the same\ntime demanded the treasure he had found. Casem talked to no purpose.\nWearied out at last with his own asseverations, he paid the money, and\ndeparted, cursing the very souls of the pantofles.\n\nDetermined to get rid of these unhappy moveables, our hero walked to\nsome distance from the city, and threw them into a reservoir, hoping\nhe had now fairly seen the last of them; but the evil genii, not yet\ntired of tormenting him, guided the pantofles precisely to the mouth\nof the conduit. From this point they were carried along into the city,\nand, sticking at the mouth of the aqueduct, they stopped it up, and\nprevented the water from flowing into the basin. The overseers of the\ncity fountains, seeing that the water had stopped, immediately set\nabout repairing the damage, and at length dragged into the face of day\nthe old reprobate slippers, which they immediately took to the Cadi,\ncomplaining loudly of the damage they had caused.\n\nThe unfortunate proprietor was now condemned to pay a fine still\nheavier than before; but far was he from having the luck of seeing his\nchattels detained. The Cadi, having delivered the sentence, said, like\na conscientious magistrate, that he had no power of retaining other\npeoples' property, upon which the slippers, with much solemnity, were\nfaithfully returned to their distracted master. He carried them home\nwith him, meditating as he went--and as well as he was able to\nmeditate--how he should destroy them; at length he determined upon\ncommitting them to the flames. He accordingly tried to do so, but\nthey were too wet; so he put them on a terrace to dry. But the evil\ngenii, as aforesaid, had reserved a still more cruel accident than any\nbefore; for a dog, whose master lived hard by, seeing these strange\nwild fowl of a pair of shoes, jumped from one terrace to the other,\ntill he came to the miser's, and began to play with one of them: in\nhis sport he dropped it over the balustrade, and it fell, heavy with\nhobnails and the accumulated dirt of years, on the tender head of an\ninfant, and killed him on the spot. The parents went straight to the\nCadi, and complained that they had found their child dead, and Casem's\npantofle lying by it, upon which the Judge condemned him to pay a very\nheavy fine.\n\nCasem returned home, and taking the pantofles, went back to the Cadi,\ncrying out with an enthusiasm that convulsed everybody, \"Behold!\nbehold! See here the fatal cause of all the sufferings of Casem! these\npantofles, which have at length brought ruin upon his head. My Lord\nCadi, be so merciful, I pray you, as to give an edict that may free me\nfrom all imputation of accident which these slippers henceforth may\noccasion, as they certainly will to anybody who ventures into their\naccursed leather!\"\n\nThe Cadi could not refuse this request, and the miser learned to his\ncost the ill effects of not buying a new pair of shoes.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nStory of the Prince and the Lions.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn a great city of the East lived Prince Azgid, who grew up to manhood\nbeloved by every one, for he was virtuous, intelligent, and\naccomplished, though somewhat of a timorous disposition, and this was\nindeed his chief fault. His father had died, and he had reached now\nthe proper age to mount the throne, a time having been already fixed\nfor the ceremony, to which the young man was looking forward with\ngreat interest.\n\nA few days previous to the event the old Vizier called upon the\nPrince, and telling him he wished to take a walk with him, led him out\nof the town to a mountain, on one side of which was a wide staircase\nof white marble, with a handsome balustrade on each side. It had three\nbroad landings, and on these the Vizier and Prince rested as they\nascended the stairs, for it was of great height, and they were both\nsorely tired before they reached the top. There was a small house on\nthe summit, out of which came a black slave, who made a profound\nobeisance to the visitors, and, leading the way, took them a short\ndistance to a kind of arena dug in the ground, and faced also with\nwhite marble. He then took out a key and opened a brazen door,\nwhereupon the Prince drew near, and, looking down, saw a red lion of\nfierce aspect and tremendous size. He wondered what it all meant, and\ngazed with a look of inquiry into the face of the Vizier, who, having\nordered the servant to retire, thus spoke:\n\n\"My son,\" said he, \"the day is now very near on which you are to\nascend the throne; but before you can do so you must fulfil a custom\nwhich has been established for many ages, and which your father and\nall your ancestors submitted to; in short, you must descend into this\nden with a dagger, and fight yonder lion. This will test your courage\nand fortitude, and show whether you are really worthy of governing a\nkingdom.\"\n\nWhen the young man heard this, he turned pale, and almost fell to the\nground.\n\n\"This is a severe task,\" said he; \"is there no alternative, nor any\nmethod by which I may evade it?\"\n\n\"None, whatever,\" answered the Vizier.\n\n\"Can I not have a few days granted me to think over the matter, and\nprepare for the sore trial?\" asked the youth.\n\n\"Oh, yes!\" returned the other, \"that you can have, of course.\"\nWhereupon he beckoned to the slave to lock the door, and the visitors\ndescended the stairs and returned to the palace.\n\nThe joy of Azgid's life seemed now to have fled, and he was suddenly\nimmersed in deep despair. The horrid combat he was to engage in was\ncontinually before him. He could neither eat nor drink, but wandered\nabout the palace like one distracted, or sat moping for hours, with\nhis head buried in his hands, speaking to no one. He was glad when\nnight came, that he might hide himself from observation, and retired\nto his chamber in tears. But he found no comfort there. Sleep fled\nfrom him, and he lay tossing upon his bed, anxiously awaiting the\nreturn of day. During the tedious hours of darkness he had meditated\nwhat course he had best pursue, and at length came to the resolution\nthat he would extricate himself from the dilemma he was in by bidding\nfarewell to his home, and seeking peace and safety in some far-distant\nland.\n\nAccordingly, as soon as it was daylight, he hastily dressed himself,\nand going to the stables, mounted a fleet horse and rode off. Glad was\nhe when he got outside the town, and turning round to take a last\nlook, he thus exclaimed:\n\n\"Oh, cursed city! cursed home! what misery lies within you! May each\nhour carry me farther from you! and may these eyes never behold you\nagain!\"\n\nWith these words he put spurs to his horse, and was soon out of sight\nof the detested spot. He journeyed forward with a light heart, and on\nthe third day came to a pleasant country overgrown with forest trees,\nintermingled with lawns and romantic vales.\n\nProceeding a little farther on, he heard the sound of delicious music,\nand soon overtook a handsome youth of ruddy countenance, somewhat\nyounger than himself, playing on a flute, and leading a few sheep.\n\nThe shepherd, on seeing the stranger, stopped playing, and saluted him\nvery courteously; but Azgid begged him to go on, telling him what an\nadmirer of music he was, and that he had never in his life heard such\nenchanting strains.\n\nThe young man smiled at this compliment, and commenced playing some\nfresh tunes; and, when he had finished, he informed the Prince that he\nwas slave to a rich shepherd named Oaxus, who lived near, and who\nwould be rejoiced to see him, and show him some hospitality.\n\nIn a few moments they reached the abode of Oaxus.\n\nIt was a low stone building of considerable size, with a porch\nsurrounding it, overgrown with vines and flowers. Around it was a\nlarge yard, encircled with a high wall, in which were some flocks of\nsheep, with a number of men tending them.\n\nOn entering, the old shepherd came forward and gave the stranger a\nhearty welcome, leading him into a neat apartment, and setting before\nhim a handsome repast. After Azgid had finished eating, he thought it\nhis duty to give his kind host some information as to who he was, and\nthus spoke:\n\n\"My friend,\" said he, \"you no doubt wonder at seeing a stranger of my\nappearance thus suddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish to\ninquire who I am. This wish I can only in part gratify. Suffice it to\nsay that I am a Prince whom troubles at home have driven abroad; but\nmy name I cannot tell. That is a secret lodged in my own breast, to be\nimparted to no one. If no inconvenience to you, it would please me\nmuch to remain in this delightful spot. I have ample means at my\ndisposal, and will remunerate you for whatever trouble I may put you\nto.\"\n\nOaxus replied to this speech in the kindest manner, begging the young\nman to say nothing about remuneration, for that the company of one so\nexalted and accomplished would more than repay him for any trouble he\nmight be put to in entertaining him, and that nothing would give him\nmore happiness than to have him remain there to the end of his days.\n\n\"But come, Asdril,\" said he, addressing the musician, \"take the Prince\nand show him what is most worthy to be seen in this neighbourhood.\nLead him to the waterfalls, the fountains, the rocks and vales, for I\nperceive our guest is one able to appreciate nature's beauties.\"\n\nThe young shepherd did as requested, and, taking up his flute, led the\nyouth to all the pleasantest and most interesting spots.\n\nThey wandered about the sloping hills and deep valleys, and over\nbeautiful lawns, sprinkled with trees of immense size. At one time\nthey stood by the side of some gently murmuring stream, and now they\nwere startled with a romantic cascade, whose flashing waters tumbled\nfrom mossy cliffs and echoed far and wide. They now entered a shady\nvale, and, seating themselves on a rock, the shepherd commenced\nplaying his flute. The Prince listened with delight, for, as we said\nbefore, he was passionately fond of music, and had never in his life\nheard any one who pleased him so much. Indeed, he made up his mind\nthat, if ever he left the place, he would endeavour to purchase from\nOaxus the accomplished slave, and have him as his constant companion\nas long as he lived.\n\nThus did Azgid enjoy himself amid these delicious scenes,\ncongratulating himself that he had escaped from all his troubles, and\nhad at last reached a spot where he might live in peace and\ntranquillity for ever.\n\nBut his joy was not to last long; for young Asdril on a sudden rose\nup, and, taking his companion by the hand, told him it was time for\nthem to be gone.\n\n\"Why so?\" asked the Prince. \"Why should we so soon leave these\nenchanting scenes?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the shepherd, \"this place is infested with lions.\nThey come out at a certain hour every day, and we all have to retire\nwithin the walls of our abode and close the gates. See here,\"\ncontinued he, rolling up his sleeve, and showing a great scar on his\narm, \"this is what I received in an encounter with these fierce\nbeasts. I once lagged behind, and was with great difficulty saved from\ndestruction. So, let us lose no time, but make the best of our way\nhome.\"\n\nOn hearing these words, the Prince turned pale; but he said nothing,\nand they silently returned to the house.\n\nOn reaching the gate, Azgid called for his horse, and, having mounted,\ntold his host that he was about to leave, and thanked him for his\nkindness. \"Farewell, Oaxus!\" said he. \"Farewell, young Asdril! I\nthought I should have remained here forever; but fate decrees\notherwise. I must seek another abode, another home.\" And, so saying,\nhe put spurs to his horse and galloped away.\n\nHe journeyed on and on, and soon left the groves and green valleys.\nThe country became more barren, trees began to disappear, and, not\nlong after, scarcely any verdure was visible. He was soon in the midst\nof the desert. Far as the eye could reach, the vast plain spread\nbefore him. Not a shrub or blade of grass could be seen, and nothing\nmet the view but, now and then, some low sand-hills, piled up by the\nwind like drifts of snow, among which, with much fatigue to his horse,\nhe pursued his way. The sun blazed on him with great power; and it\nwas with much satisfaction, on the third day, that he perceived in the\ndistance a number of black tents, which he knew to be an encampment of\nArabs.\n\nAs he drew near, a band of warriors, mounted on fine horses and\nbrandishing their spears, came forth to meet him. This was their usual\nmode of welcoming a stranger.\n\nThey seemed struck with the appearance of Azgid, and showed him much\nrespect, forming a sort of guard around him, and leading him to the\ntent of their chief.\n\nThe latter was a person of dignified aspect, somewhat past the prime\nof life. His name was Sheik Hajaar. He sat smoking in front of his\ntent; and, when the youth approached, he rose up and cordially saluted\nhim. He then took him inside the tent, and set before him a repast, of\nwhich, when the young man had eaten, he thought it his duty to inform\nhis kind host who he was.\n\n\"My friend,\" said he, \"you are no doubt surprised at seeing a stranger\nof my appearance thus suddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish\nto inquire who I am. This wish I can only in part gratify: suffice it,\nthen, to say that I am a Prince whom troubles at home have driven\nabroad, but my name I cannot tell; that is a secret lodged within my\nown breast, to be imparted to no one. If no inconvenience to you, it\nwould please me much to remain here. I have ample means at my command,\nand will remunerate you for whatever trouble I may put you to.\"\n\nThe Sheik replied that the company of one so exalted and accomplished\nwas remuneration enough, and that he would be rejoiced to have him as\nhis guest for ever. He then introduced him to a number of his friends,\nand leading him out, presented him with a beautiful horse of great\nvalue. Azgid thought he had never in his life seen so fine an animal;\nand when he mounted him he found him so gentle and docile as scarcely\nto require any management, for the intelligent creature seemed to\nanticipate all his wishes.\n\n\"But, come,\" said the Sheik, \"it is time for us to be off: to-day we\nhunt the antelope; you, Prince, will of course accompany us.\"\n\nAzgid, with a smile, replied in the affirmative, and they started off\nin pursuit of the game. They soon overtook a herd, and commenced\nchasing them--spears flew, and the air resounded with cries. The\nPrince was exhilarated with the sport, and enjoyed himself\nexceedingly. \"Ah!\" thought he, \"this is a happy life, and these\nchildren of the desert are happy people: I am resolved never to quit\nthem.\" The hunt lasted nearly the whole day, and about sunset the\ncompany returned with the spoil, which consisted of more than a dozen\nantelopes. These sports were kept up nearly every day, and Azgid's\ntime passed most agreeably.\n\nA week had now elapsed, and the youth had one night retired to rest,\ncongratulating himself on the happy life he led, when the Sheik Hajaar\nquietly approached his couch, and thus spake:\n\n\"My son,\" said he, \"I have come to tell you how much my people are\npleased with you, and especially with the spirit you evince in the\nsports of the chase. But these sports do not comprise all our life: we\nhave frequent wars with hostile tribes, where great valour is\nnecessary. My men are all approved warriors, and, before they can have\nperfect confidence in you as a trusty comrade, desire to see some\nspecimen of your prowess. Two leagues south of this is a range of\nhills infested with lions; rise, then, early on the morrow, mount your\nhorse, take your sword and spear, and slay and bring us the skin of\none of these savage beasts: then will we be assured of your courage,\nand have confidence in you in the day of battle.\"\n\nHaving thus spoke, the Sheik bid him good night, and retired. His\nwords disturbed Azgid extremely. \"Ah!\" thought he, \"here are the lions\nagain! wherever I go I meet them. I thought I had found at last a\nquiet home, but I am mistaken; this is not the place for me.\" He then\ngot out of bed, and, lifting up the covering of the tent, slipped out,\nand went first to see the horse the Sheik had given him. He found him\ntethered among the others, and, going up to him, threw his arms around\nhim and kissed him. \"Farewell, kind creature,\" said he, \"I grieve to\nleave you!\" The animal leaned his head on his shoulders, and seemed to\nreturn his good feelings. The youth then sought his own steed, and,\nhaving mounted him, started off.\n\nHe rode over the trackless sands, with the bright stars glittering\nabove him, a homeless wanderer, not knowing whither he was going. At\nlength morning began to appear, and soon the sun rose and beat upon\nhis head with its fierce rays; by the middle of the day he was\nrejoiced to perceive that he was leaving the desert; and late in the\nafternoon he reached a charming region of hill and dale, streams and\nmeadows.\n\nHe soon after came to one of the most beautiful palaces he had ever\nseen. It was built of porphyry, and stood in the midst of an immense\ngarden, where every plant and flower grew that could delight the sight\nor regale the senses. Trees loaded with all kinds of delicious fruits,\nsome trimmed and cut into the most curious shapes, were seen on all\nsides. Statues of exquisite forms stood among them. From many of these\nfountains spouted upwards to a vast height, whose waters fell\nmurmuring into large basins, where gold-fish, swans and other\nwater-fowl were seen swimming about. Peacocks and other gorgeous birds\nstrutted and flew around in every direction; and so many objects met\nthe young man's eye, as he slowly rode up the broad avenue, that he\nstopped almost every moment to gaze and admire. At last lie reached\nthe portico, which was raised twenty steps, and adorned with twelve\ncolumns of clear jasper.\n\nThe owner of the palace, who was an Emir of great wealth, was seated\non the portico, in company with his daughter, the golden-haired\nPerizide.\n\nOn seeing a stranger of such dignified mien approaching, he rose up\nand went to welcome him. He led him up the steps, and introduced him\nto the young lady, who became at once interested with the looks and\ndemeanour of the handsome youth. The Emir then took his guest inside\nthe palace.\n\nAzgid looked round with wonder. If the exterior of the building\ndelighted him, how much more was he pleased with its interior? The\nhall was of vast size, with a noble staircase in the middle; the\napartments were spacious, and shone with gold; the walls and ceilings\nwere covered with the most exquisite paintings in fresco; and vases of\nprecious stones, statues, and all kinds of rare curiosities were\nranged around; the windows were of something that resembled pearl, and\nwere stained with different colours, so that, as the sun shone through\nthem, the tesselated floor received the rays, and glittered with all\nthe tints of the rainbow. Azgid gazed with astonishment. The Emir now\nset before him a collation composed of the most delicate viands,\ndelicious fruits, and wines.\n\nAfter he had finished eating, the Prince thought it his duty to inform\nhis kind host who he was.\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"you no doubt wonder at one of my appearance thus\nsuddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish to inquire who I am.\nThis wish I can only in part gratify. Suffice it, then, to say that I\nam a Prince whom troubles at home have driven abroad, but my name I\ncannot tell: that is a secret lodged in my own breast, to be imparted\nto no one. If no inconvenience to you, it would delight me much to\nremain with you; and at some future day, if fortune should again smile\nupon me, I will be happy to return the favour, and reciprocate your\nhospitality.\"\n\nThe Emir replied to this speech in the kindest manner, telling the\nyouth that he did him a great honour in making him a visit, and that\nhe hoped he would remain to the end of his days. He further informed\nhim that he expected that night a number of his friends to favour him\nwith their company, and, wishing to look after the preparations for\nthe banquet, he begged his guest to excuse him for a short time.\n\nWhen the Emir retired, Azgid was left alone with the fair Perizide,\nand was struck more than ever with her ravishing beauty. In fact, he\nfell deeply in love with her. She, on her part, seemed not insensible\nto his merits, and exerted herself to amuse and entertain him. She led\nhim into the garden, showing him all the rare sights, and bidding him\nobserve the consummate art with which the shrubbery and trees were\narranged, and the charming green alleys and vistas which opened before\nthem as they walked along.\n\nThey explored the beauties of this fairy scene, seating themselves by\nthe side of the glittering fountains, and sometimes beneath the dark\nshadows of the flowery arbours, through which the rays of a bright\nfull moon began now to penetrate.\n\nThey then returned to the palace, and, approaching, heard the strains\nof festive music, and perceived the building illuminated from top to\nbottom. They passed through the throngs on the portico, and entered\nthe house, which was lit up with hundreds of dazzling lustres, and\ncrowded with guests, all habited in splendid dresses. Perizide led the\nyouth into the grand saloon, and seated him on one of the purple\ndivans.\n\nThe attendants now served up a splendid supper, brought in on gold and\nsilver trays, and which consisted of every delicacy that could be\nprocured. It was made up of many courses, and lasted a considerable\ntime, and at its conclusion the room was partially cleared, and a\nnumber of dancing girls, of elegant form and richly clad, entered the\napartment, and amused the guests with their graceful movements. Azgid,\nobserving a lute lying near him, took it up, and, telling the lady how\nfond he was of music, begged her to favour him with an air. Perizide\ncomplied with his request very graciously, and commenced playing. The\nPrince listened with delight, and was drinking in the soft strains\nwith rapt attention, when he suddenly heard a loud and very unusual\nsound.\n\n\"What noise is that?\" asked the youth.\n\n\"I heard nothing,\" replied his companion; \"nor do I think there was\nany. It is your imagination only that fancies it.\"\n\nWhereupon she went on playing; but she had only proceeded a few\nminutes, when the Prince started a second time.\n\n\"There it is again!\" said he. \"Did you not hear it?\"\n\n\"I heard nothing,\" answered Perizide, \"but the sound of music and the\nmerry voices of hundreds of happy guests. It must be your imagination,\nPrince, as I said before, and nothing else.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is,\" returned the youth, striking his forehead. \"You must\npardon me, fair lady: I have lately passed through many trying scenes,\nand I fear my nerves are none of the strongest.\"\n\nPerizide thereupon resumed her lute, but she had not proceeded very\nlong, when her guest again cried out,\n\n\"Oh!\" said he, \"tell me not that this is imagination! I heard it most\ndistinctly. Explain to me I pray, what it means.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" replied the young lady, laughing, \"that is Boulak, our black\nporter. He is a great pet and a privileged character; he gets drowsy\nsometimes, and often yawns, and that was the sound you just heard.\"\n\n\"Good Heavens!\" said Azgid, \"what lungs he must have, to make such a\nyawn as that!\"\n\nPerizide made no reply except a smile, but went on playing the lute,\nwhen, having finished, the Prince complimented her highly for her\nperformance. It was by this time pretty late, and the guests gradually\nretired; Perizide also went to her chamber, and the Prince and the\nEmir were left alone.\n\nThey passed nearly an hour smoking and conversing very pleasantly,\ntill at length the host rose up, and telling his guest it was\nbed-time, took him by the hand to lead him to his chamber. They\nproceeded to the hall, and soon reached the great staircase, which was\nof white marble, with a handsome balustrade on each side. When they\ncame to the foot of it, Azgid gazed for a moment admiring its beauty;\nbut what was his horror, when, on looking up, he spied a black lion of\nimmense size lying stretched on the topmost landing. He trembled and\nturned pale.\n\n\"What is that?\" said he, pointing with his finger.\n\n\"Oh,\" returned the Emir, \"that is Boulak, our black porter. He is\ntame, and will not hurt you if you are not afraid of him; but he can\ntell when any one fears him, and then he becomes ferocious.\"\n\n\"I fear him,\" whispered the Prince, \"and fear him greatly.\"\n\n\"You must cast aside your fear, my son,\" replied the other, \"and then\nthere is not the slightest danger.\"\n\n\"That is easier said than done,\" answered the youth. \"I try to cast it\naside, but do not succeed. No, I believe I will not go to my chamber,\nbut will sleep somewhere else, where there is no need of approaching\nthis terrible beast.\"\n\n\"Just as you like,\" replied the Emir. \"You can return to the saloon,\nand repose on one of those divans.\"\n\nThe Prince accordingly took up his lodgings in the saloon, and having\nbid his friend \"Good night,\" he carefully locked the door and windows,\nmaking everything as secure as possible. He then lay down on the\ncushions, listening eagerly if he might perchance hear any sound. But\nall was silent; for every soul had retired, and the vast mansion\npresented a striking contrast to the noisy merriment which a little\nwhile before had reigned everywhere.\n\nThe young man now composed himself to rest, thinking that the lion was\nmost probably fast asleep and would not disturb him--but he was\nmistaken; for in the course of an hour he heard most evidently a soft,\nheavy tread coming down the stairs. The beast, on reaching the hall,\nseemed for a moment to pause; then his steps were heard moving along\nthe vast corridor, till it could be no longer distinguished.\n\nAzgid now breathed more freely, and was in hopes that his tormentor\nhad retired to some secluded part of the building, and had gone to\nsleep; but he was doomed to be disappointed, for in a short time he\nheard the faint steps approaching nearer and nearer, and perceived\nthat the beast stopped every now and then, snuffing with his nose, as\nif in search of some one. At last he came to the door, putting his\nnose at the lower part, and snuffing louder than ever; then he sprang\nwith his fore feet against it, giving it such a push as almost to\nburst it open, and at the same time uttering a tremendous roar, which\nechoed through the palace.\n\nAzgid jumped from his couch in dismay, and retreated to the farthest\ncorner of the room; his hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration\nrolled from his body. He believed for a certainty that the door would\nfly open, and then the lion would rush in and devour him; but nothing\nof the kind occurred, for in a few moments the beast again went\nupstairs, and nothing more was heard of him.\n\nThe Prince then lay down on his couch--but not to sleep: he revolved\nin his mind all that had happened to him since his departure from his\nown city, and thinking that Providence would not afflict him in such a\nmanner for nought, but that there must be some design in it, he came\nto the determination that he would instantly return home, and fulfil\nthe law and custom of his country by fighting the lion.\n\nEarly on the morrow, the Emir came to wake his guest, and bid him\n\"Good morning.\" He found the young man in tears, and putting his arm\nround him, thus spoke:\n\n\"My son,\" said he, \"your behaviour last night, when about to retire,\nsurprised me greatly, and my amazement is increased now at seeing you\nin this unhappy state. What ails you, my son? Tell me all, and hide\nnothing from me; and first let me know frankly who you are?\"\n\n\"I am one,\" replied the youth, \"who has fled from duty. I am Azgid,\nson of the renowned King Almamoun. I fled from a work Providence\nassigned to me to perform--but my sin followed me. I searched far and\nwide for comfort, but in vain--trouble and disaster pursued me\nwherever I went. But I have repented, and am now going back to\nretrieve my error, and meet the trial from which I once endeavoured to\nescape.\"\n\n\"I am rejoiced to hear you thus speak,\" said the Emir. \"I was well\nacquainted with your father, and think I know now from what duty it\nwas you tried to escape. Go back, then, to your home, my son, and may\nHeaven grant you strength to perform your excellent resolution.\"\n\nHe then ordered his guest's horse to be brought, which when the youth\nhath mounted, he asked his host to remember him to the beautiful\nPerizide, and beg her to excuse him for leaving her in so strange and\nabrupt a manner.\n\n\"I will do as you desire,\" replied the other, \"and when my daughter\nlearns the cause of your departure, she will think more of you than\never.\"\n\nThus with mutual good wishes the two friends separated, and Azgid rode\naway. He pursued the same route he had travelled before, and on the\nsecond day reached the desert and the encampment of the Arabs. He\nfound the Sheik Hajaar, sitting in his tent door, calmly smoking his\npipe: the Sheik was surprised at seeing him, and begged him to\ndismount and refresh himself; but this the Prince refused to do,\nsaying that he had only come to explain his past strange behaviour in\nleaving his hospitable abode so abruptly.\n\n\"I am Azgid,\" continued he, \"son of the renowned King Almamoun. I was\nsorely troubled in mind when I visited you, for I had fled from duty;\nbut I am now going back to retrieve my error and begin a new life. But\ntell me, I pray, how is that beautiful animal I used to ride with so\nmuch pleasure?\"\n\n\"He is well,\" answered the other, \"and it would please me much if you\ncould remain and ride him again; but I feel that it would be wrong to\ninterrupt you in such a pious journey as you now undertake. Go on,\nthen, my son: may Heaven prosper you in your good resolutions, and\npeace be with you.\"\n\nSo saying, he bade the Prince farewell, and the latter, having\nreturned his salutation, rode off.\n\nHe pursued his course rapidly, and in a day or two arrived at the\nabode of Oaxus, whom he found in the courtyard, busily engaged in\ntending his sheep and goats. The old man was delighted to see him, and\nbegged him to dismount; but the Prince declined doing so, and went on\nto explain who he was in the same words he had used to the Sheik\nHajaar. Oaxus was much astonished when he heard the account, and\ncongratulated the young man on the happy change that had come over\nhim.\n\n\"Go on, my friend,\" continued he: \"may Heaven prosper you, and give\nyou strength to carry out your wise designs.\"\n\n\"Farewell,\" replied Azgid, \"and tell young Asdril that if fortune\nfavours me, I hope one day to be back, and listen to his sweet music\nagain in spite of the lions.\"\n\nWith these words he rode away, and travelling on, in due time reached\nhis own city. He proceeded at once to the palace, and sought out the\nold Vizier, to whom he related all that had happened to him, and all\nthat he intended to do, without concealing anything.\n\n\"And now,\" said he, \"lead me at once to the lion, and let me fight him\nand fulfil the law, as all my ancestors have done before me.\"\n\nThe old man heard this speech with great pleasure, and almost wept for\njoy: he tenderly embraced his young friend, and, smiling, told him not\nto run into extremes nor to be in too great a hurry; for that his\ntrial with the lion had better be put off for a week at least, and\nthat in the meantime he needed rest and refreshment. To this\nsuggestion Azgid acceded, and waited till the day his friend had fixed\nupon.\n\nIt at length arrived, and very early in the morning the Prince arose\nand prepared for the combat. He clad himself in a light garment, tying\na sash around it, in which he stuck a sharp dagger, took a spear in\nhis hand, and, accompanied by the Vizier, left the palace and\nproceeded to the mountain. They climbed up the high steps and reached\nthe top, whereupon the slave met them, and, going before, unlocked the\ngate. The young man looked down and saw the lion, sitting on his\nhaunches, at one end of the arena; he then shook hands with his\ncompanions, and committing himself to the care of Heaven, sprang in.\nThe beast gave a loud roar when he saw him, and crouching down, drew\nhimself slowly toward his opponent, glaring fiercely on him all the\nwhile. The Prince quailed not, but gazed steadily on the animal, and\nadvanced on him spear in hand; the lion now gave another loud roar,\nand bounding forward, sprang over the youth's head. He then returned,\nand commenced licking his hands and rubbing himself against his body.\n\nThe Vizier now called out joyfully to his young friend, telling him he\nhad conquered, and begging him to approach; and, with the assistance\nof the slave, he lifted him out of the den, the lion following like a\ndog.\n\n\"Yes, Azgid,\" continued the old man, embracing the Prince, \"the beast\nis tame and will injure no one; but, ignorant of this, you encountered\nhim, and the proof of your valour is complete. Come, then, and ascend\nyour throne, for you are worthy of it.\"\n\nThey then began to descend the stairs, and Azgid, observing a couple\nof figures on the landing, asked the Vizier who they were.\n\n\"I know not,\" replied he; \"I can see them, but the height is too great\nfor me to distinguish who they are.\"\n\nIn a little while they reached the platform, when the new-comers\nproved to be Oaxus and Asdril.\n\n\"Azgid,\" said the old shepherd, \"I have come to congratulate you on\nyour good fortune and happy deliverance; and here, too, is young\nAsdril, whose music you so much admired, and whom I now present to you\nas your own.\"\n\n\"Oaxus,\" replied the Prince, \"I heartily thank you; and as for you,\nAsdril, you are no longer a slave: from this moment you are free. You\nshall be the companion of my leisure hours, and entertain me with your\ndelightful strains.\"\n\nThey now began to descend again; and Azgid, observing a group on the\nsecond landing, asked the Vizier who they were.\n\n\"I know not,\" replied he; \"I can see them, but the height is too great\nfor me to distinguish who they are.\"\n\nIn a little while they reached the platform, when the new-comers\nproved to be the Sheik Hajaar, with a group of Arabs, leading the\nbeautiful horse with which the Prince had been so much pleased.\n\n\"Azgid,\" said the Sheik, \"I have come to congratulate you on your good\nfortune and happy deliverance. I have brought you as a present the\nhorse you used to ride when you honoured me with a visit: will your\nHighness deign to accept of it as a slight testimonial of my loyal\nregard?\"\n\n\"Valiant Sheik,\" answered the young man, \"I am rejoiced to see you\nagain, and receive with gratitude your noble gift; you could not have\ngiven me anything more acceptable.\"\n\nHe then embraced the Sheik, and kissed the beautiful animal, who\nseemed to recognize him.\n\nThey then began to descend; and the Prince, observing at the bottom of\nthe stairs quite a concourse of people, inquired of the Vizier who\nthey were.\n\n\"I know not,\" replied he; \"I can see them, but the height is too great\nfor me to distinguish who they are.\"\n\nIn a little while they reached the end of the staircase, when the\nnew-comers proved to be the Emir, with a large retinue of his guards,\nwith music and banners.\n\n\"Azgid,\" said the Emir, \"I am come to congratulate you on your good\nfortune and happy deliverance. I have brought no present; that I\nconsidered needless, since myself and all that I have are yours.\"\n\n\"Noble Emir,\" cried the youth, \"I am rejoiced to see you--tell me, how\nis Perizide? as soon as I have been crowned I intend to visit her with\nthe speed of lightning.\"\n\n\"There is no need of that,\" returned the other: \"come with me;\" and,\nso saying, he led the young man to a splendid white steed, on which\nsat a lady, covered with a long veil. The Emir lifted the veil, and\nAzgid beheld the beautiful face of his beloved mistress.\n\nTheir meeting, as may be imagined, was most tender and affectionate;\nand the Vizier, having ordered the music to strike up, the whole\nprocession moved toward the palace.\n\n\"How strange it seems!\" said the Prince: \"when I fled from my duty\neverything went wrong with me; but now, after fulfilling it, good luck\nmeets me at every step.\"\n\nAzgid was crowned the same day, and in the evening his nuptials with\nthe fair Perizide were celebrated; they lived long and happily; and\nthe Prince ordered the story of his life to be written in the annals\nof the kingdom, and an inscription in gold letters to be placed over\nthe door of the palace, with these words: \"_Never run from the\nlion._\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe City of the Demons\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn days of yore there lived in the flourishing city of Cairo a Hebrew\nRabbi, by name Jochonan, who was the most learned of his nation. His\nfame went over the East, and the most distant people sent their young\nmen to imbibe wisdom from his lips. He was deeply skilled in the\ntraditions of the fathers, and his word on a disputed point was\ndecisive. He was pious, just, temperate, and strict; but he had one\nvice: a love of gold had seized upon his heart, and he opened not his\nhand to the poor. Yet he was wealthy above most: his wisdom being to\nhim the source of riches. The Hebrews of the city were grieved at\nthis blemish on the wisest of their people; but, though the elders of\nthe tribes continued to reverence him for his fame, the women and\nchildren of Cairo called him by no other name than that of Rabbi\nJochonan the Miser.\n\nNone knew so well as he the ceremonies necessary for initiation into\nthe religion of Moses, and, consequently, the exercise of those solemn\noffices was to him another source of gain. One day, as he walked in\nthe fields about Cairo, conversing with a youth on the interpretation\nof the law, it so happened that the Angel of Death smote the young man\nsuddenly, and he fell dead before the feet of the Rabbi, even while he\nwas yet speaking. When the Rabbi found that the youth was dead, he\nrent his garments, and glorified the Lord. But his heart was touched,\nand the thoughts of death troubled him in the visions of the night. He\nfelt uneasy when he reflected on his hardness to the poor; and he\nsaid,\n\n\"Blessed be the name of the Lord! The first good thing that I am asked\nto do in that holy name will I perform.\" But he sighed, for he feared\nthat some one might ask of him a portion of his gold.\n\nWhile yet he thought upon these things, there came a loud cry at his\ngate.\n\n\"Awake, thou sleeper!\" said the voice, \"awake! A child is in danger of\ndeath, and the mother hath sent me for thee, that thou mayest do thine\noffice.\"\n\n\"The night is dark and gloomy,\" said the Rabbi, coming to his\ncasement, \"and mine age is great: are there not younger men than I in\nCairo?\"\n\n\"For thee only, Rabbi Jochonan, whom some call the Wise, but whom\nothers call Rabbi Jochonan the Miser, was I sent. Here is gold,\" said\nhe, taking out a purse of sequins; \"I want not thy labour for nothing.\nI adjure thee to come, in the name of the living God.\"\n\nSo the Rabbi thought upon the vow he had just made, and he groaned in\nspirit, for the purse sounded heavy.\n\n\"As thou hast adjured me by that name, I go with thee,\" said he to the\nman; \"but I hope the distance is not far. Put up thy gold.\"\n\n\"The place is at hand,\" said the stranger, who was a gallant youth, in\nmagnificent attire. \"Be speedy, for time presses.\"\n\nJochonan arose, dressed himself, and accompanied the stranger, after\nhaving carefully locked up all the doors of his house, and deposited\nhis keys in a secret place--at which the stranger smiled.\n\n\"I never remember,\" said the Rabbi, \"so dark a night. Be thou to me as\na guide, for I can hardly see the way.\"\n\n\"I know it well,\" replied the stranger with a sigh. \"It is a way much\nfrequented, and travelled hourly by many. Lean upon mine arm, and fear\nnot.\"\n\nThey journeyed on, and, though the darkness was great, yet the Rabbi\ncould see, when it occasionally brightened, that he was in a place\nstrange to him.\n\n\"I thought,\" said he, \"I knew all the country for leagues about Cairo,\nyet I know not where I am. I hope, young man,\" said he to his\ncompanion, \"that thou hast not missed the way.\" And his heart misgave\nhim.\n\n\"Fear not,\" returned the stranger; \"your journey is even now done.\"\nAnd, as he spoke, the feet of the Rabbi slipped from under him, and he\nrolled down a great height. When he recovered, he found that his\ncompanion had fallen also, and stood by his side.\n\n\"Nay, young man,\" said the Rabbi, \"if thus thou sportest with the grey\nhairs of age, thy days are numbered. Woe unto him who insults the\nhoary head!\"\n\nThe stranger made an excuse, and they journeyed on some little farther\nin silence. The darkness grew less, and the astonished Rabbi, lifting\nup his eyes, found that they had come to the gates of a city which he\nhad never before seen. Yet he knew all the cities of the land of\nEgypt, and he had walked but half an hour from his dwelling in Cairo.\nSo he knew not what to think, but followed the man with trembling.\n\nThey soon entered the gates of the city, which was lighted up as if\nthere were a festival in every house. The streets were full of\nrevellers, and nothing but a sound of joy could be heard. But when\nJochonan looked upon their faces, they were the faces of men pained\nwithin; and he saw, by the marks they bore, that they were\nMazikin.[1] He was terrified in his soul, and, by the light of the\ntorches, he looked also upon the face of his companion, and, behold!\nhe saw upon him too the mark that showed him to be a Demon. The Rabbi\nfeared excessively--almost to fainting; but he thought it better to be\nsilent, and sadly he followed his guide, who brought him to a splendid\nhouse in the most magnificent quarter of the city.\n\n[Footnote 1: Demons]\n\n\"Enter here,\" said the Demon to Jochonan, \"for this house is mine. The\nlady and the child are in the upper chamber.\" And accordingly the\nsorrowful Rabbi ascended the stairs to find them.\n\nThe lady, whose dazzling beauty was shrouded by melancholy beyond\nhope, lay in bed; the child, in rich raiment, slumbered on the lap of\nthe nurse, by her side.\n\n\"I have brought to thee, light of my eyes!\" said the Demon, \"Rebecca,\nbeloved of my soul! I have brought unto thee Rabbi Jochonan the Wise,\nfor whom thou didst desire. Let him, then, speedily begin his office;\nI shall fetch all things necessary, for he is in haste to depart.\" He\nsmiled bitterly as he said these words, looking at the Rabbi, and left\nthe room, followed by the nurse.\n\nWhen Jochonan and the lady were alone, she turned in the bed towards\nhim, and said,\n\n\"Unhappy man that thou art! knowest thou where thou hast been\nbrought?\"\n\n\"I do,\" said he, with a heavy groan. \"I know that I am in a city of\nthe Mazikin.\"\n\n\"Know then, further,\" said she, and the tears gushed from eyes\nbrighter than the diamond, \"know then, further, that up one is ever\nbrought here unless he hath sinned before the Lord. What my sin hath\nbeen imports not to thee--and I seek not to know thine. But here thou\nremainest for ever--lost, even as I am lost.\" And she wept again.\n\nThe Rabbi dashed his turban on the ground, and, tearing his hair,\nexclaimed, \"Woe is me! Who art thou, woman, that speakest to me thus?\"\n\n\"I am a Hebrew woman,\" said she, \"the daughter of a Doctor of the\nLaws, in the city of Bagdad; and being brought hither--it matters not\nhow--I am married to a Prince among the Mazikin, even him who was sent\nfor thee. And that child whom thou sawest is our first-born, and I\ncould not bear the thought that the soul of our innocent babe should\nperish. I therefore besought my husband to try and bring hither a\npriest, that the law of Moses (blessed be his memory!) should be done;\nand thy fame, which has spread to Bagdad, and lands farther towards\nthe rising of the sun, made me think of thee. Now, my husband, though\ngreat among the Mazikin, is more just than the other Demons; and he\nloves me, whom he hath ruined, with a love of despair. So he said that\nthe name of Jochonan the Wise was familiar unto him, and that he knew\nthou wouldst not be able to refuse. What thou hast done to give him\npower over thee is known to thyself.\"\n\n\"I swear, before Heaven,\" said the Rabbi, \"that I have ever diligently\nkept the law, and walked steadfastly according to the traditions of\nour fathers from the days of my youth upward. I have wronged no man in\nword or deed, and I have daily worshipped the Lord, minutely\nperforming all the ceremonies thereto needful.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the lady, \"all this thou mightest have done, and more, and\nyet be in the power of the Demons. But time passes, for I hear the\nfoot of my husband mounting the stair. There is one chance of thine\nescape.\"\n\n\"What is that, O lady of beauty?\" said the agonized Rabbi.\n\n\"Eat not, drink not, nor take fee or reward while here, and as long as\nthou canst do thus, the Mazikin have no power over thee, dead or\nalive. Have courage and persevere.\"\n\nAs she ceased from speaking, her husband entered the room, followed by\nthe nurse, who bore all things requisite for the ministration of the\nRabbi. With a heavy heart he performed his duty, and the child was\nnumbered among the Faithful. But when, as usual, at the conclusion of\nthe ceremony, the wine was handed round to be tasted by the child, the\nmother, and the Rabbi, he refused it when it came to him, saying,\n\n\"Spare me, my lord, for I have made a vow that I fast this day, and I\nwill eat not, neither will I drink.\"\n\n\"Be it as thou pleasest,\" said the Demon; \"I will not that thou\nshouldst break thy vow.\" And he laughed aloud.\n\nSo the poor Rabbi was taken into a chamber looking into a garden,\nwhere he passed the remainder of the night and the day, weeping and\npraying to the Lord that He would deliver him from the city of Demons.\nBut when the twelfth hour came, and the sun was set, the Prince of the\nMazikin came again unto him, and said,\n\n\"Eat now, I pray thee, for the day of thy vow is past.\" And he set\nmeat before him.\n\n\"Pardon again thy servant, my lord,\" said Jochonan, \"in this thing. I\nhave another vow for this day also. I pray thee be not angry with thy\nservant.\"\n\n\"I am not angry,\" said the Demon; \"be it as thou pleasest: I respect\nthy vow.\" And he laughed louder than before.\n\nSo the Rabbi sat another day in his chamber by the garden, weeping and\npraying; and when the sun had gone behind the hills, the Prince of the\nMazikin again stood before him, and said,\n\n\"Eat now, for thou must be an hungered. It was a sore vow of thine.\"\nAnd he offered him daintier meats.\n\nAnd Jochonan felt a strong desire to eat, but he prayed inwardly to\nthe Lord, and the temptation passed, and he answered, \"Excuse thy\nservant yet a third time, my lord, that I eat not. I have renewed my\nvow.\"\n\n\"Be it so, then,\" said the other: \"arise, and follow me.\"\n\nThe Demon took a torch in his hand, and led the Rabbi, through winding\npassages of his palace, to the door of a lofty chamber, which he\nopened with a key that he took from a niche in the wall. On entering\nthe room, Jochonan saw that it was of solid silver--floor, ceiling,\nwalls, even to the threshold and the door-posts; and the curiously\ncarved roof and borders of the ceiling shone in the torchlight as if\nthey were the fanciful work of frost. In the midst were heaps of\nsilver money, piled up in immense urns of the same metal, even over\nthe brim.\n\n\"Thou hast done me a serviceable act, Rabbi,\" said the Demon: \"take of\nthese what thou pleasest; ay, were it the whole.\"\n\n\"I cannot, my lord,\" said Jochonan. \"I was adjured by thee to come\nhither in the name of God, and in that name I came, not for fee or for\nreward.\"\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the Prince of the Mazikin; and Jochonan did so into\nan inner chamber.\n\nIt was of gold, as the other was of silver. Its golden roof was\nsupported by pillars and pilasters of gold, resting upon a golden\nfloor. The treasures of the kings of the earth would not purchase one\nof the four and twenty vessels of golden coins, which were disposed in\nsix rows along the room. No wonder! for they were filled by the\nconstant labours of the Demons of the Mine. The heart of Jochonan was\nmoved by avarice when he saw them shining in yellow light, like the\nautumnal sun, as they reflected the beams of the torch. But God\nenabled him to persevere.\n\n\"These are thine,\" said the Demon: \"one of the vessels which thou\nbeholdest would make thee richest of the sons of men, and I give thee\nthem all.\"\n\nBut Jochonan refused again, and the Prince of the Mazikin opened the\ndoor of a third chamber, which was called the Hall of Diamonds. When\nthe Rabbi entered, he screamed aloud, and put his hands over his eyes,\nfor the lustre of the jewels dazzled him, as if he had looked upon the\nnoonday sun. In vases of agate were heaped diamonds beyond numeration,\nthe smallest of which was larger than a pigeon's egg. On alabaster\ntables lay amethysts, topazes, rubies, beryls, and all other precious\nstones, wrought by the hands of skilful artists, beyond power of\ncomputation. The room was lighted by a carbuncle, which, from the end\nof the hall, poured its ever-living light, brighter than the rays of\nnoontide, but cooler than the gentle radiance of the dewy moon. This\nwas a sore trial to the Rabbi; but he was strengthened from above, and\nhe refused again.\n\n\"Thou knowest me, then, I perceive, O Jochonan, son of Ben-David,\"\nsaid the Prince of the Mazikin. \"I am a Demon who would tempt thee to\ndestruction. As thou hast withstood so far, I tempt thee no more.\nThou hast done a service which, though I value it not, is acceptable\nin the sight of her whose love is dearer to me than the light of life.\nSad has been that love to thee, my Rebecca! Why should I do that which\nwould make thy cureless grief more grievous?--You have yet another\nchamber to see,\" said he to Jochonan, who had closed his eyes, and was\npraying fervently to the Lord, beating his breast.\n\nFar different from the other chambers, the one into which the Rabbi\nwas next introduced was a mean and paltry apartment without furniture.\nOn its filthy walls hung innumerable bunches of rusty keys of all\nsizes, disposed without order. Among them, to the astonishment of\nJochonan, hung the keys of his own house--those which he had put to\nhide when he came on this miserable journey--and he gazed upon them\nintently.\n\n\"What dost thou see,\" said the Demon, \"that makes thee look so\neagerly? Can he who has refused silver and gold and diamonds be moved\nby a paltry bunch of rusty iron?\"\n\n\"They are mine own, my lord,\" said the Rabbi. \"Them will I take, if\nthey be offered me.\"\n\n\"Take them, then,\" said the Demon, putting them into his hand: \"thou\nmayst depart. But, Rabbi, open not thy house only when thou returnest\nto Cairo, but thy heart also. That thou didst not open it before was\nthat which gave me power over thee. It was well that thou didst one\nact of charity in coming with me without reward, for it has been thy\nsalvation. Be no more Rabbi Jochonan the Miser.\"\n\nThe Rabbi bowed to the ground, and blessed the Lord for his escape.\n\"But how,\" said he, \"am I to return, for I know not the way?\"\n\n\"Close thine eyes,\" said the Demon.\n\nHe did so, and, in the space of a moment, heard the voice of the\nPrince of the Mazikin ordering him to open them again. And behold,\nwhen he opened them, he stood in the centre of his own chamber, in his\nhouse at Cairo, with the keys in his hand.\n\nWhen he recovered from his surprise, and had offered thanksgivings to\nGod, he opened his house, and his heart also. He gave alms to the\npoor, he cheered the heart of the widow, and lightened the destitution\nof the orphan. His hospitable board was open to the stranger, and his\npurse was at the service of all who needed to share it. His life was a\nperpetual act of benevolence, and the blessings showered upon him by\nall were returned bountifully upon him by the hand of God.\n\nBut people wondered, and said, \"Is not this the man who was called\nRabbi Jochonan the Miser? What hath made the change?\"\n\nAnd it became a saying in Cairo. When it came to the ears of the\nRabbi, he called his friends together, and he avowed his former love\nof gold, and the danger to which it had exposed him, relating all\nwhich has been above told, in the hall of the new palace that he built\nby the side of the river, on the left hand, as thou goest down the\ncourse of the great stream. And wise men, who were scribes, wrote it\ndown from his mouth for the benefit of mankind, that they might profit\nthereby. And a venerable man, with a beard of snow, who had read it in\nthese books, and at whose feet I sat that I might learn the wisdom of\nthe old time, told it to me. And I write it in the tongue of England,\nthe merry and the free, on the tenth day of the month Nisan, in the\nyear, according to the lesser computation, five hundred ninety and\nseven, that thou mayest learn good thereof. If not, the fault be upon\nthee.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nJussuf, the Merchant of Balsora.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nMany hundred years ago, when the renowned Caliph Haroun al Raschid\nruled in Bagdad, there lived in the town of Balsora a merchant of good\nrepute, who was called Jussuf. He had received a considerable property\nby inheritance from his father; and his paternal house, which was\nesteemed as the most splendid palace of the town, was situated on one\nof the finest spots. He was obliged to keep a great number both of\nmale and female slaves, as well for the management of his household\naffairs, as also to assist him in his commercial pursuits, for his\nbusiness was very extensive. The largest warehouse in the bazaar of\nthe city belonged to him, and it was always filled with the most\nprecious goods, which he caused to be collected from the remotest\nparts of the globe--either in ships or on the backs of his camels.\nThere you might see all the rarest and choicest gifts of nature,\ntogether with the finest and richest productions of art; the most\ncostly tissues and stuffs, the most valuable vessels and implements of\nsilver and gold; elegant jewellery and trinkets, adorned skilfully\nwith sparkling stones of considerable value, heaped up one on another.\nBut the agreeable manner and contrast in which all these were exposed\nfor sale gratified the eye more than even the costly articles\nthemselves. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at that the crowd in\nhis warehouse, in so great and rich a city, was very numerous.\n\nIt had already become a custom for people to apply to Jussuf if they\nwished to buy anything which had come in fashion with the wealthy\ncitizen, either on account of its intrinsic value or of its skilful\nworkmanship. Could they find the required goods as fine or as\nbeautiful at another magazine, still they always preferred to go to\nJussuf, even if they paid him more dearly for them. They felt\nconfident that they should find everything more genuine, more\nhandsome, and more tasteful there than at any other merchant's. This,\nhowever, may have been only a favourable prepossession; but it is\nnevertheless certain, that in no other warehouse were so many objects,\nalike useful and ornamental, collected together, as in that of Jussuf.\n\nAnd as his business flourished more and more, so his riches increased\nfrom day to day. At the same time his cares and exertions in watching\nafter the number of men whom he employed, his zeal in the equipment of\nhis ships, and in the forwarding and dispatching of his caravans,\nincreased in equal measure.\n\nHe had continued his business in this way for several years, and had\naltogether neglected his health through his perseverance and\nunflinching attention, when he felt at once that his usual strength\nwas declining, and that he should soon become exhausted unless he\npermitted himself at times to take some recreation. He therefore very\nwillingly took the opportunity which offered itself accidentally about\nthis time of buying a fine estate. It was situated only a few miles\nfrom the town, by the side of a stream, in a country as pleasant as it\nwas fruitful, combining means for hunting and for fishing; and the\nprice was so moderate that he resolved on the purchase without much\nconsideration. He purposed to detach himself for a few weeks from his\nbusiness, and to devote himself to pleasure and repose in the quiet\nand calm of his country residence. He caused a new and elegant country\nhouse to be built by a skilful architect on an eminence, instead of\nthe old one, surrounded by a large pleasant artificial garden. As all\nwas settled and prepared, he shut up his warehouse at the end of every\nweek early enough for him to ride over. There he would repose from the\ntroubles of the preceding days, and recreate himself with hunting and\nfishing, and collect new strength in the peaceful serenity of his\ncountry estate.\n\nBut custom is often stronger than our inclinations: he had become so\naccustomed to an active life, that his thoughts always returned to his\nwares in his warehouse, or to his ships that were transporting his\ngoods over distant seas. Hence it happened that he soon entertained a\nhope of drawing large profits, as well as the restoration of his\nhealth, from this country residence. He employed himself very\nsuccessfully in the chase and in fishing, or in raising choice flowers\nin the beds before his house, or else with the care of rare foreign\nbirds, which he fed and kept in a large aviary. But these only charmed\nhim for a time: the chase of wild beasts appeared to him too soon to\nbe but a cruel sport; fishing was tedious; the cultivation of his\nflowers, too, was monotonous; and, if he contemplated the imprisoned\nforeign birds, he heartily pitied them because they were deprived of\nfreedom. One day he had tried everything to divert himself, but\nwithout success; at last he seated himself, half discontented, in the\nopen colonnade which extended along the side of his country house,\nand his eye glanced over the flower-beds before him into the extreme\ndistance: there his gaze could follow over a small tract the course of\nthe river Schat al Arab, which, rising at the mouths of the Euphrates\nand Tigris, flows between shores clothed with verdure. Some large\nmerchant ships were sailing by; several fishing-boats were visible.\n\n\"Ah, thou magnificent stream!\" exclaimed Jussuf, who had given himself\nto reflection after he had viewed it for some time; \"what a pity that\nthou must fall into the sea so soon below the kingly town of Balsora!\nThere thou art, wasted and forgotten; the navigator on the great sea\nnever thinks that the streams of his native country flow mingled with\nthe waves through which the keel of his ship cuts. Now, then,\"\ncontinued he, after a short reflection, \"it is all the better for me:\nnow I am still active in business; my ships set out at morning, noon,\nand evening; my camels march to India through the deserts of Arabia,\nand the plains of Tartary and Persia; thousands and thousands of men\ncall me still the rich and great merchant Jussuf, and praise me as the\nmost lucky of mortals; yet a little while, and my existence will be\nlost as thine, in the sea of eternity.\"\n\nAmong such earnest considerations and soliloquies, he had hardly\nobserved that a large variegated butterfly, hovering over the\nneighbouring flower-bed, moved slowly to and fro, just as if it were\nundecided in choosing on which flower it would alight. He was very\nattentive to its broad wings, which glittered with the most splendid\ncolours, while the insect, brilliantly variegated, settled on a\nscarlet poppy, as though it wished to eclipse the magnificence of the\nflower with the variety of its different hues.\n\n\"What splendid colours! What beautifully delineated wings!\" exclaimed\nJussuf. \"Oh that I might possess the rare insect! The dyers who stain\nmy silk stuffs, and the weavers, might take the liveliness of the\ncolours, the design, and the well-wrought combination of colours, for\na pattern.\"\n\nWhen the butterfly settled itself quietly on the poppy, Jussuf\napproached it carefully to catch it; but, as he had no other\nconvenient thing at his hand, he took off his turban, and covered the\nbutterfly and the flower. The butterfly had not flown away, therefore\nit must be under the turban. Already he rejoiced at his lucky capture,\nand was proceeding to raise the turban slowly a little on one side, in\norder to seize the imprisoned insect securely, when he remarked that\nthe turban was raising itself, and that under it a human form was\ngrowing up higher and higher out of the flower. Full of astonishment,\nhe drew back a step. As he kept his eyes fixed on the object, a maiden\nof astonishing beauty appeared before him, such as he had never before\nseen. Her face was veiled, and his turban was on her head: smilingly\nshe removed it, and extended it to him, saying, with a mischievous\nlook,\n\n\"There, friend Jussuf, take it again: this turban is accustomed to\nornament a brain in which rule very earnest and high thoughts; it\nwould, perhaps, feel very badly honoured were it to serve as a\ncovering for my frivolous caprices.\"\n\n\"Thou jestest, high daughter of a genius,\" exclaimed Jussuf, sinking\non his knees: \"thy incomparable beauty testifies that thou art no\nordinary mortal, if even the wonderful manner in which thou hast\nappeared had not fixed it beyond all doubt.\"\n\n\"It may be,\" replied the maiden, \"that thou hast rightly guessed. But\nthat is no matter; I am come here to-day to help to banish your idle\nthoughts: come, run a race with me.\"\n\nImmediately she threw the poppy which he had covered with his turban\nroughly in his face, and ran away. Jussuf remained irresolute, and\nlooked after her; then she stopped her pace, and called back to him,\n\n\"Art thou transformed into a statue? canst thou not run? run, and\ncatch me, if you can.\"\n\nHer mischievous manner gave her an irresistible grace, which urged him\nto begin the race, even although he did not wish to join in it. She\nflew on, allowing him sometimes to approach her, and then turned\nsuddenly aside out of the way, and ran over the turf to avoid him: she\ndid not even spare the flower-beds; and when she wanted to escape from\nhim, she passed over them without caring for the finest plants. The\nmore she provoked him in different ways, the more he exerted all his\nstrength to catch her. At last she appeared exhausted, and threw\nherself, breathing heavily, on a bank of turf. \"Here is an asylum,\"\nexclaimed she.\n\nTired and breathless with the unusual exertion of running, he followed\nher example, and sat down near her on the bank. While they were\nresting, she plucked some flowers and branches of a flourishing shrub,\nwhich had spread itself from the bank into a green roof over their\nheads, and skilfully wove a garland.\n\n\"Come,\" said she to Jussuf, when the wreath was ready, \"come, let us\nthrow up the garland.\"\n\nShe arose at these words and led him to the nearest open space; she\nleaped around, dancing in a circle and holding the garland on high in\nher right hand, and then threw it up high into the air. The garland of\nflowers rose while she sang these words:\n\n    \"Rise, thou garland fresh and fair,\n    Blend thy hues in liquid air:\n    Downward sinking, may'st thou be\n    A fairy coronal for me.\"\n\nHigh above the shoots of the surrounding trees it seemed to remain\nhovering in the sunshine which lighted the colours of the flowers,\ninducing a very peculiar splendour. Then it sank down gradually in\nsoft vibrations, and settled on her head, as if she had placed it\nthere herself as a crown. She took it from her locks and handed it to\nJussuf.\n\n\"Now it is thy turn,\" said she; \"throw it up, and see whether it will\nfall on thy head.\"\n\nJussuf took it and threw it as high as he could; but it did not from\nhis hand attain the sunny height, and the garland fell quickly, and at\na great distance, to the ground before him. By the time he had\naltogether recollected himself, she was at the spot, and had already\nraised the garland, and was laughing heartily at his awkwardness. She\nthrew it up, dancing in the former manner, and sang the spell. This\ntime also the garland ascended high above the tops of the trees into\nthe sunshine, and sank down on her head as at first. Jussuf must needs\ntry again, but he succeeded no better than before. Thereupon she again\nthrew it up, and caught it once more. After she had thus shown him\nseveral times, she cried out, laughing mischievously,\n\n\"Well, hast thou not yet observed why thou failest? Why dost thou not\nsing my little song when thou throwest up the garland? Try once more,\nand sing the spell; then it will succeed better.\"\n\nJussuf did so. He threw the garland and sang the verse; and, behold,\nthe garland hovered in the sunshine, and descended in soft vibrations\non his head, crowning his turban.\n\n\"Dost thou see?\" said the maiden, laughingly: \"the spell is of very\ngreat avail.\" She threw up the wreath again several times, and then\nshe took it, and exclaimed, \"Now it is enough; but the game will be\ntedious.\" She threw it up high, and sang:\n\n    \"Flower-garland, raise thee high,\n    Float in sunshine brilliantly;\n    Lend thy varied hues, to shed\n    Light on the darksome forest-head.\"\n\nThe garland floated far out over the open space towards the edge of\nthe park; there it melted suddenly in the air, and the blossoms rained\ndown as it were on a dark cypress, and clung to it, so that it was\nadorned at once with a number of splendid flowers. Jussuf saw this\nwith astonishment.\n\n\"Well,\" exclaimed he, \"thou conjurest. How is it possible that a\ncypress-tree should bear such beautiful blossoms?\"\n\nBut she answered, \"What is there to be wondered at? Who would make\nsuch a commotion about a merry game? Come,\" continued she, \"let us\nplay at ball.\" And jumping up, she picked a ripe pomegranate from a\nneighbouring tree, placed herself at a tolerable distance from him at\na shrub, and threw him the apple for a ball. Jussuf had been very fond\nof playing at ball in his younger days, and still possessed some\nskill, so that he caught it.\n\n\"Well, indeed, well done,\" exclaimed she, as she caught it from\nJussuf, who had not thrown it quite straight, with the same ease as if\nit had fallen from the hand of the ablest thrower.\n\nThey threw it in this way several times to each other, till at last\nJussuf let it fall.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried she, \"well done! whoever lets it fall, to him the\npunishment is due.\" And when she had caught the pomegranate again, she\nwinked at him, and exclaimed, \"Now come back, I will give you a blow\non the face.\" But Jussuf remained where he was, watching for the\nthrow, that he might avoid it. \"Come back,\" she said still; but he\nremained stationary.\n\nThen she breathed low some words over the pomegranate, and threw it\nsuddenly at Jussuf. He wished to avoid the blow, by bending down\nquickly; but before he could succeed, he felt it on his forehead. The\npomegranate was so violently thrown that it burst in pieces. The\nnumerous grains lay scattered on the ground; but hardly had they\ntouched the earth than they changed into so many wasps, which flew\ninto the air and swarmed round his head. In the anguish of their\nstings, he held his hands before his eyes and ran on; but the swarm of\nwasps followed him, buzzing around him.\n\n\"Throw now thy turban on the ground,\" called the maiden at last to\nhim, who was standing in the distance, loudly laughing at his anguish.\n\nHe listened, and obeyed her call without thinking of it, and quickly\nall the wasps crept under the turban. He stood in astonishment, and\nlooked at the turban. Then the maiden approached him with ceaseless\nlaughter, and said,\n\n\"What has happened to thee, friend Jussuf? Why dost thou gaze upon thy\nturban with such anxious attention? It is a pity they are not bees,\nthe honey might be collected there. Take it up and put it on thy\nhead.\"\n\nHe stooped down and raised it with cautious slowness; but, to his\nastonishment, all the wasps had disappeared; only a green lizard ran\nto and fro, and was lost among the grass and the leaves near the\npathway.\n\n\"Where did that go?\" asked Jussuf, reflectingly. \"That was a\npomegranate and became wasps, and where are they now gone?\"\n\n\"What!\" rejoined the maiden; \"where did it go? Who would ask such a\nthing? How are wasps and pomegranates generally produced in this\nworld? Or can you tell me how it is that grass comes up and grows out\nof a grain of seed? or how is it that a fig-tree can spring up from\neach little seed of the fig? The case is just so; and if people would\nask questions about everything, there would be no end to such\ninquiries. But man must not inquire too closely. Come,\" continued she,\nquickly changing to a quieter and more mischievous manner, \"Dost thou\nsee those figs hanging on the branch over the way? let us see if you\ncan jump high enough to reach and pick them.\"\n\nHe saw the figs, and sprang, but did not nearly reach the height at\nwhich they hung. She encouraged him to jump again and again, and at\nevery awkward spring she laughed at his fruitless exertions. She then\ntook a short run with little steps, and, floating as easily in the air\nas if she were borne on wings, plucked the figs, and then was wafted\ndown as softly on the other side.\n\n\"See,\" said she to him, holding out the figs, \"here they are; now we\nwill eat them together. We have earned them with one spring.\"\n\nJussuf declined them. \"They all belong to thee,\" said he; \"for thou\nalone didst pick them. I could not reach.\"\n\n\"Do you wish to make me angry?\" said she. \"Hast thou not tired thyself\nmore than I?--there, take and eat.\" She forced him, by her friendly\nmanner, to eat half the figs; while she pressed the other to her lips,\nsucked a little of its juice, and then threw it away. \"I did that,\"\nsaid she, clapping her hands, \"that thou mightest not soon forget me:\nnow thou must think of me for some time.\"\n\nImmediately she began a new game with him, and after a short time\nanother, and so on, continually changing the sport. The serious Jussuf\njumped, and hopped, and danced just as she wished, and tried to\nperform all the tricks she invented, as if he were a boy. At last they\ncame to a fish-pond which was in the garden. She jumped into the boat,\nwhich was standing all ready, and rowed with ease into the middle of\nthe little lake. Then she stopped and called to him,\n\n\"Come here, my true playfellow, come to me.\"\n\nJussuf stood on the bank, and would have willingly walked to her\nthrough the water; but he knew that it was too deep, and he could not\nswim.\n\n\"Art thou not coming?\" said she; \"art thou afraid of the water?\"\n\n\"I cannot swim,\" answered he.\n\n\"Well, that is no consequence,\" she called out; \"do as I do.\" And at\nthese words she sprang lightly out of the boat, and walked over the\nsurface of the waves as if on dry land; the water did not even moisten\nthe sole of her sandal.\n\n\"Oh that I could!\" exclaimed Jussuf. \"But I am too heavy; I should\nsink at once.\"\n\nThe maiden had in the meantime sprung back into the boat, and called\nout, \"If thou wilt not come to me, I will never come again to thee;\nnor will I now stay any longer with thee. Evening is drawing near. For\nthe future, then, thou mayest sit alone and grow ill tempered; and if\nthou ever wishest to see thy playmate again, thou mayest seek her in\nthe native country of the variegated butterfly, which thou believedst\nthou hadst caught to-day, but which has flown away. Recollect, and\ncome before I have counted three. One--two--three.\" As she said the\nlast number she disappeared.\n\nJussuf now saw the variegated butterfly flutter over the lake, and\nlose itself among the flowers of the garden; the boat moved back\ntowards the bank where it had before been placed. The abandoned Jussuf\nstood for some time, as if in a dream; but when the evening twilight\nveiled the distant hills, he awoke to consciousness. Then the\noccurrences of the day appeared like a wonderful vision to his soul.\nIn the silence of his chamber he soon threw himself on his bed, and\nhere everything recurred to his memory; and he now wondered less at\nthe wonderful appearance of the maiden than at himself--that he, a\nserious man, who till now had lived in the activity and cares of\nbusiness, should have amused himself for several hours with childish\ngames, at which he had not before played since his earliest boyish\ndays. Gradually his thoughts passed into dreams.\n\nHe awoke late the next morning. The sun was already high in the\nheavens, and his slaves had long been waiting at the threshold of the\ndoor which led to his room, to receive his commands. He remembered\nthat he wished to return early in the morning to the town, because it\nwas his custom regularly to keep open his warehouse on this day of the\nweek. It proved, therefore, very agreeable to him, when he went out,\nto find his horse was standing ready saddled before the house.\n\nAfter he had dressed quickly, and taken his breakfast, he mounted his\nsplendid Arab steed, and rode towards Balsora, followed by several\nslaves. When he arrived at the bazaar to open his warehouse, a number\nof customers were already assembled, and the crowd increased at every\nmoment, so that he could hardly satisfy all--he had not hands enough.\nWhen all was produced that was wished for, time was wanting to give\nthe inquirers the needful information about the worth and quality of\nthe goods; and if a purchaser wished to pay for his articles, he had\nno time to count over the money, but he placed it uncounted in his\nmoney-box, trusting to the honour of his customers. This press of\nbusiness so fully occupied his attention, that he soon forgot his last\nnight's adventure, though at first the form of his fair playmate was\npresent to his soul. So many days passed away in the bustle of his\nvast employment.\n\nOne day, about the end of the week, when he was busy in his warehouse,\nthe public crier went by, offering for sale some small foreign insects\nand butterflies; and holding the case in which they were in the air,\n\"Who will buy,\" he exclaimed--\"who will buy fine bright silken\ncreatures, very cheap, very cheap?\" Jussuf raised his eyes by chance,\nwhile conversing with a customer about a necklace of jewels, and\nperceived in the case the beautiful butterfly which he wanted to catch\nhimself a few days before, and out of which his comical playmate had\nraised herself from the poppy.\n\nThen his words died on his lips. He looked at the crier, dumb for a\nminute, and then called him back quickly. \"Let me see,\" said he; and\nwhen he had convinced himself that he was not mistaken, he offered the\nman at once a thousand sequins, without allowing him to ask anything.\n\nThe crier gave him the case quickly, as if he feared that Jussuf would\nrepent of his purchase, and smilingly received the purse of gold.\n\n\"I thank thee,\" said he. \"It is well that I know thee to be an amateur\nin such things. If I get any more, I will certainly bring them to thee\nfirst. People say, indeed, that thou dost not sell cheaply. I have\nconvinced myself thou also payest well for what thou purchasest.\"\nOverjoyed, and praising his good fortune, he went away.\n\nJussuf had scarcely received the case of insects, when he carefully\nexamined it in a division of his warehouse, whilst a red blush mantled\nover his face, and his looks betokened the greatest pleasure. The\nbystanders could not believe that he was such a lover of insects, and\nsuch a connoisseur; and they conjectured that his eyes must have\ndiscovered some extraordinary value in the purchased case. But from\nthis moment Jussuf paid little more attention to his business. This\nabsence of mind increased every moment, and often caused him to ask\nquite a trifling sum for very precious goods, and an unconscionably\nhigh one for those equally insignificant. He could scarcely conceal\nhis chagrin whenever new customers made their appearance; and all saw\nwith wonder, how--contrary to his usual custom--he hailed with joy the\ntime for closing his warehouse, and how joyously he departed with his\ncase of insects!\n\nImmediately he wrapped the case in a cloth, and had it carried by some\nslaves who accompanied him to his house. Till now he did not know why\nhe had so much value for the butterfly; he was only led to purchase it\nby some impulse, and had not as yet given himself any reasons for it.\nFor the first time, as he lay quietly in bed, he asked himself this\nquestion: \"What shall I do with thee?\" Then--\"The other butterfly flew\naway over the flowers of my garden some days ago; this is dry and\npierced, as if it had been dead for many years. What connection can it\nhave with my bright and waggish playmate, who is only fit to be a\ndaughter of the genii?\"\n\nHe recalled to himself everything in the remarkable occurrence--even\nthe most trifling events that happened in their different games, from\nthe appearance of the maiden to her disappearance out of the boat,\nreturned to his mind. Then he thought over her last words. \"What did\nshe say?\" said he to himself. \"Did she not say, 'If thou shouldst wish\nto see me, thou must seek me in the fatherland of the variegated\nbutterflies?'\"\n\nNow a thought shot through his mind which made all perfectly clear to\nhim. He confessed to himself that he had been more happy with her fun\nand play than he had been before since his boyhood, and that he had\nthen quite forgotten all the cares and troubles of business. He\nearnestly longed to have always about him so merry a playfellow, to\nafford him diversion with her childish mirth.\n\n\"This playmate of thine,\" continued he, speaking to himself, \"if she\nhas entirely disappeared, and no track leads to her, has not a chance\nfallen into thy hands by this butterfly? Still thou canst seek for her\nin her native land. But what naturalist could name it from this\nimperfect description, without having seen the butterfly?\"\n\nHe then recalled to his memory many tales which he had heard in his\nchildhood, in which were instances of daughters of genii, who,\nbecoming the wives of mortals, blessed them in a wonderful manner,\nand, after the death of their husbands, returned to the kingdom of the\ngenii.\n\nAmid such thoughts as these he sank into slumber, and awoke the next\nmorning with the firm resolution of seeking the daughter of the genii,\nand of choosing her for his wife. The first thing, then, was for him\nto discover the native country of the butterflies; for it was there\nthat he was to find her. He took, therefore, the butterfly out of the\ncase from among the other insects, and set out for one of the suburbs\nof Balsora.\n\nThere lived in one of the last houses a man who he was aware knew not\nonly the name of every beast, stone, and plant, but also the hidden\nstrength of nature and her mysterious operations. This man had once\nbeen his master, and to his instruction Jussuf owed his intimate\nknowledge of the manifold productions of nature out of which the\nvarious goods were manufactured in different lands, and which afforded\nhim the means of always purchasing the best and most superior\narticles, whereby he obtained such a crowd of customers. In order to\nshow his gratitude to his master for this instruction, he had given\nhim, out of the inheritance of his father, this large house, with the\nsurrounding vast garden, that he might live undisturbed in his secret\nstudies.\n\nWith this man he now took refuge, hoping certainly to receive from him\nsome information about the native land of his silken butterfly. Upon\nhis knocking at the door, an old servant, the only one in the house,\nopened it, and led him into a chamber in which his old master was\nsitting upon a cushion, before a large table covered with a black\ncloth. Rolls of parchment with unknown characters, compasses, a\nsextant, a triangle, and other instruments, lay scattered round in\ndisorder. He received Jussuf with friendly nods, without rising from\nhis cushion, motioning him to sit down opposite, and then said,\n\n\"Ah, ah! my Jussuf; this is a rare visit. Hast thou at last been able\nto spare an hour from thy business to pay a visit to the old Modibjah?\nI hear that thou art become the most popular merchant in all Balsora,\nand that thou hast immense connections. I am glad of it; then all is\nright and prosperous. What one has once chosen for his calling, for\nthat one must entirely live. What we do must be done well; and may\nthat one live who devotes his life to a useful activity!\"\n\nJussuf was prevented by a certain shyness from mentioning his wish at\nonce to his grave master. He said how he had longed to see him once\nmore, to hear how he was; and reproached him tenderly for not coming\nto see him. He added that he had certainly a great many curious things\nin his warehouses, and that he had promised himself the pleasure of\nshowing them all to his wise master. Perhaps he might find among them\nsomething that might be useful to him, and it would be a pleasure to\nhim to give it to him.\n\nAt these words Modibjah laughed, and answered, \"I want none of thy\ngoods. What I wanted thou hast given me: while thou continuest to me\nthis house and garden as my property, I am contented, so that I remain\nundisturbed. Here I can devote myself to my reflections and my\npursuits undistracted and unobserved by the curiosity of mankind. Then\nI should have erred in visiting thee; for thy time is equally taken up\nwith the cares and business of thy profession; and I should but have\ndisturbed thee with my visits. But now speak,\" said he, ending his\ndiscourse: \"I see from thy looks that a particular request brings thee\nto me.\"\n\nJussuf blushed that his master should have so seen through him, and\nthen related to him how the numerous cares and exertions of his\nbusiness had produced a prejudicial effect on his health, and how he\nhad been obliged to seek diversion; that he had then renewed a\npartiality which he had in his boyish years, and had again begun to\ncollect butterflies and other insects. \"But,\" continued he, \"the\nnecessary knowledge is wanting to me. Some days ago I bought by chance\na collection of butterflies, of whose names and native country I know\nnothing.\" He drew out the box at these words, and held it open before\nthe old man.\n\nBut hardly had he glanced at it when he shook his head silently; and,\nconsidering, at last he said, \"Poor Jussuf! Still thou wishest to\ninquire about it as of secondary import, as if I did not know that\nthou only comest to me for this reason. Art thou gone so far as to\nplay the hypocrite with thy old master?\"\n\n\"Well, then, I am curious to learn the name and the country of this\nbutterfly,\" answered Jussuf, with a trembling voice.\n\nThen the grey haired old man raised himself from his cushion, and\nlooked at Jussuf with such a searching and piercing glance, that he\nwas constrained through his shame to cast down his eyes.\n\n\"Still, I should do thee injustice were I to blame thee,\" continued\nhe: \"I know that thou art still innocent. I can only lament that thou\nshouldst have fallen into the snares of my implacable enemy. In order\nto obtain the victory over me, she will seek to ruin thee.\" He laid\nhis hand on his forehead, and sank into profound reflection.\n\nAt last Jussuf broke silence, and said, \"I do not understand thee.\nWhat enemy dost thou mean? See, it is my fault for not having told\nthee the whole openly. Now shalt thou know all.\" He then related to\nhim, without any reserve, the transactions of the previous days.\n\nWhen he had finished, the old man answered, \"Now thou hast been candid\nwith me, and hast a claim to equal sincerity on my side. But I know\nthat thou art not now capable of hearing the truth--that it is a\nuseless trouble to attempt to cure thee of thy delusion. If I were to\nconceal the native land of the butterflies from thee, I know that thou\nwouldst find ways and means of learning what thou now desirest to\ndiscover. Thou wouldst fain find her who is thy enemy, although thou\ndeemest her to be thine innocent friend. I will show thee the way to\nher. But I will think of ways and means to guard thee against her\nwickedness. For that purpose I must know thy exact age. If thou hast\nnot quite forgotten thy former love for thy true master, tell me now\nthe day and hour of thy birth.\"\n\nJussuf willingly told him the day and the hour, for he was very glad\nthat Modibjah promised to tell him the native country of the\nbutterfly. What he said about the wickedness of an enemy he took for\nthe whims of an old man, and therefore it did not weigh at all with\nhim. In the meanwhile, Modibjah had gone into a side-chamber, and now\nbrought out a large, deep box, whilst he cleared away the parchments\nand instruments spread about on the table. On the cover a great number\nof cross lines were drawn through one another, and among them were\nworked innumerable gold and silver stars. After he had carefully\ntraced all these, he produced a small box of ebony, skilfully inlaid\nwith streaks of mother-of-pearl.\n\n\"I have reckoned thine age,\" said he: \"thou art now just thirty years,\nnine months, and seven days, and eight hours old. All these years,\nmonths, days, and hours form the figure of fifty-four. God be praised\nand His great Prophet, it is not yet of the worst.\"\n\nDuring this speech he sat down, and at a nod from him Jussuf seated\nhimself opposite. Then he pressed a hidden spring in the little black\nbox, the lid sprang up, and he shook the contents before Jussuf on the\ntable. They were a number of half-moons, little stars, triangles, and\nother figures of ivory.\n\n\"Count out fifty-four of them,\" said he. And Jussuf did it.\n\nAfter the old man had quickly collected the remainder together, and\nplaced them again in the box, he called to him to throw the figures\nthat he had counted out in the air in such a manner that they should\nfall down on the table-cloth. Jussuf did as he was desired, and the\nfigures spread themselves in their fall over the whole table. The old\nman considered them attentively for some time, and began to murmur,\nhalf-singing, a form of words in a foreign language, and touched with\nhis finger quickly, as if he were counting one or other of them, now\nand then taking away one and placing it with the others in the box. He\nrepeated his words twice, and counted and pointed with his finger,\ntaking away from the figures as at first, till at last there only\nremained nine. Now he began another speech, which appeared to Jussuf\nto be in a different language, and sang it three times, while he took\naway more of the ivory figures, and pointed to some of the gold and\nsilver worked stars. At last he had collected all the three nearest\nconstellations.\n\n\"It is good,\" said the old man, with a joyful and tranquil\ncountenance. \"I now know what I wanted; now I can tell you what you so\nearnestly wish to know. If thou wishest to find thy vain, trifling\nplaymate, go towards the rising of the sun till thou comest to a town\nof Persia, in the neighbourhood of which are situated the ruins of an\nold royal city, now destroyed. There stay till the third day after the\nnew moon. Then go to the ruins in the evening. On the eastern edge, at\nsome distance from the heap of relics, thou wilt find a large\nwell-formed stone, which once served as the head; seat thyself on this\nstone, and at the moment when the narrow illumined streak of the moon,\nlike a fiery ship, seems to swim over the mountains on the horizon,\ncall out the word 'Haschanascha,' and a sign-post will soon appear.\nBut then thou art still distant from the object of thy journey. But\nmay the exertions and vicissitudes of thy long travel so lessen thy\nfoolishly-ardent desire that thou mayest listen to the voice of a\nprudent friend, who will certainly be near thee when thou hast need of\nhim.\"\n\nHardly had Jussuf heard where he was to go when he sprang out of his\nseat, in order to take leave at once of Modibjah, and to commence his\njourney. The wish which Modibjah had expressed was hardly heard by\nhim.\n\n\"Wait, wait,\" said the former; \"who knows whether we shall ever see\neach other again? This journey leads thee far away, and I am old.\nThou art also a mortal, who mayest be overwhelmed by the dangers thou\nhast to encounter. Here, take this as a token of remembrance.\" At\nthese words he reached him a small leathern pouch.\n\n\"What is this?\" asked Jussuf, after he had opened it, and saw in it a\nrather opaque milk-white stone, at the bottom of which a red spark\nseemed to shine. \"That is certainly a talisman.\"\n\n\"It is a talisman,\" answered Modibjah: \"esteem it for my sake. Use it\nwhen thy strength and intellect are not sufficient for thee. As long\nas thou perceivest the spark, thou wilt proceed in the right way, and\nwilt not encounter any danger; but the contrary will happen when the\nspark appears to be quite extinguished. Then breathe over it the name\n'Haschanascha.' Do not allow it to be taken away from thee, either by\nforce or by stratagem; nor give it willingly as a present to any\nstranger's hand. If thou shouldst wish to make an experiment, throw it\nbehind thee over thy head.\"\n\nJussuf thanked his master for the present, and hid the talisman in his\nbosom; he then took leave of his master in an absent spirit and\nhastened home. He immediately gave his slaves the necessary charges,\ncommitted the care of his house to an old faithful servant, locked up\nhis warehouse in the bazaar, and proceeded in the evening of the same\nday, with a train of twenty armed and well-mounted followers, and with\nforty camels loaded with gold and precious things of all kinds, and\nwith all necessaries, out at the eastern gate of the city of Balsora.\nWhoever perceived or heard, that Jussuf had set out on a distant\njourney believed that he had gone to fetch some rare goods which he\ncould not entrust to his servants; and people were generally in\ncurious expectation to see what could be the interest in any jewels\nthat should induce the so greatly-altered merchant, who till now let\neverything be managed by his servants, to go himself on the journey,\nand with so small an escort.\n\nJussuf kept exactly to the rule of his old master, and proceeded\nstraight towards the rising of the sun. He reached, with his little\ncaravan, without any particular adventures, the plains which extend\nbetween the mountains and the Persian Sea. But here the summer heat\nwas so oppressive that he turned more to the left towards the north,\nthat he might find in the neighbourhood of the mountains some shade\nfrom the trees and, above all, springs of water, which, murmuring down\nfrom the mountains, might serve for coolness and refreshment to them,\nafter they had wandered far in the plains through dry sand. He\nproceeded for some days towards his destination without the occurrence\nof anything unusual or remarkable. After some days, he reached a spot\nwhere a small rivulet flowed between two mountains.\n\nThe opposite side of this mountain extended out a long way towards the\nsea-coast, so that there was only a very narrow slip of the plain.\nUncertain whether he should go straight towards the sea, or turn off\nto the left along the valley through which the rivulet wound, he\nordered his slaves to stop. He looked round to see if he could not\nperceive in the surrounding country some track to indicate the\nproximity of men, of whose advice he might avail himself; but there\nwas not a hut, nor a tent, nor a flock to be seen far or near.\nAlthough fertile, the country appeared quite desolate. Some of his\nslaves advised the direction along the sea-shore, because there were\nimprinted the footsteps of camels and horses of earlier travellers;\nothers suggested, on the contrary, to advance along the river. But\nJussuf shook his head at these counsels.\n\n\"Why should we,\" said he, \"enter in uncertainty on either of those\nroads? If we proceed to the right by the sea-coast, it will lead us\ntoo far south; if we follow the valley of the river, it will conduct\nus straight to its entrance towards the north; but farther up it may\ntake another direction, whereby we might be enabled to continue our\nroute, even if it be a very winding way; or we may ascend the\nmountains, which will probably be higher and steeper near the source\nof the river. Our camels already throw a long shadow on the earth, and\nin two hours we must select a place for repose. It is therefore more\nprudent to stay here. Two roads evidently unite at this point, and\ntherefore it cannot be long before some one arrives from one side or\nthe other, who can give us the desired information. So make\npreparations to pass the night here.\"\n\nAs he commanded, so they did. The slaves unpacked from the camels what\nwas necessary, and quickly erected a tent for their master of\nvariegated painted poles and thick silk stuffs. Then they kindled a\nfire on a neighbouring spot, and made preparations for the meals of\nall.\n\nIn the meantime, Jussuf wandered to the foremost height of the\nmountains, towards the valley of the river, and rejoiced at the richly\nblossoming flowers which seemed heaped on all the shrubs, and at the\nmagnificent country, and the refreshing air which floated up to him\nout of the valley. As he walked carelessly along, his foot struck\nagainst a ripe melon, which still hung fast to a withered branch.\n\"Well,\" thought he to himself, \"a juicy melon is a refreshing fruit in\nthe heat of the day.\" He picked it and took it home to the encampment.\nThere he delivered it to a slave, and charged him to take care that it\nwas freed of its seeds, and brought up to his meal with the other\ndishes. He then entered his tent, which had meanwhile been erected,\nand stretched himself on his soft cushion, covered with costly cloths,\nthat he might rest awhile. He soon sank into slumber, exhausted with\nthe fatigue of the day; but he was shortly roused from his dream. Two\nof his slaves stood at his couch, and exclaimed,\n\n\"Master! master! come out and see the wonder!\"\n\n\"What is the matter?\" said he, raising himself up.\n\n\"O master, the melon!\" they called out at once.\n\n\"Well, what of the melon? Perhaps it is beginning to decay, or is it\nnot good for anything? if so, throw it away. Was it worth while to\nwake me up about that?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, master, do not be angry; but that is not it,\" said the\nslaves.\n\n\"Perhaps one of you has eaten it, not knowing that I picked it for\nmyself?\"\n\n\"No, master! no, master!\" cried the slaves, as it were with one mouth.\n\"Who would do that? Come and see yourself.\"\n\n\"I see I must come myself if I wish to learn what has happened,\" said\nJussuf, half unwillingly; and rising from his couch, he followed them\nout of the tent. They led him to the place where they had made\npreparations for the meal. There he saw a melon, in form like the one\nwhich he had found, but of such a gigantic size, that he had never\nbefore seen one like it. \"Whence, then, comes this monster of a\nmelon?\" said he to the slaves, who were standing at a distance with\nsigns of astonishment and fear.\n\n\"Yes, master, that is the same melon that you brought here yourself,\"\nanswered several voices at once.\n\n\"But that was so small, that I could conveniently span it with my\nfingers, and carry it in my hand,\" returned he; \"but three men could\nscarcely surround this with their arms.\" They assured him that it was\nthe same melon which he had bought. \"Then,\" continued he, \"things\ncannot go right if a ripe and gathered melon can grow to such a\nmonstrous size.\"\n\nAt these words, the slave to whom he had given the melon came to him\nand said, \"It may well be that things do not go right.\" He then\nrelated to him that he had laid the melon down where the large one now\nlay; that when he had come near it, at a later period, a great wasp\nhad settled on the melon and pierced it with its sting. Hardly had it\nflown away, when a bee came buzzing, and lodged on it: after stinging\nit, this one also flew away. From this moment the melon grew larger\nand larger; and they should have called him to see the wonder long\nago, had not they all been fixed with curiosity and astonishment to\nsee what would happen.\n\nSince the rising of the moon, which was how beaming above the horizon\nin full splendour, had the melon ceased increasing. They asked Jussuf\nwhat should now happen, and imagined that he would not ask them to cut\nup and pare the melon.\n\n\"That we cannot do,\" said they, finishing their speech, \"for it is\nevident that magic is at play here. An ordinary melon cannot grow any\nmore after it is ripe and picked off the tree; and even if that were\npossible, it could not in any case grow to such an immense size as\nnever has been seen before in the world. Who knows what is hidden in\nit?\"\n\n\"Oh, you silly cowards!\" exclaimed Jussuf, provoked at the terror of\nhis servants,--\"shame on you! You are in a foreign land, and do not\nconsider that everything here is not exactly as it is at home. What\ncan be concealed in it? Outside is the peel; under the peel is the\npulp; and in the middle is the texture of cells, with the seeds. Look\nhere,\" said he to those who stood next to him, as he took off his\nshort broad scimitar: \"I will cut off a piece, that you may see that\nit is as I say.\"\n\nWhile he spoke, he made two vigorous cuts--one along and the other\nacross the melon, so as to loosen a four-angled piece of the peel. Now\nhe commanded one of his slaves to lift up the piece.\n\nAs the slave anxiously approached the melon, in order to obey the\ncommand of his master, the piece sprang out of it with wonderful\nstrength over his head, so that he tumbled backwards on the ground\nfrom terror.\n\n\"Mahomet, great Prophet, stand by us!\" exclaimed the slaves, when they\nsaw this. But soon their astonishment changed to terror, and they all\nran away, when suddenly a human figure rose out of the aperture in the\nmelon, and, with one spring, stood before Jussuf. The latter drew\nback, startled as much at the sudden and unexpected appearance of the\nman as at his unusual figure. The top of his perfectly flat face was\ndisfigured by two monstrous eyes, and by long black eyebrows, which\nextended over the greatest part of his face. On his short upper lip he\nhad a narrow but long, hairy, stiff substance, the ends of which\nreached to the crown of his head, and there intermixed with his hair\nin two tufts, which stood sideways in the air like antennae. His dress\nwas marked with bright shining stripes of a black and brimstone\ncolour; and behind him a transparent head-covering hung in two\ngauze-like wings nearly down to the ground. His clothes fitted tight\neverywhere. He also wore a girdle round his body, which rendered his\nleanness still more striking. Besides this, the nail of his middle\nfinger was very long, and bent over like a hoe. His whole figure had\nthe appearance of an immense wasp.\n\nThe man had hardly observed that Jussuf shrank before him, when he\nseized the wings of his head-dress with both his hard hands, and gave\na leap, as if he were trying to fly.\n\nJussuf was too frightened to ask him who he was, and what he wanted.\nBut the man immediately uttered a guttural, grumbling sound, which was\nprobably intended for a song; and Jussuf heard these words:\n\n    \"I come, a slave at one's behest,\n      Who knoweth more than thou canst tell;\n    She warned thee, whiles of friends the best,\n      Of bees that lurk in honied bell.\n    Guide well thy course; nor seek, proud man,\n      Whate'er thou deem'st a better way;\n    She can each hidden secret scan--\n      So follow thou without delay.\"\n\nWhen his song was nearly ended, another voice hummed on the side where\nthe melon lay. On looking there, Jussuf saw a second human form, as\nwonderful as the first, rise out of the aperture. This one had a dark\ndress, inclining to olive-green, and his form was rather less slim\nthan that of the former; but he had the appearance of a bee in human\nform. Leaping also nearer to Jussuf, it sang in a higher but equally\nbuzzing tone:\n\n    \"Mark me well: oh, what can be\n    Direful wasps but plagues to thee?\n    Thine is every vain desire;\n    Yet the bees that never tire,\n    They can serve and tend thee well--\n    The busy storers of the cell.\n    Keep me, then; thy path shall prove\n    A path of hope that leads to love.\"\n\nBut the first one grumbled again, so that Jussuf could not understand\nany more.\n\nHowever terrified Jussuf might have been at this appearance, he yet\ncollected himself, and said, \"Her dear servants seem to mean very\nwell, but----\"\n\nBefore he had finished his speech, both of them were grumbling and\nbuzzing at him.\n\nHe understood still so much, that each of them wished to lessen the\nreputation of his fellow, and to make him suspected in his eyes. Both\nturned against each other again, and hummed and buzzed at one another\nwith unheard-of obstinacy. Their struggle became constantly more\nvehement, and at last they seized each other in mad rage, and whirled\nround, struggling and burring in a circle. Jussuf saw a kind of lance\nand a long dagger shine, and both of them fell down pierced through\nat his feet. In their dying moments they begged him to bury them in\ntheir cradle. He nodded assuringly, and they lay dead in the moment.\nImmediately Jussuf called his slaves to him, who were standing in the\ndistance in earnest expectation, and ordered them to carry the dead\nbodies to the melon. But they refused, certainly with humble excuses,\nbut still with steadfast decision.\n\n\"In the name of all natural things,\" said they, \"we will prove to thee\nour certain obedience; but do not ask us to make ourselves unclean, or\nto meddle with such unnatural appearances.\"\n\nHe represented to them quietly that he could not place both the dead\nbodies in the hollow melon, and that one of them must help him--that\nwhat he ventured they might also venture; but they denied\nperseveringly, and no one appeared ready to lend a helping hand. Angry\nat their obstinacy, Jussuf was on the point of chastising them with\nthe flat part of his sabre-blade, when one of the slaves called out,\n\n\"Hold, hold, dear master! the dead bodies are no longer there!\"\n\nThey had certainly vanished; and when he looked on the ground where\nthey had lain, he discovered in the dust a dead wasp and a dead bee.\n\n\"See, see!\" said he, in perfect astonishment; \"would not any one\nbelieve that all those things were only a delusion of the mind? If the\ngreat melon did not lie there now, I should be inclined to think that\nI had, in a mad fancy, taken the bees and wasps for large figures of\nmen.\"\n\nAt these words, he turned to the side where the melon had been, and,\nlo! that had also disappeared. Approaching nearer, he found in its\nplace the little melon again, just as he had picked it during his\nwalk. In its side he discovered a small four-angled opening. Then he\nwent quickly back, fetched the two dead insects, and put them through\nthe aperture into the melon.\n\n\"It may now be as it may,\" said he to himself. \"I promised them to\nbury their dead bodies in the melon, and I fulfil this promise.\"\n\n\"Now, you will not wish to eat any of this enchanted melon?\" inquired\none of the slaves; and as Jussuf shook his head in the negative, and\nat once entered his tent, the slave gave the melon a kick with his\nfoot, so that it rolled all the way down the hill, and fell below into\nthe river that flowed there. The waves swept over it.\n\nThe night passed tranquilly. At first, Jussuf could not get any sleep,\nfor the events of wonder had so stirred up his soul. At last fatigue\nconquered, and he slumbered till near morning.\n\nIn the commencement of his journey he had made an arrangement that\nfour of his slaves should watch every night alternately. In the\nmorning he asked with uncommon curiosity whether nothing had happened\nin the night, or whether no traveller had passed by from whom they\nmight learn the direction. But no one had gone by.\n\nLow-spirited at not having any sure direction for his journey, he\nstruck his bosom, and said, \"So are we borne away and removed from\ngood fortune.\" He had with the blow hit the pouch containing the\ntalisman which he had received from his master Modibjah, and which\ntill now he had quite forgotten. He pulled it out, opened the pouch,\nand said, \"Thou hast disclosed thyself in a good hour. Come, tell me\nwhether I shall do well if I proceed through the valley along the\nriver-side.\"\n\nAfter he had considered it, he exclaimed joyfully, \"Yes, yes; the\nresolution is good; the fiery spark still shines living in the stone.\"\nHe immediately gave orders for departure, and the procession, rode out\ninto the valley. His slaves wondered that he who had been so uncertain\nabout the direction should now be so secure, and take so confident a\nresolution. The journey was much more pleasant in the valley than it\nhad before been. The air from the stream was cooled, for a mild breeze\nwas always breathing through the valley; and they soon reached an\ninhabited place, and learned that they were in the direct road to a\nsmall town, in whose neighbourhood were situated the ruins of the old\nroyal city. Pleased as Jussuf was at this news, still it was rather\ndisagreeable, to him: he remembered that on the evening of his\nadventure with the melon the moon was in full splendour, and he could\nnow calculate that he would arrive several days too early for the\nfirst object of his journey. And what should he set about in that\nsmall town till, on the third day after the new moon, he should find\nhis sign-post? However, he continued on his way by small day journeys.\nAt last he came to the little town in whose neighbourhood the ruins\nwere situated, and stopped at a caravanserai. Whilst his people\nunloaded the camels and settled everything, he wandered idly through\nthe town to see something of it. In the course of his walk a young man\npresented himself to him, who was willing to show him in passing the\nfew curiosities of the place. While they were conversing together they\nmade themselves known to each other; and Jussuf learned that the young\nman's name was Hassan Assad, a man of whom his people had often spoken\nto him in terms of commendation, and who had been very useful to him\nseveral times in commissions for goods in Persia. He heartily thanked\nhim, therefore, and assured him of his pleasure at being able to form\nhis personal acquaintance. Hassan also seemed very much pleased to\nhave seen the far-famed merchant from Balsora face to face, and\noffered to be his guide and companion as long as he remained in those\nparts.\n\n\"To-morrow,\" said he, \"I have some necessary business to do in Shiraz,\nwhich I cannot put off. But without doubt thou also art going there,\nfor thou wilt certainly have to give large orders to the ablest silver\nand gold workers, and to the most skilful silk-weavers; and because\npersonal acquaintance with our correspondents is very useful, I will\njoin thee in thy journey. In this way it will not be necessary for us\nto separate again on the first day of our acquaintance; nor can it be\ndisagreeable to thee to go with me, who am already known there, and\ncan lead thee to the dwellings of all those with whom I am connected\nin commerce.\"\n\nJussuf's mind had been but little turned on trade, and now he could\nnot recollect the names of all the people with whom he transacted\nbusiness in Shiraz: besides, he had a certain aversion to disclose the\ntrue reasons for his journey; so he let his friendly companion\nentertain the idea that he had come to Persia for the purpose of\npurchasing and giving commissions. And, because he must still wait\nseveral days for the new moon, he willingly accepted Hassan's\nproposal, and promised to accompany him the next morning to the great\nand celebrated town of Shiraz, and to spend some days with him there.\nThe distance to Shiraz was not far, and Jussuf reached it with his new\nfriend the next day before the noonday heat. Hassan conducted him in\nthe afternoon to the house of a rich merchant, with whom he had long\nhad considerable dealings.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, \"I bring you the far-famed merchant Jussuf from\nBalsora, whose name cannot be strange to you, since you have long done\nbusiness with him. He has taken this journey to make new purchases,\nand also to become personally acquainted with those who have hitherto\nserved him so satisfactorily.\"\n\nThe dealer was very glad to become acquainted with the renowned\nJussuf, and, as what Hassan had said appeared very natural to him, he\ncontinued, \"If I do not mistake, I furnished thee lately with a\nconsiderable quantity of oil of roses. Thou wert, then, pleased with\nit?\"\n\nJussuf assured him of his perfect satisfaction with the supply.\n\n\"Ah,\" continued the dealer, \"thou must now again give me a commission;\nfor I have at present a much better supply, and I can let thee have it\nat a very moderate price, although it is of a superior quality.\"\n\nJussuf was ashamed to confess that he had entirely neglected his\nmagazine and warehouse, and could not think of his business. He\ntherefore left him in his error, and gave him a considerable order for\noil of roses. But, as he thought of travelling farther, and the time\nof his return was not decided, he ordered him to wait for further\ninstructions for sending the oil. Still, he paid the amount\nbeforehand. In this manner he went to all his friends in trade in\nShiraz. Hassan conducted him, announcing that his appearance in Persia\nwas to give orders; and so he was seduced into fresh commissions and\nfresh purchases. At the silk-weavers' he ordered many hundred pieces\nof silk stuffs; at others, a quantity of gold and silver stuffs; at\nthe jewellers' costly trinkets, and gold and silver vessels, and\nimplements. His companion not only led him to such dealers and\nworkers as he was already acquainted with in business, but introduced\nhim to many others. They induced him, partly by the beauty of their\ngoods, partly by their moderate prices, to make extensive purchases,\nand to take himself large orders for goods which he promised to send\nthem from Balsora. It could not fail that a merchant of such fame as\nJussuf, who gave so many orders in the same town, should attract\nattention. They sought after him with a friendly spirit in every\nplace; they asked him to all the feasts which were given in those days\nin the families where he was known. Now he was to appear at a banquet\nin the town; then at a rural feast in one of the largest and most\nsplendid gardens in the suburbs. People exerted themselves on all\nsides to show him honour and to give him pleasure.\n\nThe new moon had arrived in the meantime, and Jussuf had still so many\ninvitations that he would have been obliged to remain till after the\nfull moon to fulfil them all. But the third evening after the new moon\nhad been named to him as the decisive moment, and he would not neglect\nit. Hassan persuaded him strongly to stay a few more days, and those\nwho had invited him pressed him very much; but he continued steadfast\nagainst longer delay, and he set out early on the third day after the\nnew moon for the little town where he had left his slaves and camels.\n\nOn arriving there, he found everything in order. He rested till\nevening, and then went out, without any companions, to the ruins of\nthe destroyed town. Before sunset he was on the eastern side of them,\nand had soon also found, at some distance, the marked-out stone. He\nseated himself on it; and the sun had hardly gone down when he\nobserved the moon riding like a golden ship through the blue of the\nobscure sky. He waited with palpitating heart and anxious impatience\nfor the moment when it should seem to stand on the mountain-ridges on\nthe western horizon. Then he called out quickly and loudly,\n\"Haschanascha!\" He expected that at this call a guide would\nimmediately appear to him; but nothing appeared. The moon was, in the\nmeantime, sunk behind the mountains; but the bright and sparkling\nstars still lighted the dark blue sky. He stood by the stone on which\nhe had hitherto sat, and was going to return to his people in the\ntown, discouraged at his deluded expectations, when he heard his name\ncalled by a well-known voice. He turned towards the place from whence\nit came, and soon recognized, in the light of the stars, his friend\nHassan, whom he thought he had left that morning in Shiraz.\n\n\"Well, well,\" said he, as he drew nearer to Jussuf, \"it seemed to me\nthat thou stopped behind the mountains. Whenever I wished to speak\nwith thee of thy journey, thou always soughtest to evade me, and\nturned the conversation some other way. Now all is clear to me: with\nme thou needest not have made any mystery of it; since I find thee\nhere to-day, the third day after the new moon, I already know\neverything. I regret very much that I must serve thee in this case,\nfor I have already conducted many on this road, and none of them have\never come back.\"\n\n\"How, Hassan Assad, thou the guide that I was to find here?\" exclaimed\nJussuf. \"Thou wilt lead me to the object of my desires?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Hassan, \"I cannot myself conduct thee: I can only bring\nthee on the right road; but come, now, and follow me.\"\n\nHe led him back near the extensive ruins of the destroyed city: they\nsoon found tolerably passable roads, the few unobstructed tracks of\nthe former principal streets of the large royal city; but they were\noften obliged to scramble over the rubbish of overthrown buildings,\nacross pillars, and the remains of mighty columns. His guide turned\nnow right, now left, to seek the easiest road; then backwards, then\nforwards. They might, perhaps, have spent an hour scrambling about in\nthis manner, when at last Hassan arrived at a passage, closed with a\nsmall iron door, which was not covered with ruins: here he took a\nlittle silver hammer, and knocked nine times on the head of a great\nnail which was in the door: at each knock he stopped for some seconds,\nand Jussuf heard the sound in singular tones inside the door, as if it\nreached to a great distance. At the last stroke the door flew open,\nand showed a row of steps leading down to a cellar-like vault.\n\n\"Here we must descend,\" said Hassan; \"here thou wilt see many\nwonderful things, and thou wilt have rich presents; but take care not\nto refuse any presents, or to speak a word: only when thou art asked\nif thou hast enough, always answer no, till they abuse thee as an\nunreasonable person, and ask thee what thou still desirest, then say\nthe word 'Ketlafgat,'--it is the name of a talisman, without which\nthou canst never attain the end of thy wishes.\"\n\nJussuf observed the word, and promised to obey his instructor. They\nnow descended the steps together; and the door closed behind them with\na great noise. As they proceeded in profound darkness, Jussuf thought\nof the talisman which he had received from Modibjah: he wished to see\nif he were walking in the right road, and drew it out of the pouch:\nalthough it was very dark, he still discerned the bright red spark in\nthe stone. He now descended after his guide with more courage. They\nmight have left about fifty steps behind when they arrived at a large\nroom: over this was raised a vast round vault from the ground, in the\nform of a regular hemisphere. From the middle of the vault hung a\ngreat lamp, on which, out of twelve branches, burned twelve long\ndazzling white flames. The whole vault played with thousands of lights\nof this flame, as if it were faced with an innumerable number of small\nmirrors. As Jussuf moved to one side, curious to see the cause of this\nreflection, he perceived that the vault was covered with eight large\noriental pearls of the greatest clearness, and that the space between\nfour of them was filled up with a smaller. He tried to detach one of\nthe large pearls from the wall; but it was so fast cemented that it\nwas impossible to remove it. In the meantime his guide had reached a\nconcealed door, and had knocked three times with his little hammer on\none spot. The door sprang open, and they entered a spacious\nfour-cornered room, on the walls of which were very large friezes,\nsupported too by pillars of solid gold. But each of the panels of the\nflat part of the wall stood on a transparent gay green smooth-polished\nstone, which Jussuf could only consider to be most valuable\nemeralds--however improbable it seemed. Hassan allowed him no time to\nlook about him: he had already opened a third room with the strokes of\nhis silver hammer. The form of this was octagonal: the pillars and\nsockets were of silver; but the panels rested on a precious stone of a\nbright blue colour.\n\nIn the same manner they reached a more splendid and larger room. They\nhad already passed through twelve without having found any living\ncreature. Thus, with all this splendour, there was an unpleasant air\nof desertion, which oppressed Jussuf so much that he would willingly\nhave imparted his feeling to his companion; but he strode on with such\nseriousness and caution, in his passage through the opened doors and\nrooms, that he had not courage to say a word aloud. After they had\npassed through the twelfth chamber, Hassan knocked three times with\nhis hammer on the ground, which consisted of clear large and small\nquadrangles of the most magnificent polished stripes of jasper.\nImmediately one of these quadrangles opened and fell back, as if it\nwere a trap-door: here were disclosed many steps of beautiful crystal,\nwhich led down still deeper. They descended, and the trap-door shut\ndown behind them. Jussuf saw no lamp by which the long descent of\nsteps was lighted, nor any window through which the light of day could\nenter; but still it was not dark around them, for at each footstep\nshone a clear blue light. He observed that this proceeded from a small\nball which rolled down before him from step to step, and, every time\nthat it alighted on a step, a clear blue ray of light streamed out,\nwhich spread out its rays till the ball had rolled to another. At last\nthe steps ceased, and before him extended a long passage, the opposite\nend of which was lighted by a clear point: they approached it, and\nsoon discovered a folding-door with glass windows, through which shone\nthe bright daylight. They passed through it, and found themselves in a\nsplendid garden, full of rare flowers and shrubs, such as Jussuf had\nnever before seen. At the entrance, two slaves approached him, who\nbowed to him respectfully, but silently, and beckoned to him to follow\nthem. They led him into a large summer-house: there sat some men whom\nJussuf took for dervishes; they stood up and greeted him.\n\n\"Thou comest to fetch the treasure of the poor,\" said one of them:\n\"thy desires shall be fulfilled.\" He immediately made a sign to the\nothers, and they all moved off through another door. \"Men,\" continued\nhe, \"certainly are complete fools; they fix their hearts on such\nuseless things; and the more they have the more insatiable they are.\"\n\nHe shook his head contemptuously. Before he had said anything more,\nthe remaining dervishes came back, one bringing a number of purses\nfilled with sequins; two others bringing precious boxes filled with\npearls; the third, two boxes with great diamonds of the finest fire; a\nfourth, two boxes full of the finest emeralds; and so each one another\nprecious thing.\n\nJussuf took all the things, and hid the boxes and the purses about his\nperson.\n\n\"Are you satisfied?\" asked the dervish who had first spoken.\n\nAnd Jussuf answered, \"No.\"\n\n\"I said so,\" grumbled the dervish. And, at a sign from him, the others\nagain went and brought, as at the first time, purses of gold and boxes\nof jewels.\n\n\"Hast thou enough now?\" asked the dervish.\n\nAnd Jussuf, who could hardly dispose of all about him, answered, \"No.\"\n\nWith still greater signs of displeasure, the dervish caused a fresh\nburden of similar presents to be brought. And, as Jussuf could not\ncarry any more, he asked again, \"Now hast thou not enough, at last?\"\n\nRemembering Hassan's instructions, he again answered, \"No.\"\n\nThen the dervish got up, and turned round on one foot angrily, and\nexclaimed, \"Thou shameful man, art thou insatiable? Thou canst not\ntake all with thee that thou hast already received, and thou must load\nthy companion also with the trifles in order to convey them hence, and\nyet thou hast not enough, thou glutton!\"\n\nImmediately the other dervishes surrounded him, and screamed out, as\nfrom a cave, \"Glutton! impudent creature! avaricious man!\"\n\n\"And what dost thou want now?\" asked the dervish.\n\nThen Jussuf said the word that Hassan had taught him for this\noccasion, \"Ketlafgat.\"\n\nHe had hardly spoken it, when the other dervishes sat down, and he who\nhad asked the question went out of the summer-house. He soon came back\nwith a small box, which he gave to Jussuf: it was made of mean wood,\nand without any ornament.\n\n\"Here is what thou desirest,\" said he. And, while he reached to him a\nsmall golden key, he added, \"Henceforward thou no longer needest a\nguide. Go where thy inclination leads thee: thou wilt always be in the\nright road if thou do not open this box with the key; but, if thou art\nonce in despair, and all hope has vanished of reaching the end of thy\njourney, thou mayest then open it.\"\n\nHe made a sign with his hand, and immediately the two slaves were\nready to conduct him away. Hassan took the boxes and the purses, which\nJussuf could not carry, in his pockets, and bowed to go away.\n\nThen the dervish called after him, \"Many persons have already fetched\nthe Ketlafgat from us, and it has always come back to us: it will\nreturn from thee also.\"\n\nThe slaves led them another way out of the garden into the entrance of\na cave in the rock, shut the door behind them, and left them in a dark\npassage. They groped about with their hands, and soon felt a door.\nHassan knocked again nine times with his hammer, and, behold, the door\nopened at the last blow, and they issued out at another end of the\nruins of the destroyed town into the open air.\n\n\"Now we dare speak again,\" said Hassan. \"What dost thou think of\ndoing? morning is not very distant. Wilt thou not return to the town,\nand unload thyself of thy treasures?\"\n\nBut Jussuf shook his head thoughtfully, and said, \"What shall I do?\nWhat shall I say? I have lately witnessed such wonders that I am\nalmost unable to think. I am no longer the man that I was, who had a\ndecided will of his own. I appear to myself like a play-ball to beings\nof a superhuman nature. Every man, however, plays this part to a\ncertain extent.\"\n\n\"Well, bethink thee. See, I have packed up the treasures for thee, and\nwould willingly be released soon from thee, for I must return to\nShiraz in good time to-day, as thou probably knowest. Let us hasten,\nthen, back to the little town: there thou canst consider with thy\npeople what thou shalt do.\"\n\nJussuf followed him in deep thought, and, soon arriving at the town,\nthey entered the caravanserai. The slaves received their master with\njoy, for they had become suspicious at his going out without\nattendants, and, not coming back at night, they feared lest some\nmisfortune should have happened to him.\n\nAfter he had laid down the purses and the boxes with the jewels, he\nturned to Hassan, and said, \"Thou hast already performed so many\nservices for me, that I must trespass and require still further from\nthee. I see that this train will be more troublesome than serviceable\nto me in my long journey; but I cannot leave it behind. Do me the\npleasure of taking these slaves, camels, and all the treasures which\nare contained in each bale of goods, and travel with them as if they\nwere thine own property. If I return happily, and thou art willing,\nshould I be in need, to let me have part back again, I will accept it\nfrom thee as a free-will present; should I not return, I shall have no\nmore need of them.\"\n\nAfter a short conversation, Hassan consented, and immediately ordered\nhis camels to be laden to return to Shiraz. Jussuf took some of the\nboxes of precious stones, a good number of purses with sequins, and,\nabove all, the box with the talisman Ketlafgat, loaded his horse with\nthem, took leave of Hassan with heartfelt thankfulness, commanded his\nslaves to obey their new master, mounted his horse, and rode at the\ndawn of morning towards the rising of the sun.\n\nJussuf had proceeded ten days in this direction without anything\nremarkable happening to him. On the evening of the eleventh day he\narrived at a high hill, which appeared fruitless, not a tree or a bush\nto be seen. There was not a village, a hut, or a tent within his sight\nall round. He was obliged to resolve to pass the night under the open\nsky, and looked about to see to what he could fasten his horse; for,\nalthough it was a tame, trusty animal, yet he was afraid that it might\nrun away in the night. At last, finding nothing, he unbuckled the\npack-saddle, and let his steed pasture on the half-withered grass,\nwhich was the only thing there. Then he lay down on the ground, and\nsoon fell asleep; but he suddenly awoke again, and, looking for his\nhorse, found it had vanished; he looked towards the place where the\nsaddle was laid--that was not there either. It was clear to him that a\nrobber had taken his horse. He peered round in the deceptive\nmoonlight, but could perceive nothing. He was much grieved, and said\nto himself, \"It is quite just: I had a company of true servants, and\nhave sent them away in a frivolous manner; I had immense riches, and\nhave given them into the hands of a stranger without surety, who may\nlive happily in their possession whilst I must starve.\" But he soon\ncontinued, with collected courage, \"Yet of what use are all the goods\nof the earth to me? What help would a whole army of the most faithful\nand the boldest companions be to me? I seek a gift with which I shall\never be on the right road, as the dervish said, and I always carry the\nbox and the golden key with me. Everything may go if the talisman\nKetlafgat remains to me, which will preserve me if despair should\nseize me in the attainment of my wishes.\"\n\nAs he spoke thus to himself, he saw a number of riders appear in the\ndistance, and he soon perceived that they were riding straight to him.\nHe looked round for some place of shelter; but there was no place on\nthe level high plains where he could hide himself. The riders\napproached nearer: he saw them divide and form a cross, and so they\nadvanced till they came quite near. Some of them alighted and went\nwith drawn sabres to him. He found that all defence was vain, and,\nthrowing away his sabre, he knelt down, bowing himself to the ground\nlike a humble slave.\n\n\"Seize him!\" called out the leader of the horsemen, \"and seat him on a\nspare horse, and bring him with us; but, by your lives, stand by me,\nand see that he does not escape.\"\n\nBoth the horsemen to whom he had spoken these words inclined full of\nreverence to him, then seized Jussuf, bound his hands, and seated him\non a horse, and, taking him between them, rode, alternately seizing\nthe bridle of his horse, at a fast trot over the high plains. The\nremaining riders followed at a little distance. With short\ninterruptions, which were necessary for the forage of the horses and\nthe rest of the men and animals, they continued riding for several\ndays. About the tenth day they reached a wide valley through which\nflowed a great river. Jussuf saw cultivated fields, gardens, and men's\ndwellings. They made him alight from his horse, and led him into the\nlittle room of a house. There they gave him everything necessary to\nmake himself clean after so long a journey. For a man who had before\nlived in the greatest affluence, he had felt very heavily in these\nlast days of his imprisonment his want of cleanliness: it seemed to\nhim, therefore, a most wonderful favour of fate that they now brought\nhim water with which to bathe himself, a comb, and some ointment for\nhis beard, and signified to him that he was to take a bath and anoint\nhimself. After he had bathed, combed his beard, and anointed himself,\nhe was conducted to the garden of the house; and here the owner of it\nadvanced towards him. After he had observed him with searching looks,\nhe said to his companions,\n\n\"Good! the man is quite right; keep him carefully and examine him for\nnine days, then we will take him to his place, and sacrifice him to\nthe fire.\" He winked with his eye, and his servants took him back to\nhis chamber, which they carefully watched.\n\nIn his solitude Jussuf thought over his fate. He lamented again his\nthoughtlessness in exposing himself alone to the dangers of a journey\nin an unknown country; he bewailed his fate in falling into the hands\nof fire-worshippers, and tried several times to open the box with the\ngolden key. Then said he to himself, \"What hope can I now have of\nattaining the end of my wishes? I am a captive, and well watched; and\nif I am delivered from captivity, it will be to sacrifice me to the\nflames.\" Often hope woke again. He still possessed the treasures that\nhe carried about his body, and they were not inconsiderable: he\nconcealed them carefully, for he hoped that they might be a means of\nbribery to his companions on the road to sacrifice, and that he might\nthus purchase his freedom. He received daily clean and good food, and\nwould have had nothing of which to complain, if he had not wanted\nfreedom, and had not the fear of death before his eyes.\n\nOn the morning of the ninth day he had a farther and faster passage\nfrom the house where he was imprisoned. Eighty black slaves rode\nforward on white horses. Then came as many white slaves on black\nhorses. After these came a number of riders, whom Jussuf could easily\ndiscern to be those who had taken him prisoner. Behind these, and\nsurrounded by them, rode the master of the country, who had destined\nhim to be sacrificed. Then came twenty venerable grey-headed men, in\nred and gold striped garments, each of whom bore a broad glittering\nblade, and a bundle of dry bamboo-sticks. Behind them followed ten\nyouths, with coal-dishes full of glowing coals. And now Jussuf was\nbrought forth, and, with his hands fastened, and his feet chained to\nthe horse, he rode between his former companions. Behind him followed\na number of armed men, and then a crowd of people. In this order the\nprocession wound along the valley. Towards evening they chose a place\nfor encampment, and struck some tents. Jussuf was watched in a\ndistinct tent. As he observed that stillness reigned in the camp, he\napproached the entrance of his tent, and called out, half aloud,\n\n\"I am very thirsty. Is no one here who could bring me a refreshing\ndrink?\"\n\nThe watchman who guarded his tent answered him, \"When my hour is up, I\nwill fetch you some water from the river. Till then remain quiet.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" sighed Jussuf, \"my lips thirst not for water; my soul thirsts\nafter liberty. I will prove myself very grateful if you will let me\nescape.\"\n\nThe watchman answered, \"I dare not; for my life is at stake.\"\n\nThis conversation continued for some time. Jussuf offered him six\npurses of sequins, and a large diamond, which was worth ten times\ntheir value. He had still a box of the finest and most costly\ndiamonds, which he had taken from Hassan. But the guard always urged\nother objections. He did not deny that he would willingly win the\nprize; but he dreaded the consequences. Jussuf proposed that he should\nflee with him, and seek another home; but he would not listen to it.\n\n\"I cannot separate from my wife and children; I must return home. What\ngood would all the possessions of earth be to me if I were obliged to\nlive a fugitive in a strange country, and consume my life longing\nafter my kindred?\"\n\nThen a thought flashed through Jussuf's mind. \"Let me stop your\nmouth--let me bind and tie you, that they may perceive that you were\novercome. When they find you so, you can exculpate yourself, saying\nthat I was too strong for you--that I stopped your mouth, so that you\ncould not cry for help. I will give you what I have said, and you can\nbury it in the sand, and dig it up at some fit season.\"\n\nThe bargain was soon struck. Jussuf gave him what he had promised. The\nguard buried the purses in the sand, hid the diamond in a fold of his\ngarment, and then allowed Jussuf to tie his hands and feet, and to\nstop his mouth. Then Jussuf passed as quietly through the camp as he\ncould, mounted one of the horses which stood ready saddled, and set\noff at a full gallop.\n\nThus he escaped fortunately. He rode the whole night, and thereby won\na lengthened start. But still he feared that they might perceive the\ntrack of the horse's hoofs, and follow him, and fetch him back; so he\nkilled his horse (whose strength was relaxing) with his dagger, and\nfled into a neighbouring wood, where he hoped, by its thickness, to be\nscreened from the pursuit of riders. Here he refreshed himself by\ndrinking at a spring of water, and with fruits and berries, which grew\nthere in abundance. He then went on farther and farther. He observed,\nin his flight, the traces of wild beasts, and was therefore afraid to\nlie down on the ground. In the evening he climbed a high tree, bound\nhimself fast to a branch, and composed himself for the night. His seat\nwas very uncomfortable, and he always feared danger. Still his\nresolution overcame his fear, and he slept quietly for some hours,\nand, strengthened with new courage, he descended, and continued his\nwanderings through the wood. He lived also this day on berries and\nwild fruits, and again ascended a high tree in the evening, in which\nhe spent the night.\n\nThus he passed several days. At last he remarked that here the land\nrose considerably. The wood soon became broken in parts with rocks;\nthe growth of the trees was not so considerable; the shrubs gradually\ndisappeared altogether; great masses of rock covered the ground.\nBetween them grew luxuriantly small bushes. At last only grass and\nmoss were to be seen. He went farther, and soon saw a bare high rock,\nfrom which extended, far and wide, only great wooded mountains. In\nthe distance arose still higher cliffs over the woods, whose summits\nshone white in the sunlight; and from some of them there arose a thick\nsmoke, as though there were a huge furnace underneath, the chimney\nbeing the top of the mountain. The air blew here cold and cutting.\nJussuf thought he could not spend the night among the bare rocks, so\nhe wandered on with activity. Before night came on he had reached a\nplace where high trees were growing, and where he again found a safe,\nbut uncomfortable, sleeping-place. He wandered about for many days on\nthe wooded mountains, and again reached a high ridge, over which he\npassed, until he arrived at a valley through which a brook ran, in a\nserpentine direction, among verdant meadows. He traced the brook\nthrough the valley, and reached a spot where it flowed into a river.\nHe now followed the course of the river, and as night came on before\nhe perceived any human habitations, he lay down on the bank among the\nhigh grass, and resolved to sleep there, since he had not seen any\ntrack of wild beasts in his passage through the valley. The hope of at\nlast reaching some inhabited spot, after so long and lonely a\nwandering among deserted woods, had urged him on this day to a longer\njourney, and he was thereby much exhausted. He had also only slept for\nmany days in a sitting and tiresome posture; he therefore found the\nhigh grass very agreeable, and slept till dawn of morning. He would\nprobably have not even then awoke had he not been forced to do so.\n\nWhen he came to himself, he saw some men on the ground, who were busy\nfastening his hands and feet with fine but very strong string. He\nwrestled with them, and threw them down. But all was in vain: he was\nbound, and they laid him on a litter of bamboo-sticks, and carried him\noff with rapid strides. They soon reached a place where the river\nbecame deeper, and broader, so that it was navigable for boats. Here\nlay a vessel on the bank, into which they carried him, and conveyed\nhim up the stream. After a journey of several hours, they reached a\ngreat city. They passed by several gardens and country houses, and at\nlast arrived at the middle of the city, which was divided by the\nriver, but connected by several high bridges. They lay off the shore,\nand carried Jussuf out of the ship into the court of a great palace,\nwhere everybody collected at once from the neighbourhood, even the\ncasual passers-by. They observed him with curious looks, handled his\nclothes, which were all cut and torn about by his wanderings in the\nthicknesses of the woods, and laughed at him. At last the owner of the\npalace appeared at the principal gate with a large retinue of\ndistinguished servants. From the respect of those around him, and the\nawe with which all present withdrew to a distance, Jussuf concluded\nthat he must be the Sultan, or the Prince of the country. He looked at\nthe poor captive, and spoke to his servants in a language which Jussuf\ndid not understand. They immediately brought a large cage of strong\nbamboo-poles. Jussuf was unbound, pushed in, and locked up. They then\nbrought out a tame elephant, put the cage on it, and so led him\nthrough the streets of the town, whilst the crier called out some\ntaunting thing in every street, and pointed at him with his stick. The\nboys threw stones at him, and even persons of more mature age derided\nhim in every possible manner. If he showed himself in pain from any of\nthe stones hitting him, and crouched up, or if he evaded any of the\nstones by the bars of his prison, every one burst out into an\nimmoderate fit of laughter. Tired of their ill treatment, he cowered\non the ground, turning his face downwards, and putting his hands over\nhis head, to guard it against the blows of the stones. As soon as the\ncrier remarked this, he pushed him with his long stick, and gave him\nsuch pokes in the ribs, that he was obliged to sit up. Jussuf was\nenraged and in despair. He turned round as quickly as possible in his\nnarrow cage, seized a bar of the lattice-work, and, shaking it,\nscreamed out,\n\n\"Is there any man among you who understands my language? Do you take\nme, then, for a strange outlandish animal, that you lead me about in a\ncage as a sight?\"\n\nAnd, as no one answered him, he despaired anew, and upbraided his\ntormentors. New laughter followed this. At last they accomplished the\ncircuit of the town. At the palace the cage was again taken down from\nthe elephant's back and placed on four posts, of the height of a\nman's stature, which stood in the court before the entrance of the\ngarden of the palace. They brought him some food, consisting of\nparboiled rice, which, in his displeasure, he allowed to remain\nuntouched. At first, several curious people had collected from among\nthe servants around him; but they soon dispersed, and left him alone\nto despair and bitter reflection.\n\nHe thought on his situation, and how he was in a distant land where\nnobody understood his language, nor could aid in delivering him from\nhis mournful imprisonment. At this moment death would have been\nwelcome. He seized his dagger, which he had carefully concealed in a\nfold of his robe, intending to put an end to his life by its means. As\nhe drew it from the sheath, a ray of the sun fell on the blade, and\nreflected back the fiery glance so as to dazzle his eyes like a glow\nof fire. A spark lighted his talisman, and immediately he remembered\nthe words of his old preceptor Modibjah. He put the dagger back, and\ntook from his bosom the pouch containing the talisman; but, as he\nlooked at the stone, the spark disappeared. It was a milk-white stone,\nlike an ordinary fragment of white porcelain: then he breathed on it\nwith a deep sigh, and with his lips said, \"Haschanascha!\"\n\nScarcely had he pronounced this name, than a slave appeared, passed\nbefore the cage, and said, \"Oh, you poor knave, how I pity you!\"\n\nAs Jussuf heard these words, he cried out joyfully, \"That is my native\nlanguage! Oh, pity an unfortunate, and tell me why I am so\nmaltreated!\"\n\n\"I dare not now,\" answered the slave: \"wait till midnight, then I will\ncome and speak to you. I pity you exceedingly: at the first glance I\nrecognized you as a countryman, and wished extremely to lighten your\nfate.\" With these words he disappeared through another door in the\npalace.\n\nThe thought that he had found a man with whom he could converse on his\nmisfortune, and who felt a sympathy for him, consoled Jussuf: all idea\nof killing himself was quite forgotten; on the contrary, he saw\nhimself again free to pursue his journey. In this disposition he felt\nwith renewed vigour the necessity of supporting life, and partook of\nthe meal spread before him. The strengthening of his body refreshed\nhis spirits. In gaining tranquillity of mind and body, his sorrows\npassed away, and he fell asleep in his cage. He awoke at midnight: the\nslave had come to speak to him.\n\n\"If you will promise with a holy oath,\" said he to Jussuf, \"that you\nwill not place me in danger by your conduct, but will talk with me\nquietly, for the time of our conversation, I will let you out of the\ncage.\"\n\n\"By the beard of the Prophet!\" swore Jussuf, \"I will be very quiet,\nand will not put you in any danger.\"\n\nAt this oath, the slave climbed up a small ladder and opened the cage,\nwhich was fastened very cunningly without a lock, but so that nobody\ncould open it unless he knew the secret. He helped Jussuf down, and\nwent with him into the garden, the door of which stood open. There\nthey seated themselves, and Jussuf asked,\n\n\"Why am I imprisoned? What is the reason that I am held up in this\nscandalous manner as a show, and shut up in a cage like a wild beast?\"\n\nTo these questions the slave replied, \"The King and the inhabitants of\nthis city are worshippers of a snake; their idol is a great serpent,\nto whom they have erected a large and magnificent temple, where he is\nattended by a great number of priests: the priests mislead the people,\nand what they wish takes place. Now, the King has one Princess--the\ndaughter of his wife by a former marriage--she is black like a\nnegress; but she has learned from her mother to know and to venerate\nthe Prophet. The King loves this black Princess dearly as an only\ndaughter; but the priests have misled him, and persuaded him to send\nher away from the Court and city, and to keep her confined in a palace\nbuilt under a stream; for they have a prophecy, according to which, at\nthe time when the white summit of that mountain, which lies to the\nnorth-east from the tower of the palace and from the cupola of the\ntemple, can be seen to smoke, a man shall come to the kingdom who\nshall marry the King's daughter, and put all the worshippers of the\nserpent to fire and sword. Now,\" he continued, \"the mountain has begun\nto smoke: the King has therefore, by the advice of his priests, given\ncommandment to his servants to seize all the foreigners they meet,\nthat they may be sacrificed to their idol. So you were found, and are\nnow destined to be a victim. The priests know of your imprisonment,\nand are making preparations for a very grand sacrifice, which is to\nlast seven days.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried Jussuf, \"shall I be offered to a snake--to a stupid,\nsuperstitious fancy?\" He wept, and begged and prayed the slave to let\nhim escape.\n\n\"How will you escape?\" asked the slave. \"It is not possible through\nthe palace--guards are at every entrance; and you would also fall into\nthe hands of the watchmen in the city. You cannot fly over the garden\nwall, for on the other side is a deep ditch, full of mud and water. If\nyou jumped over, you would be embedded in the mud.\"\n\nJussuf exhausted himself in prayers and entreaties to persuade the\nslave to help him in his flight.\n\n\"Only one means is possible,\" he replied. \"To-morrow is the day on\nwhich a messenger is usually sent to the Princess's palace, to\ninquire, in the King's name, after her health and wishes. I have many\ntimes had this commission, and will offer again. If I go, I am sure\nshe will have me brought before her, as she knows I belong to the\nFaithful, and speak many languages which she learned from her mother.\nI will relate to her your imprisonment, and ask her assistance or\ncounsel. She is as clever as good and innocent, and can give excellent\nadvice.\"\n\nAlthough Jussuf placed little reliance on this plan, still there was\nsome hope of success, and the only hope that he could find. He\ntherefore agreed to it, and returned to his cage, in which the slave\nfastened him, having told him that if he did not return at noon, he\nwas to take it as a sign that he was sent on the embassy to the\nPrincess.\n\nOn the morrow a slave brought him some food, and curious people came\nwith the King's servants to see him; but the day passed without Jussuf\nbeing able to observe his countryman among the remaining slaves in the\ncourt below. Full of hope, he watched the approach of night, when he\nhoped to receive counsel and help. The slave came at midnight and\ncalled him by his name.\n\n\"Now,\" said Jussuf, \"what news do you bring?\"\n\n\"Alas! my lord,\" answered the slave, \"I know not what to think.\nAlthough the Princess is a faithful follower of the Prophet, she was\nvery quiet when I related your history: I expected she would have\nconcerned herself about your being offered to a snake; but she heard\nme tranquilly.\"\n\nJussuf asked if she had not sent him any counsel.\n\n\"No; she said no other word,\" answered the slave, \"than, 'Tell your\ncountryman that everybody must be obedient, and resigned to the will\nof Heaven. Heathenish prophecies are often the consequence of godly\ntruth and wisdom.'\"\n\n\"What can I conclude from that?\" said Jussuf. \"In Allah's name, I must\ngive myself up as a sacrifice to a snake, because it is the will of\nHeaven!\"\n\nHe then broke out in desperate tears and cries.\n\n\"Listen,\" said the slave: \"do not abandon all hope; I will give you\ngood counsel. She has charged me to tell the King that to-morrow she\nwishes once more to visit her father in his palace. This is the first\ntime since she has dwelt in her own palace. The King has sent her\npermission, as he thinks the prophecy cannot be now fulfilled, seeing\nthat he has you in his power. She will certainly go into the garden,\nand pass through that farther door. When she passes, call her, and\nrelate your case, and beg her to deliver you. She understands your\nlanguage, and will certainly feel pity when she hears and sees you.\"\nHe now turned away as a glimmer of light fell on him from one of the\npalace windows. \"Farewell, I must away,\" whispered he; \"it must not be\nbetrayed that I have given you advice. Do not forget to call to her:\nonly from her can you hope for anything. Call her Haschanascha: that\nis her name.\" With these words he left the palace quickly.\n\n\"Haschanascha is her name! How? Is not that the name of her whom I was\nto call in the ruins of the destroyed capital? Shall I not call her if\nthe spark in Modibjah's talisman no longer shines? Is not Haschanascha\nthe magic word which has led me here alone, away from all men who\nunderstand my language and share my anxieties?\"\n\nSo he spoke to himself, and determined to follow the counsel given him\nby the slave.\n\nAfter he had passed the night, partly in unquiet wakefulness, partly\nin dozing, he observed in the early part of the morning a great\ndisturbance and unusual business in the courtyard. It was quiet in the\ninner court, when the Princess at last came. At this moment all\npressed into the square before the palace. When Jussuf saw this, he\npulled the talisman out of his pocket, and thought, \"I must see if the\nstone preserves its spark. It seems a good sign of deliverance.\" And,\nbehold, as he drew it forth, the red spot shone more fiery than ever.\nAt noon he suddenly heard a trampling, as if the procession of slaves\nof the Princess were going into the garden. He attentively watched the\nappointed door, and he soon saw her pass, and her father, followed by\na long train.\n\nAt this moment Jussuf cried out, \"Haschanascha! Haschanascha! pity an\nunfortunate!\"\n\nOn hearing the cry she looked up at Jussuf, and the King also gazed at\nhim full of astonishment. Meantime the Princess drew near, and he\nfollowed her close. When he had said some words to her, she asked\nJussuf,\n\n\"My King and foster-father asks who taught you the name Haschanascha?\"\n\nJussuf knew that he ought not to betray the faithful slave, and yet he\nwished to confess the truth. He said, therefore,\n\n\"Before I knew that it was the name of a human being, my old teacher,\nModibjah, taught me, whatever difficulties and dangers befell me, to\npronounce the word Haschanascha. It has always been a defence to me\nwhenever I have pronounced it. May it this time also procure me\nassistance!\"\n\n\"You have named to me a very dear name,\" answered the Princess; \"and\nit is a sign that you are he whom I must release from being\nsacrificed. But there is only one way--you must be my husband. This is\nthe command of a higher being whom you must obey. Examine, if you\nwill not thus purchase life and liberty at too dear a price. Without\nthe fulfilling of this condition, I cannot deliver you. I give you\ntime for consideration. When I return from the garden, let me know\nyour determination.\"\n\nShe pronounced these words in a loud, earnest tone, and then turned\nwith her father into the garden. The train of slaves accompanied them.\nJussuf gave himself up to deep thought.\n\n\"I had selected a different one for my future bride; I would not take\nmany wives, according to our customs, but only one companion for life,\nwho was my playfellow, whom I have sought for, and for whose sake I\nhave encountered these dangers. If I take this black Princess for my\nwife, it will only be from love of life, that I may be freed from\nprison. Then I must leave my old playfellow.\"\n\nHe thus meditated for some time, and at last resolved of the two evils\nto choose the lesser. When the Princess returned from the garden, he\ncalled her by name, and she approached with her father, and asked him,\nwith an earnest mien and firm tone, what resolution he had adopted.\n\n\"How could I remain a moment in doubt?\" answered he. \"You, dearest\nPrincess, will condescend to a poor unknown, and become my wife. You\nare the sun of my life. Without you life is worth nothing.\"\n\nAt these words she broke out into a hearty laugh. When she had\nfinished laughing, she said, \"Ah! I see you are like all men--a\nhypocrite and a jester. Much truth is in your jesting words. I am the\nsun of your life! Without me life would be worth nothing! Indeed,\nwithout me, you would be sacrificed to a snake!\" She seated herself,\nand said, \"Be not afraid: swear to me by the Prophet that you will\ntake me for your wife, and you shall to-day be delivered from your\nprison.\"\n\nJussuf swore; and now she turned to her father, and spoke earnestly\nwith him in his language. But the faithful slave approached the cage,\nand interpreted all that was said.\n\n\"It is not prudent to keep this man imprisoned without knowing whether\nhe is the right one to offer to the snake. You have seized the best,\nand in the meanwhile justice is forgotten. Have the priests to the\nsnake called, that they may see him, and that I may speak with them.\"\n\nThe King answered that this would be easy, as two priests had arrived\nfrom the snake's temple, before they had gone into the garden, to\ndemand an audience.\n\nThey were called, and there soon appeared the priests in long white\ngarments, with particoloured girdles.\n\n\"Is this the man pointed out by your god?\" asked she, as they\napproached Jussuf's cage.\n\n\"It is, it is!\" they cried in the same voice, and bowed humbly before\nthe Princess.\n\n\"What have you for a sign?\" she again asked.\n\n\"We have no sign,\" they answered; \"but he it is.\"\n\n\"You have no sign! How, then, do you know he is the right one?\" asked\nshe.\n\nTo which they answered, \"The divine snake has discovered it.\"\n\nThen she replied, with contempt, \"Be silent to me about your snake!\"\nAnd she turned to the King, and said, \"My King and father, will you\nsuffer yourself any longer to be deceived by these stupid and\nobstinate men? They give out that they have divine knowledge, and yet\nthey are as ignorant as a maiden of sixteen! I beg you, have their\ngod, the snake, brought here, and I will prove that I speak truth; but\nthey, only deceit and falsehood.\"\n\nAt these words, the priests doubled their fists, and struck their\nforeheads and breasts, and bowed themselves to the ground, and jumped\nabout as if seized by convulsions.\n\nThen the King looked at the Princess with a frightened countenance,\nand said, \"Child, take heed what you do; revile not the gods.\"\n\nAll the servants who stood around were astonished, not rightly\ncomprehending what was passing. But the Princess earnestly coaxed the\nKing to cause the priests to bring the divine serpent there, that they\nmight test the truth of what she had spoken. The King gave the\ncommand, and the priests left; at the Princess's request the King\nremained. All stood around in anxious expectation.\n\nThey had not to wait long before a numerous train of priests appeared,\neight of whom bore, on four golden staves, a costly chest adorned with\ngold, ebony, and precious stones, and placed it in the middle of the\ncourt. Then they bowed before the King, and the high priest stepped\nforward and said,\n\n\"The King has given us an unusual command, and we fear that a great\nmisfortune is about to happen. What is the reason that we are summoned\nfrom the recesses of the temple, and must even bring the divine snake\nin its chest with us?\"\n\nThen the Princess said, \"I will explain all. It is doubted that you\nreally take charge of a divine snake; therefore let the chest be\nopened, and show it to the people.\"\n\nThen the priests answered, \"Do the people doubt of our god? Let the\ndoubters approach and be convinced.\"\n\nHe opened the lid, and every one saw a great snake in the chest It lay\nstupefied, as snakes usually do after a heavy repast.\n\nThe Princess approached the chest, and cried, \"Behold, doubters! is\nnot this a snake?\" Then she turned to the high priest, and asked, \"Has\nyour god shown you no sign by which you may know the man that ought to\nbe sacrificed?\" The high priest mused, but did not reply. Then she\nsaid, \"Now I will show you the truth. Man does not properly understand\nheavenly things. I honour your prudence; but answer me another\nquestion. Would your god know its enemies if there were any such here?\nAnd would he revenge himself on them if they attempted his life?\"\n\n\"Certainly, certainly!\" vociferated the priest. \"Fire would fall from\nheaven and destroy them.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" she said; \"I am the enemy, and your god dies by my hand.\"\nAnd quickly, even before she had quite uttered these words, she drew\nher poniard and with it pierced the head of the snake, so that the\nweapon ran into its chest and transfixed it.\n\nThe priests gave a common cry, and the King seized the Princess by\nboth arms, and pulled her back.\n\n\"My child, my child!\" he cried, \"what have you done?\"\n\n\"What you, my father, ought long since to have done,\" she replied.\n\"Will you all believe,\" she called aloud to the spectators, \"that I\nhave done right in killing this snake, if I tell you what you will\nfind within it?\"\n\nAfter a short pause, the King answered, \"Yes, certainly.\" And the\npeople cried, \"Then is the snake rightly slain--it was no god.\"\n\nThe priests said to the King, \"She shall tell us; but we will accuse\nher of its death if she does not speak truth.\"\n\nThe Princess cried with a firm voice, \"Let it be so; I promise them.\"\n\nThe King bowed consent.\n\nThen she said, \"There is a man among us whose wife sits at home\nweeping and bewailing, for she had a beautiful little boy, eighteen\nmonths old, who often ran about the streets. This child did not return\nhome yesterday: it was taken to the snake's temple, and the priests\nknow where it is. Let the man step forward and seek his child in the\nsnake's belly.\"\n\nWhile she was speaking, a deep silence reigned around; but now a man\nbroke forth from the crowd, and said, \"It is true; I am the man. My\nbeautiful boy, my Hamed, has not returned, and my wife sits at home\nand weeps. I left her, for I could not bear to hear her lament.\"\n\nThen arose a common shout of astonishment and compassion from all, and\nhe waited long for silence.\n\nThen the Princess said to the man, \"Draw your sword, cut open the\nsnake, and you will find your child. I do not know if life still\nremain in him--the snake has only swallowed it an hour.\"\n\nThe man approached the chest, drew his sword with a trembling hand,\nand opened the snake with an anxious face. When, behold, he pulled out\nhis child! He immediately ran with him from the palace, as he thought\nhe discovered some slight traces of life in him. Then the priests fell\non their knees before the King, and begged for pardon.\n\nBut the people, who were assembled in great crowds, cried, \"Down with\nthem! down with them!\" and laid hands on them, as the King commanded\nthem to be imprisoned.\n\nThe Princess now turned to the King, and said, \"Let us release this\nunfortunate man: he has come as a stranger into our land, to whom you\nought to have shown hospitality; instead of which you have imprisoned\nhim as a criminal; you have mocked and jeered him, whilst, by your\noath, you should have allowed him to quit your city free. Let what you\nhave said in mockery of him be now reversed to his honour; for a\nKing's word must not be blown away by the wind. This and no other\nshall be my husband.\"\n\nThe King commanded, and the prisoner was immediately freed. He bowed\nthankfully to the King and Princess. The King raised him, embraced\nhim, called him his son, and led him to the Princess, saying,\n\n\"Let him be your husband: the solemnities of marriage shall be\nimmediately prepared.\"\n\nHe caused his servants to proclaim through the city that the marriage\nof Princess Haschanascha was to be celebrated the next day, and all\npeople were invited to assemble before the palace and to feast there.\nIn his palace he pointed out to Jussuf a wing, in the apartments of\nwhich he for the future should dwell with his wife.\n\nBut the Princess said, \"I will inhabit the apartments which I formerly\ndwelt in in this palace; for I only consider myself as his betrothed,\ntill an imam of the religion which we both profess has pronounced over\nus the marriage blessing.\"\n\nThe King did not oppose her, but said, \"You may command all as it\npleases you. Since yesterday, I have discovered that you possess more\nknowledge and wisdom than the rest of mankind.\"\n\nThe betrothal was celebrated with great splendour. The King, according\nto his former oath, showed Jussuf all honour, carried him to his\ndifferent country seats, pointed out to him his gardens and lands,\nprepared many feasts, and did all to make his residence in his Court\nagreeable. The Princess accompanied them everywhere, and helped not a\nlittle to render these short journeys pleasing and satisfactory. She\nwatched with great care for the convenience of her future husband, and\nsought to fulfil even his smallest wish before he had spoken it; so\nthat Jussuf was often astonished, and said to himself, \"She must read\nmy thoughts before they arise.\" He felt that he was happy in\neverything except in her having a black complexion. One day they all\nwent together to a beautiful neighbouring hunting-seat, in the\nenvirons of which a grand hunt was held. The Princess Haschanascha\ntook part in it. She rode on a tame elephant, over whose back was\nthrown a cloth embroidered with gold. On the middle of its back a\ncouch was skilfully fastened, and over this a canopy was raised on\nfour slender pillars of gold. Jussuf remained generally near her\nduring the hunt. He rode on a beautiful horse of the most noble race,\nwhich the King had sent him from his stable. Whenever he saw a curious\nbird or a wild beast, he aimed so well that the animal always fell\npierced by his arrow. In the evening when they returned to the palace\nfrom the wood, Jussuf wished to remain there some days away from the\nbustle of the Court, and the King granted this wish. He left behind\nsome servants to wait on him, and returned with his daughter to the\ncapital.\n\nAt parting, Haschanascha appeared very sad, and Jussuf perceived tears\nin her eyes.\n\n\"I know,\" said she, \"this stay will be unfortunate for me; you will\nforget me: even the talisman of your teacher Modibjah will fall into\nother hands, and on it depends my life. Might it be that this\nbody--this hateful black veil of Haschanascha--should fall to pieces\nif it might conduce to your happiness. You will soon awake from a\nbright dream to longer and more bitter sorrows.\"\n\nJussuf consoled her, and represented that she troubled herself with\nuseless fears. He took an affectionate farewell of her, and saw the\nprocession depart not without emotion: he would willingly have\naccompanied her, but an irresistible feeling held him back. He went,\nas he was now quite alone, into the garden, which was adorned with\ncurious flowers.\n\n\"Why was it,\" said he anxiously to himself, \"that Haschanascha was\nto-day so mournful at parting? She is so prudent, and with her clear\neyes foresees the events of life. Why can she fear that I should ever\nallow Modibjah's talisman to get into a stranger's hands when I always\nwear it?\" With these words he pulled the little bag out, and said,\n\"No, I will never separate from you unless you are taken by force. But\ncan robbers be sheltered in this land?\"\n\nWhilst he asked himself these questions, he thought that it would be\nbetter not to carry it in his bosom, where it might easily be found if\nhe were searched. He therefore wrapped it up carefully in the folds of\nhis turban, and believed it to be quite safe.\n\nNight had spread its veil over the garden, and he returned to the\npalace. Wonderful dreams disturbed his sleep, and their impressions\naccompanied him when he went into the garden the next morning. He had\ndreamt a great deal about red poppy-flowers, and now he saw them\nbefore him in the garden-beds. He found some alone in a bed, and while\nhe watched them he again saw in fancy the same butterfly that he had\nbefore seen in his own garden upon similar flowers, and the memory of\nthe circumstances Of the last time were deeply graven in his soul.\nThen he again dwelt upon the maiden to seek whom he had made this\njourney. Thus, amid these reflections, he took hold of the wooden box\nwhich he had received from the dervish in the subterraneous chambers\nin the ruined city near Shiraz.\n\n\"Without thee,\" said he, \"could I never have obtained the object of my\ndesires? And of what use have you been to me till to-day? You ought to\nlead me straight to my mark, and I should always be in the right way\nas long as I did not open the box with the golden key. You indeed have\nled me through dangers and misery, and at the end to a betrothal with\na maiden as different from the one I sought as day from night. And\nshall I open you only when I have lost all hope to attain my desire?\nWell, let us see what it contains.\"\n\nWith these words he pulled out the golden key and unlocked the box;\nbut he let it fall to the earth with a joyous cry, for scarcely had he\nopened it when the curious butterfly flew out, hovered in the sunshine\nover the flowers, and soon settled on one of the poppies. He quickly\nsnatched off his turban, and covered with it the butterfly and the\nflowers. When he raised it, a figure was underneath, and before him\nstood his pleasant playfellow.\n\n\"Are you truly she? Do I really see you at last?\" he cried,\nastonished.\n\n\"I am truly she,\" she answered. \"Have you quite forgotten me, that you\nhave allowed so long a time to elapse without asking after me? But\nwhat have you done with your turban? Let us see.\"\n\nShe took it from his head, sought in the folds, and pulled out the\nlittle bag with the talisman.\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" cried she, returning his turban, \"do you carry such things\nabout with you? You will not want it any more: I will keep it.\" And\nshe sprang forward.\n\nHe ran after her and caught her, begging her to return his pouch,\nexplaining that it contained a talisman which had hitherto preserved\nhim from every danger.\n\n\"Well,\" said she, when he paused, \"and the only error is, that you\nhave met with me again to-day.\"\n\nShe assured him that she would never return the talisman, and began\nmany games with him as they had done in the garden at Balsora. At\ndinner-time he asked her to go into the palace to take some\nrefreshment. She looked at him with a scornful laugh, and said, \"I? Go\nunder a roof--sit to table with you to partake of meats prepared from\nthe flesh of animals and the flour of wheat? What can you mean? Do you\nnot recollect the fig that we ate together? It still nourishes me; but\nI know that you need more.\"\n\nShe went to a neighbouring bush, plucked a white blossom, and offered\nit to him. \"There, drink honey,\" said she.\n\nWhen he took the flower, it changed into a silver-gilt goblet filled\nwith delicious drink. He drank, and felt himself quite refreshed,\nstrengthened, and satisfied. They again played many childish games\ntogether, and the maiden always invented new pastimes. The day passed\nby, and Jussuf did not perceive how the hours flew away: the sun was\njust sinking; then his playfellow sprang over a neighbouring bush, and\ncried, \"Good night.\"\n\nAs she passed over the flowers of the bush, she disappeared from\nJussuf's eyes, and he saw only the butterfly flying. When he returned\nto the palace, his servants were much rejoiced. They had waited for\nhim since noon, and had searched for him in the gardens, as an embassy\nhad been sent from the capital to bring him news that the Princess had\nsuddenly fallen ill. He caused the messengers to be brought before\nhim, to learn from them all the attendant circumstances. He\ndiscovered from them that she had retired to rest early the preceding\nevening, and had risen quite well in the morning after a peaceful\nslumber; but hardly had the sun shone half an hour, when she fell, and\nwas obliged to be carried to her apartments. She soon came to herself,\nbut felt very weak, and informed her sorrowing father that she must\ndie. Jussuf was very thoughtful, for he remembered her warning about\nthe talisman, and also recollected that it was exactly the same hour\nin which the maiden had taken it from the folds of his turban. He\nresolved early the next morning to desire the talisman from her\nearnestly, and then to hasten to the city; and commanded the embassy\nto return at sunrise the next day, to announce his arrival in the\nevening. In the loneliness of night he felt angry with himself. But\nthe loss of the talisman, which exceedingly disquieted him, was not\nthe only reason: it was a mortifying feeling to him that he had passed\nthe whole day in childish sports, according to the caprice of his\nplayfellow. He thought over all the words they had spoken, and found\nnothing in them but excessive frivolity.\n\nHe arose the next morning by daybreak, and at sunrise he again stood\nin the garden. Scarcely had the sun's rays dried the dew, when the\nbeautiful butterfly hovered over the beds. Once more it settled on a\npoppy. Jussuf covered it with his turban--the change was again\ncompleted--the maiden once more stood before him. He immediately\ndemanded of her the little bag with the talisman.\n\nShe mocked him with a mischievous laugh, and said, \"You shall not have\nit to-day: perhaps to-morrow, if you are polite.\"\n\nThen they again began their sports, and Jussuf soon forgot in their\namusements everything else, and played and sported with her. She gave\nhim, in the same manner as yesterday, honey to drink from a flower,\nafter she had sipped a little herself, and knew how to draw him round\nthe gardens in her sports, so that nobody met them. On this day also\nhis servants sought him in the garden, and could not find him; another\nmessenger had arrived from the city, wishing to speak to him in great\nhaste.\n\nHe did not return to the palace till she had flown away as a\nbutterfly. The messenger informed him that the Princess still\nremained very unwell, and that her weakness had materially increased\nwhen he did not arrive as he had promised. She had not said anything\nabout this delay; but the King was very unhappy, and requested that he\nwould come to the city the next day. He promised it, ordered the\nmessenger to return at daybreak, and went into his sleeping-apartment.\nThere he again reproached himself as on the previous day, and resolved\nto set out on the morrow, as soon as his playmate should return the\ntalisman. When he met her the next day in the garden, he immediately\nasked for it.\n\n\"How now, Jussuf?\" said she. \"What a tone! Is this the way to greet\nyour frolicking playmate? Is it worth while to make such a fuss about\na miserable fragment of stone?\" She bowed to him, laughing, and ran\noff.\n\nJussuf followed, and when he got near her, cried, \"It concerns the\nlife of the Princess.\"\n\nThen she stopped, and asked, \"Is this the reason of your earnestness?\nThe Princess? The black negress? What binds you to her? Do you\nconsider her as a creature like yourself? And, even if it were so,\nwhat can such a tiresome serious person be to you? Have you ever\nplayed with her an hour so merrily as we have played the whole day?\nAnd, believe me, my stock is not yet nearly exhausted. I have\nnovelties every day.\"\n\nShe again began a game, and, before Jussuf could recollect himself, he\nhad deeply entered into it; and he had soon forgotten the messenger,\nhis intentions, and his resolutions. He played with her till evening,\nand returned to the palace when she had disappeared as usual. He had\nbeen sought for as on the former days, but in vain. A fresh messenger\nhad brought still worse tidings of Haschanascha's health, and he made\nthe bitterest reproaches to himself for his neglect. He ordered his\nhorse to be saddled, and, as it was a moonlight night, he returned to\nthe city with the messenger. At his arrival, he saw the windows of the\napartment inhabited by his betrothed still illuminated. He immediately\nwent in and inquired after her health: people shrugged their\nshoulders, and he hastened to go in to her. She lay, breathing\nfaintly, on her pillow, and beckoned to him to draw near: she then\nmotioned to the servants, who left the apartment. He threw himself on\nhis knees by the couch and wept, mourned her affliction, and regretted\nthat he had not paid more attention to her warnings.\n\n\"I know how it has happened,\" she said; \"still, the worst has not\nhappened. You have been forced to leave the talisman in her hands:\ntake care that she does not keep it with your consent. I am now weak\nand ill: I shall become still weaker; but so long as you possess the\nearnest wish to recover the talisman, my life will be preserved.\nReturn, now, whence you came, and let not the King see you. He is\nangry with you because he is sure you are the cause of my illness.\"\n\nHe obeyed her will, and returned to the hunting-seat by daybreak. He\nwould not lose the vivid recollection of Haschanascha's mournful\ncondition by going to sleep; but went immediately into the garden, and\nwhen the sun had sufficient influence to dry the dew on the flowers,\nhe again saw the butterfly settle on a poppy. This time he kept his\nturban on his head, and tried to catch the butterfly with his hand;\nbut it eluded him, and a wasp within the same flower stung his hand,\nso that it swelled very much. The butterfly flew away, and did not\nreturn to the garden. The hours passed very slowly, and would have\nseemed longer if his mind had not been agitated by various plans to\nrecover the talisman. To do this, he must find its present possessor,\nand he reproached himself with having allowed the butterfly to escape\nby his awkwardness. At noon he returned to the palace, to the great\nastonishment of his servants, who were now accustomed not to see him\nall day. When he had eaten, he reposed a few hours on his couch, and,\non his awaking, a messenger had come from the city with the news that\nthe Princess was better since the morning. Thus the day concluded with\nmore inward peace than heretofore: only one fear made him sad, that\nperhaps the butterfly had disappeared for ever from the garden, and\nthen he could never recover his talisman.\n\nBut the next morning, when he went into the garden, he found the\nbutterfly perched on a poppy in the sunshine. He threw his turban over\nit, and again the maiden stood before him. He asked her why she had\nnot come the previous day, and she answered,\n\n\"Oh, there was a clumsy peasant in the garden who tried to catch me in\nhis hand, like an ugly fly! He would have rubbed the beautiful dust\noff my wings; and then, what would have become of my beauty? I could\nnot allow it, for my clothing is beautiful.\" She laughed so\nmaliciously, that he well knew who she meant by the clumsy peasant.\n\nBefore he could reply, she had engaged him in a new game, and then in\nanother, and so on, that he could find no opportunity to demand the\ntalisman. Even so passed the next and some following days. Messengers\narrived daily from the city to bring news of the Princess's health.\nBut these news were not comforting: the invalid grew worse from day to\nday, and the whole company of physicians knew no name for the disease,\nnor could they apply a remedy. If the priests were to be believed,\nthis long and extraordinary sickness was a consequence of killing the\nsacred snake, and a punishment from heaven. Scarcely had this\nconclusion reached the King's ear, than it found credence in his weak\nmind. He caused the still imprisoned high priest to be called before\nhim, and he advised that the priests should be immediately set at\nliberty, and reinstated in their former rank. It was proclaimed\nthrough the city that sacrifices and gifts should be offered, and that\nall the people were to return to the worship of the snake. The priests\ngave it out that they had found a similar snake, and Jussuf was again\ndestined for the principal sacrifice, as the Princess lay so near\ndeath that she scarcely breathed or gave any sign of life. Jussuf had,\nin the meanwhile, passed many days in play; and, although he daily\nreceived tidings of the Princess, he was ignorant of everything else\nthat passed in the capital. On one of the last days, he proposed to\nhis playfellow that she should be his wife, and go home with him.\n\nBut she laughed, and said, \"Are you not already betrothed to\nHaschanascha? Did you think I did not know it? I also know that you\nhave dared this with many women. You have turned your house into a\nseraglio, as birds are kept in a cage. How hateful must such a life\nbe! Shall I allow myself to be bound for life by the speaking of a\nhoary imam? Heaven forbid it!\" She began to jump and dance before\nJussuf, while she sang:\n\n[Illustration]\n\n    \"A happy life, a roving wing,\n    A sprightly dance, a voice to sing,\n    To sport 'mid flowers and crowns of spring,\n    Such, such be the life for me.\n    No care to-day, no toil the morrow,\n    Ever sunshine, never sorrow:\n    I sip and quaff the honied wine\n    With my rosy lips divine.\n    Fearless I stray, whate'er my will,\n    Seeking pleasure, pleasure still.\n    Such, such be the life for me:\n    Who aims at more, a fool is he.\"\n\nWhen she had finished her song, she bowed before Jussuf in a mocking\nmood, and said,\n\n\"How does that please you, Jussuf? Why, you are making a face as if\nyou had drunk poison. What thoughts are now passing through your\nhead?\"\n\n\"I am thinking of the talisman,\" answered Jussuf. \"Give it me to-day.\nHaschanascha lies at the point of death.\"\n\n\"What of that?\" asked she, jestingly: \"if there be one such black\ncreature more or less in the world, what consequence is it to you?\nCome, will you give me your talisman? It has served you well. Be\npolite for once, and say that you give it me.\"\n\nShe approached him, patted his cheek with her left hand, and holding\nout the talisman with her right, said smiling,\n\n\"Does it belong to me? Is it not true that you have given it me?\"\n\nJussuf's first impulse was to say Yes; but when he looked into her\neyes, and, instead of human eyes, saw a great number of butterflies'\neyes, horror came over him. He snatched away the talisman, and threw\nit quickly over his head, calling on Haschanascha's name.\n\nAt this moment Haschanascha's elephant appeared exactly as he had seen\nit at the hunt. A brown slave, with a head-dress of beautiful feathers\nand variegated jewels, acted as leader, with a short staff in his\nhand. A maiden holding a drawn bow knelt on the elephant, and before\nJussuf perceived it, the arrow flew from the bow, and his playfellow\nlay in his arms, pierced through with the arrow. Fright and\nastonishment took possession of him. Before he recovered himself, the\nelephant, with its guide, had disappeared, and also the deadly-struck\nmaiden lay no longer in his arms. He looked on the ground to find\ntraces of her blood, which he had seen gush out. There lay the\nbeautiful butterfly, transfixed with a needle shaped like an arrow, as\nmen keep such insects in a collection. He took it from the ground, and\nperceived again the wooden box and golden key which he had formerly\nopened and dropped. In doubt whether he were awake or asleep, he shut\nthe butterfly fast up in the box, and was going thoughtfully away.\nThen the faithful slave came running to him, quite breathless, and\ncried,\n\n\"Flee quickly through the garden! The servants of the priests have\nalready arrived in the palace-yard, and ask for you: you are again\ndestined for a sacrifice.\"\n\nHe asked after the Princess.\n\n\"She must be dead,\" answered the slave, and pressed him, half with\nprayers and entreaties, and half with force, to take flight.\n\nJussuf hastened through the garden into the wood which joined it, and\nran like a startled roe urged forward by terror and dread of its\npursuers. The wood covered his flight. He came to the river below the\ncapital, and found a ship about to go down the stream. The man who\nguided it yielded to his earnest request, took him in, and immediately\nset sail. At the approach of night, Jussuf thought they would have\nlanded; but the man informed him, to his great joy, that the moon\nwould shine clearly, and favour their voyage. They let the ship float\ndown, and only guided it with a rudder now and then, when they saw a\nrock or a dangerous place stand out of the water.\n\nAt midnight Jussuf made the man understand that he would guide the\nrudder. He gave it up readily, and lay down to sleep. He sat alone in\nthe stillness of night at the helm, and thought over the events of the\nlast few days. All passed distinctly before his mind. He remembered\nHaschanascha's sorrow at his resolution to remain alone at the\nhunting-seat; her warning about the talisman; her illness when he no\nlonger possessed it; her life withering away, and her death. Then he\nthought of the sorrow of her foster-father the King, and how he had\nagain fallen under the dominion of the crafty and deceitful\nsnake-priests. Also the image of his playful companion rose before\nhim, and the merry childish sports in which they had both joined, and\nin which he had always forgotten all the care and sorrow of\nHaschanascha.\n\nHe saw her, again, pierced by the arrow, sinking in his arms. He also\nremembered Haschanascha's appearance as she knelt on the elephant, and\nshot the deadly arrow at his companion. Could this only have been a\nshade of the dead one? or was it she herself? No; she herself was\ndead: the faithful slave had assured him so. All these reflections\nbrought no peace to his soul. Involuntarily Haschanascha's superiority\nto his playfellow rose before him, and he felt with surprise that at\nthese thoughts his cheeks were wet with tears.\n\nOn the morrow they came near a city: he wished to recompense the\nseaman, who had now reached his destination. Whilst he sought for a\npiece of gold out of his purse, he remembered that he had left the box\nof diamonds with the rest of his goods in the palace in his hasty\nflight. The seaman would take nothing, but assured him that by having\ntaken charge of the vessel during the night he had quite earned his\npassage-money.\n\nJussuf parted from him with many thanks. In the city he sold his\ncostly clothes, which he had bought new in the city of the\nsnake-worshippers, clothed himself in the mean dress of a dervish,\nhad his eyebrows scraped off, and set off on foot along the course of\nthe river. After a tedious wandering of some weeks, he happily reached\nthe place where, in his former journey, he had observed the river flow\nby a city into the sea. He met there many who spoke his language, and\nfrom them he learned that a ship lay in the harbour, which was to sail\nthe next day to Balsora. He immediately resolved to embark in it, and\nreturn home.\n\nThe captain was very ready to take him, and when he asked about the\npassage-money, he answered, \"What! you want to pay passage-money? What\nwould my master say if I took anything from a poor devil like you? No,\nno, the rich merchant Jussuf of Balsora, who has twenty such ships on\nthe sea, takes no passage-money from a poor dervish.\"\n\n\"How!\" asked Jussuf, \"does the merchant Jussuf still live?\"\n\nThen the captain laughed heartily, and said, \"Indeed he lives. He is\nnow, certainly, on a distant journey, but his business still prospers.\nLook at this proof. This box of diamonds is a treasure than which no\nSultan has any more precious in his treasury, and this has been given\nme to-day by one of his servants to convey to Balsora.\"\n\nJussuf saw with astonishment the box which he had left behind in his\nflight from the hunting-seat. He did not wish to be recognized in his\npoor condition, and feared to be taken for an impostor if he claimed\nthe treasure. But he could not understand how the box could come into\nthe captain's hands. He therefore turned to him, and said,\n\n\"Forgive me, sir, my curiosity, and tell me if you knew Jussuf's\nservant who brought the box?\"\n\nBut the captain answered angrily, \"Listen. I have certainly mistaken\nyou, as I thought you were a dervish; therefore I am displeased that\nyou speak so disrespectfully of the mighty merchant Jussuf, talking of\nhim as if he were your equal. When you next pronounce his name, give\nhim the honour due to him, and forget not the 'lord.' But as you asked\nif I knew the servant, know that I had never seen him before; but I\ndid not doubt, when he gave it me in my lord's name. If he had given\nme only the ten thousandth part in worth in his lord's name, there\nwould have been cause to doubt.\"\n\nThe next day a favourable south wind blew; they weighed anchor, and\nthe ship, under press of sail, left the harbour for the open sea.\n\nThe voyage was prosperous. No cloud overcast the heavens, the wind\ncontinued favourable, and, in the shortest possible time, they landed\nin the Port of Balsora. There lay many new ships at anchor, ready\nprepared, and laden with various wares.\n\n\"See,\" said the active captain to Jussuf, in saying farewell; \"these\nnew ships belong also to the same Lord Jussuf. Do not forget when you\ngo into the city to see his palace, and also his warehouse in the\nbazaar.\"\n\nJussuf promised not to forget it; and, on his entrance into the city,\nwent straight to the bazaar. He passed through the row where his\nwarehouse used to stand, and was astonished to see a much larger one\nin its place, adorned on the outside with precious metals and costly\nstones; but in the interior was contained riches and a great heap of\njewels, such as he had seen in the subterranean chambers of the ruins\nnear Shiraz.\n\nHe pushed through the crowd, and saw that six young men were\nunceasingly occupied in selling. He pressed forward, and stood\nimmediately before one of the traders.\n\n\"To whom does this warehouse belong?\" asked he, when no buyer seemed\nready to occupy him.\n\n\"You must only have arrived here to-day, if you do not know that there\nis only one merchant in Balsora who can display such riches. You must\nhave heard the name of the merchant Jussuf, the king of merchants!\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I have certainly heard that name,\" answered Jussuf; \"but I\nthought that he had shut up his warehouse, and gone on a far journey.\"\n\n\"That is very true,\" replied the young man; \"but a few weeks ago he\nsent his brother, Hassan Assad, who carries on the commerce, and has\ntaken account of the treasures which he sends here from his journeys.\nThis business is much increased; it is well seen that my Lord Jussuf\ndoes not leave his affairs in strange hands without good reason.\"\n\n\"You named his brother, and I have heard that your lord had no\nbrother. What do you, then, mean?\" asked Jussuf.\n\n\"Hassan Assad is not his brother, but his wife's brother,\" was the\nanswer.\n\n\"His wife?\" asked Jussuf, with unfeigned astonishment.\n\n\"I know not how it seems to you,\" said the young man. \"What is there\nso much to be wondered at, and to stand with open mouth? Why should\nnot my Lord Jussuf have a wife? for he might have them by the dozen.\nIf all this interests you so much, go to his palace: there are idle\npeople enough there that can satisfy your curiosity. I have no time:\nsome buyers are waiting whom I have neglected by my conversation with\nyou.\"\n\nHe turned to the customers, apologized for his inattention, and\ndemanded their wishes.\n\nJussuf resolved to follow his advice and go to the palace. He no\nlonger recognized it: two small palaces which stood on each side had\nbeen thrown down, and, in their places, two wings had been added to\nhis own. The principal door of the middle palace stood open, and many\nmale and female servants went in and out. He asked one of the porters\nto whom the palace belonged, and received the same answer as at the\nbazaar.\n\n\"But will your lord ever come again?\" he asked. \"He has been gone a\nlong while; no man knows where he is, and he has sent no messengers\nback.\"\n\n\"What! sent no messenger?\" cried both porters in a breath; \"he has\nsent his wife here a long time since, and has himself arrived to-day.\nHis brother Hassan Assad has always had sure news of him, and so he\nknew of his arrival to-day, and has prepared everything for his\nreception. His old teacher, who had not before been seen for years,\nhas come forth to-day from his solitude, and arrived here.\"\n\n\"What! Modibjah also here?\" he asked.\n\n\"See, see!\" answered both, \"you know his name better than we. Yes,\nyes, his name is Modibjah: I could not recollect.\"\n\n\"Let me go in, good people,\" said he, \"that I may speak to him.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said one of them, obstructing the way; \"what business have\nyou in? The marriage ceremony is about to be performed in the hall,\nafter the manner of our religion; the imam is just now gone in;\ntherefore no strangers can be admitted.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried Jussuf, \"your lord already arrived? Where is the\nimpostor? Let me in, that I may confront him.\"\n\nBoth porters opposed him, because he tried to force his way in.\n\n\"Do you not know your lord,\" asked Jussuf, full of indignation, \"that\nyou thus oppose him?\"\n\nThey assured him that they had not been long in Assad's service, and\ndid not know Jussuf; but they had been told that he was arrived.\n\n\"Yes,\" cried Jussuf, \"he is arrived, but not yet in his palace; he\nwill soon be in.\"\n\nWith these words he pushed the nearest on one side, threw him to the\nground, and then the other also. He pressed forward quickly into the\nsplendid hall, unopposed by the numerous servants, to whom he seemed\nto come from the passage into the hall. He placed himself in the\nmidst, and cried with great earnestness,\n\n\"Who dares here to usurp Jussuf's place? Who dares here to pass for\nJussuf's wife? I am Jussuf, who was thought lost! Where is the\nimpostor? Let him come here, that he may receive the just reward of\nhis treachery.\"\n\nWhilst he spoke a richly-dressed man, but unknown to him, approached,\nand said,\n\n\"You speak of deceit! Nobody here passes for Jussuf but yourself. We\nexpected him, because we have sure knowledge that he has landed\nto-day. You may be the expected one. Now for the proof: what word will\nyour lips breathe on this talisman?\" He held to him Modibjah's\ntalisman. Jussuf looked astonished and surprised, for the spark had\ndisappeared.\n\n\"Haschanascha!\" he cried, with a sigh. The spark shone out clear, and\na veiled lady walked forth from the circle of numerous assembled\nguests, and asked, as she threw her veil back, \"Do you remember\nHaschanascha, your betrothed?\" But he looked at her with marks of\nastonished joy. There were indeed the beautiful features of her face,\nthe mild look of her soft eyes, the happy seriousness that reigned in\nHaschanascha's forehead; but her dark complexion had disappeared, and\nin its place played a soft blush, like the first breath of dawn, on\nher cheeks.\n\n\"Haschanascha!\" cried he, at last awaking from his astonishment, \"are\nyou indeed she? I can no longer trust my senses, since I have been\nlost in so many adventures and dreams, that I cannot distinguish\nbetween reality and dreaming. Is it possible that you live? You were\ndead through my guilt.\"\n\n\"Ask not after what is past,\" said Modibjah's voice. \"The King of the\nGenii has selected you to be his favourite on earth. Two daughters of\ngenii were destined to try to lead you different ways; human nature\nnearly conquered, but you came out at last victorious from the fight.\nYou have chosen the nobler. May she adorn your life with greater joy,\nas she helped you to conquer your selfishness, which bound you in\nweakness to the form you carried in the box! This is Haschanascha, the\nsister of your friend Hassan Assad, who has carried on your business\nsince you separated from him near Shiraz. I am uncle to both; and that\nyour wife may not enter your house as a beggar, here are the presents\ndestined for the wedding present, which you saw under the ruins of the\ndestroyed capital.\"\n\nWith these words he embraced Jussuf, who was again lost in\nastonishment. The young man who had offered him the talisman stepped\nforward, and Jussuf recognized in him his friend Hassan, and saluting\nhim with heartfelt joy, called him his dear brother. In the same hour\nthe imam pronounced over Jussuf and Haschanascha the blessing, and\nperformed the usual prayers and ceremonies. Then were splendid feasts\nprepared that lasted many days, and such as never at any other time\nwere celebrated in Balsora; so that in after years people spoke of the\nsplendour with which the rich merchant Jussuf's wedding had been\nconsummated. He attained with Haschanascha a great and very happy old\nage, and his latest descendants revere his memory.\n\n\n\n\nThe Seven Sleepers.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n[The \"Seven Sleepers\" is a Mahommedan as well as Christian legend. It\nis alluded to in the Koran: and many of the circumstances of the\nfollowing Tale are related in the notes to Sale's translation of it.]\n\nHistorians relate that there was in ancient Persia a shepherd named\nDakianos, who for thirty years had attended his sheep without having\never neglected the holy custom of making his daily prayers. All those\nwho knew him did justice to his probity; and nature had endowed him\nwith an eloquence capable of raising him to the highest employments,\nhad he lived in the great world.\n\nOne day, as he was at his usual prayers, his flock took fright and\nwere dispersed. Dakianos ran every way to reassemble them, and\nperceiving that one of his sheep had got half of its body into the\nhole of a rock, where it could not get out, he ran to it and delivered\nit; but he was struck with a dazzling light which immediately shone\nout of the opening. He examined what it was that produced it, and soon\nfound that it proceeded from a tablet or plate of gold, of no very\nlarge extent: he opened the hole still farther, and found himself in\na vault, which was not above seven feet high, and about four or five\nbroad. He considered this tablet of gold with much attention, but\ncould not read it, neither could he comprehend what the four lines\nsignified which he saw written thereon. To inform himself, therefore,\nof this mystery, he took it away with him, and, as soon as it was\nnight, he put it under his vest and repaired to the city. His first\ncare was to show it to those who, as he was informed, were the most\nlearned men; but, however versed they might be in the sciences, there\nwas not one of them who could explain this inscription.\n\nHowever, one of the doctors said to him, \"No person here can translate\nthese characters. Go into Egypt: you will find there a venerable man,\nof three hundred years of age, who can read the most ancient writings,\nand who knows all the sciences; he alone can satisfy your curiosity.\"\n\nDakianos delivered his flock to the person to whom it belonged, and\ndeparted immediately for Egypt.\n\nAs soon as he arrived there, he inquired after the old man, who was so\ncelebrated that everybody was ready to show him his house. He went to\nhim there, told him the occasion of his journey, and presented to him\nthe tablet of gold. The old man received it with affability, and was\nstruck with astonishment at the sight of this wonder. He read the\ncharacters with the greatest ease; but, after having reflected some\ntime, he cast his eyes upon Dakianos, and said to him,\n\n\"How did this tablet fall into your hands?\"\n\nDakianos gave him an account of his adventure.\n\n\"These characters,\" resumed the old man, \"promise to the person who\nshall find them, events which it is not likely can happen to you. You\nhave,\" continued he, \"a happy countenance, and this inscription speaks\nof an infidel, whose end must be fatal and tragical. But since fortune\nhas given you this tablet, that which is written upon it doubtless\nregards you.\"\n\nDakianos, surprised with this discourse, answered, \"How can it be as\nyou say? I have said my prayers every day these thirty years. I have\nnever been an infidel; how can I then be a reprobate?\"\n\n\"If it had been three hundred years,\" replied the old man, \"you will\nbe no less the victim of darkness.\"\n\nThese last words pierced the heart of Dakianos. He groaned, he sighed,\nhe even wept, and he cried out, \"Would that I had never found this\ngolden tablet! That I had never shown it you and that I had never\nheard so terrible a sentence!\"\n\n\"What use would it have been to you not to have brought it to me?\"\nsaid this learned man. \"The predestination of Allah is from all\neternity; what is written in the Book of Life cannot be effaced. But I\nmay be mistaken: the knowledge of men is often doubtful, Allah alone\nis infallible. I can, however, inform you that this golden tablet\nindicates a most considerable treasure, and that an those riches\nbelong to him who shall be the possessor of the tablet.\"\n\nThis word _riches_ consoled Dakianos, and in the transport of his soul\nhe said to the old man, \"Delay not a moment; let us go to seek the\ntreasure. We will share it like two brothers.\"\n\nBut the old man said to him, sighing, \"You will no sooner be the\nmaster of all these riches than you will abuse them. It is not an easy\ntalent to know how to be rich; and I shall perhaps be the first to\nrepent having done you this service.\"\n\n\"What a discourse you hold to me!\" cried Dakianos. \"What shall I owe\nthe obligation to you of procuring me such treasures, shall you make\nmy fortune, and do you think I shall be failing in my return? An\ninfidel would not be guilty of such ingratitude, and I cannot so much\nas harbour a thought of it. I swear, then, to look upon you as my\nfather, and to share equally all the riches with you; or, rather, you\nshall give me what share you please, and I shall always be content.\"\n\nThese protestations would not much have reassured the old man, but\navarice--the only passion which is felt at a certain age--overcame his\nreflections, and he consented to their departure. They arrived at the\nplace where Dakianos had found the tablet of gold. The old man\ncommanded him to dig the ground about twenty feet round. They soon\ndiscovered a gate of steel, and the old man told Dakianos to open it.\nDakianos obeyed with such eager haste that he broke the door open with\nhis foot, though the key was in the lock. They both of them entered\ninto a vault, without being discouraged by the great obscurity which\nreigned there. After having gone some steps, a faint light enabled\nthem to distinguish objects. The farther they advanced, the more the\nlight increased. They found themselves at last before a large and\nmagnificent palace, the seven gates of which were closed, but the keys\nwere fastened by them. Dakianos took that of the first gate, and\nopened it.\n\nThe first apartment enclosed ornaments and habits of the greatest\nmagnificence, and above all, girdles of solid gold, adorned with\njewels. They opened the second, which they found filled with sabres,\nthe hilts and sheaths of which were covered with the most precious\nstones. The third was adorned with an infinite number of cuirasses,\ncoats of mail, and helmets of gold of different fashions, and all the\narms were enriched with the most magnificent jewels. The fourth\nenclosed the most superb horse furniture, answerable to the\nmagnificence of the arms. The fifth offered to their sight piles of\ngold and silver ingots. The sixth was full of gold coin; and it was\nscarcely possible to enter into the seventh, it was so heaped with\nsapphires, with amethysts, and diamonds.\n\nThese immense treasures dazzled Dakianos. From that moment he was\nsorry that he had a witness of his good fortune.\n\n\"Do you consider,\" said he to the old man, \"of what consequence\nsecrecy will be upon this occasion?\"\n\n\"Doubtless,\" replied he.\n\n\"But,\" resumed Dakianos, \"if the King has the least knowledge of this\ntreasure, his first act will be to confiscate it. Are you sure of\nyourself? Do you fear nothing from your own indiscretion?\"\n\n\"The desire of possessing the half of those riches,\" replied the old\nman, \"ought to be a pledge that will satisfy you.\"\n\n\"The half of these riches!\" interrupted Dakianos, with an alteration\nvisible in his countenance, \"but that half surpasses the treasures of\nthe greatest kings.\"\n\nThe old man perceived this alteration, and said to him, \"If you think\nthe half too much for me, you may give me only a quarter of it.\"\n\n\"Most willingly,\" returned Dakianos. \"But what precaution will you\ntake to remove them with safety? You will cause us to be discovered,\nand be the occasion of our ruin.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" replied the old man, \"though you have promised me much\nmore, give me only one of the apartments--I shall be fully satisfied.\nYou do not answer my question.\"\n\n\"We will examine at leisure what you have proposed to me,\" returned\nDakianos. \"I am glad, however, that you are more reasonable, and that\nyou begin to understand yourself.\"\n\nDakianos again examined these riches with more avidity, and his eyes\nwere still further dazzled by them. After having thoroughly considered\nthe magnificent apartment of the diamonds, in which they then were,\n\"You are sensible,\" said he to the old man, \"that this is, without\ncontradiction, the most valuable, and that it is not natural I should\nyield up to you the lawful right I have over it?\"\n\n\"You have reason for what you say,\" returned the old man, \"and I do\nnot demand it of you.\"\n\nThey passed afterwards into the apartment which was filled with gold\ncoin.\n\n\"This treasure,\" said Dakianos, after having looked upon it for some\ntime, \"is certainly what would cause the least trouble, and be the\nmost easily disposed of; it may be useful also towards preserving all\nthe rest, either by establishing a guard or raising walls; therefore I\nbelieve you too reasonable,\" continued he, \"not to agree to the\nnecessity that obliges me to keep it.\"\n\n\"I agree to it,\" replied the old man; \"let us pass on to another.\nThese piles of ingots of silver and gold are not all necessary to\nyou,\" said he, as he viewed the fifth apartment.\n\n\"No,\" returned Dakianos, \"I might possibly do without some of these;\nbut I have too great obligations to you, to expose you, by giving them\nto you: how could you convey them away? What a trouble it would be to\nyou to dispose of them!\"\n\n\"That will be my business,\" replied the old man.\n\n\"No, no,\" added Dakianos, \"I love you too well to consent to it;\nbesides, it would be the means to have me discovered; you would be\narrested, and you could not prevent yourself from accusing me. Let us\nsee the others.\"\n\nThey opened the fourth apartment. \"This horse-furniture is absolutely\nunsuitable to you; your age is an obstacle to the use of it.\"\n\nHe made use of the same difficulty to refuse him the cuirasses and the\narmour which filled the third. When he had locked that up with the\nsame care as the rest, they found themselves in that which contained\nthe sabres; and the old man said to him, \"These arms are easy to\ncarry, I will go and offer them to the Kings of the Indies; I will\nsell them separately, and you will run no risk.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" returned Dakianos, \"I may give you some of these.\"\n\nAs he said these words he examined them, both the weight of the gold\nand the value of the diamonds. At length he drew one of them out of\nthe scabbard; then he compared all the riches of which he might be the\nsole possessor, with the head of one man; and, unable to conceive how\nhe could have hesitated so long, \"I distrust thee!\" said he, springing\nupon the old man.\n\nThe old man embraced his knees. \"Be moved,\" said he to him, \"with my\nold age! The treasures no longer make any impression upon me, and I\npretend not to them.\"\n\n\"Truly I believe not,\" resumed Dakianos: \"they are mine, the tablet of\ngold gives them to me.\"\n\nThe old man recalled his promises to his memory. \"But I will cancel\nthem,\" pursued he: \"in return for the obligation you have to me I only\ndemand my life.\"\n\n\"I have offended thee too far,\" replied Dakianos: \"thy life would be\nmy death, it would give me too much inquietude.\"\n\nThen at one blow striking off the head of the old man, \"Now,\" cried\nhe, \"my secret is my own!\"\n\nThe first care of Dakianos was immediately to make a grave and to\ninter this unfortunate victim of his avarice. He feared not remorse,\nthough he dreaded a witness; his heart was wholly occupied with the\ntreasure that he possessed, and his mind with the methods of\npreserving it. But after devouring it with his eyes, and enjoying that\ncruel satisfaction, in what trouble did he not find himself when he\nwas obliged to leave it in order to seek for provision? How often did\nhe reproach himself with not having carried it with him? And if he\never remembered the old man, it was only to accuse his memory, and to\npersuade himself that he must have had some bad design, since he had\nnot advertised him of a thing which he might have foreseen without\nbeing so learned as he really was. Not to die with hunger in this\nsubterranean vault, he was obliged to quit it. What succours could he\nfind in so barren a desert as that with which it was surrounded? He\nwas obliged, therefore, to go to a place at some distance; but how\ncould he resolve upon that, especially at a time when the ground\nlately removed might attract the curiosity of a traveller? Dakianos\nalmost determined to let himself die rather than lose sight of his\ntreasure. All that he could do to calm his inquietudes was not to\ndepart till night, when he took some handfuls of the gold coin and\nrepaired to the city, where he bought a horse, which he loaded with\nbiscuit and with a small barrel of water, and returned before daybreak\nto seek his treasure, which he found in the same condition he had left\nit, with as much pleasure as he had felt chagrin at leaving it.\n\nHis first care was, with incredible fatigue, to make a very deep ditch\nround the cavern. He contrived a passage to it underground, the\nopening of which he covered with his clothes, that in a few days he\nlaid upon them, and afterwards raised a hut of earth to preserve\nhimself from the weather. All that he suffered during these immense\nlabours is not to be conceived, and no one could have imagined, who\nhad seen him thus wasted with labour and fatigue, that he was the\nrichest inhabitant of the earth.\n\nWhen he had conducted his work so far as to be able to leave it\nwithout fear, he repaired again to the city, but with the same\nprecaution--that is to say, he went only in the night. He employed it\nwholly in purchasing some slaves, with whose assistance by degrees he\nbrought thither everything that was necessary for his safety and\nconvenience. Soon after, he gathered workmen, with whose aid he built\nmore solidly the works which he had begun. He surrounded the place\nwith three walls of stone, and lay always between the first and the\nsecond. He took great care to spread abroad a report after this that\nhe carried on a large foreign commerce, and spoke much of the fortune\nhe had made in Egypt. Upon this pretext--for there must be one for\nbecoming so suddenly rich--he built a magnificent palace: that of the\nthousand columns erected by Melik Jouna, the ancient King of the\nIndies, was nothing in comparison to it. Such great magnificence soon\nmade him considered and respected by the world, and the pains he had\ngiven himself to preserve his riches not only flattered his self-love,\nbut easily persuaded him that he had acquired them, and might enjoy\nthem without remorse, the old man being totally forgotten.\n\nIt was easy for him to bring out the treasures from his vault, the\nsecret of which was not trusted to any person. He sent caravans to all\nparts of the Indies to authorize the expenses he bestowed in slaves,\nin building, in women, and in horses, and fortune also favoured a\ncommerce which was of little consequence to him. His heart, fully\nsatisfied as to riches, was not long insensible to ambition. The Court\nhas strong attractions for the rich; they are received so graciously,\nthey are praised in so delicate and so insinuating a manner, that they\nare generally seduced by it. And Dakianos, who now joined to his\nopulence an immeasurable ambition, neglected nothing to introduce\nhimself at the Court of the King of Persia; but made presents to the\nviziers to obtain their protection, and, by gaining it, rendered\nhimself their slave. His magnificence and his generosity, as he\nforesaw and wished, soon reached the ears of the King, who desired to\nsee him.\n\nDakianos had an audience as soon as he appeared at Court, and to give\na favourable impression of himself, and to deserve the favour of the\nKing, he brought him presents which the greatest Kings upon earth\ncould not, perhaps, have collected together. It is generally by nines\nthat Eastern presents are given, when their magnificence is extended\nto the last degree. He therefore caused himself to be preceded by nine\nsuperb camels. The first was loaded with nine suits and ornaments of\ngold, adorned with the most beautiful jewels, of which the girdles\nwere of the greatest lustre. The second bore nine sabres, the hilts\nand scabbards of which were of gold adorned with diamonds. Upon the\nthird were seen nine suits of armour of equal magnificence. The fourth\nhad for its load nine suits of horse furniture, suitable to the other\npresents. Nine cases full of sapphires were upon the fifth. Nine other\ncases heaped with rubies loaded the sixth. The same weight of emeralds\nwas upon the seventh. The amethysts, in an equal number of cases, was\nthe load of the eighth. At last, there appeared upon the ninth camel\nnine cases of diamonds. Nine young women of the greatest beauty, and\nmagnificently adorned, followed this caravan; and eight young slaves\nimmediately preceded Dakianos.\n\nIn the midst of the surprise which these presents gave to the King and\nthe whole Court, some of those who composed it, and who, according to\nthe customs of that place, endeavoured to criticise upon it, and who\nwished to contradict those who applauded it, or to show the justness\nof their own remarks, demanded where was the ninth slave. Dakianos,\nwho expected the question, pointed to himself. The King, pleased with\nthe turn of delicacy, which he joined to such magnificent presents,\nreceived him with extreme distinction; and, his natural eloquence\nincreasing his favour, it was impossible for the Prince to be without\nhim. He seated Dakianos by himself, gave him the pleasure of his\nmusic, sent him every day dishes from the royal table, and very often\nthe most exquisite wines; during which, on the other side, Dakianos\nreturned all this bounty by presents, the quantity of which was as\nsurprising as their magnificence. At length his continued liberality\nand his eloquence procured him so great a power over the heart of the\nKing, that he created him his Vizier, that they might never part; yet\nthe confidence and the friendship he testified to him gave him still\nmore power than the charge with which he was provided.\n\nDakianos governed Persia with an absolute sway: he ought to have\nenjoyed a happiness which might satisfy his vanity. But can ambition\never be satisfied? The mountain of Kaf may set bounds to the world,\nbut never to the ideas and wishes of the ambitious. The King being\ninformed of the arrival of an ambassador from Greece, gave him\naudience immediately. The ambassador, after having kissed the foot of\nthe throne, delivered him a letter, which he caused his secretary to\nread aloud, it was conceived in these terms:\n\n\"I, Emperor and Sultan of seven climates, to you, King of Persia. As\nsoon as my royal letter shall be delivered to you, fail not to send to\nme the tribute of seven years. If you make any difficulty to satisfy\nme, know that I have an army in readiness to march against you.\"\n\nThis letter caused so much astonishment in the King, that he knew not\nwhat answer to make to it. Dakianos, to deliver the King from the\nperplexity he was in, rose from his place, touched the ground with his\nhead, and endeavoured to restore his spirits.\n\n\"The letter of the Emperor of Greece,\" said he, \"ought not to afflict\nyou: it is easy to answer it, and to make him repent his menaces and\nhis insolence. Order your most faithful subjects to join with me, who\nam the humblest of your slaves; I shall inform them what they have to\ndo.\"\n\nThese words consoled the King: he gave his orders in pursuance of\nthem, and Dakianos raised above a hundred thousand men for the King,\nwhilst on his side he assembled ten thousand more, whom he equipped at\nhis own expense. The King joined to this chosen troop two thousand of\nthe most valiant soldiers, whom he had always had near his own person,\nand of whom he formed the guard of Dakianos, and declared him general\nof this army of one hundred and twelve thousand men. The new general\ntook leave of the King, and put himself at the head of his troops,\nwhich served as an escort to all his riches, which he took care to\nconvey along with him, and which ten thousand camels could scarce\ncarry. The King of Persia, who parted from his Vizier with regret,\naccompanied him for three days, and quitted him with tears in his\neyes, giving him a thousand benedictions, and repeating to him a\nthousand times that he was his strength, his support, and, what was\nmuch more, the only friend of his heart. Dakianos chose out the most\nwarlike men in all the cities through which he passed, equipped them\nat his own expense, and gave them whatever pay they demanded. The\nreport which was spread abroad of this magnificence drew together men\nfrom all parts of the world, and his army was in a short time\nincreased to three hundred thousand soldiers.\n\nThe Emperor of Greece, upon the news he had of the Persian army,\nimmediately assembled his troops, and advanced to meet Dakianos with\nseven hundred thousand men. As soon as he perceived the enemy, he\ndivided his army into two bodies, and gave the signal for battle. The\ntroops of Dakianos acted with so much valour, and their first onset\nwas so terrible, that the army of the Grecians had not time to recover\nthemselves, and they were almost as soon defeated as attacked.\nDakianos ordered the Grecian Emperor, whom he had taken prisoner, to\nbe beheaded, and without the least difficulty made himself master of\nall his dominions, of which he caused himself to be acknowledged\nsovereign. The first business of this new monarch was to write the\nfollowing letter to the King of Persia:\n\n\"I have defeated and overcome Caesar,[2] I have conquered his\ndominions, I have mounted his throne, and have been acknowledged the\nsovereign of his whole empire. As soon as this letter is delivered to\nyou, defer not a moment to send me the tribute due for seven years: if\nyou make the least difficulty to pay it me, you must submit to the\nsame fate as Caesar.\"\n\n[Footnote 2: In the East they always give that name to the Emperors of\nGreece.]\n\nThis letter, with great reason, provoked the King of Persia beyond all\nthe bounds of moderation. Without loss of time he assembled his\ntroops; but before he put himself at their head to march towards the\nconfines of Greece, he returned this answer to Dakianos:\n\n\"Can a man so despicable as thou art have possibly conquered Greece?\nThou hast betrayed me--I, who am thy King, and who am seated upon the\ngolden throne of my ancestors. Thou hast attacked me, notwithstanding\nthe gratitude and fidelity thou owest to me. I am upon my departure to\ncause even the very memory of thee to perish, to restore Greece to her\nformer situation, and to deliver her to her lawful sovereign!\"\n\nThis daring answer of the King of Persia threw Dakianos into the most\ndreadful rage: he immediately formed a detachment of two hundred\nthousand men from his army to advance and give battle to the King of\nPersia. Those troops were not long without meeting him. The combat was\nbloody and obstinate; but at length the King of Persia was defeated,\ntaken prisoner, and conducted to Dakianos.\n\nWhen that Prince was in his presence, \"Wretch!\" said he to him, \"how\ncanst thou bear my sight, thou most ungrateful of mankind?\"\n\n\"I ungrateful?\" replied Dakianos. \"I have levied troops at my own\nexpense; I have spent the greater part of my immense treasures; I\nhave, therefore, bought this conquest. I have done more: I have\nfought; I have revenged thy quarrel. What canst thou reproach me\nwith?\"\n\n\"I have loved thee,\" returned the King.\n\nIt is hard for those in power to bear a well-founded reproach. The\nonly answer of Dakianos was to command his head to be struck off, and\nimmediately to send troops to seize on his dominions. He chose Ephesus\nto fix his residence in; but, not thinking that city magnificent\nenough, he caused it to be rebuilt with the utmost elegance, and gave\nall his care to the erecting of a palace, which was unparalleled for\nits solidity, its extent, and its magnificence. He erected in the\ncentre of it a kiosk, the walls of which were six hundred feet long,\nand the cement and all the jointings of it were of silver. This kiosk\ncontained a thousand chambers, each of which enclosed a throne of\ngold: he caused three hundred and sixty-five gates of crystal to be\nmade, which he placed in such a manner that every day throughout the\nyear the rising sun shone upon one of them. His palace had seven\nhundred porters; sixty viziers were occupied in his affairs. There\nwere always in the hall of audience sixty thrones, on which were\nseated those who had signalized themselves in war. He had seven\nthousand astrologers, who assembled every day, and continually\ndeclared to him the different influences of the stars. He was always\nsurrounded by ten thousand ichoglans, who wore girdles and crowns of\nsolid gold, and were most magnificently clad: they had no other\nemployment but that of being always ready to receive his orders. He\nappointed sixty pashas, each of whom had under his command two\nthousand well-made and valiant young men, who each in particular\ncommanded two thousand soldiers.\n\nOne day, when Dakianos was in the height of his splendour, an old man\narose from beneath the throne upon which he was seated. The King,\namazed, asked him who he was. He was an unbelieving genie, but, far\nfrom confessing it,\n\n\"I am,\" he answered, \"a prophet of God: I obey His orders by coming to\nyou. Know, therefore, that He has made me the god of the heavens, and\nthat He ordains that you should be the god of the earth.\"\n\nDakianos answered him, \"Who will believe that I am so?\"\n\nAnd the genie immediately disappeared.\n\nSome time after, Dakianos had again the same apparition, and the genie\nrepeated to him the same things; but he answered him,\n\n\"You deceive me. How can I be the god of the earth?\"\n\n\"Your power, your great actions, and the care that Allah has taken of\nyou, ought to persuade you; but if you will not believe me,\" pursued\nthe old man, \"do what I shall tell you, and you will soon be\nconvinced.\"\n\nDakianos, whose pride this flattered, and who had nothing more to\ndesire of human greatness, promised him to consent to everything.\n\n\"Let your throne be placed upon the shore of the sea,\" pursued the old\nman.\n\nWhat he desired was executed. And when Dakianos was placed there,\n\"Prince,\" said the genie to him, \"there is at the bottom of the sea a\nfish, the bigness of which is known only to Allah, and which every day\ncomes to land. It remains there till noon to adore the Almighty. No\nperson interrupts its prayers: when they are finished, it plunges\nagain to the bottom of the sea.\"\n\nThe fish appeared as usual, and the genie said to Dakianos, \"Though\nthe fish will not believe your power, it has, however, declared to all\nthe fishes of the sea that you are the god of the earth. It fears\nnothing, and comes now to inform itself. You will know the truth of\nwhat I have declared to you,\" continued he, \"if you will only\ncondescend to say to him, 'I am the god of the earth.' Your voice\nwill freeze him with terror--he cannot hear it without surprise, and\nwill certainly take flight.\"\n\nThis proposition pleased Dakianos, and he called the fish, and said to\nit, \"'I am the god of the earth.'\"\n\nThese words of infidelity made the fish immediately plunge to the\nbottom of the sea, in the fear he was under lest the Almighty Power\nshould dart His thunder to punish that impostor. Dakianos easily\npersuaded himself that the fish was an infidel, and that his presence\nhad made him take flight. From that moment he believed all the\ndeluding words of the genie, and soon had no doubt left of his\ndivinity. Not only his subjects adored him, but people came from all\ncorners of the world to give him those marks of adoration which he\nexacted; for he caused all those to be thrown into a burning furnace\nwho refused to adore him.\n\nIn the number of the ten thousand slaves who stood always before him\nwith their hands crossed upon their breasts, there were six Greeks who\npossessed his confidence, and who approached the nearest to his\nperson. They were named Jemlikha, Mekchilinia, Mechlima, Merlima,\nDebermouch, and Charnouch. They were generally placed in an equal\nnumber upon his right and left hand. Jemlikha was one whom he most\nfavoured, nature having endowed him with all her charms: his words\nwere sweeter than the honey of Arabia, and his wit sparkling and\nagreeable; in a word, this young man united in himself all\nperfections. Their employments engaged both him and his companions to\npay that homage to Dakianos which was due to God alone.\n\nOne day, as Dakianos was at table, Jemlikha held a fan to drive away\nthe flies that might incommode him: there came one which settled\nitself with so much obstinacy upon the dish he was eating that he was\nobliged to give it up. Jemlikha, struck with this slight event,\nthought it ridiculous that a man who could not drive away even a fly\nthat troubled him, should pretend to divinity. \"Surely,\" continued he,\n\"I ought to have no regard for such a god.\"\n\nSome time after, Dakianos entered into one of his apartments to repose\nhimself for some hours; and Jemlikha still waited by him with the\nfan. Allah once more sent the same fly, and at this time it placed\nitself upon the face of the monarch. Jemlikha would have driven it\naway lest it should interrupt his lord's sleep; but his pains were in\nvain: it awakened Dakianos, and threw him into the greatest\nimpatience. Jemlikha, already touched by his first reflections, said\nwithin himself, \"This man certainly is no more a god than I am: there\ncan be but one God, and it is He who has created the sun that gives us\nlight.\"\n\nFrom that time Jemlikha used the custom of saying every night when he\nlay down, \"The true God is He who created the heavens, and fixed them\nin the air without a pillar.\"\n\nIt is difficult to make a serious reflection and not to communicate it\nto a friend. Jemlikha declared all his doubts to his companions. \"A\nman,\" says he, \"who cannot disengage himself from a fly, can he have\npower over the works of nature?\" Then he related the adventure of the\nfly.\n\n\"But if our King is not a god,\" said they to him, \"whom then are we to\nadore?\"\n\nJemlikha told them what he thought, and they were so far persuaded of\nit, that from that day they joined with him every night in prayer.\nTheir assembling themselves together in private places soon became the\nsubject of conversation. Dakianos being informed of it, sent for them\ninto his presence, and said to them,\n\n\"Do you adore another God beside me?\"\n\nThey contented themselves with answering him, \"We adore the Sovereign\nMaster of the world.\"\n\nThe King, who took that answer to mean himself, loaded them with\ncaresses, and bestowed upon each of them a robe of honour. They\nretired, covered with the favours of their master, and their first\ncare was to adore and thank the High God for His bounty to them.\nJemlikha afterwards said to them,\n\n\"If there should be again such an information given to the King as has\nnow put us into such imminent danger, we can hope for no further mercy\nfrom him. I imagine, therefore, the only resolution we can take is to\nquit our country, and to seek another, where we may adore God without\nconstraint.\"\n\n\"But how can we take our flight?\" replied his companions. \"We know no\nother country but this.\"\n\n\"Let us put our trust in God,\" resumed Jemlikha, \"and make use of any\nfavourable circumstance. We are not to follow Dakianos when he goes on\nhis magnificent chase for six days at the head of his army: what\nhinders us taking that time for our departure? We will demand\npermission of the officers of the palace that guard us to play at\nfeheukian;[3] we will go out of the square, throw the ball to a great\ndistance, and take our flight upon those swift horses which are\nusually given us for that exercise.\"\n\n[Footnote 3: An exercise performed on horseback.]\n\nThey approved this project, and waited with impatience for the time of\nits execution. At length Dakianos departed with his numerous army.\n\nThe day after the King's departure they put in execution what they had\nprojected. The eunuchs pursued them, and would have forced them to\nreturn back to the palace; but they answered them,\n\n\"We are tired of our King: he endeavours to pass for the God of the\nearth, and we adore Him alone who has created all that we behold.\"\n\nThe young men had already drawn their sabres, and in a moment they put\nthe eunuchs out of a condition of following them. Then Jemlikha said\nto them, \"My friends, we are ruined if we do not use all possible\nexpedition.\"\n\nThey immediately put their horses at full speed, which so much\nfatigued them that their strength was soon exhausted. They were then\nobliged to continue their journey on foot, but being tired, and faint\nwith thirst and hunger, they stopped on the side of the road, and,\nwith entire confidence in God, prayed to Him to relieve them. Some\nfaithful genii heard them, and, touched with their situation, they\ninspired into Jemlikha the thought of ascending a mountain, at the\nfoot of which they were. It was not without pain that he arrived at\nthe summit; but at length he perceived a spring, the pure and clear\nwater of which was to him the water of life, and a shepherd sitting by\nit, who sang whilst his flock was feeding.\n\nJemlikha called to his companions: the few words he could make them\nhear augmented their strength, and gave them courage sufficient to\nascend the mountain.\n\nThe shepherd, whose name was Keschetiouch, gave them some provisions,\nand they drank of the water of this delightful fountain. This\nrefreshment re-established their strength, and their first care was to\nreturn their thanks to Heaven for it. Then Keschetiouch said to them,\n\n\"How have you found the way to a place where I never yet saw any\nmortal? If I am not mistaken, you are fugitives. Trust me with your\nmisfortunes: I may perhaps be of some service to you.\"\n\nJemlikha related to him all that had happened to them, and his\ndiscourse struck the light of faith into the heart of this shepherd,\nGod so enlightening his mind, that he soon learned and repeated with\nthem their prayers. Afterwards he told them he would never quit them.\n\n\"Ephesus,\" says he, \"is so near to this place, that you will still be\nin some danger. Doubt not but Dakianos will use his utmost efforts to\nhave you seized. I know a cavern not far from hence, which perhaps in\na forty years' search could not be found: I will conduct you there.\"\n\nImmediately without delay they arose and followed him.\n\nThe shepherd had a little dog, which he called Catnier, that followed\nthem. They did not care to take him with them; and using all their\nskill to drive him away, they at last threw a stone at him, which\nbroke his leg; but he still followed them limping. They threw a second\nat him, which did not turn him back, though it broke his other fore\nleg, so that he walked only upon his two hind feet, continuing his\nmarch. The third stone having broke one more, he was no longer in a\ncondition to stand. But Allah gave the gift of speech to this little\ndog, who said to them,\n\n\"Alas! you go to seek after Allah, and you have prevented me from all\nhope of going with you! Am not I also the creature of Allah? Are you\nalone obliged to acknowledge Him?\"\n\nThey were so astonished at this wonderful miracle, and moved with the\ncondition to which they had reduced the dog, that they carried him in\nturn, and went on begging the protection of Heaven. They were not long\nbefore they arrived at the cavern to which the shepherd conducted\nthem, and finding themselves fatigued with their journey, they lay\ndown to sleep; but by the particular mission of Heaven, they slept\nwith their eyes open, in such a manner that no one could suspect they\ntasted any real repose. The cavern was so gloomy, the heat of the sun\ncould not incommode them; a gentle, pleasing wind incessantly\nrefreshed them, and a long narrow opening gave an entrance to the rays\nof the sun at his rising.\n\nIn the meantime those eunuchs who had escaped from the sabres of the\nyoung slaves came directly to give an account of what had passed to\nDakianos. He was in despair at their flight, and as he was\nrecollecting in his mind the favours he had shown them, and accusing\nthem of the highest ingratitude, the same unfaithful genie who had so\noften appeared to him presented himself before him, and said to him,\n\n\"Your slaves have quitted you only that they might worship another\nGod, in whom they place all their trust.\"\n\nThis discourse so heightened the anger of Dakianos that he conjured\nthe genie to let him know the place of their retreat.\n\n\"I alone can bring you to it,\" returned the genie. \"All mankind would\nsearch for it in vain, but I will conduct you to it at the head of\nyour army.\"\n\nThey immediately departed, and were not long before they arrived at\nthe mouth of the cavern. The genie then said to Dakianos,\n\n\"It is here they are retired.\"\n\nDakianos, who was wholly possessed with the spirit of revenge,\nimmediately would have entered it; but that moment there burst out\nfrom the cave a dreadful vapour, which was followed by a furious wind,\nand a darkness that spread over all that part of the world. The army\ngave back with horror; but anger redoubling the courage of Dakianos,\nhe advanced to the entrance of the cavern, but it was with incredible\ndifficulty, and, in spite of all his efforts, it was absolutely\nimpossible for him to enter it, the air being so impenetrable. He\nperceived Catnier, who slept with his head resting upon his paw, and\ndistinguished plainly the six young Greeks and the shepherd, who were\nall in a profound sleep, though he was far from suspecting it, as\ntheir eyes were open. Dakianos was not rash enough to renew his\nefforts--a secret horror restrained him. The sight of this cavern and\nall the prodigies of Heaven spread so great a terror in his mind that\nhe returned to his army, and said that he had discovered his slaves,\nwho had prostrated themselves before him without having the courage to\nspeak to him, and that he had left them prisoners in the cavern till\nhe fixed his resolution respecting their punishment. In effect, he\nconsulted his sixty viziers, and demanded of them what remarkable\nvengeance he could exercise upon these young slaves; but no advice of\ntheirs could give him satisfaction. He had recourse, therefore, to his\ngenie, who advised him to command the architects, who always marched\nalong with him, to raise a very thick wall, which should entirely\nclose up the entrance of the cavern, and take away all hope of succour\nfrom those who were enclosed in it.\n\n\"You must take care for your own glory to cause to be engraved upon\nthis wall the time, the year, and the reasons that obliged you to\nerect it; that will be the means,\" said he, \"of informing posterity\nthat you revenged yourself with a greatness of spirit.\"\n\nDakianos approved this counsel, and caused a wall to be erected as\nthick and solid as those of Alexandria; but he had the precaution to\nreserve one passage, of which he alone knew the entrance, in hopes of\nbeing one day able to seize upon his slaves, and with a view of\nexamining the events at the cavern, which, in spite of himself,\ncontinually took up his thoughts. He added to all these precautions\nthat of placing a guard of twenty thousand men, who encamped before\nthe wall. All his armies had orders to relieve this body of troops\nevery month, who were commanded to put to death all those who\nendeavoured to approach a place which enclosed those whose revolt and\nflight were the first misfortunes of his life; for till that moment\neverything had succeeded happily to him. A desire of revenge joined\nitself to the insult he had received from them, which appeared greater\nto him, as nothing had ever before dared to resist him. To a man\nintoxicated with his power, of which he had been himself the sole\ncause, so positive an opposition to his will was a cruel situation.\nNothing could prevent him from repairing every day to the cavern in\norder to make new efforts to enter it, or at least to feed his eyes\nwith the objects of his vengeance.\n\nThe calm which was enjoyed by those whom he still looked upon as his\nslaves redoubled his fury. Their eyes, which were, as he imagined,\nfixed upon him--their silence to all the reproaches and invectives\nwith which he loaded them--even their attitude--all were marks of the\ngreatest contempt of him. One day, when he had joined to his usual\nspeeches the blackest imprecations against Heaven, Allah permitted\nCatnier, without any motion, to answer him:\n\n\"Wretch! darest thou blaspheme a God who has let thee live,\nnotwithstanding the crimes that thou hast been guilty of? Believest\nthou that He has forgot to punish the fate of the learned Egyptian,\nwhom thy avarice put to death, contrary to the most sacred oaths?\"\n\nDakianos, whose wrath was impotent there, went out, distracted and\nprovoked with the insulting reproaches that he received from the dog\nof his slaves. What a subject of humility! But far from having\nrecourse to prayer, and imploring Allah's clemency, his pride\nrevolted, and by a sentiment natural to the wicked, who generally\nrender those who are subject to them answerable for everything that\nwounds their vanity, at his return he caused to be executed, in the\npublic square, above two thousand men, who had refused to adore him.\nThese examples of severity spread abroad the fire of a rebellion,\nwhich was lighted in all parts of his dominions; and, notwithstanding\nthe anxiety that these troubles gave him to stop the progress of them,\nan inward emotion, which he could not resist, led him continually\ntowards the cavern.\n\n\"What is it I go there to seek?\" said he within himself. \"The\nreproaches and contempt of one of the vilest animals, whilst I am\neverywhere adored--whilst every word that comes from my sacred mouth\nis revered. Yet, notwithstanding this, what am I in the eyes of an\nanimal whom God protects? A shadow of power--an object of impotence!\nAh! Dakianos, what shame! what confusion But, however, I have\nconcealed it, notwithstanding this God, who will torment me, and His\nefforts will be in vain against my regulations. How happy I am to have\nconcealed from my subjects the knowledge of such a misfortune! How\nprudent was I in erecting a wall which forbids all entrance to the\ncavern, and in hindering all mankind from approaching it by the troops\nwhich I have disposed before it! But in what manner can my slaves have\nsubsisted whilst I have kept them enclosed there? Doubtless they have\nsome communication into the country, and that communication is unknown\nto me. To remedy this inconvenience, I must surround the mountain with\nmy troops.\" Accordingly he gave orders to six hundred thousand men to\nform an encampment round it, and to let no person approach a place\nthat was so odious to him.\n\nWhen he had taken these new precautions, he returned to the entrance\nof the cavern, and said, with a fierce and haughty voice,\n\n\"Now you will be obliged to deliver yourselves up to my power!\"\n\nCatnier answered him again, \"We fear thee not: God is our protector.\nBut believe me, and return to Ephesus: thy presence is become\nnecessary there.\"\n\nDakianos perceiving that he would give no further answer, returned to\nthe city, and found that several of the chief of the eunuchs of his\nseraglio were murdered. Dakianos, distracted at this affront, could\nnot forbear returning to the cavern, and saying to Catnier (because he\nwas the only creature that answered him),\n\n\"If thy God could restore me the honour that has been taken from me, I\nwould endeavour----\"\n\nCatnier answered him, \"Go, return to Ephesus; other misfortunes attend\nthee there.\"\n\nThese words threw Dakianos into the utmost confusion. He returned\nimmediately, and found that the demon of hatred had seized upon his\nthree sons, that they had drawn their sabres against each other, and\nthat the angel of death was come to fetch them hence, which he did\nbefore his eyes. What an affliction to a father! What a disappointment\nto an ambitious mind, who depended upon giving each of them an empire\nin different parts of the world!\n\nIn the midst of the sorrow with which he was surrounded, he could not\nprevent himself from returning once more to the cavern. \"Wretches!\"\nsaid he to them, \"what torments ought I not to make you suffer when\nyou shall fall into my hands? However, restore me my children, and I\nwill forgive all that you have done against me.\"\n\nCatnier, who always spoke, answered him thus:\n\n\"God will restore no children whom He has banished from the world to\npunish the crimes of their father. Go, return to Ephesus. Thou\ndeservest to find new misfortunes there.\"\n\n\"It is too much,\" cried Dakianos, retiring; and immediately, with rage\nand despair in his heart, he commanded all his troops, and all the\ninhabitants of Ephesus, to bring each of them a faggot, and see his\norders executed. Then he caused this enormous quantity of wood to be\npiled before the cavern, in hopes of stifling those whom it enclosed;\nbut the wind beat back the flames of this amazing fire against the\narmy (who took to flight), and against the city. No private house,\nnotwithstanding, was in the least incommoded by it; but the fire\nseized upon the palace of Dakianos, which was wholly reduced to ashes,\nand all the treasure which he had amassed with so much care vanished\nin a moment, whilst the cavern did not undergo the least alteration.\nThis last prodigy engaged him to have recourse to the seven sleepers,\nand to Catnier himself, begging them to intercede for him. The little\ndog answered him thus:\n\n\"It is fear, and not piety, that seems to soften the hardness of thy\nheart. Begone: thou canst not deceive Allah.\"\n\nDakianos retired, confounded with this last reproach, but still more\ndistracted at having humbled himself so far.\n\nIn the midst of all these misfortunes which succeeded each other to\noppress this enemy of God, the revolt, which was considerably\naugmented, demanded an example to be made, and the heart of Dakianos\nengaged him to render it of the greatest severity. To that effect he\ncaused to be erected in the public square, upon the ashes of his\npalace, a throne of iron; he commanded all his Court and all his\ntroops to be clothed in red,[4] and to be covered with black turbans.\nHe took care to put on the same habit, with a design of murdering in\none moment five or six hundred thousand souls, whom he resolved to\nsacrifice to the safety of his throne, to the manes of his children,\nto his lost honour, and to what affected him still more, the incessant\nremorse and horror that gnawed his heart. But before he performed this\ncruel execution, he resolved once more to visit the cavern, in hopes\nthat his weapons, the usual confidence of the wicked, might intimidate\nthose whom by prayers or by menaces he could obtain nothing from. When\nhe arrived there, he redoubled his usual blasphemies.\n\n[Footnote 4: This colour in the East is a mark of the vengeance of\nprinces.]\n\n\"Tremble, thou wretch!\" said Catnier then to him, without any emotion\nor so much as raising his head, which lay upon his paws.\n\n\"Shall I tremble?\" returned Dakianos: \"Allah Himself cannot make me\ntremble.\"\n\n\"But He can punish thee,\" pursued Catnier; \"thou drawest near thy last\nmoment.\"\n\nDakianos, at that word, listening only to his resentment, took his\narrows and his bow.\n\n\"We shall see,\" said he, \"whether I am not redoubtable--to thee at\nleast.\"\n\nHe then shot an arrow at him with the utmost strength of his arm; but\na supernatural power made it fall at the feet of him who shot it, and\nat the same instant there sprang out of the cavern a serpent, which\nwas above twenty feet in length, and whose dreadful and inflamed look\nmade him tremble. Dakianos would have taken his flight; but the\nserpent soon overtook him, grasped him round the body, and dragged him\nthrough the whole city, that all his subjects might be witnesses of\nhis terror and of his punishment. He then conveyed him to the iron\nthrone which he had prepared for the scene of his vengeance. It was\nthere that, being devoured by degrees, Dakianos by his dreadful\nsufferings gave a terrible example of the punishment due to\ningratitude and impiety. The serpent afterwards returned to his cavern\nwithout having done the least hurt to any person, and all the\ninhabitants of Ephesus loaded it with benedictions at its departure.\n\nSeveral Kings succeeded Dakianos, and filled his throne during the\ntime of one hundred and forty years; after which it fell into the\npower of the ancient Greeks, who enjoyed it for the space of one\nhundred and sixty-nine years longer. When the time of the repose of\nthe Seven Sleepers was accomplished, that which was written happened\nunto them. One of the seven awakened at that instant; and the dawn\nbeginning to appear, he raised himself up, and said within himself, \"I\nseem to have slept at least twenty-four hours;\" and by degrees the\nothers awakened, struck with the same idea.\n\nJemlikha, always more lively than the rest, leapt up immediately, and\nwas extremely surprised to find, at the opening of the cavern, a wall\nerected of large square stones, which entirely enclosed it. He\nreturned to his companions and told them the occasion of his\nastonishment. Notwithstanding this inconvenience, they agreed that\nthey must absolutely send one of their number to the city to buy\nprovisions; and casting their eyes upon the shepherd, Jemlikha gave\nhim money, telling him that he ran no hazard by going. The shepherd\nrising to do them that service, at that moment Catnier[5] awakened,\nperfectly cured of his broken legs, and ran to caress them. The\nshepherd strove in vain to get out of the cavern, for the passage that\nDakianos had reserved to himself was fallen down; and examining the\nwall carefully, he remarked the enormous bigness of the stones that\ncomposed it; and through the chinks that time had made between them,\nhe saw with astonishment that part of the trees were dead, others were\nfallen, and that the water of the springs was differently placed; in\none word, he was so confounded at the uncommon change that he\nperceived, that he returned into the cavern to inform his companions\nof this surprising event. They immediately arose and went to the\nentrance to judge of it themselves; but every fresh object redoubled\ntheir amazement.\n\n[Footnote 5: There are ten animals which, according to Mahommedans,\nmust enter into Paradise: the whale that swallowed Jonas; the ant of\nSolomon; the ram of Ismael; the cuckoo of Belkis; the camel of the\nProphet of God; the ass of Aazis, Queen of Saba; the calf of Abraham;\nthe camel of the Prophet Saleb; the ox of Moses; and the dog that\naccompanied the Seven Sleepers.]\n\nJemlikha then said to the shepherd, \"Give me thy habit; I will go\nmyself to the city and fetch what is necessary for us, and endeavour\nto find out what we cannot now comprehend.\"\n\nThe shepherd gave him his habit, and took his in return. Jemlikha,\nwith much labour, made himself a passage through the ruins of this\nthick wall, followed the road to the city, and remarked over the gate\na standard, upon which was written, \"There is no other god but the\ntrue God.\"\n\nHe was astonished to find that one night had produced so great a\nchange. \"Is not this a vision?\" said he. \"Do I awake, or do I feel the\nillusions of a dream?\"\n\nWhilst he made these embarrassing reflections, he saw a man come out\nof the castle, whom he approached, and asked him if this city was not\ncalled Ephesus. He told him that was its name.\n\n\"What is the name of him who governs it?\" resumed Jemlikha\nimmediately.\n\n\"It belongs to Encouch: he is the King of it, and has his residence in\nit,\" replied the man.\n\nJemlikha, still more astonished, pursued his questions.\n\n\"What do these words signify,\" cried he, \"which are upon the\nstandard?\"\n\nHe satisfied his curiosity by telling him that they represented the\nholy name of God.\n\n\"But I apprehend,\" interrupted Jemlikha, with eagerness, \"that\nDakianos is the King of this city, and that he makes himself be\nworshipped here as a god.\"\n\n\"I have never heard of any King so named,\" returned the inhabitant of\nthe city.\n\n\"What an uncommon sleep I am in!\" cried Jemlikha. \"Awaken me, I\nconjure you,\" said he to him.\n\nThe man, surprised in his turn, could not forbear saying to him,\n\"What! you have asked me reasonable and sensible questions, you have\nunderstood my answers, and can you imagine that you are asleep?\"\n\nJemlikha, ashamed of speaking to him so inadvertently, quitted him,\nsaying within himself, \"Most high Allah, have you deprived me of\nreason?\"\n\nWith this confusion of ideas, he entered into the city, which he could\nnot in the least recollect: the houses, the temples, the seraglios,\nappeared under a new form to him. At length he stopped before the door\nof a baker, where he chose out several loaves, and presented his money\nfor them: the baker examined it, and looking upon Jemlikha with much\nattention, he was alarmed at it, and said to him,\n\n\"Why dost thou look upon me? Give me thy bread, take my money, and\nconcern thyself no further.\"\n\nThe baker answered him with the most eager curiosity, \"Where hast thou\nfound this money?\"\n\n\"What is that to thee?\" resumed Jemlikha.\n\n\"I don't know this money,\" replied the baker, \"it is not the coin of\nthe King that now reigns. Let me share the treasure which thou hast\ndoubtless been so happy as to find, and I promise thee to be secret.\"\n\nJemlikha, almost out of patience, said to him, \"This money is struck\nwith the image of Dakianos, the absolute lord of this country. What\ncan I tell thee more?\"\n\nBut the baker, still prepossessed with the same idea, pursued thus:\n\"Thou comest from the country: believe me, thy occupation of a\nshepherd has not rendered thee cunning enough to deceive me, nor to\nimpose upon me. God has favoured thee with the discovery of a\ntreasure: if thou dost not consent to share it with me, I will go this\nmoment and declare it to the King; he will soon have thee arrested,\nthy riches will be seized upon, and perhaps thou mayest be put to\ndeath for not having declared them.\"\n\nJemlikha, impatient at this discourse of the baker's, would have taken\nhis bread and left him; but the baker detained him, and, their dispute\ngrowing hot, a mob gathered round them to listen to it. Jemlikha said\nto the baker,\n\n\"I went out of the city but yesterday, I return to it this day. What\ncan make thee imagine that I have found a treasure?\"\n\n\"Nothing is more true,\" returned the baker, \"and I am resolved to have\na share of it.\"\n\nA man belonging to the King running in at the noise, and in the\nincertitude he was in of the event, went and fetched the guards, who\nseized upon Jemlikha, and conducted him before the King, whom they\ninformed of the occasion of this dispute.\n\nAnd the Prince said to him, \"Where hast thou found those ancient coins\nthey speak of?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Jemlikha, \"I carried them yesterday from this city;\nbut in one night Ephesus has taken so different a form that I no\nlonger know it: all whom I have met, all whom I see, are unknown to\nme, and yet I was born in this city, and I cannot express the\nconfusion of my mind.\"\n\nThe King said to him, \"Thou seemest to have sense; thy countenance is\nagreeable, and thy manner composed: how can thy speech be so\nunreasonable? Is it to abuse me that thou feignest this distraction? I\nwill absolutely know where thou hast concealed the treasure which thy\ngood fortune has made thee possessor of. The fifth part by law belongs\nto me, and I consent to leave thee the remainder.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Jemlikha, \"I have not found a treasure, but certainly\nI have lost my senses.\"\n\nJemlikha durst not speak too plainly, he still fearing lest this King,\nwho was unknown to him, should be one of the viziers of Dakianos, who\nmight order him to be conveyed to that Prince, who perhaps was absent.\n\nHappily for him, Encouch had a Vizier of a penetrating genius, and who\nhad an extensive knowledge of the precepts of the law, and of ancient\nhistory: that of Dakianos was not unknown to him, and by consequence\nhe had some knowledge of the Seven Sleepers, who were imagined to be\nin a neighbouring cavern. The discourse of Jemlikha gave him\nsuspicions; and to enlighten them, he said in a whisper to the King,\n\"I am much deceived, or this young man attended upon Dakianos. God\nenlightened his mind, he quitted him, and retired into a cavern with\nfive of his companions, a shepherd, and a little dog. Those seven\npersons were to appear out of this cavern after having slept three\nhundred and nine years: their awakening was to confirm the people in\ntheir duty, and everything induces me to believe that this young man\nis the former slave of Dakianos.\"\n\nEncouch, with reason, reposed much confidence in his Vizier;\ntherefore, addressing himself to Jemlikha, \"Relate thy adventure to us\nwithout disguise,\" said he, \"or I will have thee seized this moment.\"\n\nJemlikha, who knew the necessity his friends were under of his return,\nobeyed him, notwithstanding the fear he was under of seeing Dakianos,\nand finished his recital, which proved conformable to all that the\nVizier had read in history; but what still further convinced the King\nwas, that he added, \"Your Majesty may be pleased to know that I have a\nhouse, a son, and several relations in this city, that can bear\nwitness to the truth of what I have said.\"\n\n\"Consider,\" said the prudent Vizier to him, \"that all thou hast\nrelated to the King happened three hundred and nine years since.\"\n\n\"Thou must, then, give us some other proof,\" resumed the King.\n\n\"I make no answer out of respect,\" returned Jemlikha, \"to all the\ndifficulties that are made; but to persuade you of what I have\nadvanced, there is a considerable treasure, concealed by me in the\nhouse that belongs to me, which none but myself has the knowledge of.\"\n\nThe King and all his Court immediately rose to repair to this house.\nBut Jemlikha, who went first, in order to conduct them, looked all\nround, and knew neither the street nor his own house.\n\nHe was in this confusion, when God permitted an Angel, under the form\nof a young man, to come to his assistance, who said to him, \"Servant\nof the true God, you seem to be much astonished.\"\n\n\"How can I but be surprised?\" replied Jemlikha; \"this city is so\nchanged in one night, that I cannot find my house, nor even the street\nin which it is situated.\"\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the Angel of God; \"I will conduct you thither.\"\n\nJemlikha, still accompanied by the King, the Beys, and the Viziers,\nfollowed the Angel of God, who after some time stopped before a door\nand disappeared, saying to him, \"Behold your house.\"\n\nJemlikha, through his confidence in God, entered into it, and saw an\nold man, unknown to him, and who was surrounded by several young\npeople. He saluted them all very politely, and said very affably to\nthe old man, \"This house, I believe, belongs to me; why do I find you\nhere? and what business have you to do in it?\"\n\n\"I believe you are mistaken,\" replied the old man, with the same\naffability. \"This house has long been in our family. My grandfather\nleft it to my father, who is not yet dead, but who indeed has but one\nbreath of life left.\"\n\nThe young men would have answered, and were enraged at Jemlikha; but\nthe old man said to them, \"Be not angry, my children; passion is never\nnecessary. He has perhaps some good reason to give us: let us hearken\nto him.\"\n\nHe afterwards turned himself towards Jemlikha, and said to him, \"How\ncan this house belong to you? By what right do you pretend to it? Who\nare you?\"\n\n\"Ah! venerable old man,\" returned Jemlikha, \"how can I tell you of my\nadventure? None of those to whom I have related it will give credit to\nit; I cannot myself comprehend it: judge of the situation I am in!\"\n\nThe old man, touched with his affliction, said to him, \"Take courage,\nmy child: I interest myself in your fate; my heart was moved at the\nsight of you.\"\n\nJemlikha, reassured by this discourse, related to the old man all that\nhad happened to him; and he had no sooner heard his story than he went\nand brought out a picture to compare it with Jemlikha. When he had\nexamined him for some time, he sighed, and his trouble and concern\nincreased. He kissed the picture several times, and threw himself at\nthe feet of Jemlikha, prostrating his wrinkled countenance, and his\nbeard, whitened by age, upon the ground. At length he cried out,\n\n\"Oh, my dearest ancestor!\"\n\nThe torrent of tears which ran from his eyes prevented him from\nsaying more. The King and his Viziers, whom this scene had rendered\nvery attentive to the conversation, said then to the old man,\n\n\"What! do you acknowledge him for your ancestor?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire,\" replied he: \"he is the great-great-father of my father.\"\n\nHe could not finish these words without bursting again into tears. He\nafterwards took him by the hand, and conducted him through the house.\nJemlikha, perceiving a beam of cypress, said,\n\n\"It was I who caused that beam to be placed. Under the end of it will\nbe found a large stone of granite; it covers ten vases, equal to those\nthat are in the King's treasury. They are filled with gold pieces of\nthe coin of Dakianos, and each of those pieces weighs a hundred\ndrachmas.\"\n\nWhilst they laboured to raise up the cypress beam, the old man\napproached Jemlikha with the greatest respect, and said to him, \"My\nfather is still alive, but he has very little strength left. It is he\nwho has formerly related to me some of the things that you have told\nme. Come,\" continued he, \"come and see my father, and your\ndescendant.\"\n\nJemlikha followed him into another apartment, and saw a very old man. They\nmade him swallow a drop of milk; he opened his eyes, and could not forbear\nshedding a torrent of tears when he heard who Jemlikha was, and Jemlikha\ncould not restrain his. What an astonishment to all those who saw a young\nman whose grandson's son was in that excess of decrepitude--an old man\noppressed with years, and the children of that old man resembling by their\ntone and countenance their great-grandfather! The people at the sight of\nthis miracle could not forbear admiring the greatness of the power of God.\nThey examined the annals, and found that the three hundred and nine years\nwere accomplished that day.\n\nWhen the beam of cypress was taken up, they found all that Jemlikha\nhad declared. He made a present of one part of the treasure to the\nKing, and gave the other to the children of his great-grandson.\n\nThe King after this said to Jemlikha, \"We are now convinced of the\ntruth of thy history: let us go to thy companions in the cavern, and\ngive them assistance.\"\n\n\"It is the only wish I have to form,\" replied Jemlikha.\n\nThe Prince then, caused a great quantity of provisions to be carried\nwith him, and departed, accompanied with his army and all the people,\nto repair to the cavern. It appeared so dreadful that no one had\ncourage to enter it. It is said, however, that the King resolved to do\nit--that he saw the companions of Jemlikha--but that it was at the\nvery moment of his entering it that Jemlikha gave up the ghost, with\nthe six others and the little dog. He even heard them repeat their\nacts of adoration to the Sovereign Master of the universe, and die as\nthey pronounced them. Encouch caused everything to be brought that was\nnecessary to pay them the last duty, and had them interred in the same\ncavern where they had slept so long. When all the people were gone out\nof it, by a particular permission of God, the entrance of the cavern\nwas closed, and since that time it has been impossible for any man to\nenter it. The King commanded a column to be erected some paces from\nit, upon which he caused to be engraved the history of the Seven\nSleepers, to make known the power of God, to inspire a horror for\ningratitude, and to show by this example the efficacy of prayer.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Enchanters.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nAt the death of the mighty Dabulcombar, the Lord of the East, Misnar,\nthe first-born of the Sultan, ascended the throne of India; but,\nthough he had scarcely arrived at the age of manhood, yet neither the\nsplendour of his Court nor the flatteries of the East could steal from\nthe youthful Sultan the knowledge of himself.\n\nHis first royal command was to assemble together the wise men\nthroughout his extensive dominions, from Cabul and Attok in the west\nto Kehoa and Thoanoa in the east. The learned and devout accordingly\ncame from every part of his dominions. On an appointed day the Sultan\nordered the illustrious assembly to meet in the divan, where, being\nplaced on the throne of his forefathers, he thus opened unto them the\ndesires of his heart:\n\n\"O ye sources of light and fountains of knowledge!\" said Misnar,\n\"more precious are your counsels to me than the mines of Raalconda:\nwisdom is the true support of honour, and the Sultan is established by\nthe counsel of his sages. Say, then, what course shall Misnar pursue\nthat may secure him on the throne of the mighty Dabulcombar?\"\n\nThe sages in the divan were struck with astonishment at the\ncondescension of their young Sultan, and one and all fell prostrate\nbefore his throne. \"May wisdom,\" said they, \"guide the footsteps of\nthe illustrious Misnar! may the mind of our Sultan be as the eye of\nday!\"\n\nThen arose the prophet Zeuramaund, and said, \"I perceive, O mighty\nSultan, the dark clouds of evil are gathering to disturb the hours of\nfuturity; the spirits of the wicked are preparing the storm and the\ntempest against thee!\"\n\nThe venerable sages looked aghast as Zeuramaund uttered these ominous\npredictions; the whole council were dismayed at his words, and all\nfell again prostrate on the earth.\n\nMisnar alone appeared to be unconcerned at his predicted fate. \"O my\nfriends,\" said the youthful Sultan, \"the rose cannot blossom without\nthe thorn, nor life be unchequered by the frowns of fate. Grieve not,\nthen, that trials await me, since the spirit of prudence and virtue\nblossoms fairest in a rugged soil.\"\n\nThe sages arose as their royal master spake, and beheld with wonder\nthe youthful countenance of their prudent Sultan.\n\nSilence and amazement for a time prevailed, till one of the sages,\nadvancing before the rest, thus counselled the intrepid Prince:\n\n\"O light of the earth!\" said the trembling sage, \"whose virtue and\ninnocence have not been vexed by frauds, and deceit, whose pure mind\nseeth not the foul devices of man's heart, trust not to the fickle\ninterpositions of chance, where thine own arm can work security, and\nestablish a permanent foundation to thy father's throne. Thou hast a\nbrother, O my Sultan, whose veins are filled with royal blood, and\nwhose heart is by descent above control. Ahubal, therefore, ere his\nyouth unfolds in the fulness of manhood, should be cut off.\"\n\n\"What!\" said the young Sultan Misnar, \"what do thy base suspicious\nfears advise? Is there no way to build up the seat of justice and\nmercy but in murder and fratricide? Never let him who was born to\nexecute judgment secure his honours by cruelty and oppression. The\nrighteous Allah planted me not here to spread a poisonous shade over\nthe offspring of His Prophet Mahomet: though fear and submission be a\nsubject's tribute, yet is mercy the attribute of Allah, and the most\npleasing endowment of the vicegerents of earth. But as thou, weak man,\nhast dared to advise the extirpation of one of the race of the mighty\nDabulcombar, the vengeance of my injured brother's blood fasten upon\nthy life!\"\n\nThe guards of the divan, hearing the sentence of the Sultan,\napproached with their drawn sabres towards the decrepit sage; but\nMisnar, rising, cried out,\n\n\"Who of my subjects shall dare to violate with blood the sanctity of\nthis refuge for the oppressed? Let the divan of justice be sacred:\nnevertheless, lead that author of malice from my sight, and let his\nown blood make satisfaction for the cruelty of his desires.\"\n\nAs he spake thus, the guards attempted to seize the sage; but when\nthey advanced towards him, flames of fire burst from his mouth, and\nhis whole form appeared as that of a fiery dragon. The rest of the\nsages fled from the dreadful monster; but Misnar, with an intrepid\ncountenance, stood before his throne, with his drawn sabre pointing\ntowards the dragon, when through the flames he perceived a hoary\nmagician on the back of the monster.\n\n\"Vain, O silly child of Mahomet!\" said the enchanter, \"were thy sabre\nagainst the power of my art, did not a superior force uphold thee; but\ntremble at thy doom: twice four of my race are determined against\nthee, and the throne of Dabulcombar noddeth over thy head; fear hath\nnow preserved thee, and the weakness of thy heart, which the credulous\nbelievers of Mahomet will call prudence and moderation; but the fiend\nof darkness is let loose, and the powers of enchantment shall\nprevail.\" As the old magician spake thus, his fiery dragon, with\ntremendous hissings, arose, and, cleaving the dome of the divan,\ndisappeared from their sight.\n\n\"Thus,\" said the illustrious Misnar, \"let the enemies of Mahomet be\ndismayed! But inform me, O ye sages, under the semblance of which of\nyour brethren did that foul enchanter gain admittance here?\"\n\n\"As I travelled on the mountains from Queda,\" answered Bahilu, the\nhermit of the Faithful from Queda, \"and saw neither the footsteps of\nbeasts nor the flights of birds, behold, I chanced to pass through a\ncavern, in whose hollow sides I found this accursed sage, to whom I\nunfolded the invitation of the Sultan of India, and we journeyed\ntogether towards the divan; but ere we entered he said unto me, 'Put\nthy hand forth, and pull me toward thee into the divan, calling on the\nname of Mahomet; for the evil spirits are on me and vex me.'\"\n\nAfter the hermit Bahilu had spoken, Mangelo arose.\n\n\"May the power of the Sultan of the East be multiplied!\" said he; \"but\nknow, O Sultan, that neither evil genius nor enchanter can enter this\nseat of justice unless he be invited in the name of Mahomet.\"\n\n\"If it be so,\" answered the Sultan Misnar, \"then neither can they be\nmasked against the voice of justice; for Thou, O righteous Allah, wilt\nuphold the tribunal which Thou has founded upon earth, and make the\nvisions of fraud to depart from him who seeketh truth. Therefore,\"\ncontinued the Sultan, \"lest this assembly be still tainted with malice\nand infidelity, I command the evil spirits to stand confessed before\nme.\"\n\nAt his word, sulphurous smokes arose, and from the thronged assembly\nseven hideous forms broke forth.\n\nFirst, on a vulture's pinions, the fell enchanter Tasnar soared aloft,\nwhose skin was as the parched Indian's when he writhes impaled upon\nthe bloody stake.\n\nNext, on the back of an enormous scorpion, whose tail dropped deadly\npoison, Ahaback appeared, and with his eyes darted malignant flashes\non the youthful Sultan.\n\nHappuck, a subtle magician, followed him, seated on the shoulders of a\ntiger, whose mane was shagged with snakes, and whose tail was covered\nwith twining adders.\n\nHapacuson also, that decrepit hag, who personated the righteous\nSallasalsor, from Nechal, now stripped of the garments of hypocrisy,\nfilled the eyes of the sages with terror and amazement. Her lean\nbones, wrapped round with yellow skin, appeared like the superstitious\nmummies of western Egypt. She was mounted on a dreadful monster. Its\nform was like the deadly spider, but in bulk like the elephant of the\nwoods; hairs, like cobwebs, covered its long bony legs, and from\nbehind, a bag of venom, of a whitish hue, spurted forth its malignant\ninfluence.\n\nShe was followed by her malicious sister Ulin, squatting on the back\nof a hideous toad.\n\nThen, with a loud hiss, started forth, in many a fold, a black\nserpent, in length and bulk like the cedars of the forest, bearing the\npowerful enchantress Desra, whose wide-extended ears covered a head of\niniquity.\n\nLast, with majestic horrors, the giant Kifri swelled into his full\nproportion: the long alligator that bore him groaned with his load,\nand opening all his mouths (for every scale appeared a mouth), vomited\nforth streams of blood. In his hand the giant brandished a tall pine,\nand, shaking it at the dauntless Misnar, said,\n\n\"Tremble, vile reptile, at a giant's wrath! tremble at the magic\npowers of all my brethren, for thy doom is fixed!\"\n\nAt these words, the infernal crew joined with Kifri, and all at once\npronounced in harsh discordant sounds, \"Tremble, vile reptile, for thy\ndoom is fixed!\"\n\nThe enchanters were then involved in a thick cloud of smoke, from\nwhich issued flashes of lightning, which, ascending to the roof of the\ndivan, disappeared in a moment.\n\n\"There is neither wisdom nor prudence,\" said Misnar, as he prostrated\nhimself on the ground, after the enchantments were at an end, \"but\nwhat is derived from Allah. If Thou dost vouchsafe to direct my steps,\nO Protector of Mussulmen, the fear of evil shall not come upon me.\"\n\n\"Happy,\" said Candusa, the imam of Lahor, \"happy is the Prince whose\ntrust is in Allah, and whose wisdom cometh from the Heavens.\"\n\n\"Happy,\" said all the sages, humbling themselves before the Sultan\nMisnar, \"happy is our Sultan, the favourite of Allah!\"\n\n\"That, O sages,\" replied Misnar, \"is too much for even the Sultan of\nthe East to hear. But, may the all-righteous Allah approve of my\nthoughts and actions; so shall the infernal powers destroy the\nwretches that employ them, and the dark poisoned arrow recoil upon him\nthat blew it forth. But, O sages, though your numbers are reduced,\nyour integrity is more tried and approved; therefore let your Sultan\npartake of the sweetness of your counsels, and learn from aged\nexperience the wisdom of the sons of earth. Say, then, what doth the\npeace and security of my throne require from me concerning my brother\nAhubal, the issue of the mighty Dabulcombar?\"\n\n\"Far be it from me,\" said the sage Carnakan, \"to presume to utter my\nwords as oracles before the Prince; but may not the security of the\nEast require that the Prince thy brother be not enlarged, as my Sultan\nis, to do whatsoever seemeth good in his heart? Should not the younger\nbe as servant to the first-born of his father, and are not all the\nPrinces the vassals of the Sultans of the East? Let, therefore, the\nPrince Ahubal enjoy the pleasure of life; but let him be removed from\ngiving pain and uneasiness to my royal Sultan Misnar. At the sources\nof the springs of Ava, on the craggy rocks of Aboulfaken, is a royal\ncastle built by the sage Illfakircki, to which there is no passage but\nthrough a narrow vale, which may be ever guarded by the slaves of\nMisnar. Hither let the Prince be sent; and let him live there, and\nenjoy life, without having any power to molest the glories of thy\nreign.\"\n\nThe counsel of Carnakan was agreeable to the Sultan and his sages; and\nMisnar gave immediate orders, that the mutes of his seraglio should\nattend the Prince to the royal castle at Aboulfaken; and then\ndismissing, for the present, the assembled sages, he commanded them to\nattend the divan every week.\n\nIn a few days, the mutes and guards who were sent with the Prince\nAhubal being admitted into the presence of their Sultan, fell on their\nfaces, and cried out,\n\n\"Oh, let not the displeasure of the Sultan visit his slaves, who, in\nobedience to thy royal word, journeyed toward the castle of\nAboulfaken, and, as they passed along through the deserts, a party of\nfive thousand horse appeared, who, setting upon us, ordered us either\nto deliver up the Prince Ahubal, or defend him with our lives. Thy\nslaves would willingly have chosen the latter fate. Yet, alas! what\nwere four hundred guards and twenty mutes to the army that opposed us?\nBut our consultation was vain; for while we debated how to defend\nourselves, the Prince drew his sabre, and, killing three of our\nnumber, cut his way through the guards to his friends. The horsemen\nthen would have set upon us and hewed us in pieces; but their chief\nforbade them, saying, 'No, let them live, and be the messengers of the\nPrince's escape. Go,' continued he, 'dastard slaves! and let your\nSultan know, that Ahubal has friends who will shortly punish him for\nhis designs on the Prince.'\"\n\nAt these words of the guards Misnar gave a deep sigh, and said, \"Human\nprudence alone is far too weak to fight against the wiles of the\ndeceitful; but Allah is more powerful than man. I will therefore send\nfor the prophets, and inquire of them where I may seek for the\nassistance of Mahomet.\"\n\nThe Sultan then commanded Zeuramaund and his tribe, and Mangelo the\nprophet, from the hollow rocks of Caxol, to be brought before him; and\nwhen they were come into his presence, he demanded of them, where he\nmight seek for the assistance of Mahomet, and the countenance of\nAllah.\n\nThen Zeuramaund answered the Sultan in these words:\n\n\"In the tomb of the Prophet of Mecca is the signet of Mahomet, which\nno human power may remove; but if the Prophet will hear the prayer of\nthe Sultan, it may easily be taken thence.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Mangelo, \"the seal of Mahomet will indeed preserve the\nPrince from enchantment; but it is also necessary that he put on the\ngirdle of Opakka, which is worn by the giant Kifri, the sworn enemy of\nthe Eastern throne. For although the signet of Mahomet will preserve\nthe Sultan from evil, yet will the girdle of Opakka only save him from\ndeceit.\"\n\nThe Sultan Misnar was moved at the discourse of his prophets, and\nspent the night in thought and perplexity. He had little hope that the\nsignet of Mahomet, which had for ages remained immovable, should\nyield to him; or that, with all his numerous armies, he should be able\nto force the girdle of Opakka from the loins of an enchanter, who\ncould in a moment overwhelm his troops by the power of his art.\nHowever, he determined the next morning to go with his Court on a\npublic pilgrimage to Mecca, and to offer up the most solemn petitions\nto the Prophet of his faith.\n\nEarly in the morning the Sultan arose from his seraglio, and commanded\nhis courtiers to prepare the procession, as he intended immediately to\nmake a public pilgrimage to Mecca.\n\nBut as Misnar was making known his intentions, a messenger arrived in\nhaste at the entrance of the seraglio, who brought advice that one of\nthe southern kingdoms had revolted, and was led on by a skilful\nheroine, who declared her intentions of placing Ahubal, the brother of\nthe Sultan, on the throne of India.\n\nMisnar was conscious that this revolt was brought about through the\ncontrivances of the enchanters, and therefore despaired of conquering\nthem by means of his armies; but lest the other kingdoms, seeing no\ntroops were sent to repel the rebels, should also join the adverse\nparty, the Sultan commanded the signal of war to sound; and sending\nfor his Grand Vizier Horam in private, he ordered him to lead out the\narmies of Delhi against the rebels, and to dispatch daily messengers\nto the capital, to bring advice of his success.\n\nThe Vizier Horam received the Sultan's commission with reverence, and\nsaid, \"Let not my Sultan be angry at his slave. If my lord should\nrequire ten thousand messengers, his slave Horam would dispatch them.\nBut if my lord will accept of this tablet, he shall know in a moment\nthe success of his servant, though numberless leagues distant.\"\n\n\"What!\" said Misnar, taking the tablet from his Vizier. \"By what means\nis this tablet endued with these rare virtues?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered Horam, \"when my father, through the malice of his\nenemies, was banished from the presence of the mighty Dabulcombar--whom\nthe houris of Paradise do serve--he called me to him, and said, 'O Horam,\nthe evil-minded have prevailed, and thy father has fallen a sacrifice to\nthe enemies of truth! No more, my son, shall I behold the children of my\nstrength, nor the splendour of my Sultan's Court. Whither I go, I know\nnot. But take this tablet, my son; and whatever befalleth thy parent shall\nat times be made known to thee in the leaves of this book; and to\nwhomsoever thou givest it, that friend shall, after my death, read therein\nwhatever Horam my son shall wish to make known unto him.'\"\n\n\"Faithful Horam,\" answered the Sultan, \"your present is of such\nexquisite value, that I shall, in confidence, honour you with the\nfirst place in my esteem. Know, then, my faithful Vizier, that the\npowers of enchantment are let loose against my throne, and the\nprophets have said, 'Thou shalt not prevail but with the signet of\nMahomet and the girdle of Opakka;' therefore it is expedient that I\nfirst go to Mecca to obtain this valuable gift of the Prophet. My\npurpose this morning was to go surrounded by the nobles of my Court;\nbut while rebellion stalketh abroad, pageants are idle, and the parade\nof a Sultan's pilgrimage will give my enemies time to increase in\ntheir numbers and strength. No, Horam; I myself will in secret\napproach the tomb of my Prophet, for Allah requireth the service of\nthe heart, and searcheth out the purity of his servants' intentions: I\nshall go with greater humility as a peasant than as a prince. In the\nmeantime my royal tent shall be pitched, and Horam only shall be\nsuffered to approach it. So shall my slaves imagine their Sultan goeth\nforth with them to the field, and their hearts shall be strengthened.\"\n\n\"Be the desires of the Sultan fulfilled,\" said Horam, with reverence;\n\"but will not my lord take with him a guard in his pilgrimage?--for\nthe dangers of the journey are great over the mountains and deserts,\nand the voyage by the seas is perilous.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the Sultan; \"those who are my slaves _here_, may at a\ndistance become my masters, and sell me to my foes: where the trust is\ngreat, great is the danger also. Shall I set guards over my person in\nthe heart of my kingdom amidst my faithful subjects, and trust my life\nin a slave's hand where I am neither known nor respected?\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam was struck with the prudence of his youthful Sultan,\nand bowed in assent to his words.\n\nIn a few days the armies of India assembled; the royal tent was\npitched, and the Vizier was declared the leader of his Sultan's\nforces. Misnar entered his tent in great state, and Horam alone\nfollowed the Sultan into the retirements of the movable pavilion.\n\nThe Vizier had, according to the Sultan's instructions, prepared a\ndisguise for his master; and at midnight led him, like a peasant,\nthrough the encampment into a wood, where, falling at his feet, he\nbesought him to consider well the dangers he was about to encounter.\n\n\"Horam,\" answered the Sultan, \"I well know the goodness of thy heart,\nand that thy fears arise from thy love. Sensible am I that the dangers\nof my pilgrimage are great; but what resource have I left? More than\nman is risen up against me, and more than man must assist me, or I\nperish. To whom, then, can I fly, but to the Prophet of the Faithful?\nFor I am well assured that no enchantment shall prevail against me\nwhile I journey toward Mecca, for such is the faith of all true\nbelievers: though they may oppress and fatigue me, yet in the end\nshall I triumph. Besides, Horam, there remains no other course for\nme.\"\n\n\"True, my Sultan,\" answered the Vizier: \"without Allah, vain is the\ncounsel of man; but is not Allah everywhere present to aid and defend\nthe sons of the Faithful?\"\n\n\"Though Allah be all-powerful,\" answered Misnar, \"yet is not the slave\nof His hand to direct the Lord of all things. If we would gain the\nhelp and assistance of Allah, we must obey His commands; and well are\nwe assured in the law of our Prophet, that at Mecca shall the prayer\nof the Faithful be heard. Wherefore, O Horam, no longer my slave, but\nmy friend, lead forth my armies with confidence and trust, and doubt\nnot that He, who daily refresheth the sun with light, will shortly\nrestore Misnar to the throne of his forefathers.\"\n\nAs he spake thus the Sultan broke from his Vizier, Horam, who had\nfallen at his feet weeping at his fixed resolves, and penetrated into\nthe gloomy recesses of the forest.\n\nAll was silence and darkness, save where, through broken fragments of\nfleeting clouds, the moon sometimes threw a feeble light on the gloom\nof the forest.\n\n\"This gloomy recess,\" said Misnar, as he passed on, \"which hides me\nfrom the world, makes me better known to myself. In the Court of my\nforefathers I am called the 'light of the world,' the 'glory of the\nEast,' and the 'eye of day;' but in the wild forest of Tarapajan I am\na poor helpless creature. What, then, is the pride of man but deceit,\nand the glories of the earth but shadows? Surely more had I to fear\nfrom enchantment on the throne of Dabulcombar than in the bosom of\nthis forest. Here the wild beast will not flatter me, nor will the\nlordly lion acknowledge me the Sultan of his wild domains.\"\n\nWith such thoughts Misnar passed on for many days; till one night, at\na distance, he perceived the skies looked red with light from various\nfires, and, by the noise, found that some Indians were carousing in\nthe woods before him.\n\nThe disguised Sultan endeavoured to avoid them, striking into a path\nwhich led round their fires; but some of the Indians observing him,\ncalled to their brother peasant, and desired him to partake of their\nmirth.\n\nMisnar thought it would be vain to refuse the request, as they all\nseemed disposed to insist on their demands, and therefore hastened to\nthe scene of their festivity.\n\nHere he found ten or twelve fires, with a number of males and females,\nsome sitting, and some dancing around them to the sound of rustic\nmusic.\n\nMisnar inquired the cause of their mirth.\n\n\"What!\" said an ancient female, \"though you are a stranger in\nTarapajan, and know not that the Feast of Tigers is celebrated by\nthese nightly fires, yet must you now learn that no stranger comes but\nto partake of our joy, nor departs till, the fires are extinct.\"\n\n\"And how long,\" said Misnar, \"doth this feast last?\"\n\n\"This,\" answered the old woman, \"is the third night, and these fires\nmust blaze yet eleven nights and days more, during which time the axe\nis not seen in the hand of the forester, nor doth the bow twang in the\nwoods of Tarapajan; neither may he which seeth these rites depart till\nthey be fulfilled.\"\n\nMisnar was thunderstruck at this relation. And ere he could answer,\nthe crowd gathered round him.\n\n\"Come,\" said he that appeared to be the chief, \"let us initiate this\nstranger into our rites: bring hither the skin of the tiger, and the\npaw of the lion, and the lance, and the bow that twangs not in the\nwoods of Tarapajan during these nightly festivals.\"\n\nThen one brought the skin of a tiger, and threw it over the shoulders\nof Misnar; another came with the paw of a lion, and hung it before\nhim; a third brought a lance, and put it in Misnar's right hand; and a\nfourth slung a bow on his breast. Then all the crowd made a loud\nhowling, and danced round the astonished Sultan.\n\n\"Now,\" said the chief, when the dance was finished, \"sound the hollow\ninstruments of brass, which give notice to the moon and to the stars\nthat this stranger is about to swear not to reveal our rites. Lay\nthine hand on thy head,\" said the chief to the disguised Sultan, \"and\nput thy fingers on thy mouth, and say, 'As the starless night is dark,\nas the cave of death is dark, so shall my thoughts and words continue\nin darkness concerning the festival of tigers.'\"\n\n\"And wherefore,\" said Misnar, \"is this silence imposed? And what shall\nbefall him that sweareth not unto you? Is not the mind of man free?\nAnd who shall offend him who seeketh not to offend others?\"\n\n\"Whosoever,\" answered the chief, \"travelleth, should become obedient\nto the customs of those people among whom he tarrieth.\"\n\n\"Right,\" continued Misnar; \"and I am willing, on two conditions, to\nfulfil your will: first, you shall all swear that I be at liberty to\npursue my journey on the eleventh day; and, next, that I shall not be\nbound to perform aught contrary to the law of Mahomet.\"\n\n\"Stranger,\" replied the chief, \"when we are at liberty to depart, thou\nshalt depart likewise; but during this festival, which is held in\nhonour of our noble ancestor, who remained fourteen days in this\nforest till he had subdued a ravenous race of tigers, no man that has\nentered here may stir hence till the fires be extinguished: for by\nthe fire did our ancestor drive away and destroy the tigers and beasts\nof the forest, and by fire do we commemorate his mighty deeds.\nNeither,\" continued the chief, \"may we reveal these rites to any one\nbut those who by accident espy them; for such as are present with us\nwe are bound to receive into our society; wherefore we compel those\nwho come among us to keep in silence the knowledge of our rites.\"\n\n\"If such is your custom,\" answered Misnar, \"I shall willingly comply,\nand swear to you, that 'As the starless night is dark, as the cave of\ndeath is dark, so shall my words and thoughts continue in darkness\nconcerning the festival of tigers.'\"\n\nAs he uttered these words, the whole assembly again danced around him,\ntill the hollow brazen instruments were ordered to sound, and all the\ninhabitants of the forest were commanded to receive the disguised\nSultan as their brother.\n\nThen the men, one by one, passed by Misnar, each as he passed laying\nthe hand of the Sultan on his breast. After they were passed by, came\nthe females also, who embraced their new brother. These Misnar\nsuffered to pass on without much reflection, till, among the youngest,\nwho last approached, he beheld a beautiful virgin, with downcast\nlooks, drawing near him, and who seemed ashamed of that freedom the\ncustom of the place obliged her to use.\n\nAt sight of this lovely figure, Misnar at once forgot his purpose and\nhis crown, and was impatient till the ceremony brought her near to\nhim. The other females perceived his emotion; and the chief of the\nfestival approaching her, asked the lovely Noradin \"whether she would\nat length fix her choice? for in this place,\" continued the chief,\naddressing himself to Misnar, \"every sex hath freedom, and none are\ncompelled to take the hand they do not love. Noradin hath for these\nthree days been courted by all our tribe, but she has refused every\nadvance: if she refuse not you, our joy will be complete, and then\nnone of our company will be without his companion.\"\n\nMisnar, forgetting the great designs of his heart, waited for the fair\none's answer, and felt more fear at her silence than at this dreadful\nenchantments of his monstrous enemies. At length Noradin answered,\n\"May the joy of my comrades be complete!\" Misnar, in raptures at the\nfair Noradin's preference, took her by the hand, and led up the dance,\nwhile the instruments of brass a third time sounded, to proclaim the\nchoice of Noradin.\n\nAt the appearance of day, each repaired to the cottages around, and\nMisnar and Noradin were led by the chief to a spot, where shortly the\nwhole assembly built them a cottage of bamboo and the leaves of the\nplantain.\n\nAs soon as they retired, Noradin, taking Misnar by the hand, asked him\nwhether she deserved his constant love for the choice she had made.\nMisnar reflected upon the words of his fair companion, and his heart\nrecoiled at them.\n\n\"What!\" said the Sultan to himself, \"shall I, for the gratification of\nmy passion, give up the glories of my father's kingdom, and the\nviceregency of Mahomet? Or shall I basely betray that love which is\nproffered me, and embitter fair Noradin's future cup of life? No,\"\nsaid he aloud, turning to his amiable companion, \"never let the man of\nintegrity deceive the heart that means to make him happy. Forgive me,\nall-beauteous Noradin! but the volumes of my fate are open, and the\nProphet of the Faithful will not permit me to indulge here my secret\naffections: though the soul of thy slave will be torn and divided, yet\nmust he depart with the expiring fires of your festival.\"\n\n\"Base, cold, and senseless wretch!\" said the false Noradin (as the\nbeauteous vision vanished from the eyes of the Sultan, and he beheld\nthe enchantress Ulin before him), \"call not thy frozen purpose virtue,\nbut the green fruits of unripened manhood. Though thou art escaped,\npuny animal as thou art! from the power of my enchantments, yet shall\nthe southern kingdoms of India feel my scourge. Proceed, then,\nsuperstitious reptile! on thy tame pilgrimage to Mecca, while Horam\nfeels the vengeance of my army in the sultry deserts of Ahajah.\"\n\nAs she spake thus, she stretched out her wand, and the fires and the\nforesters, and the enchantress Ulin, disappeared from the sight of the\nastonished Sultan.\n\nThe Sultan immediately prostrated himself on the ground, and gave\nglory to God for his wonderful escape; and, pursuing his journey,\ncontinued his course for two moons through the wide-extended forest of\nTarapajan.\n\nDuring this time he daily examined the tablets which the Vizier Horam\nhad given him; but was very uneasy at finding the leaves always fair.\n\"Alas!\" said he to himself, \"I have trusted to a base man, who perhaps\nhas taken this advantage of my credulity, and intends to set the crown\nof India on my brother's head! There needed not the powers of\nenchantment to overthrow me, since I have betrayed at once my folly\nand my cause.\"\n\nMisnar, therefore, resolved to travel back to Delhi, and learn the\ncause of Horam's silence; but as he neglected not to look on the\ntablets every day, he at length found the following inscription\ntherein:\n\n\"Horam, the faithful slave of the Sultan of the East, to Misnar, the\nlord of his heart.\n\n\"Some time after I left my royal Sultan in the forest, while my heart\nwas sad within me, came a hasty messenger from the outskirts of the\nrebel army, and declared their approach, and that the southern\nprovinces had revolted, and were added to the opposers of the Sultan\nof the East. When thy slave was certain of this intelligence from the\nmouths of many, who hastened to the camp with these bad tidings, I\ncommanded the armies of India to be increased, and a more exact\ndiscipline to be observed in my master's camp; and, perceiving that\nthe enemy hastened to meet the forces, I shortened the march of my\nslaves, that the fatigues of the deserts might not prevail more\nagainst them than the face and the sword of their enemies. Moreover, I\nled thy troops through the most cultivated countries, that the\nnecessaries of life might with the greater ease be procured for the\nmultitudes that followed thy tent. But, alas! the presence of my lord\nis not with his people, and the army murmur that they are led by a\nSultan who cheers not their labours by the light of his person; so\nthat the hearts of thy people are withdrawn from Horam thy slave, and\nthe captains of thousands demand admittance to thy tent, and accuse\nthy Vizier of evil devices against thee, my lord the Sultan.\"\n\nAs the Sultan read this intelligence in the tablet of Horam, his heart\nfailed within him, and the sight of his eyes was as a mist before him.\n\n\"O Misnar! Misnar!\" said he, falling to the ground, \"the fiend of\ndarkness is let loose upon thee! and the powers of enchantment still\nprevail!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Ulin the enchantress, who immediately appeared, \"the\npowers of enchantment shall prevail! Misnar, the faithful servant of\nMahomet, hath at length yielded to my power, and Allah hath given to\nmy vengeance the wretch that doubts His protection. Crawl, therefore,\"\ncontinued she, \"vile reptile, on the earth, and become a toad.\"\n\nAt the powerful voice of her enchantment, the Sultan shrank from his\nnatural form and became a reptile on the earth. His change of form did\nnot take from Misnar his memory or recollection: he was sensible of\nhis disgrace, and of the justness of his sentence; and though he could\nnot fly from himself, yet he hastened into the thicket, that he might\nhide from the light of heaven. But the calls of nature soon drove him\nfrom his recess, to seek his proper food in the desert. He crawled\nforth, and was led on by a scent that pleased him: his spirits seemed\nenlivened by the sweet odour, and his cold feeble limbs were endued\nwith brisker motion.\n\n\"Surely,\" said he, in his heart, \"the bounteous Allah hath not left\nthe meanest of His creatures without comfort and joy. The smell is as\nthe smell of roses, and life and vigour are in these attractive\npaths.\"\n\nWith these thoughts he crawled forwards into the thickest covert; and\nthough his body was drawn with a secret impulse, yet his mind was\nfilled with horror when he came in sight of a mangled and corrupted\nbody, which lay hid among the bushes. One of his own deformed kind sat\nsquatting beside it, and, like himself, seemed to desire and yet\ndetest the loathsome feast.\n\nMisnar, at sight of one of his hideous kind, was filled with scorn and\nrage; and, forgetting his transformation, was about to drive him from\nthe mangled body, when the reptile, opening his mouth, addressed him\nin the language of Delhi.\n\n\"Whether thou art really what thy form bespeaks thee,\" said the\nreptile, \"or, like me, the victim of enchantment, answer.\"\n\nThe Sultan, surprised at this address, and perceiving that misery was\nnot his portion alone, desired to know by what means his\nfellow-creature suffered such a wretched change.\n\n\"Since I perceive by your speech,\" said the reptile, \"that one event\nhas happened to us both, I shall not be adverse to declare to you the\ncause of my transformation; but I shall expect that my confidence will\nnot be misplaced, and that, after I have made you acquainted with my\nhistory, you will not refuse to reveal your own.\"\n\n\"A similitude in our fates,\" replied Misnar, \"has already made us\nbrethren, and I should be unreasonable to ask a favour I meant not to\nreturn.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said he, \"we will depart from this wretched sight into a\ndifferent thicket, where we may unmolested bewail our uncommon fates;\nfor although the enchantress Ulin, to disgrace our former natures, and\nto make us the more sensible of our present deformity, obliges us to\nmeet daily before this horrid spectacle, yet our food is of the fruits\nof the earth; for the wicked enchantress has not the power to make us,\neven in this deformed habit, do that which is contrary to our human\nnature.\"\n\nWhile he was speaking another toad came up.\n\n\"Here,\" continued the first, \"is another of our brethren, and another\nwill soon be here: we were three before you came among us.--Where, O\nPrincess, is the last victim of Ulin's rage?\" said he to the second.\n\n\"He was basking,\" answered the second, \"in the sand; but I aroused\nhim, and he is now on his way.\"\n\nIn a few minutes the third arrived. As soon as he had beheld the\nmangled body, and, the attraction ceased, the first leading the way,\nthey departed into another thicket.\n\n\"Here,\" said the first, \"O stranger, we may rest securely, and the\nserpent cannot annoy us, for we are seated under the shade of the\nfragrant cinnamon.\"\n\n\"We are obliged to you for your care of us,\" said Misnar; \"but I am\neager to hear the cause of your transformation.\"\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF MAHOUD.\n\n\nI am (replied the toad) the son of a jeweller in Delhi, and my name is\nMahoud. My father, after a life of industry and parsimony, finding\nhimself declining, sent for me, and on his death-bed said, \"O Mahoud,\nmy days have been the days of care, but success hath attended them. I\nhave toiled, that thou mayest reap; sown, that thou mayest gather; and\nlaboured, that my son may enjoy the fruits of my industry. My peace\nand comfort have been sacrificed to thine; and now I die, assured that\nmy beloved Mahoud will not be pinched by poverty or oppressed by\npenury and want.\"\n\nThus said my aged father, and expired, and my tears accompanied his\ndeparting spirit; but these soon gave place to that ardent curiosity\nwhich drove me to explore the riches he had left me.\n\nI opened box after box with silent rapture, and was pleased to find\nwealth sufficient to satisfy even the appetite of youth. Many diamonds\nwere among my father's wealth, besides large quantities of gold and\nsilver; so that, in my youthful judgment, there appeared no end to my\nriches.\n\nIt was not wonderful that, being so suddenly put in possession of\nthese riches, I should seek every pleasure and diversion which wealth\ncould purchase. All who were the companions of my childhood, all who\nwould court an inexperienced heart, were admitted to my table; and the\nstrict laws of Mahomet were less regarded at my house than the rich\nwines which sparkled at my feasts. Nor were the charms of the fair\nforgotten; and while our goblets were filled with wine, we envied not\nthe deceased their rivers of milk.\n\nThus passed I my life among those who jest with religion, and make\ntheir mock at the rules of prudence and sobriety. But the time soon\ncame when my hours of revelry were to be changed for those of sorrow,\nand when I was first to learn that a father's prudence will not secure\na wicked son from the shafts of bitterness and grief.\n\nMy possessions, though ample, were nearly exhausted by ignorance and\nextortion; my jewels were gone; unacquainted with their value, I had\nflung them away rather than sold them; my silver and gold were become\nthe property of my friends, who, when I applied to them in return,\nwere much more assiduous, if possible, in keeping it from me than I\nhad been in squandering it on them. So that, in a little while, even\nthe merchants, who had been such gainers by me, came to demand some\ntrifling sums that I had borrowed from them, which being unable to\npay, they seized my furniture and stripped me of my clothes to satisfy\ntheir demands.\n\nIn this situation I was turned out of my own doors by those whom I had\nreceived a thousand times in my arms, and spurned at like a dog by\nthose whom I had pressed to my bosom.\n\nStung by reflecting on my former follies, and ignorant where to fly\nfor shelter, I covered myself with some few rags that had been cast to\nme, and sat down before the house of a rich young man, who, like\nmyself, seemed to be squandering his wealth on the scum of the earth.\n\nBennaskar--for that was his name--soon came forth, with his minstrels\nand singers at his heels, and, seeing a miserable figure before his\ndoor, he asked what I wanted. I told him that once, like himself, I\ngave life to the dance and mirth to my friends; but that want of\ncaution had been the cause of my ruin, and too much confidence in\nthose who least deserved my favour.\n\nSeveral of his friends, hearing this, would have driven me from his\npresence, saying it was unfit such a wretch should even enjoy the\nblessings of the air; but Bennaskar would not suffer it, and asked me,\n\"Whether the insincerity of my friends had taught me to be sincere to\nothers?\"\n\nI answered that I had ever been sincere, even to those who were\nundeserving, and that I would rather die than betray my friend.\n\n\"If what you say is true,\" said Bennaskar, \"I will try you. Go in, and\nmy servants shall clothe you, and you shall live with me. I only ask\nin return, that you never disclose to any one what you hear or see\ntransacted in my house.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered I, \"your offer is gracious, and bespeaks your generous\nintentions; but I do not choose to live on another's bounty unless I\ncan make myself useful.\"\n\n\"That,\" answered Bennaskar, \"you may do if I find I can trust you. I\nhave long been in search of one I could trust. I want such an one, but\ncannot find him.\"\n\nThe friends of Bennaskar then surrounded their lord, and each\nconfusedly offered their services to him.\n\n\"No,\" said the young man, \"though I appear unthoughtful in your eyes,\nO, servile race of flatterers! yet know, to your confusion, that I\nhave tried you all, and find you trifling and insincere. This man\nalone refuses my proffered love unless he can return it, and this man\nalone is worthy of my esteem.\"\n\nThe friends of Bennaskar were thunderstruck at his words, and renewed\ntheir protestations; but he commanded his servants to drive them from\nhis house, and, taking me by the hand, he led me into an inner but\nsumptuous apartment.\n\nAs soon as we entered, I prostrated myself at his feet, and said, \"Let\nnot my lord be angry with his servant, but thou hast not told me what\nservice thou wilt expect from me.\"\n\n\"All that I require,\" answered Bennaskar, \"is that you disclose not to\nany one what you hear or see transacted in my house.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered I, \"of what service can I be to you by such a\ncompliance? If I am silent thy slaves may speak, and I shall be blamed\nfor their insincerity. I pray thee, let me return to my rags, and set\nme not in a place where thy vassals will be tempted to ruin me in thy\nfavour.\"\n\n\"Your answer,\" said Bennaskar, \"is the answer of a prudent man. But\nfear not: I cannot do without you, and I hope you will not refuse my\nproffered love. What you will see, none will see besides you;\ntherefore none but yourself will be unfaithful to me.\"\n\nOn this assurance, I accepted the offer of Bennaskar. After which the\nslaves led me to the bath, where I washed, and was perfumed, and\narrayed in a vestment of my lord's.\n\nBennaskar was impatient to see me; and, as I was led into his\npresence, the young man hastened to meet me, and, folding me in his\narms, he said, \"May I at length meet a friend I call trust?\"\n\nAnd I answered, \"May Mahoud be the friend of thy bosom?\"\n\nBennaskar then led me into another apartment, and meats were set\nbefore us, and he ordered the females that danced to come and\nentertain us.\n\nThus I spent my time with the agreeable Bennaskar: every day we varied\nour enjoyments, and were mutually satisfied with each other.\n\nI had now been with my friend eighteen days, and nothing had occurred\nto interrupt our friendship, when, on the nineteenth morning,\nBennaskar appeared with a clouded visage.\n\n\"What,\" said I, \"my lord, is the cause of your grief? Shall not Mahoud\nshare alike with you the smiles and the frowns of Allah?\"\n\n\"Is it not,\" asked Bennaskar, \"O Mahoud, the full of the moon?\"\n\n\"It is,\" replied I, with a smile; \"but doth Bennaskar intend to change\nwith that fluctuating planet?\"\n\n\"O Mahoud,\" said Bennaskar, \"the fate of thy friend is dependent on\nthe caprice of the stars. To-night must I put thy utmost friendship to\nthe trial. If Mahoud prove insincere, then is Bennaskar cursed among\nmen. If thy heart is not firm, now, while there is time, depart. But\nwhy should I doubt thee? surely Mahoud is of the sons of the Faithful.\nWhat must I say? Leave me, Mahoud, leave me; nay, if thou departest,\nwhere shall I find thy fellow? and the presence of a friend is\nnecessary to my quiet.\"\n\n\"Then,\" answered I, \"fear not, Bennaskar: Mahoud may be unhappy, but\nhe cannot be unjust. But what is this dreadful trial that obliges\nBennaskar to suspect his friend?\"\n\n\"True,\" said Bennaskar, \"Mahoud is undeserving of suspicion. Let us\nwait till the sun sink from the skies, and the stars return with their\nglimmering light.\"\n\nBennaskar then proceeded to the bath, and arrayed himself in a costly\nrobe, and desired me to do the same. I obeyed my friend, and we met in\nthe saloon together.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Bennaskar, as we met, \"how can I request my friend to\nwear the image of deformity?\"\n\n\"What image of deformity,\" said I, \"must Mahoud wear? All appearances\nare to Mahoud alike; and the severer the trial, the more shall I\ncommend thy friendship.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Bennaskar, pulling out a pot of black ointment, \"thou\nmust suffer me to disguise thy face with this ointment: to-night thou\nmust personate a black slave.\"\n\n\"Is such a trifle,\" said I, \"the test of friendship? Give me the\nointment, and furnish me with the habit of a slave.\"\n\n\"The habit,\" answered Bennaskar, \"is ready, and all is ready; but you\nmust not as yet disguise yourself, lest my slaves observe us. Come,\nlet us for the present enjoy ourselves, and, when night approaches,\nBennaskar will rely on the friendship of Mahoud.\"\n\nThe slaves then brought us the costly viands of Delhi; but Bennaskar\nremained pensive, and seemed not to relish the dainties before him.\n\nI endeavoured all I could to divert his melancholy; I smiled, I sang\nbefore him; the dancers were introduced with music to dissipate his\ngloom; but Bennaskar still remained mute. The music continued till\nnight, when Bennaskar commanded the slaves to withdraw, and, taking a\nlamp in his hand, led me through several apartments.\n\n\"Mahoud,\" said he, as we went along, \"has never yet seen the wonders\nof my palace.\"\n\n\"I am happy, my lord,\" answered I, \"to see your wealth; but I am not\ninquisitive to explore, unbidden, the secrets of another.\"\n\nWe had now arrived at a small vaulted room, from the centre of which\nhung a lamp, which Bennaskar trimmed, putting out the one he held in\nhis hand.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"Mahoud, enter that closet which is opposite to us,\nand put on the slave's dress which you will find there, and anoint thy\nface and hands with this black ointment.\"\n\nI immediately obeyed, and in a short time came forth arrayed as a\nslave.\n\n\"Kind Mahoud,\" said Bennaskar, \"thou art excellently disguised; now\nobey with silence, and stand as a mute before his lord.\"\n\nI folded my arms and nodded assent, at which he smiled.\n\n\"Take hold, Mahoud,\" said he, \"of that iron ring which is fastened to\nthe middle of the floor, and pull.\"\n\nI obeyed, and a little trap-door opened. On looking down, I perceived\na woman in rich vestments, half buried in the earth. I shuddered at\nthe sight, and was falling backward, when Bennaskar struck me with a\nchabouc,[6] which he drew from his bosom, and said, \"Villain, if thou\nfail me, I shall use thee as my slave.\"\n\n[Footnote 6: A large whip.]\n\nAlthough enraged at the blow, yet I remembered my promise, and\nreturned to the trap-door.\n\n\"Slave,\" said Bennaskar, \"dig that female out of the ground: the spade\nand the mattock are hidden under the floor.\"\n\nI immediately jumped down, found the tools, and began to work; but\nneither my fear nor my labour could prevent me from fixing my eyes on\nthe lovely female, who seemed as one dead.\n\nAs soon as I had removed the earth from her, which I did with great\ncare, Bennaskar commanded me to lift the body into the apartment, gave\nme a phial of clear blue liquor, and ordered me to pour it into her\nmouth, while he retired to the closet.\n\nI willingly obeyed, and hastened to administer the liquid, while\nBennaskar retired.\n\nThe liquor was no sooner swallowed than the lovely female began to\nmove, and in a short time opening her eyes, she cast them upon me, and\nshrieked out, clapping her hands together and crying, \"O Allah, defend\nme!\"\n\nBennaskar at the same time spoke to her from the closet where he was\nconcealed.\n\n\"Hemjunah,\" said he, \"are you as yet disposed to yield yourself to the\nwill of Bennaskar, or must we still experience the evils of opposite\nenchantment?\"\n\n\"Wretch!\" answered the fair stranger, \"I fear not the powers of your\naccursed magic, for Macoma has assured me that you shall not be able\nto harm me except with my own consent; and Mahomet, though for a time\nhe permits this enchantment, will at length assuredly deliver me.\"\n\n\"Then,\" answered Bennaskar, \"must the lash be inflicted. Here,\"\ncontinued he, \"slave Mahoud, inflict fifty lashes on that obdurate\nfemale.\"\n\nI took the chabouc from Bennaskar, and began, with trembling, my cruel\noffice, lamenting my own blind compliance in promising to obey a\nmonster whom I had mistaken for a friend.\n\nAs the lash touched the beautiful Hemjunah, she made the vaulted roof\nre-echo with her cries; nor did my heart feel less sensibly the\nstrokes which I gave than her own. The tears trickled down my cheeks,\nand I prayed inwardly to be delivered from the hateful task.\n\n\"What,\" said Bennaskar from the closet, \"what doth Hemjunah now say to\nmy desires?\"\n\n\"The hard-hearted and the cruel,\" said Hemjunah, faintly, \"are the\nlast to win the soft affections of a female heart: rather let me die\nthan be the property of the vile Bennaskar.\"\n\n\"If so,\" said he, coming from the closet, \"die: for the present I\nresign my power. Let Macoma hide thee again in the dust of the earth.\"\n\nBennaskar no sooner appeared than the beautiful Hemjunah again seemed\nto die away, and immediately a hissing noise was heard, and an ugly\ndwarf arose from the trap-door, and took the body of Hemjunah and\nreplaced it in the earth, and the trap-door was closed with a roaring\nnoise.\n\nBennaskar then beckoned me to follow him, and leading me to the bath,\nbade me wash and return to the saloon in my proper vestments.\n\nI was so surprised at these horrors that I hardly knew what I did.\nHowever, in the bath I had time to recollect myself; but recollection\nwas of little service, for reflection rather increased than cleared my\nconfusion. One moment I resolved to apply to the Cadi, and declare\nevery circumstance of the terrible adventure. The next I was awed by\nthe thoughts of my rash and imprudent vows of secrecy.\n\n\"Bennaskar,\" said I, \"has for a month appeared as an angel before me;\nbut one base action has deformed all his former purity. How can I\nreconcile these inconsistencies? Can he, who is the tenderest, the\nbest of friends, be also the vilest and most cruel of mankind? I have\nbeen accessory to the torture of a most beautiful female--one, too,\nwho called on the perfect Allah to deliver her. I have been the\ninstrument of a mean revenge on a helpless woman, and now I yet delay\nto inform the Cadi of the villanies of this house of enchantment.\"\n\nI resolved immediately to repair to the Cadi, and give him full\ninformation of the sorceries of Bennaskar. I hastened out of the bath,\nthrew my vestments over me, and advanced to the door.\n\n\"But,\" said I, as I went along, \"what am I about to do? I shall\nforfeit my faith without serving the distressed. Bennaskar expects me\nin the saloon, and when he finds that I am gone forth, he will, by the\npower of his art, secrete the beautiful female from the eyes of the\nCadi. I have been the guest of Bennaskar a month, and never, till this\nday, did I perceive the rooms through which I was led to that\ndetestable act of cruelty: nay, Bennaskar himself was obliged to wait:\nhe was impatient till the full of the moon, and oppressed with sorrow\nand care when it arose. I will, therefore, for the present, return to\nBennaskar, and will put on the face of cheerfulness, and make my\ncountenance to shine before him.\"\n\nBennaskar met me on my return. \"Whence cometh Mahoud?\" said he.\n\n\"I am,\" answered I, \"just risen from the bath, and I come to meet my\nfriend Bennaskar.\"\n\n\"Mahoud,\" answered Bennaskar, \"art thou faithful, and wilt thou ever\nremain faithful to thy friend?\"\n\nThese words embarrassed me, and, not daring to answer otherwise, I\nsaid, \"Why doth my lord doubt the sincerity of my heart?\"\n\n\"Mahoud, then,\" returned he, \"is faithful?\"\n\n\"He is,\" answered I, but with an unwilling heart.\n\n\"I doubt not,\" continued Bennaskar, \"that my friend is amazed at the\nscene he lately beheld. But ask no explanations: let thy mouth be ever\nclosed to seek or reveal.\"\n\n\"Then,\" answered I, \"you doubt the faithfulness of Mahoud; else why\nmay not I know the meaning of the wonders I have seen?\"\n\n\"The age of thy friendship,\" said Bennaskar, \"is a month, and wouldst\nthou be admitted in so short a time to all the secrets of my heart?\nForbear, rash youth. A well-tried friend is Bennaskar's joy; but woes\nand death are in the paths of his enemies.\"\n\nAs he said this, he frowned and left me, and I retired to my\napartment, irresolute in mind. As I entered my chamber, I perceived a\nsmall book open on a desk before the burning lamps. I went up to it,\nand found it was the Koran of our holy law. Being little desirous of\nsleep, I sat down; and as I read, methought I saw the name of Mahoud\nin the book.\n\nStartled at the vision, I looked again, and read distinctly these\nwords:\n\n\"Mahoud! Mahoud! Mahoud! there is much good in the world, but there is\nmore evil; the good is the gift of Allah, but the evil is the choice\nof His creatures. Because of man's sin, and because of the darkness of\nhis heart, do the evil genii and the enchantments of wickedness\nprevail. Even now is Mahoud in the house of a magician, to whom he is\nimprudently bound by the ties of honour: to draw back is meanness; but\nto persist is sin. When men act wrong, they subject themselves to the\npower of a wicked race; and we who are the guardians of mortality\ncannot interpose but in proportion to their remorse. Taken by the\ncrafty dissimulation of Bennaskar, thy easy soul gave in to his\nsnares, and thy prudence was decoyed by the voice of his mouth. Thou\nhast promised, at all events, not to reveal the secrets of his house,\nand thou hast, unknowingly, joined thyself in the fellowship of the\nwicked. But can man, who is bound to the service of Allah by an\nunalterable law, dispose of himself against the will of his Maker? or\ncan the worm of the earth, the property of Heaven, set up itself\nagainst the hand that formed it? Had Mahoud engaged to conceal\neverything but what the law of Mahomet obliged him to reveal, he had\nbehaved wisely; but he who walketh in darkness will undoubtedly fall\ninto the pit. Past errors cannot be recalled; and Mahoud must learn\nthe wisdom of experience. Under the resemblance of the Koran, behold,\nthe genius Macoma instructs thine heart. I perceive evil will attend\nthee, if thou dost attempt the enlargement of the Princess of\nCassimir; and yet, without it, thou must still continue the servant of\ncruelty and oppression. Choose, therefore, for yourself: if injured\ninnocence can move thee, boldly suffer in the cause of truth, and take\nthis book in thy bosom, which shall at all times admit thee to a sight\nof the Princess; if not, be still the slave of the enemy of thy\nProphet.\"\n\nAfter this, I looked again on the book, but found I could read no\nmore; however, I hesitated not to engage in the service of the\nPrincess; and therefore, taking the book in my bosom, and the lamp in\nmy hand, I went toward the saloon, supposing that Bennaskar was\nasleep. I searched for the rooms through which I had passed before,\nand soon perceived the vaulted apartment at the end of them.\n\nI hastened to take up the trap-door, and touching the Princess\nHemjunah with the book, essayed to deliver her from her miserable\nconfinement. The Princess awoke at the touch of the book; but, at the\nsight of me, shrieked aloud, and I feared her cries would awaken\nBennaskar. I assured her that I was sent by the genius Macoma to\neffect her deliverance, and that I abhorred every kind of cruelty\nwhich I had practised upon her.\n\n\"Alas!\" said she, still shrieking at intervals, \"your story betrays\nyour wickedness. I never before saw you, unless you are, as I suspect,\nthe magician Bennaskar under some feigned appearance; but rest\nassured, vile man! that no deceit or cruelty shall ever make me the\ncreature of Bennaskar. I will ever persist in my hatred of you; and I\nam assured that you cannot injure or destroy me.\"\n\n\"Most gracious Princess Hemjunah!\" said I, prostrating myself before\nher, \"let me beseech you to hear me: I am not Bennaskar, nor a\ncreature of Bennaskar's, but the servant of the genius Macoma, who has\ninstructed me, by means of this holy book (which I then pulled out),\nto attempt your rescue, and I am willing to lay down my life for your\nsafety. You have not indeed seen me in my present character, but this\nvery night was I brought hither by Bennaskar, under the similitude of\na slave, and forced, through a most accursed oath, to inflict the\nseverest tortures on the most delicate of her sex.\"\n\n\"Wretch!\" said the Princess, \"I am now convinced of thy perfidy,\nallowing thine own account to be true; for what promise could bind\nthee to a cruel action? and why not rather be thyself a sufferer than\nmake an innocent virgin the subject of thy cruelties? But if thou art\ntruly the servant of Macoma, and ashamed of thy late inhuman deeds,\nquit the house of the vile Bennaskar, and inform the Cadi of his\ncruelties and sorceries.\"\n\n\"Rather,\" said I, \"let me dig around you, and release you from this\nmiserable confinement.\"\n\n\"That,\" said the Princess, \"you cannot do, unless you are indeed, as I\nsuspect, the wretch Bennaskar; for by his command alone can I be\nreleased. Oh, fool that I was,\" continued she, with tears, \"to listen\nfor a moment to the falsehood of man!\"\n\n\"If my information,\" said I, \"O lovely Hemjunah, will avail, this\nmoment will I fly to the Cadi, and acquaint him with your distress.\"\n\nI then hastened to go; but oh, imagine my terror and amazement when I\nsaw Bennaskar moving through the apartments which led to the vaulted\nchamber!\n\nAs he advanced, Hemjunah shrieked, and I was ready to sink: though my\nintentions were just and good, yet was I terrified by his appearance,\nso much was I sunk by the rash promise which I had made; and I every\nmoment expected the dreadful effects of his powerful malice.\n\nAs Bennaskar entered the vaulted chamber, I shrank back with fear, and\ndared not lift up my eyes; but my terror was soon quieted, when I saw\nhim fall prostrate at my feet. I then no longer doubted that the\ngenius Macoma supported me, and attributed his behaviour to her\nsupernatural power.\n\n\"O Mahoud,\" said Bennaskar, \"the friend of my bosom, the partner of my\nsecrets; although the power of love has not the rule in thine heart,\nyet pity those who are the slaves of its dominion; if the lovely\nPrincess of Cassimir did but know the purity of my heart, the----\"\n\n\"Hear not the villain,\" said Hemjunah, \"O servant of Macoma, unless he\nrelease me from this detested place: me he hath already deceived; and\nyou will be subjected likewise to his power, unless the prudent spirit\nof Macoma direct thee.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Bennaskar, rising up, and laying bare his bosom, \"here,\nMahoud, strike, and end my miseries, and the miseries of Hemjunah; but\nnever will Bennaskar consent to lose the treasure of his heart.\"\n\n\"I will not,\" answered I, \"lift up my private arm against thy life,\nbut I shall deliver thee to the power of the Cadi, who is the deputy\nof the great Allah's vicegerent.\"\n\n\"Give me, then,\" said the Princess of Cassimir, \"the book of the\ngenius Macoma, that I may be defended from the insults and\ncontrivances of the base Bennaskar.\"\n\nThe request of the Princess appeared to be so reasonable, that I\nobeyed her, and put the book into her hands.\n\nBennaskar, when I was leaving the vaulted chamber, besought me not to\ndestroy the friend who had supported me; but I told him that Allah was\nto be obeyed rather than man.\n\nI hastened to the Cadi; but as it was night, his officers told me I\ncould not be heard, till I informed them that I had in my power a\nwicked magician, who, by sorceries, had stolen the Princess of\nCassimir. When they heard this, they acquainted the Cadi; and that\nvigilant magistrate arose, and followed me to the house of Bennaskar\nwith his guard.\n\nAs I entered the house, I was amazed to see him standing in the\nentrance with a lamp in his hand; but my astonishment increased when I\nsaw him fall down before the Cadi, and confess his guilt.\n\nThe Cadi commanded the guards to seize him, and then ordered him to\nlead us to the place where he had concealed the Princess of Cassimir.\nBennaskar obeyed; but as he went through the apartments, he said to\nme, \"Mahoud, you are sensible that the Princess Hemjunah's body is\nhalf buried in the earth, and uncovered; therefore prevail upon the\nCadi that he suffer us to go before and release her: for my part, my\nsins oppress me, and I wish to restore to her dignity a much-injured\nPrincess.\"\n\n\"If,\" said I, \"you will promise to release the Princess, I will\nendeavour to prevail on the Cadi to permit what you propose; but,\notherwise, let the whole world be a witness of your wicked malice.\"\n\n\"O my friend,\" said Bennaskar, \"accuse me not, my own heart persecutes\nme sufficiently. Yes, Mahoud,\" continued he, \"I will, as you require\nme, release the Princess, and trust to the mercy of the Cadi; for the\nservice of the evil genii will neither bring me profit nor peace.\"\n\nI was pleased at this repentance of Bennaskar, and besought the Cadi\nthat he would suffer us to enter the vaulted chamber first, and\nrecover the Princess from her enchantment. The Cadi acquiesced in my\nproposal, but ordered the guards to surround the entrance, while\nBennaskar and myself entered the chamber.\n\nAs soon as we entered, Bennaskar seized me suddenly by the throat,\nand, before I could speak or recollect myself, he dragged me into the\ncloset and shut the door after us.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"villain! receive the just rewards of a perjured\nheart.\" Saying this, he spat in my face, and threw me on the ground,\nand then flew out of the closet, shutting the door forcibly after him.\n\nI remained for some moments stupefied by my fall; but after a time\narose, and opening the closet, I was surprised to see neither the\nPrincess of Cassimir nor the magician Bennaskar.\n\nWhile I was in this confusion, the Cadi and his guards, being\nimpatient at our stay, entered the chamber, and the Cadi commanded his\nguards to seize me, saying, \"Villain! where is the Princess of\nCassimir, and the man who revealed thy unrighteous actions?\"\n\nAt this I began to answer, when I perceived that my voice was as the\nvoice of Bennaskar. I immediately looked on my clothes, and found them\nchanged. In short, I doubted not that my malicious foe had transformed\nme into his own appearance.\n\nI fell at the feet of the Cadi, and besought him for one moment to\nhear me. I acquainted him with every circumstance of my adventures,\nfrom my entrance into the house of Bennaskar to the present moment.\nBut he and his guards laughed at my tale, and commanded me to deliver\nup my friend and the Princess of Cassimir. In vain did I call Allah to\nwitness the truth of my story; the Cadi was enraged at my persisting\nin the tale, and ordered his guards to give me a hundred strokes with\nthe chabouc.\n\nTo add to my misfortune, Bennaskar appeared at one end of the room;\nand when I cried out and pointed to him, the Cadi, who saw him not,\nthinking that I meant to mock him, ordered me another hundred lashes\nwith the chabouc.\n\nVexed with myself, and subdued by the pain, I fell on the ground, and\nmy guards were ordered to carry me to the prison, where I was loaded\nwith chains, and thrown into a deep dungeon.\n\nThe next morning I was brought out again before the Cadi, and carried\ninto the hall of justice. The Cadi there passed sentence upon me, that\nI should be burnt alive the next day unless I delivered up Mahoud and\nthe Princess of Cassimir.\n\nFinding it vain to repeat my declarations that I was the real Mahoud,\nand that I suffered through the vile enchantments of Bennaskar, I\nremained silent; but this was construed into surliness, and I was\nordered five hundred bastinadoes to make me speak.\n\nThe Cadi then commanded me to be carried back to the dungeon, and\nordered a large pile of wood to be raised in the market-place, whereon\nI was to be burnt the next morning, before all the people.\n\nI spent the night in the utmost horror, and earnestly wished that the\nsun might never more behold my sorrows. But the darkness passed away\nas usual, and I beheld the dreadful morning dawn. A tumultuous crowd\nhad collected before the door of the dungeon to see me pass to\nexecution, and as I was dragged along, the common people nearly\noverwhelmed me with stones.\n\nAs I advanced to the pile, I perceived the Cadi and his officers were\nseated before it. He commanded me to be brought again before him ere I\nwas bound to the pile.\n\n\"Art thou,\" said he, \"wretched magician, willing to bring forth the\nPrincess, or thy friend, who are concealed by thy wicked arts, or must\nthe sentence of our law be executed upon thee?\"\n\n\"O judge,\" said I, \"since my tale will not gain credit with thee, at\nleast let me know by whose accusation it is that I am brought before\nthee, and who it is that accuses me of magic or sorcery. Am not I\nBennaskar, the wealthy merchant of Delhi? and where are my accusers?\nWho dare say aught against my fame? You came into my house by night,\nyou seized my person, you inflicted on me the punishment of a slave;\nyou cast me into a dungeon, and condemned me to the flames; and all\nthis without the appearance of a single witness against me: wherefore,\nO Cadi, I appeal unto the righteous Sultan of the East, and I hope my\nfellow-citizens will not suffer me to be executed while no proofs of\nguilt are brought against me.\"\n\n\"Young man,\" answered the Cadi, \"your appeal is unnecessary, for I am\nnot desirous of destroying my fellow-creatures without a cause. Your\nplea were just and proper, did not your own confession contradict your\npresent assertion. Yesterday you declared that you were not Bennaskar,\nand to-day you say you are; wherefore out of your own lips I have\nconvicted you of falsehood; whereas, had you really been Bennaskar the\nmerchant, and not a magician, there had been no need of two different\naccounts of yourself.\"\n\nThe people, hearing this distinction of the Cadi, applauded their\njudge; and one and all cried out that I was a magician, and deserved\nthe flames.\n\nThe guards were then ordered to bind me on the pile, and I was led up\nand fixed to a post by the chains which had been fastened on my body\nthe day before; and now, amidst the acclamations of the mob, was the\npile kindled, and the smoke and the flame surrounded the unfortunate\nMahoud.\n\nIn a moment the crowd and the heavens disappeared from my sight, and I\nfound myself in the body of a toad, at the bottom of the pile. I\nhopped forward out of the flames, and with difficulty hid myself\nbeneath a stone in the street.\n\nThe crowd, having waited till the pile was consumed, carried the ashes\nout of the city, and scattered them in the air. I remained till night\nbeneath the stone.\n\nIt was my intention, as soon as it was dark, to creep out of the city\ninto the woods; but sleep overtook me at the time when animals retire\nto their rest, and when I awoke in the morning I found myself in this\nforest, where I remained during the space of a moon alone, till I met\nwith these two miserable companions of my solitude.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Your adventures, O Mahoud,\" said the Sultan of India, \"are wonderful,\nand an excellent lesson of caution and prudence to us who are joined\nin one common fate; and since I perceive both your misfortunes and my\nown have been brought about by our want of trust and prudence, I\nshall, with the utmost resignation, acknowledge that the all-perfect\nAllah is ever willing to assist those who are not wanting to\nthemselves.\n\n\"But, O Mahoud, suffer me, ere I declare my own grief, to ask what has\nbecome of the lovely Hemjunah, the Princess of Cassimir? and wonder\nnot at my solicitude, for the mention of her name brings to my memory\nideas of the past. How was it possible that lovely being should be\nbetrayed into the powers of those wicked enchanters? But why should I\nbe surprised at her weakness, who am myself the object of their\nmalice? Surely,\" continued the Sultan, \"this our companion, whom you\ncalled Princess, cannot be the daughter of Zebenezer, the Sultan of\nCassimir?\"\n\n\"You are right, indeed, in your conjectures,\" answered Mahoud; \"the\nPrincess of Cassimir is a fellow-sufferer with us, and he who is on my\nright hand is Horam, the favourite of Misnar, the Lord of Delhi.\"\n\n\"What!\" said Misnar, transported, and yet at the same time recoiling\nwith surprise, \"is my faithful Horam also the unfortunate partner of\nmy griefs?\"\n\nMisnar then, turning to the Princess of Cassimir, said, \"O Princess,\nwhom a severe enchantment has deprived of the most exquisite of\nforms, to load thee with the most wretched, permit me to request an\naccount of your unfortunate labours since you left the Court of your\nfather Zebenezer; that at least I may indulge my wishes for your\nrecovery, though my arm is too weak to work either my own or your\ndeliverance.\"\n\n\"Most illustrious Sultan,\" answered the Princess, \"I shall obey your\ncommands, although the remembrance of my misfortune is grievous, and\nthe confession of my indiscretion must fill me with shame.\"\n\n\"It is enough, O Princess,\" said the Sultan, \"to confess our faults to\nHeaven; and he is the weakest of the sons of earth who takes a\npleasure in hearing of the failings of others.\"\n\n\"O Sultan,\" replied Hemjunah, \"your politeness cannot extenuate,\nthough it may gloss over, my imprudence; and by delaying to unfold my\nlittle history to you, my crime may seem more black while hidden than\nwhen it shall be revealed.\"\n\nAs the Princess uttered these words, a dervish, worn with age and\nbowed down by infirmity, appeared among the thickets of the forest.\n\nHoram immediately recollected the features of the good old saint, and\nsaid, \"My royal master, yonder is Shemshelnar, the most pious\nworshipper of Allah among all the sons of Asia.\"\n\n\"I do not remember his features,\" answered Misnar: \"came he not to the\ncouncil of our divan?\"\n\n\"No, my royal lord,\" said Horam, \"the infirmities of age were upon\nhim.\"\n\nBy this time Shemshelnar had reached the place where the transformed\ncompany were seated; and, falling prostrate before Misnar, he said,\n\"Wonder not, O Prince of India, that Shemshelnar, thy slave, doth thus\nacknowledge his Prince, though deformed by the enchantments of the\nwicked. I knew the evils that surrounded thee; and although I was\nunable to attend thy council, yet I prayed in secret to Him who\nbestoweth at the noonday, that He would avert from my royal master the\nmisfortunes which threatened to overpower him. Allah heard my prayer\nas I lay prostrate in my cell; and the genius Bahoudi appearing,\ncommanded me to seek thee in the forest of Tarapajan, whither thy\nwayward fortune should lead thee. 'O genius,' replied I, 'how shall\nage and infirmity comply with thy commands?'\n\n\"'Go,' said Bahoudi, touching me with his finger, 'for strength is\ngiven thee from above. The enchantress Ulin hath transformed thy\nPrince into the most hideous reptile of the earth. But wonder not at\nthe deformity of his appearance, nor at the malice of her who has\noverpowered him; for such is the fate of those who are most exalted in\ntheir virtues, that their enemies, whenever an opportunity is afforded\nto them, will strive to render them most odious. Thy Prince, before\nthou canst arrive in the forest, will be surrounded by three others in\nequal affliction: it is permitted thee to rescue the Sultan of India;\nbut the rest must wear the chains of the enchantress till Ulin is no\nmore.'\n\n\"But ere I restore thee, O Sultan of my heart,\" continued Shemshelnar,\n\"such are the words which the genius hath commanded me to utter before\nthee:\n\n\"Religion, O Misnar, is the first and the greatest duty of life, and\nthe service of Allah the sweetest offering of a grateful heart. But He\nwho appointed the ceremonies and services of piety and devotion hath\nalso given to all their respective stations in the warfare of life.\nHow, then, shall we pay honour to Allah, if we neglect and desert the\npeculiar duties of that post wherein Allah hath placed us? The signet\nof Mahomet, O Prince, of which Mangelo the prophet did prophesy, is it\nnot that seal which the Faithful bear on their frontlets, when they\nobey the voice of reason and religion? and the girdle of Opakka, with\nwhich Kifri, the enchanter, is endued, what is it but foresight and\nprudence, the best allies of the Sultans of the earth? To save his\npeople my Prince has deserted them, and given away what he sought to\nkeep. When Allah placed thee on the throne of India, He thence\nexpected to hear thy petitions; but, as faults which proceed from\ngoodness, though uninstructed, are beheld with Heaven's piteous eye,\ntherefore arise, O Sultan,\" said Shemshelnar, and touched him, \"rise\nfrom the filth of the earth, and again assume the glories with which\nAllah hath endued thee. And know, that such is His care over thee,\nthat He hath curbed the hands of thine enemies, and bids thee go\nforth against them, assured of this, that they shall not be able by\ntheir enchantments to foresee thy designs, nor to overpower thee by\nthe help of their magical deceits, unless thou yield to their snares.\nBe prudent and vigilant, and fear them not. Only this is permitted\nagainst thee,--if thou canst not overpower and destroy them unawares,\nthey may use their art to conceal their escape, and avoid thy arm;\ntherefore be bold and quick, and yet cautious and discerning, lest,\nwhen force avails not, they employ fraud to destroy thee.\"\n\nAs Shemshelnar finished these words, Misnar arose in his natural form;\nbut, ere he spake to the holy dervish who had released him, he fell\nprostrate, and adored the goodness of Allah, who had thus rescued him\nfrom the power of Ulin. Then, rising, he took Shemshelnar by the hand,\nand thanked him for his release and advice.\n\n\"Thou hast done right, O Misnar,\" said the dervish, \"to give the\ngreatest honour to Allah, for to Him alone belongs all honour.\"\n\n\"And may I not hope,\" continued the Sultan, \"that it will please Him\nto release these my fellow-sufferers also?\"\n\n\"Misnar alone can release them,\" answered the dervish. \"Let Ulin\nperish, and these unfortunate persons shall be restored to thee and\nthemselves; but in the meantime they must learn to bear their\nmisfortunes with patience, and offer their prayers for thy safety. The\nroad to Delhi is through this desert forest, and to the left is\nsituated the palace of Ulin. She is already aware of thy\nre-transformation, and is studying to deceive thee a second time; but\nbeware, O Misnar! for if she prevail, death and destruction await\nthee.\"\n\nMisnar, having received the instructions of the dervish, took leave of\nhis companions, assuring them he was desirous of meeting the crafty\nUlin as soon as possible, that he might either give up all pretensions\nto his kingdom, or deliver his subjects and his friends from the hands\nof the enchantress.\n\nThe Sultan of the Indies, having left the dervish and his friends,\nadvanced into the forest, chewing some leaves which Shemshelnar had\ngiven him to support him till he should arrive at his palace. He had\nnot advanced more than two days' journey in the forest before he heard\nthe violent shrieks of a distressed woman, and at a distance saw four\nruffians stripping a lady, and beating her inhumanly.\n\nMisnar was enraged at what he saw, and, flying to the lady's\nassistance, he bade the ruffians defend themselves. They chose not to\nencounter the arm of Misnar, but, leaving the lady, fled; and the\nPrince, stepping up to her, desired to know by what accident she had\nfallen thus alone into the hands of the robbers.\n\n\"O noble sir!\" said the lady in tears--\"for I perceive by your mien I\nspeak to no common friend--it was my fate to be beloved by the\nhandsomest of the sons of the Faithful. I lived in Delhi, the daughter\nof an Emir; and Hazar, the captain of a thousand in the army of\nMisnar, the Sultan of the East, was my admirer; but, alas! his love\nhas proved my destruction. The second son of the great Dabulcombar,\nassisted by Ulin the enchantress, aspired to his brother's throne; and\nthe soldiers, who loved the hazardous chance of war, deserted\nfrequently from Misnar our Sultan: among the rest Hazar, in spite of\nmy utmost endeavours, revolted with his thousand men.\"\n\n\"'There is no preferment,' said he, 'in the peaceful reign of Misnar;\nI will follow the fortunes of his brother, whose throne must be gained\nand supported by arms.' In vain I remonstrated, and urged both love\nand duty. 'My love,' said Hazar, 'is still unalterable: thou wilt soon\nsee me return the favourite of the new monarch, and it will then be in\nmy power to raise thee to higher dignities than those which thy father\nnow possesses.'\n\n\"Hazar then left me by night, and soon I heard that he had joined the\nrebel army; but, O generous stranger! what was my grief when I\nunderstood that Ulin, the detestable enchantress, was stricken with\nhis appearance, and had deceived him! I set out without delay for the\ncamp, and, studying to avoid the army of Misnar, travelled through\nthis wood with four slaves.\n\n\"Being now arrived at the farther side, I struck into the thickest\npart of the forest, and, losing sight of my attendants, I wandered\nabout for some time till morning, when on a sudden I heard several\nvoices among the trees. In an instant four ruffians surrounded me,\nand, had not your powerful arm interposed, I should have suffered the\nvilest of deaths.\"\n\nMisnar endeavoured to comfort the afflicted stranger, and asked her\nwhether she thought it possible for any man to enter the palace of\nUlin undiscovered.\n\n\"O Sultan,\" said she, \"let me prevail upon you to follow me, and I\nwill ensure your success.\"\n\nMisnar besought her to walk before, and show him the path which led to\nthe palace.\n\n\"We will reach it by night,\" said the stranger, \"when the darkness\nshall protect thee.\"\n\nThe beautiful stranger then went forward, and Misnar followed after.\nEre they had proceeded twenty paces, Misnar said,\n\n\"It will be proper, O fair stranger, to draw my scimitar, lest we be\nset upon suddenly by the robbers.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" answered the fair stranger, \"and your precaution is\njust.\"\n\nThe Sultan Misnar, having drawn his sabre, followed close behind the\nbeautiful stranger, and suddenly with a blow smote her on the\nshoulders, and felled her to the ground.\n\nShe had no sooner fallen, than her countenance changed, and discovered\nto Misnar the features of the malicious enchantress Ulin, who, though\nnearly spent and exhausted by the blow, yet lived to utter the\nfollowing imprecations:\n\n\"May the curse of our sex light upon thee, thou traitor to manhood!\nsince neither the charms nor the afflictions of the fair have been\nable to soften thine heart. Thou hast, indeed, avoided my snares, by\ndoing violence to the noblest of passions, and by trampling on the\nmost sacred laws of humanity and hospitality. Idiot that I was to\ntrust myself to thee, though guarded by the strongest appearances of\ninnocence and distress! The injured and the helpless can find no\nprotection in thy government, though thou boastest thyself the\ndelegate of Allah and the friend of the oppressed; and I, trusting to\nthy specious virtues, have fallen a sacrifice to thy deceitful\nheart.\"\n\nHer iniquitous spirit then fled from the body of Ulin, and the Sultan\nleft her mangled and deformed corpse a prey to the beasts of the\nforest.\n\nHe travelled for several days backward, hoping to find the former\ncompanions of his misery, and at last came to the place which he had\nleft, but could see no signs of them; wherefore, concluding that their\nenchantment was broken by the death of Ulin, the Sultan returned\ntowards Delhi, subsisting on the leaves which the dervish had given\nhim, and on the fruits of the earth, and in twelve days' time arrived\nat a small town in his own dominions. Here he lodged at a poor\ncottage, where he found an old woman and her son, and inquired whether\nshe could procure him any horses or mules to carry him the next\nmorning to Delhi.\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the old woman, \"we have no cattle with us; the army\nhas stripped us of all.\"\n\n\"What!\" answered Misnar, \"has the rebel army been foraging so near\nDelhi?\"\n\n\"Alack!\" said the old woman, \"I think all armies are rebels, for my\npart. Indeed, the soldiers told us that they were the Sultan's army,\nand that they were sent to guard us from the rebels; but in the\nmeantime they took our cattle and provision, and paid us nothing for\nthem; and still, every time they came, they called themselves our\nguardians and friends. If this is all the friendship great men can\nshow us, we poor people should be best pleased to live as far from\nthem as we can.\"\n\nAlthough Misnar smiled at the poor woman's speech, yet, lifting up his\neyes and hands secretly to heaven, as she went out for sticks to\nkindle a fire to dress his provisions, he said, \"O just and merciful\nAllah, preserve me from the avarice of ambition! that, while the rich\nand the proud advise me to delight in blood, I may ever remember the\nseverities which the poor must suffer; and that I may rather rejoice\nto relieve one oppressed slave, than to enrich ten thousand flattering\nEmirs of my Court!\"\n\nAs soon as the old woman entered again into her house, the disguised\nSultan advised her and her neighbours to join in a petition, and\npresent it to the Sultan in his divan.\n\n\"A petition!\" answered the old woman, \"and for what?\"\n\n\"To relieve your distresses,\" said Misnar.\n\n\"Alas! who is to relieve our distresses but Allah?\" said the woman.\n\n\"Your Sultan, the servant of Allah, will relieve them,\" replied\nMisnar.\n\n\"What!\" answered the old woman; \"can he restore to these arms my\ndutiful first-born, who has been so long the joy of my aged heart, but\nwas lately torn from me to fill up the armies of the Sultan? Can he\ncall back the brave men he has caused to be destroyed, and give life\nand spirits and joy again to the widows and orphans of India? If he\ncan, oh! let him hasten to relieve the afflicted hearts of his\nsubjects, and become as a god upon earth!\"\n\nThe Sultan was astonished at the words and the gestures of the poor\nold woman, and deeply stricken by her observations.\n\n\"How seldom,\" said he to himself, \"do the rich feel the distresses of\nthe poor! and in the midst of conquest and acclamation, who regardeth\nthe tears and afflictions of those who have lost their friends in the\npublic service?\"\n\nThe Sultan Misnar rested that night in the cottage of the old woman;\nand the next morning he arose, and was conducted by her younger son to\na town half a day's journey farther. Here he supplied himself with\nmules, and in one day more reached the city of Delhi.\n\nThe Sultan entered a caravanserai, where he found several merchants.\nHe asked them how they dared venture to trade, when the armies of the\nrebels were spread over the face of India.\n\n\"As to that,\" answered the first merchant, \"we have lived here some\ntime, in expectation that one party or the other would prevail. It\nlittle matters to us which, provided trade be encouraged. As to the\nSultan's party, there was not, till within these few days, any hope of\ntheir success. The young man himself had retired from his throne,\nbeing fearful of encountering his enemies; and the captains of the\narmy had destroyed the Prime Vizier Horam.\"\n\n\"And what,\" interrupted Misnar, \"is the cause of this change in favour\nof the Sultan?\"\n\n\"Ten days since,\" answered the merchant, \"contrary to every one's\nbelief, as we all thought him dead, the Vizier Horam appeared at the\nhead of the army, and assured the officers that his lord Misnar was\nliving, and had destroyed the enchantress Ulin, who espoused the cause\nof his brother Ahubal; that, in consequence of Ulin's death, Ahubal\nhad fled, and his army had been dispersed; and that he expected his\nroyal master would shortly appear among them.\"\n\nThe Sultan rejoiced at this news, and without delay hastened to the\npalace of his Vizier.\n\nThe slaves of Horam, seeing the disguised Sultan, asked him his\nbusiness.\n\n\"I come,\" replied Misnar, \"to communicate to thy lord tidings of our\nSultan.\"\n\nAt this word, the slaves of Horam conducted Misnar to their master's\npresence; and Horam no sooner saw his master in the disguise with\nwhich he had furnished him, than he fell at the Sultan's feet, and\ncongratulated him on his safe return.\n\n\"My faithful Horam,\" said Misnar, \"arise. The day is not yet so far\nspent but that my Court may be assembled. Give orders, Horam, that the\narmy be drawn up, and let thy slaves proceed to the palace, and bring\nthe imperial robes. My people require my presence, and Misnar yearns\nto see the supporters of his throne.\"\n\nHoram arose, and the Sultan, embracing him, said, \"Horam, I am\ndesirous of hearing the particulars of thy fate; but public advantage\nmust not yield to private friendship.\"\n\nThe faithful Horam then hastened to call together the Princes and the\nViziers of the Court of Delhi, and gave orders that the army should be\ndrawn up in the royal square before the divan.\n\nThe Sultan Misnar, being arrayed in his imperial robes, delayed not to\nshow himself to his people; and no sooner did he appear, than his\nsubjects cried out, \"Long live the Sultan of our hearts, who alone was\nable to conquer the powers of enchantment!\"\n\nThe Sultan was overjoyed to find that his people received him with\ngladness, and commanded money to be thrown among the populace, and\ndouble subsistence to be dealt out to his army. The viziers and\nofficers of justice being assembled in the divan, waited the arrival\nof their Sultan; and Misnar, having ascended the throne, commanded\nHoram to deliver to him a faithful account of his enemies.\n\nHoram the Vizier then arose from his seat, and assured his Sultan that\nthe rebel army was dispersed, and that Ahubal had fled with a few\nfriends to the shores of the Indian Ocean.\n\nThe Sultan, on this report, commanded his army to be stationed at\nsuitable intervals, about a day's journey round the city of Delhi,\nthat their numbers should be reduced, and that peace should be\nproclaimed the next day in the city.\n\nNo sooner were the Viziers dismissed from the divan, than Misnar,\nretiring into his palace, sent for his faithful Vizier Horam, and\ndesired him to give him a true relation of what had happened to him\nsince his departure from the army.\n\n\"Royal sir,\" answered Horam, \"you were no sooner departed than I began\nto inspect the order and discipline of your troops; to look into the\nmethods of providing for the army; and to appoint proper officers, who\nshould take care that the soldiers had sufficient and wholesome\nprovision--that their tents were good--that the situations of the\ndifferent battalions were in healthy places, near springs and rivers,\nbut on dry soils, and as far as possible removed from swampy fens or\nthe stagnated air of the forests.\n\n\"During this time little occurred of which I could inform my lord, as\nI meant not to trouble you with my own concerns, lest it should seem\nthat I was proud of the trifling dispositions which I had made in\nfavour of the army.\n\n\"The rebels in the meantime were quiet, and their distance only\nprevented me from destroying them; but, on a sudden, a messenger\narrived with tidings that all the southern provinces had revolted;\nthat the enchantress Ulin was with them, and conducted their forces;\nthat Ahubal was declared Sultan of India by her; and that she was\ndetermined to support his cause. Upon this I took such precautions as,\ndoubtless, my Sultan must have read in the tablets; but my precautions\nseemed vain, for the next night we were on a sudden terrified with a\nsecond alarm, that the rebels were within half a day's march of our\ncamp, which I thought, considering their former distance, must be the\neffect of enchantment.\n\n\"This threw our officers into the greatest consternation, who,\ncollecting themselves in a body, came rushing towards the royal tent,\nand demanded a sight of the Sultan, and declared their resolution of\nrevolting to the enemy unless you headed the troops.\n\n\"I was writing despatches in the royal tent when I heard their tumult,\nand my heart fled as they approached; but as they stopped for some\ntime to fix upon one for their speaker, I had just time to slip on a\nslave's habit, and cut my way through the hinder part of the tent.\n\n\"I ran as swiftly as my feet could carry me out of the encampment; and\nbeing stopped by several sentinels, I told them I was dispatched by\nthe Vizier, and showed them my own signet.\n\n\"But I was no sooner clear of the army than I repented of my folly.\n'What have I done?' said I to myself. 'I have deserted my post, and\nruined the interests of my lord: better had I died at the head of my\nSultan's troops, or fallen a sacrifice to their rage, than thus\ningloriously to perish! Besides, I may have been terrified without\njust cause: the rebel army may not be so near. I ought to have stayed\nin the tent, and endeavoured to pacify the officers of the army.'\n\n\"And now I was in doubt whether to return, or, as I had penetrated\nthus far, whether it would not be most prudent to take a near survey\nof the rebel army. I resolved upon the last, and cautiously travelled\ntowards the place where the spies said they were encamped.\n\n\"I arrived at the spot described, but saw neither sentinels nor\nencampment. Amazed at this, I proceeded onwards during that and the\nnext day, but no army was to be seen, nor anything indicating their\napproach.\n\n\"'Alas!' said I to myself, 'how little worthy wert thou of the\nconfidence of thy lord! And yet, better is this mistake than the\ncertainty of the rebels' approach, which could not have been effected\nwithout the power of enchantment.'\n\n\"Ere it was too late, I resolved to return, hoping that I should\npacify the troops by assuring them that I had in person been a witness\nto the untruth of the last alarm.\n\n\"But, alas! when I essayed to return, I found my feet fixed to the\nground: in a moment the earth trembled, and Ulin the enchantress arose\non the back of an enormous reptile.\n\n\"'Wise and gracious Vizier,' said she, in an insulting tone, 'I admire\nyour prudence and discretion! and although Mahomet and his faithful\ncrew of genii may not permit us to overpower you or your prudent\nmaster while you resist our temptation, yet there is little to be\nfeared from their interposition while you become such easy dupes to\nour artifices. The army which I led against thy wretched Sultan is not\nless than forty days' march hence, and is embarrassed by the mountains\nand the forests; and yet the credulous Vizier abandoned his charge on\nthe most improbable alarm, and fled into the arms of one who well\nknows how to reward his prudence and address. Become, therefore, O\nsilly Vizier, a loathsome toad; and I shall in a moment transport thee\ninto the forest of Tarapajan, whither several of thy wise brethren are\ngone before thee.'\n\n\"As she spake thus, the enchantress breathed on me with her\npestiferous breath, and, falling to the ground, I crawled like a toad\nbefore her. Ulin then waved her hand, and sleep overpowered me. When I\nawoke I found myself between the merchant of Delhi and the Princess of\nCassimir, who, like me, had felt the vengeance of Ulin the\nenchantress.\n\n\"It was some consolation to us that our speech was not taken from us,\nbut that we were able to communicate to each other our misfortunes.\n\n\"Mahoud first inquired of me the adventures of my life, and I had just\nfinished them the day before you, O Sultan! appeared among us. While\nMahoud was relating his history, your voice struck my ears, and I\nfeared to ask whether my lord was in equal affliction with his slave.\"\n\n\"Did you not, then,\" said Misnar, \"hear the adventures of Hemjunah,\nthe Princess of Cassimir?\"\n\n\"I did not, my Sultan,\" answered Horam. \"Hemjunah was about to relate\nher adventures when you appeared; and after Shemshelnar, the dervish,\nhad released you, she desired to reserve them till such time as we\nshould meet hereafter in our natural forms.\n\n\"Two days after you left us with Shemshelnar, who endeavoured to\nalleviate our afflictions, on a sudden we perceived a vivid flash of\nlightning, which was succeeded by a violent clap of thunder, and while\nwe were all looking at each other, the wood instantly vanished, and I\nfound myself in my palace at Delhi. What became of Mahoud, or the\nPrincess of Cassimir, I know not; but I was sensible that my Prince\nhad conquered the enchantress, who had laid such hateful chains upon\nus.\n\n\"I hastened to the divan of Viziers and Emirs, who were astonished at\nmy presence. They were met in order to appoint a Sultan, having just\nheard from the army that both their Sultan and his Vizier had fled\nfrom the encampments. A friend of Ahubal's had proposed that Prince to\nsucceed my royal master, and orders were given to proclaim him when I\narrived in the divan.\n\n\"Being acquainted with the resolutions of the Viziers and Emirs, I\nproclaimed aloud that my royal master Misnar was alive, and that he\nhad destroyed the enchantress Ulin, who had espoused the cause of\nAhubal.\n\n\"At this declaration, the Viziers and Emirs prostrated themselves, and\ngave thanks to Allah; and the trumpets and the cornets went through\nthe streets of Delhi, and proclaimed my arrival and the victory of\nMisnar their Sultan over the enchantress Ulin.\n\n\"I dispatched orders, before the divan broke up, to the army, with\nadvice of your success, and commanded a part to march for the city of\nDelhi, leaving only a sufficient number of troops to observe the\nmotions of the enemy if they should again unite; for I knew that\nUlin's destruction would cause a dispersion of their army.\n\n\"Having settled the affairs of my master, to complete my joy, tidings\nwere brought me of his approach, and Horam is again blessed with the\nsight of his Sultan.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam, having finished his relation, bowed himself before\nthe Sultan, and said, \"Shall thy slave give orders that an ambassador\nbe sent to the Sultan of Cassimir to inquire after the fate of the\nPrincess Hemjunah?\"\n\n\"Horam,\" answered the Sultan, \"while war stalks thus boldly through\nour dominions, it were vain to assume a state that we may in a moment\nbe deprived of. No, Horam, let us wait for more prosperous times.\"\n\nEarly in the morning several messengers arrived with the news of the\ndeath of Ulin and the revolt of ten provinces from Ahubal, and soon\nafter the provinces sent deputies to excuse their rebellion, and to\nbeseech the Sultan to pardon their offences. Misnar yielded to their\nprayers, but ordered some of the most faithful of his troops to march\ninto their borders and encamp among them.\n\nThe Sultan then redressed the grievances which his soldiers had\ncommitted as far as he was able, and, by a just and equal law, obliged\nevery division to furnish such a number of troops; for, although no\nclouds were then seen to interrupt his reign, yet Misnar was assured\nthat, through the wiles of his enemies the enchanters, he should\nshortly be called upon to exercise his prudence.\n\nNor were his fears unjust. Ahubal, though deserted by the provinces,\nwas yet espoused by the magician Happuck, who, hearing of the defeat\nof his sister Ulin, was resolved to revenge the cause of that detested\nrace.\n\nIt was not long before the Sultan heard that the magician Happuck was\nencouraging the provinces who had followed Ulin to revolt again from\ntheir Sultan; but the fear of Misnar's troops overawed them; so that\nwhatever might be their real inclinations, they refused the offers and\nentreaties of Happuck.\n\nThe Sultan, more effectually to secure their obedience, increased the\nnumber of his forces in the provinces, and preserved the chain of\ncommunication from them quite through his extensive dominions.\n\nThe magician, finding the Sultan's forces so well disposed, and that\nno encouragement could prevail on the southern provinces to revolt,\nabandoned his design of succeeding by the force of arms, and flew to\nthe weapons of craft and dissimulation.\n\nThough Happuck had now been employed nearly a year in raising\ncommotions among the subjects of India, two provinces only owned the\ngovernment of Ahubal: the rest continued firm in their loyalty to the\nSultan Misnar.\n\nThese provinces had raised a light army of about forty thousand men,\nwho, by forced marches, harassed the neighbouring provinces around\nthem.\n\nOf these, three thousand horsemen parted suddenly from the rest, and,\nby following unfrequented tracks over the mountains and through the\nforests, arrived at length within two days' march of Delhi.\n\nHere, pitching their tents, they sent several of their chief officers\nto Delhi, to assure the Sultan that they were greatly afflicted at\ntheir crimes, and were desirous of laying down their rebellious arms\nat his feet.\n\nHoram the Vizier received these suppliants, and representing their\ncontrition to the Sultan, he commanded them to join the main army; at\nthe same time sending dispatches to his general to dismount them from\ntheir horses, and to encamp them in such a situation that they might\nnot be able either to escape or to annoy his army if they should be\ndisposed to revolt again.\n\nThe magician Happuck, who was among the officers that appeared at\nDelhi, and who had contrived the revolt in order to get into the\npresence of the Sultan, was greatly chagrined to find that the Vizier\nHoram received him, and that he was not to be admitted into Misnar's\npresence; but, concealing his disappointment, he, with the rest,\njoined the three thousand horsemen, and marched to the grand army of\nMisnar.\n\nOnce a year the whole army was reviewed by the Sultan in person, and\nit happened that the disguised magician and his troops of horsemen\narrived at the army three days before this general review. The\nmagician rejoiced at this fortunate event.\n\n\"Ibrac,\" said he to the officer who commanded his troop, \"fortune has\nnow given me an opportunity of revenging the death of my sister Ulin.\nThis disguise of an officer is not sufficient: I will descend to the\nlowest station, where I shall be less suspected, and as the Sultan\nMisnar passes between the ranks where I am situated, I will draw my\nbow, and pierce him to the heart. Having done this, I shall render\nmyself invisible, and do you, in the general consternation, proclaim\nAhubal the Sultan of India.\"\n\n\"Most powerful magician,\" answered Ibrac, \"what need is there of this\ndeceit? Since you are able to render yourself invisible, why cannot\nyou enter the Sultan's palace unseen, and stab him to the heart?\"\n\n\"Faithful Ibrac,\" answered the magician, \"you know not the powers\nwhich support this boy-like urchin. The genius Bahoudi, at whose name\nour race trembles, is his guardian, and prevents my approach; and it\nis written in the volumes of fate that no enchantment shall prevail\nagainst Misnar unless he first allow our crafty race to deceive him.\nOtherwise, Ibrac, dost thou suppose that so many of my brethren,\nbefore whom the mountains tremble and the ocean boils, should need to\nleague against a boy? No, Ibrac; Misnar were beneath our vengeance or\nour art, did not Mahomet espouse him, and his mean vassals, the good\ngenii of mankind! The conquest of this boy, while thus supported,\nwould add strength to our cause.\"\n\nIbrac then furnished the magician with the clothing of one of the\ncommon soldiers; and he was mustered with the rest of the troops.\n\nEarly in the morning on which Misnar was to review his men, the Sultan\narose, and bade his slaves, who waited in the pavilion, call his\nVizier Horam to him.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"I suspect the crafty magician Happuck: he\nis doubtless here disguised in our camp, and if I expose myself\nto-day, it may be in his power to destroy me, and set the crown of\nIndia on my brother's head.\"\n\n\"Let my Sultan, then,\" said Horam, \"proclaim a reward to him who\ndiscovers the magician, even to the holding of the second place in\nyour empire.\"\n\n\"That contrivance would have little effect,\" said the Sultan. \"Happuck\nwould elude our search, and, transforming himself into some reptile,\nescape our vengeance, and then meditate some new device to deceive\nus. No, Horam,\" continued Misnar, \"if he be really with us, it were\nfolly to let him escape.\"\n\n\"But how will my lord discover him amidst three hundred thousand\ntroops?\" answered the Vizier. \"There is no officer in your army who\nknows the fiftieth part of your soldiers; and where recruits are daily\ncoming in, to search for a particular person, without giving the alarm\nso that Happuck might escape, would be impossible.\"\n\n\"In how many ranks,\" said the Sultan, \"is the army to be disposed?\"\n\n\"The plain,\" answered the Vizier, \"on which they are to be reviewed\nwill contain three thousand in a row.\"\n\n\"Bring me, then, two hundred of the most expert archers in my army,\"\nsaid the Sultan, \"and take them from those troops who are the farthest\nfrom the deserters who lately joined the army.\"\n\nThe Vizier did as the Sultan commanded, and brought the archers before\nthe royal pavilion.\n\n\"Go now, Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"and order all the troops to be\ndrawn out on the plain.\"\n\n\"They are almost assembled already,\" said Horam.\n\n\"Then,\" replied the Sultan, \"take these archers, and place one at each\nextremity of the ranks, an archer on the right of each rank; but,\nbefore you station them thus, give them the following orders: 'Be\nready with your bows drawn, and your arrows fixed to the bow-string,\nand, whenever the word of command is given for all the army to fall\nprostrate, let your arrows fly at the man who is last to obey the word\nof command.'\"\n\nThe troops being all drawn forth in their ranks, and the archers\ndisposed according to the Sultan's orders, Misnar came forth, attended\nby his eunuchs, Viziers, Emirs, and guards. The loud clarion sounded,\nthe notes of the trumpets were heard, and the brazen cymbals shook the\nair.\n\nThe magician, who was impatient to perpetrate the malicious purposes\nof his heart, was elated at the warlike sound, and beheld the Sultan's\nretinue at a distance with such joy as the eagle views the flocks of\nsheep on the plains of Homah.\n\nThe Sultan, having arrived at the front of his army, which he knew was\ncomposed of his most faithful troops, commanded silence throughout the\nplain.\n\n\"My brave soldiers,\" said he, \"although neither care nor resolution\nhas been wanting on your parts to extirpate the rebellion of my\nprovinces, yet to Allah only belong the glory and the honour of your\narms; wherefore let immediate orders be issued forth among my troops,\nthat all do together fall prostrate on the ground before the\nall-seeing Allah, the Governor of the world and the Disposer of\nkingdoms and crowns.\"\n\nAs this order went forth through the ranks, the soldiers at once fell\nprostrate before Allah, all but the magician Happuck, who was\nsurprised and astonished at the order, and irresolute what to do. But\nlittle time was given him to think; for no sooner were his\nfellow-soldiers fallen prostrate on each side of him, than the arrows\nof the archers pierced his heart.\n\nThe magician, finding himself overpowered, and that the messengers of\ndeath had seized him, raised his voice aloud, and, with what little\nstrength was left, cursed both Allah and His Prophet; but the stream\nof life flowed swiftly from him, and his curses grew fainter and\nfainter, till they were lost in death.\n\nThose who were acquainted with the designs of Happuck, perceiving that\nthe magician was dead and their plot discovered, began to fly; and\nfirst Ibrac essayed to head his discarded troops; but they, not being\nused to march on foot, soon fell into confusion, and, the forces of\nthe Sultan surrounding them, they were quickly destroyed.\n\nThe Sultan Misnar saw, by the confusion of his army in the centre,\nthat the discovery was made, and sent Horam, with some chosen troops,\nto inquire into the cause of their disorder.\n\nThe Vizier had no sooner arrived than he perceived several soldiers\nbringing along the body of the magician Happuck, which appeared\nundisguised after death.\n\n\"Bid the two archers,\" said the Vizier, \"who destroyed the monster\ncome forward.\"\n\nWhen the archers came, Horam applauded their skill and their\nobedience, and advised them to take the body between them, and carry\nit before the Sultan.\n\nThe archers obeyed, and, the ranks opening as they passed, they soon\narrived at the feet of Misnar.\n\nThe Sultan, seeing his enemy thus destroyed, ordered the two archers\nten purses, containing each one hundred pieces of gold; and to every\nother archer one purse containing one hundred pieces of gold. To him\nwho brought the head of Ibrac also he gave five purses of like value;\nand then again issued his commands that the whole army should fall\nprostrate and adore the mercy of Allah, who had so soon delivered into\ntheir hands the chief of their enemies.\n\nIn the meantime, two only of the troops of Ibrac and Happuck escaped;\nand, returning to Ahubal, they acquainted him with their defeat.\n\nAhubal fled at the news, and hid himself in the mountains; for he\nfeared lest his soldiers should betray him, and deliver him up to his\nbrother.\n\nBut Ollomand, the enchanter, who first counselled the Sultan of India\nto secure his throne by spilling the innocent blood of his brother,\nnow resolved to revenge the common cause. He therefore directed the\nsteps of Ahubal toward a cave in the mountains, where, fatigued with\nflight and fearful of pursuit, the royal rebel arrived in the heat of\nthe day.\n\nThe cave was, for the most part, surrounded by steep mountains, at a\ngreat distance from any track or path, and was situated at the\nentrance of a long valley which led among the mountains.\n\nAhubal, having slept and refreshed himself in the cave, pursued his\njourney through the valley, till he found his path stopped by\ninaccessible rocks, on the top of which he perceived a magnificent\ncastle, whose walls reflected the rays of the sun like burnished gold.\n\nThe brother of Misnar fixed his eye for some time on that part of the\ncastle which was shaded by the rest, for the front was too dazzling to\nbehold, and, in a few moments, he perceived a small wicket open, and a\ndwarf come forth.\n\nAhubal soon lost sight of the dwarf behind the rocks; but he resolved\nto wait there to see whether he could find any passage into the\nvalley.\n\nThe dwarf, after being hid for some time, appeared again about the\nmiddle of the rocks, and by his course appeared to descend in a spiral\npath around the mountain.\n\nWhen the dwarf had reached the bottom he advanced to Ahubal, and,\npresenting him with a clue, he told him that, if he threw it before\nhim, and followed it, the clue would unravel itself, and discover to\nhim the path which led up the rocks to the castle of Ollomand, his\nmaster.\n\nAhubal, having heard from Ulin and Happuck that Ollomand was his\nfriend, took the clue out of the hand of the dwarf, and threw it\nbefore him.\n\nAs the clue rolled onward until it touched the rocks, Ahubal\ndiscovered a regular ascent, which, winding round, brought him by\ndegrees to the castle on the summit of the mountain.\n\nThe enchanter Ollomand received Ahubal at the entrance of the castle,\nwhich was guarded by four dragons, and led him through a large court\ninto a spacious hall, the walls of which were lined with human bones\nthat had been whitened in the sun.\n\n\"Favourite of the race of the powerful,\" said Ollomand, \"see here the\nbones of those who have lifted up their arms against thee; and I will\nadd to their number till this castle be filled.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" answered Ahubal, \"Ulin is no more, and the vultures are\npreying on the vitals of Happuck! Ten provinces have deserted my\ncause, and the coffers of my army are exhausted!\"\n\n\"Happuck,\" answered Ollomand, \"despised the assistance of riches and\ntrusted to deceit, and therefore failed. The provinces dared not\nrevolt while the armies of Misnar overawed them; but I will replenish\nthy coffers, and Ollomand will tempt the leaders of the Sultan's\ntroops to join the cause of Ahubal. In this castle are riches and arms\nsufficient to equip all the inhabitants of Asia; and when these are\nexhausted, we will apply to Pharesanen, Hapacuson, and all the\nchieftains of our race: and fear not, Ahubal; for, by my art, I read\nthat Misnar the Sultan shall fly before the face of his enemies.\"\n\nAhubal was encouraged by the words of Ollomand; and the enchanter,\nhaving opened his design to the Prince, invited him to behold the\nriches of his castle.\n\nPassing through the hall of bones, they descended into a square court,\nmuch more spacious than the former, in the middle of which appeared a\ndeep and dark pit. This court contained four hundred massive gates of\nbrass, and each gate was supported by nine enormous hinges of the same\nmetal.\n\nAs Ollomand the enchanter entered this court, with the Prince Ahubal\nin his hand, he lifted up his voice, which echoed like thunder amidst\nthe lofty turrets of the castle, and commanded his slaves to expose to\nthe sight of Ahubal the treasures of their master.\n\nThe Prince Ahubal, who had seen no creature but the dwarf and the\nenchanter in the castle, wondered whence the slaves would come; but\nhis wonder was shortly turned into fear when he beheld a gigantic\nblack, with a club of ebony forty feet in length, arise out of the pit\nwhich was in the centre of the court.\n\nBut his horrors were increased when he perceived a succession of the\nsame gigantic monsters following one another out of the pit, and\nadvancing to the four hundred brazen gates, till every gate had a\nslave standing before it.\n\nWhen Ollomand saw his slaves were all prepared before the gates, he\nbade them strike with their clubs of ebony against them.\n\nThe black slaves, in obedience to the enchanter's orders, lifted up\ntheir ponderous clubs of ebony, and struck against the four hundred\ngates, which jarred so much with the blows of the slaves that Ahubal\nwas forced to stop his ears, and was ready to sink into the earth with\nastonishment and dread.\n\nAs soon as the black slaves of Ollomand had struck the four hundred\ngates of brass, the gates began to move, and the harsh creaking of the\nhinges sent forth a noise which alone had chilled the hearts of all\nthe armies of Misnar, could they have heard them.\n\nAhubal then, lifting up his head, looked around the court, and saw the\nfour hundred gates were opened. In those to the right were millions of\nwedges of gold and silver, piled beneath craggy arches of huge\nunchiselled stone. Opposite to these he beheld a hundred vaulted\nroofs, under which were sacks and bags of the gold and silver coin of\nmany nations.\n\nBefore him another hundred gates exposed to his view the arms and\nwarlike accoutrements of ten thousand nations, and all the instruments\nof death which the inventive malice of man had ever devised.\n\nAhubal, who understood but little of these instruments, was amazed at\ntheir construction, and asked for what purposes they were formed.\n\n\"These,\" said Ollomand, \"are the arms of Europe, a part of the earth\nfilled with industrious robbers, whose minds are hourly on the stretch\nto invent new plagues to torment each other. Of these mortals many are\nsettled on the sea-coasts of our southern provinces, whom I shall\npersuade through the instigation of that god whom they worship, to\njoin the forces of Ahubal.\"\n\n\"Hast thou, then, mighty enchanter,\" answered the Prince Ahubal, \"the\ngods of Europe in thy power?\"\n\n\"The Europeans,\" said Ollomand, \"acknowledge one God, who, they\npretend, doth inhabit the heavens, but whom _we_ find buried in the\nentrails of the earth: gold, O Prince, is their god, for whose sake\nthey will undertake the most daring enterprises, and forsake the best\nof friends. To these shalt thou send presents, and future promises of\nwealth; and, by their machinations, fear not but Misnar shall yield to\nthy superior address.\"\n\n\"What need of the arms or the persons of Europeans,\" answered the\nPrince Ahubal, \"while my friend has an army of such gigantic slaves,\nten of whom are more than sufficient to destroy the puny armies of my\nbrother the Sultan?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Ollomand, \"the slaves of enchantment cannot fight against\nthe sons of the Faithful. Though we deny Mahomet, and will not adore\nhim, yet we cannot control a power that must overrule us. As Misnar's\ntroops are in possession of the country, we will transport ourselves\nto Orixa in the disguise of merchants, and there endeavour to forward\nthe destruction of Misnar, the tame Sultan of the East.\"\n\nAs Ollomand spake these words he stamped with his feet, and a\nchariot, drawn by four dragons, arose from the pit in the centre of\nthe court, which Ahubal and the enchanter ascended, and were conveyed\nin a dark cloud to the woods behind the city of Orixa.\n\nWhen Ollomand's chariot alighted on the ground, he touched the dragons\nwith his wand, and they became four camels laden with merchandise, and\nthe chariot was converted into an elephant. Ahubal became like a\nmerchant, and the enchanter appeared as a black slave.\n\nThey entered the town in the evening, and the next morning exposed\ntheir goods in the market-place.\n\nThe bales of Ahubal, the sham merchant, being opened, were found to\ncontain chiefly materials for clothing the officers of the army.\n\nThe troops of Misnar, hearing this, were his chief customers; and as\nAhubal sold his wares very cheap, he soon got acquainted with all the\nofficers at Orixa.\n\nIn all his conversations with them, the enchanter had directed Ahubal\nto lament the small salaries which the army were allowed: this was a\nsubject all agreed in, and soon led to more lucrative offers, if they\nwould embrace the cause of Ahubal. The officers, who were, for the\nmost part, soldiers for the sake of pay and plunder, rather than duty\nand honour, soon came into the sham merchant's proposal; and in ten\ndays Ahubal found himself in a condition to recover the province of\nOrixa.\n\nThe young Prince, fired with his success, was about to discover\nhimself; but the enchanter checked his ardour, and besought him to\nconsider how many more provinces must be gained before he could make\nhead against his brother. The advice of Ollomand prevailed with the\nPrince; and they sent some of those officers who were strongest in\ntheir interest into the different provinces of the south to corrupt\nthe minds of the commanders.\n\nAs there was no want of money and bribery, so an easier conquest was\nmade over the loyalty of the troops than could have been made over\ntheir prowess by the sword.\n\nIn a few moons all the southern provinces were ripe for a revolt, and\nthe troops who were sent to overawe them were most desirous of\nopening the campaign against their Sultan. Two hundred French\nengineers were also invited, by large rewards, to join the armies of\nAhubal; and the troops were supplied by the vigilance of the enchanter\nOllomand.\n\nOn a fixed day all the armies of the provinces were in motion, and all\nunfurled the standard of Ahubal; the provinces were invited to rebel,\nand thousands were daily added to the troops of the Prince. Tidings of\nthese alterations were sent to Delhi by the few friends of the Sultan\nwho remained in those parts, and Horam the Vizier laid before his\nmaster the dreadful news of a general revolt both of his troops and\nprovinces in the south.\n\n\"The enemies of Misnar,\" said the Sultan, as the Vizier Horam ended\nhis report, \"are many, and one only is his friend!\"\n\nHoram bowed low at his master's words.\n\n\"Faithful Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"I honour and esteem thee; but\nthink not I prefer my Vizier to my God: no, Horam, Allah alone is the\nfriend of Misnar; a friend more mighty than the armies of Ahubal, or\nthe sorceries of the enchanters.\"\n\nMisnar then assembled his troops; and putting himself at their head,\nhe marched by easy stages towards the southern frontiers of his\ndominions.\n\nThe armies of Ahubal continued to increase, and Cambaya acknowledged\nhim for its Sultan. In a short time he arrived with his forces at\nNarvar, and encamped within seven leagues of the army of Misnar the\nSultan.\n\nOllomand the enchanter, notwithstanding Ahubal had thrown off the\ndisguise of a merchant, still attended him as a black slave, being\nalways about his person, till the freedom which the Prince allowed him\nwas resented by the officers of his army. This the enchanter\nperceived; and therefore he desired Ahubal would grant him five\nthousand of his troops, and the European engineers, that he might\nadvance before the main army, and signalize himself by a blow which he\nmeditated to give the enemy.\n\nThe counsel of Ollomand was never opposed by Ahubal; the Prince\ncommanded the troops to attend Ollomand, and be subject unto him.\n\nThe enchanter then marched with his selected troops into a thick wood,\nwhich the army of Misnar must pass through ere they could oppose their\nenemies; and in this wood the engines of European war were placed, to\ncommand every avenue which had been hewn out by the troops of the\nSultan.\n\nOllomand, marching by night, surprised all the advanced guards of the\nSultan, and possessed himself of the wood, where he placed the\nEuropean engineers, before the sun could penetrate through the\nbranches of the forest of Narvar.\n\nThis enterprise would have ruined all the hopes of the Sultan, who\nproposed to march his army through the next day, if the Europeans had\ncontinued faithful to Ahubal and his party; but one, favoured by the\ndarkness of the night, escaped, and betrayed the whole design to the\nSultan.\n\nMisnar was no sooner apprised of the enchanter's contrivance than he\nordered certain of his troops to climb over the mountains to the right\nof the wood, and if possible gain the opposite side, and there, in\nseveral parts, set the wood on fire. This was so successfully executed\nby the soldiers, that, as soon as Ollomand was possessed of the wood,\nhe perceived it was on fire, and had made a separation between him and\nthe army of Ahubal.\n\nIn this distress, the enchanter resolved to dispose of his troops and\nengineers in the most advantageous manner, proposing in his mind to\nsecure his own retreat by the power of enchantment. But while the\nsubtle enchanter was directing his engineers in the rear to bring up\nthe fell engines of war, one of the cannon which was left in the wood\n(the flames having obliged those who belonged to it to retreat), being\nmade hot by the raging fires among the trees, discharged its contents,\nand a ball striking the enchanter, carried with it the head of\nOllomand toward the camp of the Sultan.\n\nThis occurrence threw the troops in the wood into the utmost\nconfusion, and many fled to the Sultan's camp, declaring the loss of\ntheir leader, and the rest resolved rather to submit than perish by\nfire or sword.\n\nThe flames of the wood, which rose between the armies of Misnar and\nAhubal, soon disturbed the peace of the rebel Prince. At first,\nindeed, he hoped Ollomand had enclosed his brother's troops, and was\nconsuming them by his fires. But no dispatch arriving from his friend,\nAhubal was filled with just fears, which were greatly increased, as,\nin a few days, the fire decreasing, and having opened a passage\nthrough the wood, he was informed by his spies that the armies of\nMisnar were approaching.\n\nThe Prince Ahubal, having lost his friend the enchanter, was fearful\nof the event, and wished to fly; but his generals, being rebels, and\nfearing their fate if they should be taken, resolved to conquer or\ndie; so that Ahubal was constrained against his will to put his army\nin a state of defence.\n\nThe Sultan, supposing his brother's army would be disheartened at the\nloss of the enchanter, was desirous of giving them battle before they\nhad recovered from their consternation, and therefore led on his\ntroops with great impetuosity toward the front of the rebel army,\nwhile the Vizier Horam, covered by the main body of Misnar's forces,\nused his utmost endeavours to gain the right flank of the enemy.\n\nAnd now the adverse elephants made the sandy plains shake as they\nadvanced, and from the turrets on their backs ten thousand hostile\narrows were discharged. The loud hollow cymbals sounded the alarm. The\ntroops of the Sultan advanced with confidence, and the rebellious\nsupporters of Ahubal rushed forward with resolute despair. Innumerable\nscimitars blazed fearfully over the heads of the warlike. The feet of\nthe elephants were stained with the blood of the slain. But the troops\nof Misnar were flushed with hope, and fear and dismay were in the\npaths of Ahubal. The Prince himself, in confusion, sounded the\nretreat; and the backs of his troops were already exposed to the darts\nof the Sultan, when the swarthy enchanter Tasnar appeared aloft,\nseated on a rapacious vulture.\n\n\"Base cowards!\" exclaimed he, as he hovered in the air, \"turn again,\nand fear not while Tasnar is your friend. The troops of the Sultan are\nexhausted and fatigued, and you are flying from those who are destined\nfor your prey. Are, then, the riches of Delhi to be so easily\nresigned, and your tedious marches over the deserts to be foiled by a\nmoment's fear? Even now is India offered as the reward of your toils,\nand you prefer shame and ignominy to glory and honour!\"\n\nThe troops of Ahubal hearing these words, and being encouraged by a\nsight so wonderful, for a time stood still, irresolute what to do;\ntill Tasnar, alighting on the ground, and seizing a javelin, bade the\nbrave support and defend the avenger of their wrongs.\n\nThe Sultan's army, finding their enemies retreat, had followed them in\na tumultuous manner, and were therefore less able to resist the\nenchanter Tasnar and those who supported him. And they would have\nexperienced the truth of the enchanter's assertion, had not the Vizier\nHoram, perceiving their resistance, hastened with a few chosen troops\nto the rescue of his friends.\n\nThe battle, though not so general as before, was yet much fiercer; and\nTasnar and Horam met face to face. The Vizier aimed in vain his\nscimitar at the head of the enchanter, and Tasnar found a superior arm\nwithhold him when he attempted to demolish the faithful Vizier. But\nthis prevented not the general slaughter that ensued; till night,\nwhich recruits the wasted strength of man, divided the armies of\nMisnar and Ahubal.\n\nAfter the retreat of the two contending armies, the Vizier Horam\nattended the Sultan in the royal pavilion, and informed him of the\ndescent of the enchanter Tasnar, and his prowess in the field.\n\n\"Alas!\" answered Misnar, \"it is in vain, O Horam, that the sword is\nuplifted against the power of enchantment, so long as these magicians\nare prepared against our attacks: we must surprise them, or we cannot\nprevail. Tasnar is joined to my faithless brother Ahubal; but there is\nin my camp, doubtless, some trusty slave, who will penetrate into the\ncamp of Ahubal, and destroy this enchanter while he sleeps in\nsecurity; and Horam my Vizier must find that slave.\"\n\nHoram bowed, and went out from the presence of the Sultan in great\ndistress of heart. \"Where,\" said he to himself, \"can the mighty find a\ntrusty friend? or what slave will be faithful to that master who has\nrobbed him of his liberty? Better had I perished by the hand of\nTasnar, than be betrayed through the wickedness of my servants!\"\n\nThe Vizier, doubtful where to apply or whom to trust, returned to his\ntent; where he found an old female slave, who waited to deliver a\nmessage from his seraglio, which was kept in a tent adjoining to his\nown.\n\nHoram, not regarding her presence, threw himself on his sofa, and\nthere bemoaned his fate in being commanded to find a trusty slave.\n\nThe female slave, who saw her master's tears, cast herself at his\nfeet, and called Allah to witness that she had always served him\nfaithfully, and was ready to sacrifice her life for his pleasure.\n\nHoram was rather more distressed than alleviated by her protestations.\n\"What art thou?\" said he to her, sternly--\"a poor decrepit woman! and\ncanst thou go forth and combat the enchantments of Tasnar, the enemy\nof thy master's peace?\"\n\n\"The locust and the worm,\" said the female slave, \"are the instruments\nof Allah's vengeance on the mighty ones of the earth; and Mahomet can\nmake even my weakness subservient to the cause of my lord.\"\n\n\"And how wilt thou prevail against Ahubal the Prince and Tasnar the\nmagician?\" said Horam, careless of what he spoke.\n\n\"I will go,\" answered she, \"into the camp of Ahubal, and engage to\npoison my master the Vizier, and Misnar the lord of our lives, as I\nstand before them to minister unto them the pleasing draught. And\nwhile Tasnar is intently hearing my proposals, the steel of death\nshall suddenly search out the vile enchanter's heart.\"\n\n\"But knowest thou not,\" said Horam, \"that death will be the\nconsequence of this rash deed?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered the slave, \"I was, when young, bred up in the\ncaves of Denraddin, and was taught by a sage to know what should\nhappen to me in future times; and the sage read in the stars of\nheaven, that by my means should the Sultan of India be delivered from\nthe enemy that oppressed him.\"\n\nThe Vizier rejoiced at the assurances of his female slave, and bade\nher immediately prepare herself to appear before the Sultan.\n\nThe slave, having put on her veil, followed the Vizier Horam, and was\nintroduced to the tent of Misnar.\n\n\"What!\" said the Sultan, as he saw his Vizier enter with the female\nslave, \"what new kind of warrior has Horam brought me?\"\n\n\"Light of mine eyes!\" answered the Vizier, \"behold a woman who is\ndesirous of executing thy commands. This slave assures me that the\nsages of the caves of Denraddin have read in the stars of heaven that\nby her means the Sultan of India should be delivered from the enemy\nthat oppressed him.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the Sultan, \"let her go; and may the Prophet of the\nFaithful guide her footsteps in safety and security! I am assured that\nHoram would not consent to an enterprise that was foolish and weak;\nand to his direction I leave the fate of this trusty female.\"\n\nThe slave then fell prostrate, and besought the Sultan to give her\nsome of his writings and mandates, that she might pretend she had\nstolen them from his tent, with a design to carry and lay them at the\nfeet of Tasnar and Ahubal.\n\nThe Sultan approved of her scheme, and ordered several mandates to be\nwritten and signed relative to the motions of his army the next day,\nwhich were quite contrary to the real disposition he intended to give\nout.\n\nThe female slave being furnished with these, and being conducted by\nthe Vizier to the outskirts of the Sultan's army, walked forward till\nshe was challenged by the sentinels of Ahubal, who seized upon and\ncarried her to their commander.\n\nThe commander, fearful of deceit, first satisfied himself that she was\nreally a female slave, and then asked her what brought her alone out\nof the camp of the Sultan.\n\n\"Bring me,\" said she, \"before your Prince; for I have things to\ndeliver up to him that will be of service to his army.\"\n\nThe commander then sent her with the guard to the pavilion of Ahubal,\nwhere that Prince and the enchanter Tasnar were consulting in private\ntogether.\n\nAs soon as the female slave had gained admittance, she fell prostrate\nat the feet of Ahubal, which Tasnar observing, commanded the guards to\nseize her.\n\n\"Let us see,\" said the enchanter, \"what service this slave can do us,\nbefore she is trusted so near our persons.\"\n\nThe female slave, being secured by the guards, was doubtful how to\nbehave.\n\n\"Have you, base slave,\" said the enchanter, \"aught to reveal to us? or\nare you sent as a spy to betray the counsels of the brave?\"\n\n\"I have,\" said the female slave (somewhat recovered from her\nsurprise), \"papers and mandates of great consequence, which I have\nstolen from the tent of the Sultan; and I bring them to the Prince\nAhubal, the lord of all the hearts of the Indian empire.\"\n\nShe then produced her mandates, and the guards laid them at the feet\nof Ahubal.\n\nThe Prince Ahubal, having read the papers, gave them to Tasnar,\nsaying, \"These are indeed valuable acquisitions, and the female slave\nthat brought them is worthy of high honour and reward.\"\n\nThe slave, hearing this encomium, bowed down her head; for the guards\nwho held her prevented her falling prostrate.\n\n\"Mighty son of Dabulcombar,\" said the enchanter, \"let the guards carry\nher forth, till we consult what reward she shall receive.\"\n\nAs soon as the female slave was carried out, \"My Prince,\" said Tasnar,\n\"it is indeed politic to give rewards to those who serve us; and\ntherefore it is sometimes necessary to do it, that the silly birds may\nbe the more surely entangled in the snares of State; but when we can\nbetter serve our ends by their destruction than by their safety, it is\nbut just that we should do so. This slave has already risked her life\nfor our service, and therefore she will no doubt be ready to lay it\ndown if we require it.\"\n\nAs the enchanter said this, he called one of the guards, and commanded\nhim to bring in the female slave and the bow-string.\n\nThe slave approached, still held by the guards.\n\n\"Kind slave,\" said the enchanter, \"you have already served us much;\nthere is one thing more that we require: let the slaves fit the\nbow-string to thy neck, and let thy last breath be sent forth in\npraise of thy lord Ahubal.\"\n\nThe slaves of Ahubal then put upon the wretched female the deadly\nbow-string, and strangled her instantly; after which they retired,\nleaving her dead body on the floor of the tent.\n\n\"What hast thou done, O Tasnar?\" said Ahubal, astonished at the deed.\n\n\"I suspect,\" said the enchanter, \"that this female was sent on a vile\nerrand; and see, here,\" continued he, searching her garments, \"is the\nweapon of death!\"\n\nSo saying, he drew a dagger from her bosom, which she had concealed\nwith a design of stabbing the enchanter.\n\n\"Prudent Tasnar,\" said the Prince, \"I admire thy foresight; but of\nwhat use is this murdered slave now to us?\"\n\n\"The disguise of this slave,\" answered the enchanter, \"will introduce\nme into the camp of the Sultan, and, I hope, will give me an\nopportunity of reaching his heart with that steel which he designed\nfor mine. But no time must be lost: the morning will, ere long,\ndisclose its grey light in the east.\"\n\nThus it is that deceit often leads into danger, and recoils upon\nitself.\n\nThe enchanter then put on the garments of the murdered female slave,\nand stroking his face, it became like hers, so that Ahubal could\nscarcely believe but the slave was revived. He also cut off the head\nof the female slave, and, anointing it with a white ointment, it\nresembled his own. Thus equipped, the commander of the advanced guard\nconducted him to the foremost sentinels of the rebel army. The\ndisguised enchanter soon reached the camp of the Sultan; and the\nsentinels, imagining it was the same female slave whom Horam had led\nthrough their ranks in the former part of the night, suffered him to\npass unexamined.\n\nIn a short time he reached the royal pavilion, and demanded\nadmittance. The Vizier Horam, who was there in waiting, heard, as he\nsupposed, the voice of his female slave, and went out to bring her\nbefore the Sultan.\n\n\"My slave,\" said Horam, as he saw the disguised enchanter, \"hast thou\nsucceeded? and is Tasnar, the foe of the Faithful, dead?\"\n\n\"Bring me before the Sultan,\" said the pretended slave, \"that my lord\nmay first behold the head of his foe.\"\n\nThe Vizier then led the disguised enchanter into the pavilion, where\nthe Sultan Misnar, being warned of her coming, was seated on his\nthrone.\n\nAs the enchanter approached, he held a dagger in one hand, which was\ncovered by a long sleeve, and in the other he bore the fictitious\nhead. And now the pretended female was about to ascend the steps of\nthe throne, when the Vizier commanded her first to fall prostrate\nbefore the Sultan.\n\nThe sham slave did as she was ordered; and the Vizier, seeing her\nprostrate, fell upon her, and slew her with his sabre.\n\n\"What hast thou done, wretched Vizier?\" said the Sultan. \"Has envy\nthus rashly stirred thee up against my faithful slave, that----\"\n\nThe Sultan would probably have continued his invective against his\nVizier much longer, had he not beheld the corpse of the dead enchanter\nchange its appearance, and found that Horam, by the sudden destruction\nof Tasnar, had but just preserved his own life.\n\nAt the sight of this transformation, Misnar descended from his throne,\nand closely embraced his Vizier Horam.\n\n\"O Horam, forgive my impetuous temper!\" said the Sultan: \"how have I\nblamed my friend for doing that which alone could have saved my life!\nBut by what means did my faithful Vizier become acquainted with the\ndisguise of this wicked enchanter, or how did he discover himself to\nthy watchful eye?\"\n\n\"Lord of my heart,\" answered Horam, \"when I carried my poor female\nslave through the camp (whose death we have unhappily caused by our\nfraud), I bade her, when she returned and saw me, first repeat these\nwords in my ear: 'Allah is Lord of heaven, Mahomet is His Prophet, and\nMisnar is His vicegerent upon earth.' And this precaution I took,\nfearful less Tasnar, discovering our design, should invent this method\nof revenge. Wherefore, when the pretended slave was brought before me,\nand she repeated not the words that I had taught her, I was assured\nthat it was the enchanter in disguise, and waited till, by prostrating\nhimself before my lord, he gave me an opportunity of destroying the\nlife of the chief of thine enemies.\"\n\nThe Sultan of India again embraced his faithful Vizier; and as soon as\nthe eye of morn was opened in the east, the armies of Ahubal beheld\nthe enchanter Tasnar's head fixed on a pole in the front of the\nSultan's army.\n\nThe Prince Ahubal, rising with the earliest dawn of the morning, went\nforward to the front of his troops, and there, at a small distance,\nsaw the hideous features of the enchanter Tasnar already blackening in\nthe sun. Fear immediately took possession of his soul; and he ran,\nwith tears in his eyes, and hid himself, till the sun went down, in\nhis pavilion.\n\nThe Vizier Horam, perceiving the approach of the sun, would have led\non the Sultan's troops to a second attack; but Misnar commanded him to\nforbear, that his army might rest one day after their fatigues.\n\nThe great distress of the enchanters, and their unexpected deaths,\nalarmed the rest of that wicked race; and Ahaback and Desra, seeing\nthat no one enchanter had succeeded against the Sultan, resolved to\njoin their forces; and while one led a powerful army to Ahubal's\nassistance from the east, the other raised the storms of war and\nrebellion on the western confines of the Sultan's empire.\n\nIn the meantime, the two armies of the Sultan and Ahubal continued\ninactive, till an express arrived that Ahaback was leading the\nstrength of nine thousand squadrons against their Sultan, and that\nDesra was travelling over the plains of Embracan, with three thousand\nelephants and a hundred thousand troops from the western provinces.\n\nThe Sultan instantly resolved to attack Ahubal before these succours\ncould arrive; but the Vizier Horam fell at his feet, and besought him\nnot to hazard his army, but rather to recruit and strengthen it.\n\nThis advice, though quite contrary to the opinion of Misnar, was yet\nso strongly urged by the Vizier, that the Sultan gave up his better\njudgment to the opinion of Horam; and, when every one expected to be\ncalled forth to action, the Vizier gave orders in the camp for\nrecruits to be sought after, and went himself to the north of Delhi to\nraise a second army for his master's service.\n\nThe troops of Ahubal, finding themselves free from the attacks of the\nSultan's army, endeavoured to comfort their Prince, who was grieved\nand dejected at the loss of his friends; and the provinces of the\nsouth, to dissipate his gloom, besought him to permit them to raise a\npavilion worthy of his dignity, as heretofore he contented himself\nwith such as his generals made use of.\n\nThe Prince Ahubal, who by nature was not formed for war or contest,\nbut only stirred up by the enchanters to be their tool against the\nSultan his brother, was easily persuaded to accept of the offers of\nhis troops, and a hundred curious artisans were set to work to\ncontrive and erect a sumptuous pavilion for the use of the Prince.\n\nTo these workmen, all the provinces who acknowledged the authority of\nAhubal sent diamonds and jewels, and rich silks, and all the costly\nmaterials of the world, to finish the splendid pavilion which they\npurposed to raise for their Prince.\n\nWhile the sumptuous tent was raising, the squadrons of Ahaback drew\nnearer and nearer, and the elephants of Desra were within thirty days\nof the camp of Ahubal.\n\nThe Vizier Horam, having returned with his reinforcements, waited on\nthe Sultan, and besought him to trust the management of his army to\nhim for forty days.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"I have such confidence in thy sense and\nloyalty, that I grant thy request.\"\n\nThe Vizier, having obtained his end, sent a messenger to Ahubal, and\ndesired a forty-days' truce between the armies, to which the Prince\nreadily agreed. In a few hours the truce was proclaimed in the\nSultan's camp; and when Misnar hoped that his Vizier would have\nattacked the rebel army with a force more than double their number, he\nheard the trumpets sound a truce in the tents.\n\nSuch a behaviour, so contrary to reason, alarmed the Sultan, and he\nsent for the Vizier Horam, and demanded his reasons for making a truce\nwith his enemies.\n\n\"My lord,\" answered Horam, \"I have heard that the southern provinces\nare erecting a pavilion for your rebel brother Ahubal, which in\nsplendour and magnificence is to surpass all the glories of thy palace\nat Delhi; and being convinced that thy subjects are led more by show\nand appearance than by duty and honour, I feared that Ahubal's\nglorious pavilion might draw the neighbouring cities into his\nencampment, and thereby strengthen his army, and weaken the resources\nof my Prince. For this reason I besought my lord to give me the\ncommand of his army for forty days, in which time I propose to build\nthee such a pavilion as shall far outshine in splendour every glory\nupon earth.\"\n\n\"Horam,\" answered the Sultan, \"I have put all things into thine hands;\nbut let me beseech thee to be careful of thy master.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam, leaving the Sultan, sent to Delhi for workmen and\nartificers; and, ordering a large spot to be enclosed, that none might\nbehold his pavilion till it was completed, he proceeded with the work\nwith great care and assiduity.\n\nWhile these works of peace, rather than of war, were carrying on in\nthe two armies of Misnar and Ahubal, the reinforcements of Ahaback and\nDesra arrived; and the captains in the Sultan's army, hearing of the\ngreat addition which was made to the rebel army, while the Vizier was\nspending his time with his curious workmen, petitioned the Sultan that\none might be put over them who loved war rather than the amusements of\nfemales and children.\n\nThe Sultan, who thought, with his captains, that Horam was rather\nbetraying than forwarding his cause, commanded the Vizier to be\nbrought before him, and, in the presence of the captains, asked him\nwhy he delayed to lead his troops against the rebel army.\n\nThe Vizier Horam made no answer to the Sultan's question, but desired\nhis lord to bring the captains towards the pavilion which he had\nerected.\n\nAs soon as the Sultan appeared before the enclosure, several slaves\nbehind were employed to remove it, so that in an instant Misnar and\nhis captains beheld the most magnificent spectacle that art could\nachieve.\n\nThe sight of the pavilion was highly acceptable to the army of the\nSultan; but the captains justly condemned a performance which had,\nwithout cause, wasted the greatest part of the coffers of India.\n\nThe pavilion was situated at one extremity of the Sultan's army, at a\nsmall distance from a rocky mountain, and surrounded by a grove of\npalm-trees, part of which had been cut down by the Vizier's order, to\nadmit the air and light among the rest. It was composed of crimson\nvelvet, embroidered round with flowers and festoons of silver and\ngold; and in the body was worked, in golden tissue, the deaths of the\nenchanters Ulin, Happuck, Ollomand, and Tasnar.\n\nThe pavilion stood upon a carpet or cloth of gold, and within was\nsupported by four massive pillars of burnished gold; the ceiling of\nthe canopy within was studded with jewels and diamonds, and under it\nwere placed two sofas of the richest workmanship.\n\nThe Sultan, though much averse to such pageantry, was yet persuaded by\nhis Vizier to sleep in his new pavilion; and the glorious appearance\nwhich it made brought thousands to view the magnificent abode of their\nSultan.\n\nThe account of this splendid tent soon reached Ahubal's army, and\nevery one extolled the glorious pavilion: so that Ahubal's tent seemed\nas nothing in comparison with the Sultan's.\n\nAhaback and Desra, who were in the Prince's pavilion, hearing the\naccount, resolved to go invisibly and examine it; and leaving the\nPrince, and putting each a ring on his fingers, they passed the\nsentinels and watches of both armies.\n\nBut if the sight of the pavilion filled them with malice and envy, the\nhistories of their brethren's deaths increased that malice, and urged\nthem to revenge. They returned hastily to Ahubal's pavilion, and\nrelated to him what they had seen.\n\nAhubal's heart rankled at their account, and his visage fell, to hear\nhow much his brother had outdone him in magnificence.\n\n\"Get me a tent more splendid than the Sultan's,\" said he to the\nenchanters, \"or disband your armies, and leave me to my fate.\"\n\n\"My Prince,\" answered Ahaback, \"let not such a trifle discompose you.\nIt is true, we could in a moment erect a pavilion more magnificent\nthan the Sultan's; but it will be more glorious to dispossess him of\nthat which he has built, and to set my Prince upon the throne of his\nfather: for which purpose let the trumpet sound on the morrow,--the\ntruce is at an end, and if it were not, we mean not to keep faith with\nan usurper,--and ere the Sultan be prepared, let us fall upon him. Who\nknows but we may sleep to-morrow night in this pavilion which now\ncauses uneasiness?\"\n\nThe counsel of Ahaback pleased both Desra and Ahubal; and they gave\norders for the troops to march in the morning, and attack the army of\nthe Sultan.\n\nThe forces of Misnar were sleeping in their tents when the alarm was\nspread that the enemy was upon them. The Vizier Horam arose in haste,\nand put himself at the head of the army; but, instead of leading them\ntowards their enemies, he fled off to the right with the choicest of\nthe troops, and taking possession of a pass in the mountains behind\nthe pavilion, sent a messenger to inform the Sultan that he had\nsecured him a retreat, in case the armies of Ahubal should conquer.\n\nThe Sultan, being at the extremity of his army, knew not of the\nconfused attack till it was too late to redeem his lost opportunity.\nHe collected his scattered troops, and led them towards the enemy, at\nthe same time sending a message to Horam to leave the mountains and\nsupport him.\n\nThe captains and officers that followed Misnar behaved with great\nresolution and intrepidity, and the Sultan exposed himself frequently\nto the darts and missile weapons of his enemies, till, overpowered by\nnumbers, and his own troops on all sides giving way, through the\nconfusion which prevailed, he was forced to make to the mountains,\nwhere his Vizier still continued, though he had received the Sultan's\ncommands to the contrary.\n\nThe troops of Ahubal pursued the Sultan's scattered forces to the\nmountains, where the Vizier's troops opened to receive their friends,\nand then opposed the rebels, who were faint with the fatigues of the\nday.\n\nAfter a great slaughter, the rebels were forced to give over, and,\nreturning to the encampment of the Sultan, they loaded themselves with\nthe spoils of their enemies.\n\nAhaback and Desra were greatly elated at their success, and Ahubal in\none day found himself master of India, his brother defeated, and his\ngaudy pavilion wrested from him.\n\nAhubal beheld with surprise the magnificence of the pavilion, and\nseeing the invidious workmanship on the outside, where the deaths of\nhis former friends were displayed, \"Ahaback and Desra,\" said the\nPrince, \"it is but just that you should revenge yourselves on my proud\nbrother. For my part, I never can inhabit a pavilion which was meant\nas a triumph over my friends; but you may justly take up your abode\nhere, that the nations may at once learn, when they see you in this\npavilion, the former misfortunes of your brethren, and your present\nwell-deserved success: wherefore, to-night, my friends, take up your\nresidence here, as this place is most worthy to hold you, and\nto-morrow I will order my workmen to remove the pavilion next my own.\"\n\nThe enchanters were pleased at the speech of Ahubal, and the banquet\nwas prepared for the conquerors in the gay pavilion of the unfortunate\nSultan, while he remained among the mountains, wanting even the\nnecessaries of life for himself and his army.\n\nBut the Sultan's misfortunes did not make him forget the cause of\nthem. He called a council of his captains, and commanded the Vizier\nHoram to be brought before them. The Vizier was condemned by every\nvoice, and Misnar, with tears in his eyes, pronounced the sentence of\ndeath against him.\n\n\"To-morrow,\" said the Sultan, \"must the ill-fated Horam be numbered\nwith the dead.\"\n\nHoram heard the sentence without emotion. \"My life,\" said he, \"is in\nthe hand of my lord, and he is welcome to the blood of his slave.\"\n\nThe Vizier was then ordered into the custody of a hundred men, and a\ncaptain was appointed to guard him until morning.\n\nThe unfortunate Sultan then retired to rest in an obscure tent, or\nrather not to rest, but to an irksome contemplation.\n\n\"My kingdom,\" said he, \"is passed from me, and, worse than my kingdom,\nmy friend, my dearly beloved Horam, has proved a traitor to his\nmaster.\"\n\nAs the Sultan was filled with these meditations, his guards gave him\nnotice that the captain who was set over the Vizier had brought Horam\nto communicate an affair of moment to him.\n\n\"Is there deceit in Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"that he cometh like a\nthief in the night? If Horam is false, farewell my life. Let him that\ndestroyed my kingdom complete his ingratitude by finishing my fate.\"\n\nThe captain then entered the tent of his Sultan with Horam in chains.\n\n\"Life of my life, and master of my thoughts,\" said the Vizier, \"ere I\ndie, I am constrained to show thee among these mountains far greater\nriches than are in thy palace at Delhi, or in the tents of thine\nenemies--riches that will restore thy affairs, and turn thy tears into\nshowers of joy.\"\n\n\"Are you not satisfied,\" said Misnar, \"O ill-fated Horam, that you\ncome to deceive me with new illusions? Where is my kingdom? where my\nroyalty? where my army? By thy fatal counsels destroyed, overwhelmed,\nconfounded! Now, then, lead the way, and let me see these curious\ntreasures which are to recompense the loss of all my hopes.\"\n\nThe captain then led Horam out of the tent, and the Sultan followed.\n\nThe Vizier, being in chains, moved but slowly, and the captain of the\nguard, dismissing his men, drew his sabre, and held it naked over the\nhead of the Vizier. The darkness of the night prevented the Sultan\nfrom seeing whither he was carried by his Vizier.\n\nThey passed over various rocks, and were obliged to wade through some\nsmall brooks or rivulets which fell from the tops of the mountains,\ntill at length they arrived at a spacious cavern, which was formed by\ntwo pendent rocks.\n\nHere the Vizier entered, and, lifting up his chains, knocked against a\nsmall door at the extremity of the cavern. In a moment it opened, and\nfour slaves came forward with flambeaux in their hands.\n\nThe slaves, seeing their master and the Sultan, fell prostrate: and\nHoram inquired whether all was safe.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered the slaves. \"We have not been disturbed since\nmy lord first brought us to this gloomy cavern.\"\n\n\"Where is Camul?\" said the Vizier.\n\n\"He watches,\" replied the slaves, \"with the axe in his hand.\"\n\n\"What hour of the night is it?\" said Horam to his slaves.\n\n\"The third watch of the night is past,\" answered the slaves.\n\n\"Then enter, my Sultan,\" said Horam, \"and see thine enemies perish\nfrom before thee.\"\n\n\"What enemies? and what mysterious place is this?\" said the Sultan.\n\"Who is Camul? and what axe doth he bear in his hand? Lead me, Horam,\nnot into danger, and remember that the sabre of my captain hangeth\nover thy head.\"\n\nThe Sultan then entered in at the little door, and followed the Vizier\nand his guard, and the four slaves with flambeaux in their hands.\n\nIn this manner Misnar passed through a long passage hewn out of the\nsolid rock, till he beheld, at a distance, a man seated on a stone\nwith an axe in his hand, and nine lamps burning before him.\n\nAs they drew near, the man fell prostrate before them; and the Vizier,\nalso falling prostrate, desired Misnar to take the axe out of the hand\nof Camul his slave.\n\n\"What wonderful axe is this,\" said the Sultan, \"that is thus preserved\nin the bowels of the earth?\"\n\nThe Sultan took the axe, and Camul the slave removing the stone on\nwhich he sat, there appeared a strong rope underneath, one end of\nwhich passed through the rocks, and the other was fastened to an\nenormous ring of iron.\n\n\"Strike, royal master,\" said Horam, \"and sever that rope from the ring\nof iron.\"\n\nThe Sultan did as Horam desired, and struck the rope with his axe, and\ndivided it from the ring.\n\nThe rope, being released, flew with great swiftness through the hole\nin the rock, and Misnar waited some time to see what might be the\nconsequence of cutting it asunder; but nothing appearing, he said to\nhis Vizier,\n\n\"Where are the riches, Horam, which I left my bed to view? Is this\nlike the rest of your promises? and am I brought here to be again\ndeceived?\"\n\n\"Royal master,\" answered Horam, \"let me die the death of a rebel. I\nhave nothing more to discover: pardon my follies, and avenge thine own\nlosses by the sword of justice.\"\n\n\"What!\" said the Sultan, enraged, \"hast thou brought me through the\ndangerous passes of the mountains by night only to cut a rope asunder?\nAnd was I called forth to see only a passage made in the rocks, and\nthe slaves of Horam as ill employed as their master lately has been?\nLead me, villain!\" continued he, \"back to my tent, and expect with the\nrising of the sun the fate you have so amply merited.\"\n\nThus saying, the Sultan returned, and the captain of the guard led\nHoram back in chains to his place of confinement.\n\nIn the morning, the army of the Sultan Misnar, which had escaped to\nthe mountains, were all drawn out, the cymbals sounded, and a gibbet\nforty feet high was erected in their front, to which the captain of\nthe guard led the unfortunate Vizier Horam.\n\nAt the sound of the cymbals the Sultan came from his tent, and gave\norders that Horam should be conducted to his fate.\n\nThe Vizier, unmoved at his doom, surrendered himself to the officer\nwho was to execute the Sultan's sentence; and the ignominious rope was\nput about his neck, when a messenger, attended by several sentinels,\ncame running into the camp.\n\nThe messenger hastened to the Sultan, and thus delivered his message:\n\"Ahaback and Desra, the wicked enchanters who have upholden thy\nrebellious brother, are dead; the army of Ahubal is in the utmost\nconsternation; and the friends of the Sultan wish to see thee hunting\nthine enemies, as the lion hunts the wild asses in the forest.\"\n\nThis messenger was succeeded by several of the Sultan's spies, who\nconfirmed the account.\n\nMisnar then put himself at the head of his troops, ordered Horam back\nto his former confinement, and hastened to fall upon the forces of the\nrebels.\n\nEarly the same morning, Ahubal was awakened by his guards, who, with\ncountenances of woe, declared to him the death of his friends Ahaback\nand Desra.\n\n\"Are my friends dead?\" said Ahubal, trembling: \"by what misfortune am\nI bereaved of them? What new device has Misnar practised against them?\nAre not these wise and sage magicians, then, a match for a boy's\nprudence? Alas! what can _I_ effect against them, when these fall away\nbefore his victorious arm?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" answered the guards, \"we have too late discovered the wiles\nof our enemies. Over the magnificent pavilion of the Sultan, which\nHoram built for his master, the artful Vizier had concealed a\nponderous stone, which covered the whole pavilion. This, by some\nsecret means, he contrived in the night to release from its\nconfinement, while Ahaback and Desra were sleeping on the sofas\nbeneath it; and ere day began to rise, their guards were surprised by\nthe fall, and ran to release their masters from the stone; but, alas!\ntheir bodies were crushed to atoms, and still remain buried under the\npavilion, as fifty of the strongest of thy troops were unable to\nremove the stone from the ground.\"\n\nAt these words the countenance and the heart of Ahubal sank; and ere\nhe could recover, word was brought him that the Sultan's troops were\nin the midst of his army, and that none dared stand against them\nunless he approached to encourage them.\n\nAhubal was so overwhelmed with fear and grief, that, instead of\nleading his troops, he prepared himself for flight; and Misnar,\npursuing his good fortune, was in a few hours in possession, not only\nof his own tents, but also of those of the enemy.\n\nHaving gained a complete victory, and sent part of his troops after\nthose that were fled, the Sultan commanded his Vizier to be brought\nbefore him, and, in the sight of his army, asked him what merit he\ncould challenge in the success of that day.\n\n\"The contrivances of thy slave had been useless,\" Horam replied, \"if a\nless than my Sultan had afterwards led his troops to the battle.\nTherefore thine only be the glory and the honour of the day; but my\nlord must know, that some time since we were informed that the\nenchanters Ahaback and Desra were preparing to uphold thy rebellious\nbrother; and well I knew that prudence, and not force, must prevail\nagainst them. I therefore besought my lord to grant me the chief\ncommand for forty days, and neglected to take such advantages over\nAhubal's troops as the captains of thy armies advised.\n\n\"This I did, knowing that any victory would be vain and fruitless, if\nthe enchanters were not involved in the ruin; and that, while they\nwere safe, a second army would spring up as soon as the first was\ndestroyed. For these reasons, I endeavoured to strengthen my Sultan's\narmy, that when the reinforcements of Ahaback and Desra should arrive,\ntheir numbers might not prevail against us.\n\n\"In the meantime, the sumptuous pavilion which was built for Ahubal\ninspired me with a device, which I hoped would put the enchanters in\nmy power.\n\n\"Studious that no one might interrupt or betray my designs, I enclosed\na place near the mountains, surrounded with trees, where I began to\nbuild a pavilion, which I gave out was erected in honour of my lord\nthe Sultan: within this pavilion I concealed a massy stone, which was\nsawn out of the solid rock, and which, by the help of several engines,\nwas hung upon four pillars of gold, and covered the whole pavilion.\nThe rope which upheld this massy stone passed through one of the\ngolden pillars into the earth beneath, and, by a secret channel cut in\nthe rock, was carried onward through the side of the mountain, and was\nfastened to a ring of iron in a cave hollowed out of the rock on the\nopposite side.\n\n\"By the time the enchanters were arrived in the camp of Ahubal, the\npavilion was finished; and although I had secret advice that my\nSultan's troops were to be attacked on the morrow, yet I chose to\nconceal that knowledge, and so to dispose of the army that the chief\npart might fly with me behind the mountains which hung over the\npavilion, and that the rest, having no conductor, might be put to\nflight with as little slaughter as possible. This I did, expecting\nthat Ahaback and Desra, puffed up with their good fortune, would take\npossession of my Sultan's pavilion.\"\n\n\"Rise, faithful Horam,\" said the Sultan Misnar; \"your plot is\nsufficiently unravelled; but why did you hide your intentions from\nyour lord?\"\n\n\"Lord of my life,\" answered the Vizier, \"because I was resolved, in\ncase my plot did not succeed, to bear the burden myself, that my\nSultan's honour might not be lessened in the eyes of his troops.\"\n\nThis noble confession of the Vizier pleased the whole army, and they\nwaited with the utmost impatience to hear his pardon pronounced.\n\nThe Sultan then embraced his Vizier, and the shouts of the army\nwere,--\"Long live Misnar the lord of our hearts, and Horam the first\nand the most faithful of his slaves!\"\n\nThe army of Ahubal still continued to fly after their Prince, whose\nfear did not suffer him to direct those who came up to him.\n\nAnd now, in a few days, the army would have been totally dispersed,\nhad not the giant Kifri, enraged at the death of his brethren, and\ntravelling in his fury, appeared before the eyes of the terrified\nPrince and his troops, in a narrow pass among the rocks.\n\nThe presence of Kifri was not less terrifying than the noise of the\npursuers; and Ahubal, at the sight of the monster, fell with his face\nto the ground.\n\n\"Who art thou,\" said Kifri, with the voice of thunder, \"that fliest\nlike the roebuck, and tremblest like the heart-stricken antelope?\"\n\n\"Prince of earth,\" said Ahubal, \"I am the friend of Ulin, of Happuck,\nof Ollomand, of Tasnar, of Ahaback, and of Desra. I am he who, through\nthe power of the enchanters, have contended for the throne of India.\"\n\n\"Wretched, then, are they that league with thee,\" answered the giant\nKifri, \"thou son of fear, thou wretch unworthy of such support! Was it\nfor thee, base coward, that Ollomand poured forth his unnumbered\nstores? that the plains of India were dyed with the blood of Desra,\nthe mistress of our race?\"\n\nAs Kifri spake thus, his broad eyeballs glowed like the red orb of day\nwhen covered with dark fleeting clouds, and from his nostrils issued\nforth the tempest and the flame.\n\nIn an instant he seized on the fear-shaken Ahubal, as the eagle shuts\nwithin her bloody talons the body of the affrighted trembling hare;\nand, lifting him high in the air, he dashed the wretched Prince\nagainst the rugged face of the mountains. The blood of Ahubal ran\ndown from the mountain's side, and his mangled limbs, crushed by the\nfall, hung quivering on the pointed rocks.\n\nThe death of Ahubal lessened not the fury of Kifri; but all that\nfollowed the unhappy Prince experienced his rage, till, glutted with\nblood, and tired of his revenge, the monstrous giant sank to rest, and\nstretched out his limbs upon the tops of the mountains.\n\nBut the sleep of Kifri was cumbrous as his body. In the visions of the\nnight came Ulin before him, and the ghost of the murdered Happuck was\nin the eye of his fancy.\n\n\"Enemy of our race,\" said they, \"where is he who was to redeem our\nglory and to revenge our blood? Where is Ahubal, of whom the dark\nsaying went forth, that none but our race could overpower him? The\ndark saying is now interpreted by thy shameful deed, and the powers of\nenchantment are at an end!\"\n\nThe giant, disturbed at his visions, started up: the moon rode high\nabove the mountains, and the trees of the forest looked broad with the\nshades of night. He cast his black eyes to the south, and saw the\nstorm rolling forth in clouds: the tempest gathered around him, and\npoured its fury against him.\n\nThe giant bent his body towards a huge rock, whereon he had slept, and\nstraining his tough sinews, tore up the mighty fragment from the\nground. The earth felt the shock, and its dark entrails trembled; but\nKifri, undismayed, threw the wild ruin to the clouds. The labouring\nmountain returned quickly on the rebellious head of the giant,\ncrushing him beneath its ponderous mass, and finished, by its descent,\nthe life and the presumption of Kifri.\n\nThe intelligence of Kifri's death was brought to the Sultan by one of\nthe followers of Ahubal, who, at the first approach of the giant, had\nrun from his presence, and hid himself in a cave in the rocks.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"our enemies are no more; seven are\ndestroyed, and one weak woman alone remains. But since Kifri, the\nterror of Asia, has fallen a sacrifice to the cause of Ahubal, and\nsince the rebel is himself destroyed, what has Misnar more to fear?\nHowever, let our army be yet increased: let trusty nabobs be sent into\nevery province, and nothing omitted which may preserve the peace of\nmy empire: it is the part of prudence to watch most where there is the\nleast appearance of danger.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam obeyed his master's command; and Misnar, having\nregulated his army, returned in triumph to Delhi.\n\nThe Sultan, having restored peace to his kingdoms, began to administer\nimpartial justice to his subjects: and, although the faith of Horam\nhad often been tried, yet Misnar chose not to rely altogether on any\nbut himself.\n\n\"Vizier,\" said the Sultan, as Horam was standing before him, \"are my\npeople happy?--it is for them I rule, and not for myself; and though I\ndelay not to punish the licentious and rebellious, yet shall I ever\nstudy to gain the hearts of my obedient subjects. A father's frown may\nrestrain his children, but his smile can only bless them. Dost not\nthou remember, Horam, the story of Mahoud, the son of the jeweller?\nAnd how am I sure but even now private malice may be wreaking as great\ncruelty upon some innocent person, as the Princess Hemjunah suffered\nfrom the enchanter Bennaskar?\"\n\n\"My Prince,\" answered the Vizier, \"the toils and the dangers of the\nwar have never for a moment driven from my mind the memory of that\nPrincess, who, with Mahoud, underwent the most odious transformation\nthrough the power of Ulin.\"\n\n\"Nor have I,\" answered the Sultan, \"forgot their distress; but the\ncares of my empire have hitherto prevented my search after them. As to\nthe Princess, she is possibly with her father in Cassimir; but Mahoud\nis doubtless an inhabitant of Delhi, where he lived before his\ntransformation; therefore, O Vizier, give immediate orders that the\nrespective Cadis of each division of the city, who have the numbers\nand the names of every inhabitant within their district, be questioned\nconcerning this jeweller's son; and let him to-morrow be brought\nbefore me.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam did as he was commanded, and sent for all the Cadis\nof the city, and examined them concerning Mahoud; but no one could\ngive any account of him.\n\nThe next morning Horam attended the divan, and acquainted the Sultan\nwith his fruitless search.\n\nThe Sultan was much dissatisfied at the Vizier's report; and after he\nhad answered the petitioners and dismissed them, he sent again for his\nfavourite Vizier.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"my Cadis are remiss in their duty: Mahoud\nis certainly hid in my city: all is not right, Horam; the poor son of\nthe jeweller would be proud to own that he was formerly the companion\nof the Sultan of the Indies, though in his distress; he had long ere\nthis been at the foot of my throne, did not somewhat prevent him.\"\n\n\"Prince of my life,\" answered the Vizier, \"if Mahoud is in this city,\nhe is doubtless disguised, and has reasons for concealing himself; and\nhow shall thy officers of justice discover, among many millions, one\nobscure person, who is studious to hide himself?\"\n\n\"In a well-regulated city,\" answered the Sultan, \"every one is known,\nand sound policy has always invented such distinctions as may prevent\nthe disguise of designing and wicked men. But, till my capital is\nbetter regulated, I mean to take advantage myself of the confusion of\nmy city, and examine, in disguise, those private outrages which are\nscreened from the public eye of justice. Wherefore, Horam, procure two\ndisguises for yourself and me; and let the Emir Matserak be sent\nambassador to the Sultan of Cassimir, to inquire after the welfare of\nthe Princess Hemjunah.\"\n\nThe Vizier, in obedience to the Sultan's orders, sent the habits of\ntwo fakeers into the palace; and at evening the Sultan, accompanied by\nhis Vizier, went forth in his disguise.\n\nAs they passed through the second street from the royal palace, one\nhabited like a fakeer, with his horn, saluted them, and asked them to\npartake of the alms he had received.\n\nThe Sultan readily accepted his offer, lest the brother of his order\nshould be offended.\n\nThey immediately retired into a remote place, and, the strange fakeer\npulling out the provision he had received, they began their repast.\n\n\"Brother,\" said the fakeer to the disguised Sultan, \"you are, I\nperceive, but a novice in your profession; you have seen but little of\nlife, and you would be puzzled were you to encounter such wonders as\nI experienced but last night in my approach to this city.\"\n\n\"What,\" answered the Sultan hastily, \"were they? Perhaps, brother, you\nmistake me: possibly, though not so communicative as yourself, I may\nnevertheless be as brave and resolute.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the fakeer, \"I begin to suspect that you are no true\nbrother: you know we are communicative among ourselves, but secret to\nthe world about us. By the faith which I profess, I will no longer\nconverse with you unless you give me some convincing proofs of the\ngenuineness of your profession!\"\n\nHere the Vizier, perceiving that the Sultan was hard pressed,\ninterrupted the fakeer, and said, \"O holy fakeer, but stranger to our\ntribe, whence comest thou that thou knowest not Elezren, the prince of\ndevotees in the city of Delhi, to whom the Emirs bow, and before whom\nthe populace lie prostrate as he passes? thou art indeed but newly\ncome to Delhi, since the fame of Elezren hath not been sounded in\nthine ears.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" answered the fakeer, \"the fame of Elezren is not confined\nto Delhi alone, since all Asia receives him; but where are the silver\nmarks of wisdom on his cheeks, and the furrows of affliction, which\nare deep-wrought in the aged front of Elezren?\"\n\nAt these words the fakeer sprang from the ground, and, running into\nthe streets, he made the air echo with his complaints.\n\nThe mob, hearing that two young men had personated the appearance of\nthe caste, crowded to the place where the Sultan and his Vizier sat\ntrembling at their own temerity, and were just about to tear them to\npieces when the Vizier, stepping forward to meet them, cried aloud,\n\n\"Slaves, presume not to approach your Sultan! for know that Misnar,\nthe idol of his people, sits here disguised as a fakeer.\"\n\nLuckily for the Prince, several of the foremost were well acquainted\nwith his features, or it is probable the mob would have looked upon\nthe Vizier's speech as only a device to prevent their fury. But when\nthe fakeer saw the foremost of the crowd acknowledge Misnar as their\nSultan, and fall down before him, he tried to escape.\n\n\"My friends,\" said the Sultan, \"secure that wretch, and suffer him not\nto escape. And, Horam,\" said he, turning to his Vizier, \"let him be\nconfined in a dungeon this night, and to-morrow brought before me in\nthe divan of justice.\"\n\n\"The words of my lord,\" answered Horam, \"are a law which cannot be\nchanged. But let me beseech my Prince to retire from the crowd.\"\n\nMisnar willingly did as Horam advised; and the people made way for him\nto the palace, crying out, \"Long live Misnar, the pride of his\nslaves!\"\n\nThe Sultan being returned to his palace with his Vizier, \"Horam,\" said\nhe, \"each man has his part in life allotted to him; and the folly of\nthose who, leaving the right and regular path, strike into the mazes\nof their own fancy, is sufficiently seen from our adventure this day:\nwherefore I would have every man endeavour to fill his real character\nand to shine in that, and not attempt what belongs to another, in\nwhich he can gain no credit, and runs a great hazard of disgrace.\"\n\nThe Vizier went forth, and brought the fakeer bound in chains before\nthe Sultan.\n\nThe fakeer advanced to the presence of the Sultan, full of shame and\nfear; and falling at his footstool, cried out, \"I call Mahomet to\nwitness, I slew not the man in my wrath, but in mine own defence.\"\n\n\"What man?\" said the Sultan, astonished at his words; \"whom hast thou\nslain, O wicked fakeer, that thine own fears should turn evidence\nagainst thee?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the fakeer, \"hear me, most injured lord, for the\nblood of my brother presseth me sore.\n\n\"As I journeyed yesterday, and was arrived within a league of the city\nof Delhi, I turned me towards a place walled round, which I supposed\nwas a repository for the dead; and finding the gate open, I entered\ninto it, intending to shelter myself for a few minutes against the\nscorching sun.\n\n\"As I entered I perceived at one end a stone sepulchre, whose mouth\nwas opened, and the stone rolled from it. Surprised at the sight, I\nwalked forward to the vault, and heard within the voices of several\npersons. At this I was in doubt whether to proceed or retire,\nsupposing that some robbers had taken up their residence there.\n\n\"In the midst of my confusion, a young man with a turban hanging over\nhis face came out, and seeing me, drew his sabre and made toward me to\nkill me. Whereupon I took up a large fragment of the wall which lay at\nmy feet, and as he came forward I threw it and felled him to the\nground; then running up, I snatched the sabre from his hand, and would\nhave destroyed him, but he cried out, saying, 'Take care what thou\ndoest, rash man; for it is not one but two lives that thou takest away\nwhen thou destroyest me!'\n\n\"Amazed and wondering how it was possible for me to destroy two lives\nby avenging myself on one wretch, who, without offence, had meditated\nmy death, I stayed my hand; which the young man seeing, he aimed to\npull the sabre out of my hand, whereupon I lifted up the sabre above\nhis head, and at one blow severed it from his body. Immediately,\nseeing the blood start from his veins, I ran out of the enclosure,\nfearing lest any one of his company should overtake me, and flew till\nI reached the city of Delhi, where I subsisted that night and this day\non the alms of the Faithful, till I met my Sultan and his Vizier in\nthe habit of two fakeers.\"\n\n\"And what,\" said the Sultan, \"has made thee thine own accuser, since\nthe life you took was in your own defence? If thy tale is true, his\nblood rests on his own head, who was the aggressor; but the story is\nso singular, that I shall detain thee till my Vizier and a party of\nsoldiers be sent to search the enclosure you have mentioned.\"\n\nThe Vizier then gave orders for the guard to mount their horses, and\nthe Sultan resolved to accompany the Vizier, the fakeer being carried\nbetween two of the guards to point out the scene of the encounter.\n\nThe party having arrived at the iron gate of the enclosure, Horam,\nwith ten of the guards, went in on foot, and marched with the fakeer\nto the tomb where he heard the voices, and whence the young man had\nissued forth.\n\nAs they approached the tomb they beheld the body of the young man on\nthe ground, and his head at a distance.\n\nThe guards, entering the tomb, found no one within, but at the upper\nend they saw a stone case supported by two blocks of black marble. The\nstone case was covered with a flat marble, which the guards could not\nremove from its place.\n\nThe Vizier, being acquainted with these particulars, returned to the\nSultan, and related to him what the guards had discovered. But Misnar,\nrecollecting the many devices which the enchanters had prepared to\nensnare him, was very doubtful what course to take.\n\nOn a sudden the moon, which shone exceeding bright, was overcast, and\nthe clouds appeared of a glowing red, like the fiery heat of a burning\nfurnace; hollow murmurs were heard at a distance, and a putrid and\nsuffocating smell arose; when, in the midst of the fiery clouds, the\nblack form of a haggard and hideously distorted female became visible,\nfuriously riding on an unwieldy monster with many legs.\n\nIn an instant the clouds to the east disappeared, and the heavens from\nthat quarter shone like the meridian sun, and discovered a lovely\ngraceful nymph, the brightness of whose features expressed the\nliveliest marks of meekness, grace, and love.\n\n\"Hapacuson,\" said the fair one, addressing herself to the hag, \"why\nwilt thou vainly brandish thy rebellious arms against the powers of\nHeaven? If the Sultan, though he be the favourite of Allah, do wrong,\nthe Mighty One, who delighteth in justice, will make thee the\ninstrument of His vengeance on the offending Prince. But know the\nextent of thy power, vain woman! and presume not to war against the\nwill of Heaven, lest the battle of the faithful genii be set in array\nagainst thee, and thou be joined to the number of those who are\nalready fallen.\"\n\n\"Proud vassal of light,\" answered the enchantress Hapacuson, \"I fear\nnot thy threats, nor the bright pageants that surround thee: war,\ntumult, chaos, and darkness, fear and dismay, are to me more welcome\nthan the idle splendours of thy Master.\"\n\n\"Abandoned wretch!\" answered the bright being, \"defile not thy\nMaker's creations by thy blasphemous tongue; but learn at least to\nfear that Mighty One thou art not worthy to honour.\"\n\nThus saying, she blew from her mouth a vivid flame, like a sharp two\nedged-sword, which, entering into the clouds that surrounded\nHapacuson, the hag gave a horrible shriek, and the thick clouds\nrolling around her, she flew away into the darkness.\n\nThe fair one then descending towards the Sultan, the brightness\ndisappeared, and Misnar, the Vizier, and the guards, fell prostrate\nbefore her.\n\n\"Arise, Misnar,\" said she, \"Heaven's favourite! and fear not to enter\nthe tomb, where the enchantments of Hapacuson are now at an end.\"\n\nThe Sultan was about to answer, but the fair one led the way to the\ntomb, and commanded him to enter with her, and uncover the stone case\nwhich stood at the upper end.\n\nAs the lid was removing, a sigh issued from its case, and a lovely\nfemale arose as from a deep sleep.\n\n\"Inform me,\" said the Sultan, \"whom it is my happy fate to release\nfrom this wretched confinement?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the beautiful maiden, \"art thou the vile Bennaskar,\nor the still more vile Mahoud? Oh, let me sleep till death, and never\nmore behold the wretchedness of life!\"\n\n\"What!\" said the Sultan, starting from his knees, \"do I behold the\nunfortunate Princess of Cassimir?\"\n\n\"Illustrious Hemjunah,\" said the Vizier Horam, as the Princess stared\nwildly about her, \"Misnar, the Sultan of India, is before thee.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" interrupted the fair spirit, \"doubt not, Hemjunah, the truth of\nthe Vizier Horam; for behold! Macoma, thy guardian genius, assures\nthee of the reality of what thou beholdest.\"\n\n\"Helper of the afflicted,\" answered the Princess of Cassimir, \"doubt\nvanishes when you are present; but wonder not at my incredulity, since\nmy whole life has been a false illusion. O Allah, wherefore hast Thou\nmade the weakest the most subject to deceit?\"\n\n\"To call in question the wisdom of Allah,\" answered the genius Macoma,\n\"is to act like the child of folly: go, then, thou mirror of justice\nand understanding, and span with thy mighty arms the numberless\nheavens of the Faithful; weigh in thy just balance the wisdom of thy\nMaker, and the fitness of His creation; and, joined with the evil race\nfrom whom I have preserved thee, rail at that goodness thou canst not\ncomprehend.\"\n\n\"Spare me, just genius,\" answered the Princess of Cassimir; \"spare the\nweakness of my disordered head. I confess my folly; but weak is the\noffspring of weakness.\"\n\n\"True,\" replied the genius; \"but although you are weak, ought you\ntherefore to be presumptuous? Knowest thou not that the Sultan Misnar\nsuffered with you because he despaired? And now would Hapacuson return\nthee to thy former slumbers, did not Allah, who has beheld thy former\nsufferings, in pity forgive the vain thoughts of mortality.\"\n\n\"Blessed is His goodness,\" answered the Princess, \"and blessed are His\nservants, who delight in succouring and instructing the weak and\ndistressed.\"\n\n\"To be sorry for our errors,\" said the genius, \"is to bring down the\npardon of Heaven; and Hemjunah, though so long overpowered by the\nmalicious, is nevertheless one of the loveliest of her sex.\n\n\"Sultan of India,\" continued Macoma, turning to Misnar, \"I leave the\nPrincess of Cassimir to your care, in full assurance that the delicacy\nof her sentiments will not be offended by your royal and noble\ntreatment of her. But let an ambassador be immediately dispatched from\nyour Court to inform her aged and pious father of the safety of his\ndaughter.\"\n\n\"The dictates of Macoma,\" answered the Sultan, bowing before her, \"are\nthe dictates of virtue and humanity, and her will shall be religiously\nobeyed.\"\n\nAt these words the genius vanished, and the Sultan bade part of his\nguards return to Delhi to the chief of his eunuchs, and order him to\nprepare a palanquin and proper attendants to convey the Princess of\nCassimir to the royal palace.\n\nWhile these preparations were making, the Sultan and his Vizier\nendeavoured to soothe and entertain the Princess of Cassimir; and\nthough Horam was desirous of hearing her adventures, yet the Sultan\nwould not suffer him to request Hemjunah's relation, till she was\ncarried to the palace, and refreshed after her fatigues.\n\nThe chief of the eunuchs arrived in a short time, and the Princess was\nconveyed, ere morning, to the palace of Misnar, where the female\napartments were prepared for her reception, and a number of the first\nladies of Delhi appointed to attend her.\n\nThe Sultan, in the meantime, having ordered the fakeer to be released\nand sent out of the city, entered the divan with his Vizier, and,\nhaving dispatched the complainants, retired to rest.\n\nIn the evening of the same day, the Princess, being recovered from her\nfatigue, sent the chief of the eunuchs to the Sultan, and desired\nleave to throw herself at his feet in gratitude for her escape.\n\nThe Sultan received the message with joy, and ordering Horam his\nVizier to be called, they both went into the apartments of the\nfemales, where the Princess of Cassimir was seated on a throne of\nivory, and surrounded by the slaves of the seraglio.\n\nThe Princess descended from her throne at the approach of the Sultan,\nand fell at his feet; but Misnar, taking her by the hand, said, \"Rise,\nPrincess, and injure not your honour by thus abasing yourself before\nyour slave. The lovely Hemjunah has promised to relate her wonderful\nadventures; and Horam, the faithful friend of my bosom, and our former\nfellow-sufferer, is come to participate with me in the charming\nrelation.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" said Hemjunah, \"I shall not conceal what you are so desirous\nof knowing.\"\n\nThe Sultan then waved his hand, and the slaves withdrew.\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF THE PRINCESS OF CASSIMIR.\n\n\nBefore I had attained my thirteenth year, my father proposed to marry\nme to the Prince of Georgia. It was in vain that, when my mother\ndisclosed the fatal news to me, I urged my youth, and my entire\nignorance of the Prince or his qualities.\n\n\"My child,\" said Chederazade, \"to make ourselves happy, we must be\nuseful to the world. The Prince of Georgia has done your father great\nservice in the wars, and you are destined to reward his toils: all\nthe subjects of Cassimir will look upon your choice as a compliment to\nthem, and they will rejoice to see their benefactor blessed with the\nhand of their Princess.\"\n\n\"But, madam,\" answered I, \"does the happiness of my father's subjects\nrequire such a sacrifice in me? Must I live in a country to whose\nlanguage and manners I am a stranger? must I be for ever banished?\"\n\n\"I have given sufficient reasons,\" replied my mother, \"to engage your\ncompliance with your father's desire, and these will influence you, if\nprudence and wisdom are the motives of your choice; and if you want\nprudence, it is fit that those who are able to instruct you should\nalso guide and direct your actions.\"\n\nAt these words, Chederazade left me bathed in tears and trembling at\nmy fate.\n\nMy nurse Eloubrou was witness to the hard command my mother had\nimposed upon me, and endeavoured to comfort me in my affliction; but\nher words were as the wind on the surface of the rock; and to add to\nmy griefs, in a few minutes after, the chief of the eunuchs entered,\nand bade me prepare to receive the Sultan my father.\n\nThe Sultan of Cassimir entering my apartment, I fell at his feet.\n\n\"Hemjunah,\" said he, \"the Prince of Georgia is my friend, and I intend\nto give my daughter to his arms.\"\n\nShocked at these successive declarations of my fate, which I had no\nreason to suspect the day before, I fainted away, and when I\nrecovered, found myself on a sofa, with Eloubrou at my feet.\n\n\"My lovely Princess,\" said Eloubrou, \"how little am I able to see you\nthus! and yet I fear the news I have to impart to you may reduce you\nto your former condition.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said I, \"nurse, what new evil has befallen me? What worse can\nhappen than my marriage with a stranger?\"\n\n\"Princess,\" replied Eloubrou, \"the Prince is to see you this night:\nnay, the ceremonies are preparing, the changes of vestment, the\ndessert, and the choral bands.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said I, \"cruel Eloubrou! what hast thou said? Am I to be\nsacrificed this night to my father's policy? Am I to be given as a\nfee to the plunderer of cities?--for such they are whose profession is\narms.\"\n\n\"No, Princess,\" said a young female slave who attended on Eloubrou;\n\"trust but to me, and the Prince of Georgia shall in vain seek the\nhonour of your alliance.\"\n\nThe faithful Eloubrou shrieked at the words of the female slave, and\nendeavoured to clap her hands and bring the chief of the eunuchs to\nher assistance; but the female slave waved her left hand, and Eloubrou\nand the rest of the slaves stood motionless before her.\n\n\"Most lovely Princess,\" said she, \"I am the friend of the distressed,\nand love to prevent the severe and ill-natured authority of parents:\ngive me your hand, and I will deliver you from that monster, the\nPrince of Georgia.\"\n\n\"What!\" answered I, \"shall I trust to a stranger, whom I know not, and\nfly from my father's Court? No!\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said she, \"I hear the cymbals playing before the Prince,\nand the trumpets, and the kettledrums. Farewell, sweet mistress of the\nfierce and unconquerable Prince of Georgia.\"\n\nAs she spoke, the warlike music sounded in my ears; and, not doubting\nbut that the Prince and my father were coming, I held out my hand to\nthe female slave, and said,\n\n\"Save me, oh, save me from my father's frown!\"\n\nThe slave eagerly snatched my hand, and, blowing forth a small vapour\nfrom her mouth, it filled the room, and we arose in a cloud.\n\nThe manner of my flight from my father's palace I know not, as I\nimmediately fainted; but when I recovered, I found myself in a\nmagnificent apartment, and a youth standing before me.\n\n\"Charming Hemjunah,\" said he, falling at my feet, \"may I hope that the\nservice I have performed, in delivering you from the Prince of\nGeorgia, will merit your love?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said I, \"what service hast thou performed? Who art thou, bold\nman, that durst stand before the Princess of Cassimir? Eloubrou,\"\nshouted I, \"faithful Eloubrou! where art thou? Where is Picksag, the\nchief of my eunuchs? Where are my slaves? Where are the guards of the\nseraglio?\"\n\n\"Princess,\" answered the young man, \"fatigue not yourself with calling\nafter them, since they are in the kingdom of Cassimir, and you are in\nthe house of Bennaskar, the merchant of Delhi; but, not to keep you in\nsuspense, O Princess! know that I have for several years traded from\nCassimir to Delhi, and, although I never saw you till lately, yet the\nfame of your opening beauties was so great that it fired the hearts of\nall the young men in your father's kingdom. Every time I arrived at\nCassimir, the subject of all conversation was the adorable Princess\nHemjunah. Impelled by these encomiums, I resolved to see you or die.\"\n\nHe then recounted how he had obtained access to me through the art of\nUlin.\n\nThe wicked Bennaskar would have made me the victim of his passions,\nwhen, in a gentle cloud, a venerable and majestic personage descended\ninto the apartment.\n\n\"Unhappy Princess of Cassimir!\" said she, \"how has thy imprudence\nweakened my power, and destroyed thine own safety! If thou hadst not\nyielded to the false female slave, the sorceress Ulin had not\ntriumphed over thee and me; but now she has given thee into the power\nand possession of Bennaskar, and I am not permitted to rescue thee\nfrom the clutches of this detested merchant.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Bennaskar, who before was awed by the presence of the\ngenius Macoma, \"Hemjunah is my own, and my faithful Ulin has not\ndeceived me.\"\n\nAt these words, exerting all his strength, the villain seized me; but\nhis triumph was short, for the genius, advancing, immediately touched\nhim with her wand, and said,\n\n\"Wretched slave of iniquity! though I am not permitted to rescue the\nPrincess, yet I have power over thee, base tool of sin! therefore I\nordain, that whenever you look upon the Princess, you shall deprive\nher of sensation.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Bennaskar, rising and turning from me, \"I will at present\ndisappoint thy power till I receive my commands from the mouth of\nUlin, the mistress of my fate.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" cried the enchantress Ulin, who that moment entered the vaulted\nchamber from the closet, which, my Prince, you have heard described by\nMahoud, \"what hast thou done, thou enemy of our race? Accursed and\nfatal neglect, that I had not at first secured Bennaskar from thy\npower! But since the inexorable word is gone forth, I will add to thy\nsentence. Here,\" continued she, stamping with her foot, and an ugly\ndwarf arose through a trap-door in the chamber, \"Nego, be it thy\nbusiness to attend my servant Bennaskar, and whenever thou seest that\nfemale deprived of sensation, do you bury her in the earth beneath\nthis chamber. And, Bennaskar,\" continued the enchantress, \"do you take\nthis phial, and whenever you want to converse with this stubborn\nfemale, let one of your slaves, whom you can trust, pour part of the\nliquor into her mouth, and she shall recover: only retire yourself\ninto the closet, that you be not seen of her, at least till she\nconsent to your will, for then the enchantments of Macoma shall no\nlonger prevail against you.\"\n\n\"The enchantments,\" said Macoma, \"O wretched Ulin, are not yet\ncomplete! there is yet a moment left, and both our power over Hemjunah\nand Bennaskar will be at an end. Therefore thus shall it be: although\nBennaskar is possessed of the Princess, yet shall these apartments be\nhidden from the sight of all men, except on that day when thy evil\nrace prevails. On the full of the moon only shall Bennaskar be able to\nexplore these rooms. And fear not, amiable Hemjunah,\" said the genius,\naddressing herself to me, \"for neither force nor enchantment shall\nwork your ruin without your own consent; and although Mahomet,\ndispleased at your late imprudence, for a time permits this\nenchantment, yet at length, if you continue faithful and virtuous, he\nwill assuredly deliver you.\"\n\nAt these words, Bennaskar turned towards me, with anger and\ndisappointment in his eye, and immediately I was seized with a deep\nsleep, and what passed afterwards I know not.\n\nOne day I found myself awakened by the pouring of some liquor into my\nmouth, and saw a black slave standing before me. At the same time the\nvoice of Bennaskar issued from the closet.\n\n\"Ill-fated Princess! thy tyrant genius hath now hidden thee a month\nfrom my sight, while thy friends, Ulin and Bennaskar, seek to restore\nthee to light and to life: say but, therefore, thou wilt be mine, and\nthe enchantments of Macoma will be destroyed.\"\n\n\"Wretched Bennaskar!\" answered I, \"I knew not that my sleep had\ncontinued a month; but, if it be so long since I saw the genius Macoma\nin this chamber, I thank Mahomet that he hath so long hidden me from\nthe persecutions of Bennaskar.\"\n\n\"Haughty Princess!\" answered the vile Bennaskar from the closet, \"my\nslave shall inspire you with humbler words.\" Whereupon he ordered the\nblack slave to give me fifty lashes with the chabouc.\n\nBut it is needless, O Prince, to repeat the various designs of that\nwretch. For three months was I thus confined, and Bennaskar having\nexercised, through the hands of his slave, the cruelties of his heart,\nused at length, when he found me persist in my resolution, to come\nforth, and by his presence deprive me of sensation. The adventures of\nthe third month you have heard from the mouth of Mahoud; I shall\ntherefore only continue my narrative from the time that he left me\nwith the book in my hand.\n\nBennaskar, seeing his friend Mahoud had left him, went out, and soon\nreturned again with him, and taking him into the closet, in a moment\ncame forth, and, touching me, he said, \"Come, fair Princess, the\nenchantments of Macoma are now at an end, and thou art given up\nentirely to Bennaskar.\"\n\nI shrieked at his words, hoping the Cadi would hear me, but in vain.\nBennaskar ran with me through the vaulted passage, and found myself\nwith him in an extended plain.\n\n\"Wretch!\" said the genius Macoma, who that moment appeared, \"hast thou\ndared to disobey my commands, and remove the Princess from the vaulted\nchamber, where even thy mistress yielded to my power? But I thank\nthee: what the imprudent Mahoud could not accomplish against thee thou\nhast effected thyself.\"\n\nAs she spake, the form of Bennaskar perished from the face of the\nplain, and his body crumbled to atoms and mixed with the dust of the\nearth; but from his ashes the enchantress Ulin arose, and with an\nenraged visage turned towards me and said, \"Thou art still the victim\nof my power; and since Bennaskar is no more, go, sweet Princess, and\njoin thy delicate form to the form of thy preserver Mahoud, whom I\ndesigned for the flames; but, my will being opposed, he is rescued\nthence, and now defiles the air of Tarapajan with his pestiferous\nbreath.\"\n\nSuch, Sultan of India, were the consequences of my imprudence; and\nthus are our sex, by the smallest deviations, often led through\nperpetual scenes of misery and distress.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Lovely Princess of Cassimir,\" said the Sultan Misnar, \"I have felt\nmore anxiety during this short interval in which you have related your\nadventures than in all the campaigns I have made. But suffer us, O\nPrincess, to add a further trouble to you by a second request; for I\nam as anxious to hear by what misfortune you were enclosed in the tomb\nof death as I was to know in what manner you were subjected to the\nvillanous cruelties of the wretched Bennaskar.\"\n\n\"The tale, O Prince,\" said the fair Hemjunah, \"is wonderful; but,\nalas! new indiscretions drew upon me the severities I have\nexperienced.\"\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF THE PRINCESS CONTINUED.\n\n\nAs soon as, by our restoration to our pristine forms, we were apprised\nof your victory over the enchantress Ulin, I found myself in the\nseraglio of my father's palace. In the apartment from which I was\ntaken by the wicked enchantress, I beheld my nurse Eloubrou: she was\nprostrate on the ground, and the palace was filled with her cries.\n\n\"Faithful Eloubrou,\" said I, \"arise and look upon thy beloved\nHemjunah. Where is my royal father Zebenezer, and the fond\nChederazade, the mother of my heart?\"\n\nEloubrou, at my voice, started up like one awakened from a trance.\n\"What is it?\" said she in emotion, \"what is it I behold? Art thou the\ndeparted shade of my once-loved Hemjunah?\"\n\n\"No shade, beloved Eloubrou,\" said I, running to her, \"but the true\nPrincess of Cassimir, whom Misnar the Sultan of India hath rescued\nfrom the enchantments of the wicked Ulin.\"\n\n\"Oh that thy royal mother,\" said Eloubrou, \"were, like me, blessed\nwith the sight of thy return!\"\n\n\"What,\" said I \"Eloubrou, what dost thou say? Where, then, is the\nmuch-honoured Chederazade? where the dear parent of my life?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Eloubrou, \"who shall tell the dismal tale to thy tender\nheart?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said I, \"is my beloved mother no more? Is she gone to seek her\ndisobedient daughter over the burning lake?\"\n\nAt these words my spirit failed, and I sank motionless to the ground.\nBut my lord must forgive me if I hasten over the dreadful scene that\nfollowed. The report of Eloubrou was too true: Chederazade, the\ndearest Chederazade, had been ten days dead when I was restored to my\nfather's palace; and Zebenezer, distracted at the double loss of his\nconsort and his child, had shut himself up in the tomb of my mother.\n\nEloubrou hastened to the tomb wherein my father poured forth his\ntears, and acquainted the guards who watched without that I was\nreturned.\n\nThe sorrowful Zebenezer, although he was rejoiced at the news,\nresolved not to come forth out of his consort's tomb till the month\nwas expired, according to his oath; and gave orders, that during that\ninterval I should be obeyed by his subjects.\n\nMy mourning was not less poignant than my royal father's. I shut\nmyself up in my apartments, and would suffer none but Eloubrou to see\nme.\n\nNine days passed in silence; our loss affected both, and Eloubrou was\nas little disposed as myself to forget the cause of her griefs. On the\ntenth morning, Eloubrou was called out by the Grand Vizier, who then\nhad the command of my father's kingdom.\n\nShe returned in haste. \"Princess of Cassimir,\" said she, \"one who\ncalleth himself Mahoud inquires for thee; and the Grand Vizier,\nunderstanding that he was instrumental in your release, waits without\nto know your will.\"\n\nAt the name of Mahoud I started from my reverie. \"Mahoud,\" said I, \"O\nEloubrou! deserves my notice; and the son of the jeweller of Delhi\nshall be rewarded for his services to your mistress.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered Eloubrou, \"my lovely mistress is distracted with\nsorrows, and supposes the Prince Mahoud to be the offspring of a\nslave!\"\n\n\"If he be a Prince,\" answered I, \"he has hitherto concealed his\ncircumstances and birth from me, or he is not that Mahoud whom I\nremember in the deserts of Tarapajan.\"\n\n\"That,\" answered Eloubrou, \"you will soon discover when you see him.\nBut,\" continued she, \"he desires a private audience.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" replied I, \"introduce him, Eloubrou; but let my slaves\nbe ready to enter at my call.\"\n\nEloubrou obeyed, and brought the merchant Mahoud into my presence, and\nthen retired.\n\nMahoud fell at my feet, and said, \"Forgive my presumption in\napproaching the throne of Cassimir, and that I have added hypocrisy to\nmy boldness, by assuming the title of a Prince.\"\n\n\"What, then,\" answered I, sternly, \"has induced you to deceive my\nCourt?\"\n\n\"Let death,\" said Mahoud, falling again before me, \"let death atone\nfor my crime; but first permit me to explain the motives of my\npresumption.\"\n\n\"Proceed,\" said I.\n\nHe then informed me that, after assuming his natural form, he visited\nDelhi, where he was spurned by Misnar and Horam, and had been\ncompelled to beg his way to my dominions. A merchant of the city had\nfurnished him with the robes in which he appeared. Then clapping my\nhands, Eloubrou appeared, and I said, \"Eloubrou, let the Prince Mahoud\nbe lodged in my father's palace, and let a proper number of slaves\nattend him; and do you acquaint the Vizier with his quality.\"\n\nEloubrou did as I commanded; and Mahoud, full of joy, fell down at my\nfeet, and kissed the hem of my garment.\n\n\"Prince,\" said I, \"arise; and Eloubrou shall conduct you to my\nfather's palace.\"\n\nA few days' experience made me repent my folly in giving credit to\nthe falsehoods of Mahoud, for the insolent merchant got proud of his\nnewly-assumed honours. He came daily, and was introduced to me, and\nevery time assumed greater state; till at last he dared to declare his\npassion for me, and talked of asking my father's consent as soon as\nthe days of his sorrow should be accomplished. Astonished at his\ninsolence, I bade him depart from my presence, which he did\nreluctantly, muttering revenge as he went.\n\nAs soon as he was gone, I acquainted Eloubrou with Mahoud's story, his\nridiculous and insolent behaviour, and that he had even dared to\nthreaten me with revenge.\n\n\"The threats of Mahoud,\" said Eloubrou, \"are of little consequence,\nthough prudence should never esteem the least enemy unworthy of its\nnotice; care shall, therefore, be taken of this insolent merchant.\"\n\nWhile Eloubrou was giving the necessary instructions, one of the\nslaves entered the apartment, and gave me notice that Zebenezer, my\nfather, expected me in the tomb immediately. I put on the solemn veil,\nand followed the guard to the tomb of Chederazade. I entered the\nlonely mansions of the dead with fear and trembling, and, at the upper\nend of the vaulted tomb, saw my father kneeling before the embalmed\ncorpse of my mother.\n\n\"Unhappy Hemjunah,\" said the aged man, \"come hither, and behold the\nsad remains of my dearest Chederazade.\"\n\nAlthough my heart sank with grief, and my limbs tottered, yet I went\nto reach the place where Chederazade lay embalmed, and fell at the\nfeet of my father Zebenezer.\n\n\"Rise,\" said he, \"O daughter!\" and caught me suddenly in his arms;\nwhen, oh fearful sight! I perceived his visage alter, and that the\nvillanous Mahoud held me in his embrace.\n\nStruck with horror and despair, I endeavoured to cry out, but in\nvain--my voice was gone, and the power of speech was taken from me.\n\n\"No,\" said he, with a fierce air, \"your struggles and resistance, O\nprudent Princess, are all vain; for she who would join to deceive\nothers must expect to be deceived when there is none to help her;\ntherefore speech, if you resist, is taken from you.\"\n\n\"What,\" said I, \"cruel Mahoud! is this the return my friendship\ndeserves, when, to save you from infamy and slavery, I gave way to\nyour entreaties, and represented you otherwise than you really were?\"\n\n\"Friendship, O Princess,\" said he, \"is built on virtue, which Mahoud\nhas disclaimed since he entered into the service of the sage\nHapacuson; and by her advice it was that he told you a false tale to\ndeceive you to your own destruction. Had you not yielded to that tale,\nI could have had no power over you or your father; but it is our\ntriumph to circumvent the prudence of Mahomet's children; wherefore,\nseeing you would not yield openly to my wishes, I had no sooner left\nyou with Eloubrou, than, by Hapacuson's assistance, I entered this\ntomb invisibly, and, by my enchantments, overpowered your father\nZebenezer, and then, assuming his person, I sent for my Princess, and\nshe came obedient to my call. But, now,\" continued the false Mahoud,\n\"your cries will profit you but little; for Hapacuson, who is ever\nhovering over Delhi, to watch the motions of the Sultan Misnar, has by\nthis time placed us in a repository of the dead, where we shall have\nnone to overhear or disturb us.\"\n\n\"Mahoud then showed me my father Zebenezer, whom, by his enchantment,\nhe had deprived of all sensation: he lay in a coffin of black marble,\nin an inner apartment, and after that he vowed that he would desist\nfrom force; but, till I consented to love him, I must be content to\nlive in the tomb.\n\n\"He, by his enchantments, obliged me to sleep in the place whence you\ndelivered me, and what time has elapsed during my confinement I know\nnot.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Princess,\" said the Sultan, \"we rejoice at your escape; but as it is\nprobable, by your account, that your royal sire Zebenezer still sleeps\nin the tomb, we will pray for his deliverance from the chains of\nenchantment.\"\n\nThe Sultan then sent officers to search in the tomb for the body of\nZebenezer, and also called together those who were skilled in magic,\nand desired them to use incantations to invoke the genius Macoma to\ntheir assistance. But the arts of the magicians were vain, and Macoma\nremained deaf to the entreaties of the Sultan and his sages.\n\nIn the meantime, while the Sultan and his Vizier Horam endeavoured to\ncomfort the afflicted Hemjunah, the ambassadors returned from\nCassimir, bringing advice that the grand Vizier Hobaddan had assumed\nthe title of Sultan, and that the whole kingdom of Cassimir\nacknowledged his authority.\n\nAt this report, Hemjunah sank on the earth, and the Sultan Misnar ran\nto comfort her, declaring that he would march his whole army to\nrecover her dominions from the rebel Hobaddan.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"let us be prudent as well as just:\ntherefore, while you march to the assistance of the injured subjects\nof Cassimir, and to restore that kingdom to its lawful Prince, I will\nkeep strict discipline and order in the provinces of my empire; and I\ntrust, in a short time, I shall see you return with the head of the\nrebel Hobaddan.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam set out in a few days from Delhi with three hundred\nthousand troops of the flower of the Sultan's army, and by forced\nmarches reached the confines of Cassimir ere the pretended Sultan\nHobaddan had notice of his arrival.\n\nThe Vizier Horam's intention to restore the Princess Hemjunah to the\nthrone of her ancestors being proclaimed, numbers of the subjects of\nCassimir flocked to the standard of Horam; and the army, now increased\nto five hundred thousand troops, marched forthwith toward the capital\nof Cassimir.\n\nHobaddan, having notice of the increase and progress of his enemies,\nand finding that to engage them upon equal terms was vain, sent an\nembassy to the Vizier Horam, assuring him that he and his whole army\nwould surrender themselves up to the mercy and clemency of his\nmaster's troops. Horam rejoiced at the success of his march; and\ndesirous of regaining the kingdom of Cassimir without bloodshed, sent\nan assurance to Hobaddan in answer, that, if he fulfilled his promise,\nhis own life should be saved.\n\nThe next morning Hobaddan appeared in front of his troops, with their\nheads dejected and their arms inverted toward the ground; and in this\nmanner they came forward to the Vizier Horam's army.\n\nHoram, to encourage the submission of Hobaddan, had placed the forces,\nwhich he had raised in the kingdom of Cassimir, in the van of his\narmy; and also to secure them from retreating, by the support which\nhis own troops were to give them in the rear.\n\nWhen Hobaddan was within hearing, instead of throwing his arms on the\nground, he unsheathed his scimitar, and thus spake to the troops\nbefore him:\n\n\"Brethren and countrymen, suffer me to speak what my affection to you\nall, and my love for my country, requires me to say. Against whom, O\nmy brethren, is this array of battle? and whose blood seek ye to spill\non the plains which our forefathers have cultivated? Is it our own\nblood that must be poured forth over these lands to enrich them for a\nstranger's benefit? Is it not under pretence of fighting for the\nPrincess of Cassimir, who has been long since dead, that the Sultan of\nIndia's troops are now ravaging, not on our borders only, but\npenetrating even into the heart of our nation? But suppose ye that the\nconquerors will give up the treasures they hope to earn by their\nblood? Will they not rather, invited by the fruitfulness of our vales,\nand by the rich produce of our mountains, fix here the standard of\ntheir arms, and make slaves of us, who are become thus easily the\ndupes of their ambitious pretences? Then, farewell content! farewell\npleasure! farewell the well-earned fruits of industry and frugality!\nOur lands shall be the property of others, and we still tied down by\nslavish chains to cultivate and improve them. Our houses, our\nsubstance, shall be the reward of foreign robbers; our wives and our\nvirgins shall bow down before conquerors; and we, like the beasts of\nthe field, shall be drawn in the scorching midday to the furrow or the\nmine.\"\n\nAs Hobaddan began to utter these words, Horam, astonished at his\nmalice and presumption, ordered the archers who attended him to draw\nforth their arrows, and pierce him to the heart; but the weapons of\nwar were as straws on the armour of Hobaddan, and he stood dauntless\nand unhurt amidst ten thousand arrows.\n\n\"Friends and brethren!\" continued Hobaddan, \"you see the powers above\nare on our side; the arrows of Horam are as chaff on the plain, and as\nthe dust which penetrates not the garments of the traveller. Halt not,\ntherefore, but join your arms to the defender and supporter of your\nliberties and your possessions.\"\n\nAt these words the recruits of Horam filed off in a body and joined\nthe party of Hobaddan; while the pretended Sultan, elated at his\nsuccess, pushed forward to the Vizier Horam's troops, and charged them\nwith the utmost impetuosity.\n\nThe weapons of the brave were foiled by the armour of Hobaddan; for\nthe enchantress Hapacuson, studious of diverting the attention of the\nSultan Misnar, had assisted Hobaddan with her counsel and with\ninvulnerable arms; wherefore, seeing their labour vain and fruitless\nagainst the pretended and unconquerable Sultan, the hearts of Horam's\nwarriors melted within them, and they fell away from the field of\nbattle; and Hobaddan, sensible of his advantage, hastened after the\ntroops of Horam all the day and night; and the Vizier himself barely\nescaped with his life, having none left behind him to send to Delhi\nwith the unhappy report of his defeat.\n\nBut malicious Fame, ever indefatigable in representing the horrors of\naffliction and distress, soon spread her voice throughout the regions\nof Delhi; and Misnar heard from every quarter, that his faithful Horam\nand all his chosen troops were defeated or cut off by the victorious\narm of Hobaddan. The Princess Hemjunah gave up herself to sighs and\ntears, and refused the consolation of the Court of Delhi; and the\nSultan Misnar, enraged at his loss, resolved to assemble the greatest\npart of his troops, and march to the assistance of Horam.\n\nBut first he gave orders that recruits should be raised, and that the\nnumber of his troops should be increased; and then, mixing his young\nraised soldiers with the veterans of his army, he left one half of his\ntroops to guard his own provinces, and with the other he marched\ntowards the confines of Cassimir.\n\nThe Vizier Horam had concealed himself in the hut of a faithful\npeasant, and hearing that his master had arrived with a numerous army\nin the kingdom of Cassimir, he went forward to meet him, and, falling\ndown at his feet, besought his forgiveness.\n\n\"Horam,\" said the Sultan, \"arise. I forgive thee, although thou hast\nlost so many of my troops; but I little suspected Hobaddan had been\ntoo artful for the experience and sagacity of my Vizier. However,\nHoram, he must not expect to deceive us again: we are more in number,\nand we are aware of his deceit. You, Horam, forced your marches and\nweakened your troops, but I will bring them on slowly and surely. Have\nwe prevailed against Ulin, and Happuck, and Ollomand, and Tasnar--have\nwe crushed Ahaback and Desra by our prudent arts--and shall we fear\nthe contrivance of a poor Vizier, who leads a few rebels among the\nrocks of the province of Cassimir? Let us but use prudence with\nresolution, and these enemies must soon fade away like the shadow that\nflieth from the noontide sun.\"\n\nThe two armies of the Sultan of India and the pretended Sultan of\nCassimir approached each other; and the troops of Misnar were pleased\nto hear that their number was treble the number of their enemies. But,\nhowever great their superiority might be, the Sultan Misnar and his\nVizier kept the strictest discipline among them, and acted as if they\nwere about to engage a superior force.\n\nFor some time the armies continued within sight of each other, neither\nchoosing to engage without some superiority of circumstances, and both\nwatchful to prevent that superiority. At length the Sultan observing a\nweakness in the left wing of Hobaddan's army, caused by sickness, as\nthey were encamped near a morass, gave orders for a furious attack\nupon the front, but directed the main effort to be made against that\nwing.\n\nBut the Sultan's intentions were defeated; for Hobaddan, commanding\nnot in the centre, as was expected, but in the left wing (with a\nchosen troop he had conveyed there the very morning of the\nengagement), totally defeated those who were sent to oppose him. The\ntroops to the right of the Sultan's army, giving way, put all in\nconfusion; and the unwieldy number of Misnar's forces, instead of\nregularly supporting them, poured toward the right in such tumult as\ndestroyed the whole disposition of the army.\n\nDuring this confusion, Hobaddan hewed down on all sides those who\ndared oppose his arms; and his chosen troop followed him over heaps of\nthe slain, every one flying through fear at his presence.\n\nThe Sultan and his Vizier Horam, finding it in vain to rally their\ntroops or oppose the conquerors, sounded a retreat, and, amidst the\ngeneral confusion, fled toward the sandy deserts which divide the\nrealms of Cassimir from the province of Delhi.\n\nBut the prudent Sultan, in his flight, endeavoured to restore to his\ntroops their rank and order; and while Horam reduced the foot under\ntheir proper banners, Misnar regulated the confusion of the horse, and\nplaced them as a covering to the rest of his forces.\n\nIn this manner they marched before the face of their enemies into the\ndesert, without any provision or forage but what they carried with\ntheir accoutrements; and although the Sultan and his Vizier used every\nargument to persuade their troops (who still exceeded the number of\ntheir enemies) to turn and pursue the army of Hobaddan, yet so great\nwas their dread of the victorious rebel and his forces, that they\nthreatened to throw down their arms rather than return to the battle.\n\nSeeing all his endeavours to inspire his men with courage ineffectual,\nthe Sultan travelled onward with them into the desert, as one given up\nto certain destruction.\n\nAfter two days' march, they halted beside several small pools; and\nsuch was the excessive drought of Misnar's army, that many perished\nbefore they could be prevailed upon to quit the refreshing waters of\nthe desert. These, indeed, thought of little more than present relief;\nbut Misnar, their lord, was overwhelmed with the severest pangs of\ndistress.\n\nTo increase their grief, scouts brought word that the troops of\nHobaddan, being refreshed after their fatigues, were marching towards\nthem, intending to destroy them while they were faint from want of\nprovision. The army of the Sultan, terrified by the report, and seeing\nno hope of escape, fell upon the wretched Sultan and his faithful\nVizier, and bringing them into the centre of the troops, demanded\ntheir blood as an atonement for the losses they were about to suffer\nin their cause.\n\nThe ringleader of this general mutiny was Ourodi, the ancient enemy of\nthe faithful Horam, who, standing foremost in the ranks, commanded the\narchers to bind their Sultan and Vizier to a stake.\n\nThe Sultan, seeing all his hopes defeated, and the rage of the\nmultitude, knelt down and commended his cause to the all-powerful\nAllah.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd now the archers were about to bend their bows and fit the deadly\nshafts to their bow-strings, when a luminous appearance was discovered\nto the eastward, and the outskirts of the army saw a female in robes\nof light travelling over the sands of the desert. In a moment she\npassed through the ranks of the army, and stood in the circle who were\ngathered around to see the execution of the Sultan and his Vizier.\n\n\"Misnar,\" said she, \"arise, and fear not those sons of clay, nor the\nmalice of enchantment: I am the genius Macoma, sent by Mahomet to save\nand deliver thee when human assistance was vain and impossible.\nTherefore assume thy just command over these thy subjects, and let\nthem all fall prostrate on the ground to Allah, and wait to see the\nfate of those who fight against the Prophet of the Faithful. But first\nlearn, from thine own experience, the folly of trusting even to the\ngreatest human power or prudence, without an affiance in the Lord of\nHeaven. The world, O Misnar, is Allah's, and the kingdom of heaven is\nthe work of His hands; let not, therefore, the proudest boast, nor the\nmost humble despair; for, although the towering mountains appear most\nglorious to the sight, the lowly valleys enjoy the fatness of the\nskies. But Allah is able to clothe the summit of the rocks with\nverdure, and dry up even the rivers of the vale. Wherefore, although\nthou wert suffered to destroy the greatest part of thine enemies, yet\none was left to overpower thee, that thou mightest know that thou wert\nbut a weak instrument in the hands of strength.\"\n\n\"I know,\" answered the Sultan Misnar, \"that Allah is able to dissolve\nthis frame of earth, and every vision of the eye; and therefore not\nthe proudest nor the most powerful can stand against Him.\"\n\nAs the Sultan spake thus; the army of Hobaddan appeared on the face of\nthe sandy desert.\n\n\"Although His power be infinite,\" said the genius, \"yet can He effect\nthese changes by the most unexpected means. But I will not waste that\ntime in words which I am commanded to employ in action, to convince\nboth you and your army of the sovereignty of Allah. Therefore suffer\nno man to rise from the earth or to quit his place; but lift up your\nheads only, and behold those enemies destroyed before whom you fled.\"\n\nSo saying, the genius Macoma waved her wand, and instantly the air was\ndarkened, and a confused noise was heard above the armies of Misnar\nand Hobaddan.\n\nFor some hours the Sultan's troops knew not the cause of the darkness\nthat overshadowed them; but in a little time the light returned by\ndegrees, and they looked toward the army of Hobaddan, and saw them\noverwhelmed with innumerable locusts.\n\n\"Thine enemies,\" said Macoma, \"O Sultan, are no more, save the\nenchantress Hapacuson, who personates the rebel Ourodi.\"\n\n\"The glory of extirpating her infernal race,\" said the Vizier Horam,\nbowing before the genius Macoma, \"belongs to my Sultan; otherwise\nHoram would esteem himself the happiest of mankind in her\ndestruction.\"\n\n\"The glory you speak of,\" answered the genius Macoma, \"is given to\nanother: a fly has gone forth, the winged messenger of Allah's wrath,\nand at this moment bereaves the vile Hapacuson of her breath and of\nher life.\"\n\nThe Vizier Horam held down his head at the just reproof of the genius;\nbut the words of her reproof were the words of truth; for an account\nwas brought that the rebel Ourodi was suddenly dead, being strangled\nby some impediment in his throat, and that, at his death, his figure\nwas changed into the appearance of a deformed enchantress.\n\n\"Although your enemies, O Misnar, are no more,\" said the genius, \"yet\nthe assistance of Allah is as necessary for your support as for their\ndefeat; wherefore He hath given life to the springs of the pools of\nthe desert, and your troops will find such refreshment from them, that\nyou may safely march over the sandy plains; and, to add to your\nhappiness, the old Sultan Zebenezer, being released from the\nenchantments of Hapacuson, waits, with his daughter Hemjunah, your\nsafe arrival, and knows not as yet those wonders which I leave your\nprudence to reveal to him.\"\n\nThe Sultan Misnar well understood the mysterious speech of the genius\nMacoma; but before he or his troops tasted of the pools or pursued\ntheir march, he commanded them to fall down before Allah, the only\nLord of the world.\n\nThe soldiers, having done reverence to Allah, were desirous of\nrepeating it before Misnar, to ask his forgiveness; but the Sultan\nwould not permit them. \"Let us make,\" said he, \"Allah and His Prophet\nour guide and defence, and then neither presumption nor rebellion\nshall lead us into error.\"\n\nThe unexpected change reached not the Court of Delhi till the troops\nwere within a few day's march of the city; and Zebenezer and Hemjunah\nwere but just prepared to meet the Sultan Misnar when he entered the\ngates of the palace.\n\nAs Misnar advanced toward the aged Zebenezer, the good old man started\nwith surprise, and cried out, \"Oh! is it possible that the Sultan of\nIndia and the Prince of Georgia should be one and the same?\"\n\nThe Princess Hemjunah was confounded at her father's speech, and she\nfell on his bosom and hid her face.\n\n\"What you suspect, my royal friend,\" said Misnar, \"is true: I am\nindeed the man who once passed in Cassimir for the Prince of Georgia.\nI beseech thee, O Zebenezer, forgive my deception.\"\n\n\"You have no forgiveness,\" said the aged Zebenezer, \"O Sultan, to ask\nfrom me.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" answered the Sultan, \"my title was just: my royal father,\nDabulcombar, being treacherously advised by those who wished to place\nhis younger son Ahubal on the throne, commanded me to travel, and gain\nrenown and experience in arms; and, to conceal my importance, gave me\nthe title of Prince of Georgia. In this disguise I came to the royal\nCourt of Cassimir, and engaged in your service, O venerable Sultan,\nand Allah sent His blessing on us: your enemies were put to flight,\nand your subjects, who favoured me, gave the credit of the defeat to\nmy arms.\n\n\"Hearing that you intended me the honour of an alliance with your\nillustrious family, I resolved first to see the Princess Hemjunah,\nwhom I heard you had confined, being warned, from an ancient prophecy,\nthat a stranger should deprive you of her. I saw the Princess by means\nof one of her slaves, and Hemjunah from that moment took possession of\nmy heart. I was earnest, therefore, with you to propose the nuptials,\nand was to have been introduced to the Princess, when I received\nadvice that my father was drawing near his end. In expectation of\ndemanding your daughter as the Sultan of India, and not as an obscure\nPrince, I journeyed to Delhi, and arrived time enough to see my royal\nsire ere he departed.\n\n\"'Son,' said he, 'evil threatens your reign: extricate, therefore,\nyourself from danger, and do not involve others in your ruin.'\n\n\"Mindful of my father's words, I resolved to quell the commotions of\nthe empire before I made myself known to the Sultan of Cassimir; but\nAllah has so wound the string of our fates together, that it is\nneedless to repeat the rest of my adventures. Only the Princess must\nforgive me this, that, hearing she had been taken away from her\nfather's Court, I was resolved to conceal my interest in her affairs\ntill I was sensible that the Prince of Georgia, though not blessed\nwith her smiles, had yet no rival in her affections.\"\n\n\"Most noble Sultan,\" said the Princess Hemjunah, \"it is vain to\ndissemble: suffer me, therefore, freely to declare that the Sultan of\nIndia has totally extirpated the Prince of Georgia from my heart; but,\nwhatever my own sentiments may be, assure yourself that I shall not,\nat my father's commands, refuse the Prince of Georgia my hand.\"\n\nThe Sultan of India and Zebenezer were both delighted with the\nPrincess Hemjunah's answer; and the faithful Vizier Horam rejoiced to\nfind that his master and the Princess Hemjunah were to be united. The\nwhole Court expected the nuptials with impatience; and the good old\nSultan Zebenezer stayed to see his daughter the Sultaness of India,\nand Misnar the happiest and the most thankful of the children of\nAllah.\n\n\"The children of Allah,\" said the sage Horam, \"have indeed a freedom\nof action; but that freedom is best exercised when it leads them to\ntrust and depend on the Lord of all things: not that He who seeth even\nbeyond the confines of light is pleased with idleness, or giveth\nencouragement to the sons of sloth; the spirit which He has infused\ninto mankind He expects to find active and industrious; and, when\nprudence is joined with religion, Allah either gives success to its\ndictates, or, by counteracting its motions, draws forth the brighter\nvirtues of patience and resignation. Learn, therefore, ye pupils of\nthe race of immortals, not to forget your dependence on Allah while ye\nfollow the prudent maxims of wisdom and experience; for he only is\ntruly prudent who adds faith to his practice, and he truly religious\nwhose actions are the result of his faith.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSadik Beg.\n\n\nSadik Beg was of good family, handsome in person, and possessed of\nboth sense and courage; but he was poor, having no property but his\nsword and his horse, with which he served as a gentleman retainer of a\nPasha. The latter, satisfied with the purity of Sadik's descent, and\nentertaining a respect for his character, determined to make him the\nhusband of his daughter Hooseinee, who, though beautiful as her name\nimplied, was remarkable for her haughty manner and ungovernable\ntemper.\n\nGiving a husband of the condition of Sadik Beg to a lady of\nHooseinee's rank was, according to usage in such unequal matches, like\ngiving her a slave; and as she heard a good report of his personal\nqualities, she offered no objections to the marriage, which was\ncelebrated soon after it was proposed, and apartments were assigned to\nthe happy couple in the Pasha's palace.\n\nSome of Sadik Beg's friends rejoiced in his good fortune, as they saw,\nin the connection he had formed, a sure prospect of his advancement.\nOthers mourned the fate of so fine and promising a young man, now\ncondemned to bear through life all the humours of a proud and\ncapricious woman; but one of his friends, a little man called Merdek,\nwho was completely henpecked, was particularly rejoiced, and quite\nchuckled at the thought of seeing another in the same condition with\nhimself.\n\nAbout a month after the nuptials, Merdek met his friend, and, with\nmalicious pleasure, wished him joy of his marriage.\n\n\"Most sincerely do I congratulate you, Sadik,\" said he, \"on this happy\nevent.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my good fellow, I am very happy indeed, and rendered more\nso by the joy I perceive it gives my friends.\"\n\n\"Do you really mean to say you are happy?\" said Merdek, with a smile.\n\n\"I really am so,\" replied Sadik.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" said his friend; \"do we not all know to what a termagant\nyou are united? and her temper and high rank combined must no doubt\nmake her a sweet companion.\" Here he burst into a loud laugh, and the\nlittle man actually strutted with a feeling of superiority over the\nbridegroom.\n\nSadik, who knew his situation and feelings, was amused instead of\nbeing angry. \"My friend,\" said he, \"I quite understand the grounds of\nyour apprehension for my happiness. Before I was married, I had heard\nthe same reports as you have done of my beloved bride's disposition;\nbut I am happy to say, I have found it quite otherwise: she is a most\ndocile and obedient wife.\"\n\n\"But how has this miraculous change been wrought?\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Sadik, \"I believe I have some merit in effecting it; but\nyou shall hear. After the ceremonies of our nuptials were over, I went\nin my military dress, and with my sword by my side, to the apartment\nof Hooseinee. She was sitting in a most dignified posture to receive\nme, and her looks were anything but inviting. As I entered the room, a\nbeautiful cat, evidently a great favourite, came purring up to me. I\ndeliberately drew my sword, struck its head off, and taking that in\none hand and the body in the other, threw them out of the window. I\nthen very unconcernedly turned to the lady, who appeared in some\nalarm; she, however, made no observations, but was in every way kind\nand submissive, and has continued so ever since.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my dear fellow,\" said little Merdek, with a significant\nshake of the head: \"a word to the wise.\" And away he capered,\nobviously quite rejoiced.\n\nIt was near evening when this conversation took place; soon after,\nwhen the dark cloak of night had enveloped the bright radiance of day,\nMerdek entered the chamber of his spouse, with something of a martial\nswagger, armed with a scimitar. The unsuspecting cat came forward as\nusual, to welcome the husband of her mistress, but in an instant her\nhead was divided from her body by a blow from the hand which had so\noften caressed her. Merdek, having proceeded so far courageously,\nstooped to take up the dissevered members of the cat, but before he\ncould effect this, a blow upon the side of the head, from his incensed\nlady, laid him sprawling on the floor.\n\nThe tattle and scandal of the day spreads from zenaneh to zenaneh with\nsurprising rapidity, and the wife of Merdek saw in a moment whose\nexample it was that he had imitated.\n\n\"Take that!\" said she, as she gave him another cuff, \"take that, you\npaltry wretch! You should,\" she added, laughing him to scorn, \"have\nkilled the cat on the wedding day.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nHalechalbe and the Unknown Lady.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThe Caliph Haroun al Raschid sent for Giafar, his Grand Vizier, and\nMesrour, his Chief Eunuch.\n\n\"I intend,\" said he, \"to go down to Bagdad in disguise, that I may\nvisit my hospitals, and examine whether the administration of them is\nwise and regular, and whether the patients there receive the\nassistance and relief of which they stand in need. I will assume the\ndisguise of a dervish: do you, who are to accompany me, choose a dress\nby which you will be completely concealed.\"\n\nThe orders of the Caliph were obeyed, and he set out with his\nattendants on his expedition. He was in the centre of the\nestablishments which he had proposed to visit, and everything appeared\nin the order which he wished for, until he arrived at the gate of a\nvery large court, where he heard a noise.\n\n\"Whence comes this noise?\" said he to Giafar.\n\n\"This,\" answered the Vizier, \"is the place where mad people are\nconfined. Those whose madness is not dangerous are allowed to walk in\nthe great court, and they have their cells or small apartments all\naround.\"\n\n\"Let us go in,\" said the Caliph: \"this object is also interesting. Let\nus first ascertain if they are all confined for proper reasons. There\nare many people left at liberty who deserve to be confined; perhaps\nthere are some here whom it would be for the interest, both of society\nand themselves, to restore to freedom. Let each of us examine apart\none of the inhabitants of this place; let us determine by lot which of\nthe three shall begin the examination, and we will immediately set to\nwork.\"\n\nThe lot decided that Mesrour should begin.\n\nAll three having entered the court, the Chief Eunuch went straight to\nthe first cell. He found there a man of about forty years of age,\nsmoking a pipe with a serious air, and leaning his elbow on a table,\nupon which there were some papers. He saluted the smoker, who made him\na due return.\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Mesrour to him, \"that you are entrusted with\noverseeing those who make a noise in the court?\"\n\n\"Overseeing,\" answered the smoker, \"is a trouble from which I am free;\nI am entrusted with watching over myself, and that is quite enough.\"\n\n\"But surely,\" said Mesrour, \"you are not kept here in confinement\namong the number of mad people?\"\n\n\"And why should I not be kept in that character? Do you think me wiser\nthan others? They have done me that justice, which they ought to do to\nall the inhabitants of Bagdad. I cannot complain: I was condemned by\nmy equals, and they are so attentive as to come here every day to\nvisit me.\"\n\n\"I understand you,\" said Mesrour: \"we have all a small grain of\nmadness. However, when it does not pass certain bounds, we are very\nproperly allowed to enjoy our liberty. It is only extraordinary\nmadness----\"\n\n\"Ah, you are right,\" interrupted the smoker: \"men excuse all their\nordinary follies, however ridiculous; but when any one raises himself,\nby his ideas, knowledge, and observation, above others, he is a kind\nof reproach to them for the debasement into which they allow\nthemselves to fall, and they endeavour to remove him from their sight.\nThis is my history: I knew more than the vulgar, and therefore was\nseparated from them.\"\n\n\"In what branch did you excel?\" inquired Mesrour.\n\n\"In that science which is the chief of all others--astrology.\"\n\n\"And were you in possession of that science?\"\n\n\"I endeavoured after it, but my progress was interrupted.\"\n\n\"You were in correspondence with the stars, then?\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed.\"\n\n\"And by whom were you chiefly favoured?\"\n\n\"By the moon.\"\n\n\"Are you no longer in favour with her?\"\n\n\"Since I have lost my liberty, she uses me as she pleases. She\nformerly owed me great obligations, but now she has forgotten them.\nShe had an enormous wart upon her nose, of which I cured her. Thus it\nis to me she owes that beautiful appearance which you sometimes see\nher assume. Besides, by causing her to go on her side, I saved her\nfrom an eclipse which was expected by all the astronomers. At first\nshe showed me some gratitude; but since I have been confined, if I\naddress her in her increase, she is yet too weak to act in my favour;\nif I address her when she is full, she is surrounded with clouds and\nmist; but if in her wane, all her malignant influences are at my\nservice. Defluxions, rheumatisms, catarrhs are showered down upon me.\nI endeavour actually to deliver myself from this last mark of her\nbeneficence. Ah! if I could get hold of her some day, she would find\nthat she has not obliged an ungrateful person.\"\n\n\"And what will you do to get hold of her?\" inquired Mesrour.\n\n\"Nothing can be more easy,\" said the smoker: \"if a man like you would\nassist me; she will come this evening at nine o'clock to admire\nherself, and to bathe in that well which you see in the middle of the\ncourt. I will give you my table, and you will lie in wait. She will\nnot suspect you; and while she is amusing herself with making her\nbeams play upon the water, you will suddenly shut the well: then we\nshall get hold of her. It will make both our fortunes, and we will see\nhow she will be put to it to justify her conduct.\"\n\n\"She will speak, then?\" said Mesrour. \"Shall we hear her?\"\n\n\"I don't say that you will hear it very distinctly,\" answered the\nsmoker; \"but I, whose ear is by practice become so perfect as to be\nable to mark the cadence of the celestial harmony, shall not lose a\nsingle word. With respect to you, we must know how your ear is\nformed.\"\n\nSo saying, the smoker laid down his pipe, examined narrowly Mesrour's\near, and, taking hold of it very roughly, suddenly pulled it with all\nhis force, crying out, \"Your ear is too short!\"\n\nMesrour uttered a dreadful cry. One of the keepers ran up, and caused\nthe astrologer to quit his hold. The eunuch, holding his ear with both\nhis hands, rejoined the Caliph, and related to him his lamentable\nadventure.\n\n\"I have long been persuaded,\" said Haroun, smiling, \"that those madmen\nwho have an air of wisdom are most to be distrusted. Come, Giafar,\"\nsaid he to his Grand Vizier, \"you are warned beforehand not to allow\nyour ear to be pulled. Proceed to your examination: Mesrour and I will\nnot go far from the cell which you enter, that we may be at hand to\nassist you if there is occasion.\"\n\nThe Grand Vizier had already cast his eye upon a door, by the side of\nwhich sat an old man, with a venerable beard and an engaging air. He\nbegan with giving him alms, and then saluted him. He appeared more\nattentive to the civility of the salutation than to the alms he had\nreceived. He returned the salute, and made a sign to Giafar to sit\ndown on a seat a few paces distant from him.\n\n\"You are undoubtedly come here to be instructed, young man,\" said he\nto him. \"You ought to thank Heaven for having been so well directed.\nOf what chapter in my book do you wish to understand the text or the\nexplanation?\"\n\nThe book, of which this man seemed to speak, was a small square plank\nof cedar, on which there were no characters. Giafar asked what book it\nwas.\n\n\"What! do you not distinguish in these characters the finger of God,\nand the inspiration of the angel Gabriel? A Mussulman not know the\ndivine Koran, nor discover in him who presents it, according as he was\ninspired, the great prophet Mahomet!\"\n\nUpon this exclamation, the Vizier rose up and withdrew.\n\nHaving joined the Caliph, \"Commander of the Faithful,\" said he, \"I\nhave been forced to abandon my project. The man whom I have left makes\nme tremble at his blasphemy: he says he is the Great Prophet.\"\n\n\"It is not certain that he blasphemes,\" replied the Caliph: \"every man\nmay call himself a prophet, provided he proves his mission by\nmiracles. Go and ask him concerning this point.\"\n\nGiafar obeyed, and returned to his place.\n\n\"If you are Mahomet,\" said he to the old madman, \"who has put you in a\nplace like this?\"\n\n\"My ungrateful people,\" replied the pretended prophet. \"They would not\nbelieve in me, and this has vexed rather than surprised me, for they\nscarcely believe in Allah.\"\n\n\"But a prophet proves his mission by miracles. Why have you wrought\nnone?\"\n\n\"My people should first have demanded them from me; but they were\nafraid of being convinced: they seek to believe nothing.\"\n\n\"You could work miracles, then?\"\n\n\"Do you doubt the power of Mahomet?\"\n\n\"Work them immediately.\"\n\n\"Your request shall not be refused. Ascend to the top of this spire by\nthis outer stair, and throw yourself down from it without hesitation.\nWhen you are at the earth, though you were in a thousand pieces, with\none word I will set you upon your feet, straighter and with a better\ncarriage than you now have.\"\n\n\"I would rather,\" said Giafar as he was going away, \"believe you a\nprophet than oblige you to prove yourself one.\"\n\nHe came and gave the Caliph an account of the proposal which had been\nmade to him.\n\n\"You can learn very little,\" said Haroun to him, \"for you will make no\ntrial.\"\n\n\"If any one wishes to be instructed in this matter,\" replied Giafar,\n\"the man and the tower are there, he may try the adventure--I will not\nbe jealous of his success.\"\n\nThe conversation of the Prince and his ministers was a little\ninterrupted by some persons who accosted them. One of them was Caliph,\nand came to propose Haroun's quitting his habit of dervish, and\naccepting the place of Vizier. He intended to clothe him in a\nmagnificent robe: it was an old piece of stuff, full of holes, dirty,\nand devoured by vermin. Another, with a basket full of nut-shells,\ncame to sell him confections.\n\nThese short and public scenes did not answer the design of Haroun, nor\nthe purpose of the agreement into which he had entered with his\nministers. It was his turn to go into a cell, where, like his two\ncompanions in adventure, he might have a private conversation. He\npassed near one, which appeared larger and better furnished than the\nrest. A young man, of a soft and engaging figure, was sitting upon a\nsofa, and appeared to be in deep melancholy: he held in his hand the\nKoran. The Caliph accosted and saluted him, addressing him in that\nkind and familiar tone which the robe of a dervish authorized him to\nassume.\n\n\"Young man,\" said he, \"why is a man so rational as you appear to be,\nto be found among mad people?\"\n\nAt this question, the young man shut his book, modestly opened his\neyes, looked at the dervish, and answered him: \"All the actions of my\nlife have not been rational; I have given reason for the abuse which\nis now made of power in keeping me here.\"\n\n\"And could not I,\" said the dervish, \"learn from you your history,\nwhen you appear to be so well qualified for giving it?\"\n\n\"Pious dervish,\" answered the young man, \"were you the Caliph, I would\npersuade you to sit down by me, and I would open to you my heart.\nEvery day do I beseech God to send me this equitable Prince; but it\nwould serve no purpose to have any other confidant. You see here a\nvictim of his Grand Vizier Giafar, by whose orders I was brought\nhither, for a reason which appeared well founded; but I can declare\nthat there is no reason why I should be still detained; and without\nthe support of religion, I should sink under the weight of my\nmisfortune and the horror of my situation.\"\n\nThe Caliph was greatly astonished to hear so reasonable and connected\na discourse. He called Giafar and Mesrour, and repeated what he had\nheard. The Grand Vizier attentively considered the young man, and\nassured the Caliph that the prisoner and his history were totally\nunknown to him. Haroun's curiosity grew stronger, and made him anxious\nto hear his history. He entered the cell with that freedom which\ndervishes generally use, and sat down beside the supposed victim of\nGiafar's orders.\n\n\"Unfortunate young man,\" said he to him, \"you know that people of my\ncharacter have many privileges, and especially that of approaching the\ngreat, and of speaking to them the truth. The Commander of the\nFaithful is to us of all men the easiest of access: depend upon my\nzeal; it may be possible for me to serve you; you will entrust your\nmisfortunes to a prudent ear, and to a soul truly charitable.\"\n\nThe young man again sighed, mused a short time, shed some tears, and\nthus began his history:\n\n\"My name is Halechalbe, and my father is syndic of the trade of\nBagdad. One evening he invited to supper the principal merchants in\nthe city, each of whom brought with him his eldest son. After the\nrepast, which was plentiful and gay, the guests began to converse\nconcerning the disposal of their children.\n\n\"One had sent his son to a foreign counting-house; another had\nentrusted to his a vessel full of merchandise; a third had given up a\ncertain branch of his trade; in short, it appeared from what I heard,\nthat all my contemporaries were either advantageously placed or\nsettled in life. After fully discoursing of these different\narrangements, the company retired.\n\n\"Remaining behind with my father, I observed to him, that though the\nson of the first in our profession, I alone was unemployed. He allowed\nthe force of the observation, and proposed that I should open a\nwarehouse of whatever goods I chose, in one of the quarters of Bagdad.\n\n\"This proposal was agreeable to my inclination for trade and\nindependence. I accepted it; and next day was put into possession of a\nlarge assortment of the most beautiful Persian and Indian stuffs. I\nhad slaves who were skilled in trade, and who relieved me of the\ntroublesome part of the business.\n\n\"Being surrounded during the day with all the nobility of Bagdad, with\nwhom I had an opportunity of getting acquainted, I returned in the\nevening to my father's house. In the management of my business I led a\nvery active and busy life--a life, in short, agreeable to my own\ntaste. My father often visited me in my shop, and was pleased to see\nthe concourse of virtuosi and customers of both sexes. He never\nreceived anything uncommon from abroad but he was happy to send it to\nme; the manager of his own trade had orders to that purpose.\n\n\"I was one day surrounded with a great many people in my\ncounting-house, when two women of a fine external appearance came in.\nCivility made the other customers give place; and one of the two women\nput aside her veil sufficiently to discover charms which dazzled the\nsight.\n\n\"They sat down upon a sofa, asked for the richest stuffs, bargained\nwith me, and bought them for three thousand crowns. By this bargain,\nfrom calculation, I was a gainer of five hundred crowns. The goods\nwere folded up, and, by the orders of one of the women who appeared\nmistress, were carried away by slaves. I was preparing to hold out my\nhand for payment, when the young lady began to speak.\n\n\"'Halechalbe,' said she to me, 'I have brought no money with me; but\nbe not uneasy about what is owing to you: I will return in a few days\nand bring it with me, at which time I intend to make very considerable\npurchases from you.'\n\n\"'The other woman then spoke.\n\n\"'Madam,' said she, 'do you speak to a son of the chief of trade, a\nman of acknowledged opulence, and whose worth is known to the Caliph\nhimself, as if you supposed that he would not reckon it an honour to\ngive so trifling a credit to a lady like you?'\n\n\"The discourse of this woman, the impression made upon me by the\nbeautiful eyes of her mistress, in consequence of the derangement of\nher veil, and my natural timidity, prevented me not only from\nventuring to ask payment, but even from insisting to know the name of\nthe lady to whom I gave credit. She left me, after saluting me in a\nvery graceful manner; and I remained at my door, fixed like a post,\nwithout taking the precaution to cause a slave to follow her, and\nobserve the place of her abode.\n\n\"When I was alone, the imprudence of which I had been guilty presented\nitself to my mind in the strongest colours. To whom had I given my\ngoods? Could I forget, after the lessons I had received from my\nfather, that Bagdad swarmed with adventurers, who could appear in any\nform and assume any tone? Everything, even the beautiful eyes which\nshe had allowed me to see, then became suspicious. I believed myself\ncheated out of my goods, and returned to my father's house, trembling\nfor the reproaches which I thought I had brought upon myself.\n\n\"My mother soon perceived my distress. She well knew how to draw from\nme a confession of the cause, and endeavoured, as much as she could,\nto calm my apprehensions.\n\n\"'The merchant who knows not how to lose,' said she, 'deserves not to\ngain. If you are embarrassed in your accounts with your father, my\npurse will supply the defect.'\n\n\"I returned next day to my shop, hurt at being duped and at the loss\nwhich I had sustained. I had some hopes, however, that the lady would\nreturn; but the evening came, and she had not made her appearance.\nThis unhappy day was followed by two others of the same kind, and my\nmother saw my distress increase, without being able to give it any\nrelief.\n\n\"In vain did she tell me that she would supply this loss out of her\nown purse, and that I should consider what had happened to me as a\nuseful misfortune, for it was only by experience that man could learn\nwisdom.\n\n\"All her discourses were in vain: nothing could console me for having\nallowed myself to be cheated by a pair of fine eyes, by mere\ncompliment and show; my vanity, which was hurt, tormented my soul.\n\n\"On the fourth day the unknown lady at last came to my shop, and threw\na large purse upon my counter.\n\n\"'Fair young man,' said she, 'I bring you your money; see if the\naccount is right.'\n\n\"At this desirable and unexpected sight my fears and anxieties\nvanished, and I felt myself suddenly recover new life.\n\n\"The unknown lady caused other stuffs to be brought to her. She chose\nsome of them, and carried from my shop goods to the value of three\nhundred pieces of gold. In my enthusiasm I would have given her credit\nfor two thousand. As soon as she was gone I returned to my mother, and\nnow showed as much joy as formerly I had shown sorrow and dejection. I\nrelated to her the lucky adventure of the day, and perceived the full\nforce of the reasoning which till that time she had made use of in\nvain, to persuade me that in trade _he who never ventures can never\ngain_.\n\n\"In short, respectable dervish, I continued to deal in the same manner\nwith the unknown lady, who always carried from my shop stuffs worth\nmore money than she left in it, till she was owing me about ten\nthousand crowns, equal to all the profit which I had been able to make\nin my different bargains with her.\n\n\"One day, after opening my shop, I was scarcely seated on my sofa when\nan aged woman came and accosted me. I thought she wanted some robes or\nstuffs, and proposed to show them to her.\n\n\"'No, my son,' answered she, 'I am entrusted with a commission of much\ngreater importance: I come from the young lady who owes you ten\nthousand crowns. I do not bring you payment, but I am charged by her\nto tell you that you became her merchant in preference to every other\nof the same profession at Bagdad, only because her heart granted you a\npreference of another kind. In short, she is beautiful, young, and\nrich, and offers you her hand in marriage. If you find it agreeable\nto enter into this engagement after you have seen and conversed with\nher, no other dowry is required than the ten thousand crowns in which\nshe stands indebted to you; if you do not agree to it, the money shall\ninstantly be paid down. But you must resolve to follow me, that you\nmay have it in your power to know whether the affair is agreeable to\nyour wishes.'\n\n\"During this discourse of the old woman, a flame, to which I was till\nthen quite a stranger, penetrated through my veins, and the hope which\nwas now suggested having increased its violence, I soon felt the fire\nof love burning in my heart. The beautiful eyes of the lady, from the\nfirst moment I beheld them, had so dazzled and blinded me concerning\nmy real interest, that I allowed her to carry off my goods without\nknowing how I should receive payment for them. Though, in the visits\nwhich she afterwards made me, her veil had wholly concealed the\nfeatures of her countenance, yet the fulness of her dress could not\nconceal the elegance of her stature, the gracefulness of her motions,\nthe exquisite form of her foot, and the extraordinary beauty of her\nhands. Besides, she disputed with me about the price with so much\ncourtesy, and with such an angelic voice, that she never left my shop\nwithout carrying away something more than my goods; but I did not well\nknow what it was. Scarcely had she left my shop, when I felt myself\nextremely uneasy; said to myself, This is a charming lady! and then\nfell into a long state of profound thoughtfulness.\n\n\"When the old woman had informed me that the unknown lady was in love\nwith me, my passion increased to a desperate height. I ordered my\nslaves to shut up my shop; and, having desired them to tell my father\nand mother that I was going to enjoy myself with some of my friends,\nin a garden at some distance from the city, before I returned home, I\nput myself under the direction of the old woman.\n\n\"'You will never repent,' said she, as we went along, 'of having put\nconfidence in me; but you must still give me another proof of it. If\nthe lady is not agreeable to you, if you do not accept the proposals\nwhich she is to make, and consequently a separation takes place, it is\nproper that she should remain always unknown. Her delicacy requires\nthis; and I was ordered to put a covering over your eyes, that you may\nnot be able to discover the house to which you are going.'\n\n\"I readily agreed to this condition; and we withdrew under a portico,\nwhere, being concealed by two advanced pillars, she covered my eyes\nwith a very thick silk handkerchief. She made me turn three or four\ntimes round on my heel; then took me by the hand, and caused me to\nwalk by her side for a full quarter of an hour. We suddenly stopped. I\nheard her knock at a door, which opened, and, as soon as we had\nentered, immediately shut.\n\n\"I was in a short time restored to the use of my eyes, and committed\nto the care of two female slaves of remarkable beauty and richness of\ndress. They conducted me through seven doors, at the end of which I\nwas received by fourteen other slaves, whose figures were so striking,\nand whose dress so magnificent, that I was dazzled with beholding\nthem. I was now in a superb apartment, where everything was marble,\njasper, or rich gilding. My adventure had so much the appearance of a\ndream, that, though my eyes were open, I could scarcely be convinced\nthat I was really awake. The old woman, who had still followed me,\nwent out for an instant, and soon returned, accompanied by a slave,\nwho brought breakfast upon a large golden plate. I sat down to refresh\nmyself.\n\n\"While I was satisfying my hunger, the old woman counted down upon a\ntable the ten thousand crowns which were owing to me. 'There is your\nwhole sum,' said she. 'Be not uneasy that my mistress does not yet\nappear. The law commands, and decency requires, that you should not\nsee one another before the contract is made.'\n\n\"Before she had done speaking, a Cadi appeared, with ten persons in\nhis train. I arose to salute him, when the old woman, addressing the\nlawyer, said to him,\n\n\"'The young lady who is to be married to this merchant has chosen you\nfor her guardian: do you agree to accept the office?'\n\n\"The Cadi replied, 'that he reckoned himself highly honoured by the\nchoice which had been made of him.'\n\n\"He immediately drew up the contract, and got it signed by the\nwitnesses whom he had brought with him. After partaking of an ample\ncollation, which was served up to him and his attendants, and having\nbeen presented with a magnificent dress and three hundred sequins, he\nretired, charging the old woman to beg her mistress to accept his\nthanks.\n\n\"I was so astonished at what I saw, that when the Cadi went away, I\nmade a motion to follow him, without perceiving that I left my money\nbehind. I was prevented by the old woman, who made me sit down again.\n\n\"'Are you mad?' said she. 'Need I inform you that the marriage follows\nthe contract? Come, be wiser, and remain quiet till night, when\neverything will be ready for the completion of the ceremony.'\n\n\"I continued in the hall, where a great number of slaves were\nattentive to every motion and ready to anticipate every wish. I was in\na very extraordinary state of mind. The power of that feeling which\nhad made me run so fast with my eyes blindfolded was no longer felt,\nand love remained fixed at the bottom of my heart, astonished at the\nluxury with which I was surrounded, and the ceremony of this\nextraordinary marriage.\n\n\"Towards the evening, a magnificent repast was served up, accompanied\nwith all kinds of confections, and exquisite wines, which I used very\nsparingly. As soon as I made a signal for them to remove the dishes,\nthe old woman took me by the hand, and conducted me to the bath. I was\nthere received by eight slaves, dressed in silk, who wrapped me in\nstuffs of the same material, entered into the water with me, and\nserved me with all that respect and attention which could have been\npaid to the Caliph himself.\n\n\"Imagine, O respectable dervish, my astonishment: it almost deprived\nme of my senses! I was soon drawn from it, however, by the appearance\nof twenty female slaves, beautiful and well dressed. Some held\nflambeaux, and other pots full of exquisite perfumes, the sweet odour\nof which, mingled with that of the wood of aloes, which served to warm\nthe bath, embalmed the air, and raised an agreeable vapour to the very\nroof of the apartment.\n\n\"From these delights I was carried to the enjoyment of others. Twenty\nslaves went before me, and conducted me into a magnificent apartment;\nI sat down on a sofa covered with cloth of gold. I was there attended\nby the most melodious music, which was at the same time so cheerful\nand lively, and so fitted to inspire delight, that I could not help\nfeeling a little reanimated. The slaves at length proposed to conduct\nme into the apartment destined for the celebration of the nuptials.\n\n\"I arose. A great door opened; and I beheld the person approach who\nhad marked me out for her husband, preceded by twenty other slaves,\nwhom she alone could surpass in beauty. At the sight of her I remained\nalmost senseless; but this first impression instantly gave place to\nlove; and my passion at length assumed over me that power, which even\nat this day makes me, every moment of my life, endure torments worse\nthan death.\n\n\"The beautiful stranger, preceded by her twenty slaves, and I attended\nby the same number, went into the grand apartment prepared for our\nnuptials, and there sat down together on the same sofa. The old woman\nthen appeared at the head of four slaves, and brought us, on golden\nplates, different refreshments, exquisite confections, and fruit of\nall kinds, which we mutually presented to one another. After this, the\nservice disappeared, and we remained alone.\n\n\"I was almost trembling, when the lovely unknown lady took me by the\nhand to encourage me.\n\n\"'Halechalbe,' said she, 'since the day when curiosity first led me\ninto your shop I have loved you; and the same sentiment has frequently\ncarried me back, under pretence of cheapening and purchasing goods.\nThe little intercourse we have had together has given me an\nopportunity of knowing you; and my liking for you has so much\nincreased as to make me ambitious of being united to you for life. Can\nyou think of sacrificing your liberty?'\n\n\"'Madam,' answered I, 'from the first moment you appeared in my sight,\nyour charms failed not to produce their effect. I never saw you\nwithout feeling an unaccountable disorder, mixed, however, with the\nsweetest pleasure. You never left me without occasioning the most\nlively regret: I expected you every day, and my thoughts were\nincessantly occupied about your image. I dared not avow my passion to\nmyself; but since you have confessed your regard for me, I swear to\nyou, that nothing can equal the strength of my love, and that the\nsacrifice of liberty is nothing to one who would give his life for\nyour sake.'\n\n\"'Halechalbe,' said she, 'truth seems to flow from your lips: spare\nyour life; it is essential to my happiness; but if we are to be united\nfor life, attend to the conditions upon which I will yield my heart.\nMy name and rank must remain unknown to you until the steps I am now\ntaking shall have enabled me publicly to acknowledge you for my\nhusband. You shall make no inquiry within this place for the purpose\nof getting information, and the door of the house shall be opened only\nonce a year.'\n\n\"'O madam,' said I, 'I will keep silence; I will remain ignorant; I\nwill never leave the house----\n\n\"'Stop,' said she, 'I have a still more severe condition to impose\nupon you: as I give myself wholly to you, it is reasonable that you\nshould be wholly mine. My slaves are become yours, and will obey you\nin everything; but you must not speak to them, except to require their\nservices. If you condescend to use the smallest familiarity with any\none of them, further than mere expressions of kindness, if----I must\ndiscover to you a part of my character. I am inclined to be jealous;\nand if you make me the subject of this fatal passion, I know not how\nfar my resentment may carry me against you.'\n\n\"'Take courage,' said I, 'my adorable spouse: the strength of my\npassion secures you from every indiscretion on my part. I should die\nwith vexation were I capable of displeasing you; but I am not afraid\nthat I will ever be so unlucky as to give you offence.'\n\n\"The unknown lady burst into tears when she saw the frankness and air\nof sincerity with which my protestations were accompanied.\n'Halechalbe,' said she, 'we will now be united; but had you hesitated\nabout accepting them, I would have sacrificed my happiness to my\ndelicacy, and we would have separated for ever.'\n\n\"I tenderly embraced her, and she fainted away in my arms. A slave\nwas called, and she, the idol of my heart, after a time opened her\nbeautiful eyes, and with rapture I beheld them turned towards me.\n\n\"I pass over the remaining events of my marriage, because they cannot\nbe interesting to you, and the remembrance of them is still the\ntorment of my life.\n\n\"I was so enchanted by my passion, that I spent a fortnight in total\nforgetfulness of the whole world besides; and I will confess, to my\nshame, that I even omitted the most essential of all duties, for I\nnever once thought of the uneasiness of my father and mother on my\naccount. At last, by little and little, nature resumed her rights, and\nI began to think seriously of the grief which I must have occasioned\nto my affectionate parents. I uttered some sighs, which proceeded from\nthe bottom of my heart; and the distress of my mind appeared in my\ncountenance. My wife, who possessed great discernment, soon perceived\nthe change which I underwent, got from me the secret, took an interest\nin my pain, and pointed out the method of being delivered from its\nattacks.\n\n\"'Dear Halechalbe,' said she, 'I commend you for your attachment to\nyour father and mother: they are dear to me on your account. We have\ngiven ourselves laws; but, as we are the judges, we must not allow\nthem to do injury to nature. You will go to see your parents, spend a\nweek with them, and also resume your business. There are many reasons\nfor so doing. First of all, it will serve as a cloak to hide our\nmarriage, and will furnish you with an opportunity of being present or\nabsent at pleasure, without occasioning any suspicion of our marriage.\nIt will likewise enable you to acquire, by your civil, frank, and\ngenerous dealings, the public esteem, which will one day be of great\nadvantage to us; for we live under the government of a Caliph who has\nears everywhere, and who likewise makes very good use of his own. Go,\nthen, and my heart will accompany you wherever you are: if it could be\nrendered visible, you would see it continually fluttering around you.\nBesides, you will be under my hand: we have our trusty old woman, by\nwhose means you will have the satisfaction of hearing me spoken of,\nand I shall have that of being informed of your welfare, and\ncommunicating to you my wishes. Above all,' added she, 'as our\nmarriage cannot be concealed from your parents, charge them to keep it\na profound secret.'\n\n\"Night was beginning to come on when this discourse was ended; and my\nwife ordered the old woman to blindfold me, and conduct me out of the\ngates of the palace till I was under the portico where I had first\nsubmitted to this operation. As soon as my guide had restored to me\nthe use of my eyes, I flew with all speed to my father's house. A\nneighbouring lady was just entering it. She discovered me by the light\nof a shop before which I passed.\n\n\"'Halechalbe!' exclaimed she, 'what! is it you? Do not show yourself\nso unexpectedly to your mother. Retire for a few minutes into my\nhouse, and in the meantime my husband will go and inform her of your\nreturn. She is in the utmost distress and despair at your loss; and\nthe joy occasioned by your sudden and unexpected return might be\nproductive of fatal consequences.\n\n\"'Whence come you, wicked young man?' said she, as soon as she had sat\ndown. 'How could you let your worthy parents continue ignorant of what\nhad become of you?'\n\n\"Not having a story ready made for the first inquisitive person I\nshould meet, and it being necessary to conceal my marriage from\neverybody, I was very much at a loss what answer to give. But I made\nit up by presence of mind, and was obliged to have recourse to a lie.\n\n\"'I am astonished, madam,' answered I, 'to hear you talk of the\nvexation which I have occasioned to my parents. Having met with an\nopportunity of going to Balsora, where I had a very urgent and\nimportant examination to take against one of my most considerable\ndebtors, and, not having a moment to lose, I set out without being\nable to inform my father of my departure. I dispatched an express as\nsoon as it was in my power; but some accident must have befallen him,\nas no news have been received of me.'\n\n\"The lady was satisfied with the excuse.\n\n\"'All Bagdad, however,' said she, 'supposed you dead, and, moreover,\nmagnificently buried; for a superb funeral was given you yesterday. I\nwill relate the whole affair to you, when once my husband has prepared\nour neighbours for again seeing in good health the son whom they\nbelieved dead.'\n\n\"The husband having with great pleasure undertaken the commission, the\nwoman returned to her recital.\n\n\"'Your slave informed your father and mother that you were to spend\nthe remainder of the day and the night in a garden with your friends.\nThis prevented them from being uneasy during that evening and next\nday; but on the following days all the merchants of Bagdad were in\nsearch of you. Messengers were sent to all the gardens in the\nneighbourhood of the city, to the woods, and to a great distance in\nthe country. As you were nowhere to be found, and nobody had observed\nyou, it was conjectured that you had fallen into one of those snares\nwhich are too common at Bagdad, where young people without knowledge\nand experience find death in the very cup of pleasure.\n\n\"'Your father and mother tore their hair through grief; your family\nand friends went into mourning. Some kind of consolation was supposed\nto be derived from the pretended funeral, which all the mourners in\nBagdad were hired to attend, but where many real tears were shed.\nEvery person was affected with the distress of your parents.'\n\n\"This recital, O virtuous dervish! made me very uneasy. I perceived\nthe dreadful consequences of forgetting myself and my duty; and I\nalways considered my misfortunes, and the distraction of mind which\nwas the consequence thereof, as a punishment from Heaven, because, in\nthe arms of love, I was unmindful of the sacred obligations of nature.\n\n\"After our neighbour had related that part of my history which it was\nnecessary I should know, she rose up.\n\n\"'It is now time,' said she, 'to appear: my husband must already have\nannounced you; go, and confirm the account which he has given of your\nreturn.'\n\n\"I then entered my father's house, and it is impossible to describe\nhis joy, much less that of my mother, who fainted away in my arms.\n\n\"'What!' said my father, 'you are returned from Balsora? Poor child!\nthe loss you might have sustained was not nearly equal in my\nestimation to the danger which you have run and the fatigues you have\nundergone.'\n\n\"'Father,' said I, still keeping up before the neighbours the story\nwhich I had thought it convenient to adopt, 'I know not whether our\ncorrespondent is to fail, but I will deliver to you securities\nsufficient to remove every fear. There is a diamond to put in your\nturban; here is one for the hilt of your poniard; another for the\nhandle of your scimitar, and a bracelet for my mother. I believe that\nthis is a full equivalent for the sum which we may lose by him.'\n\n\"They again embraced me, without asking any further explanation; the\nweeds of mourning soon disappeared, and every one was dressed in his\nfestival robes. The house was filled with music; a thousand tapers\nshed their light, and the friends of my father and mother assembled to\nenjoy a splendid entertainment. The evening and night were spent by\nthe company in amusement and joy.\n\n\"Next morning I thought it my duty to eradicate from the mind of my\nparents those opinions which, in order to deceive the public, prudence\nhad made me establish the evening before. I related to them the\ncircumstances of my marriage, and besought them to keep it secret, as\nmy happiness depended on its being concealed. Everything increased\ntheir astonishment, and the rich jewels which I had brought them from\nmy wife were speaking proofs.\n\n\"'He must have married the daughter of a genie,' said my mother.\n\n\"'Such nuptials,' said my father, 'are celebrated without a Cadi.'\n\n\"They knew not what to think; but they saw me happy, and they were\nsatisfied.\n\n\"I proposed to my parents to resume my trade. They were delighted to\nfind that fortune had not deprived me of economy and diligence, and\nnext day I again appeared in my shop. The quarter in which I lived\nexpressed their happiness at seeing me again. As I was no longer\ndirected by the hope of gain, I was perfectly easy and disinterested\nin my dealings, and brought to my shop all the people of Bagdad. In\nthe evening I returned as usual to my father's house.\n\n\"On the evening preceding the seventh day, I informed my father that I\nwas again to disappear. He endeavoured to get my place filled up by an\nintelligent clerk, who was bound to conduct himself according to my\nprinciples. It was easy to account for my being a second time absent,\nby pretending that I had some business abroad.\n\n\"On the seventh day, towards evening, the old woman came and informed\nme that my wife was waiting impatiently for my arrival. As I was\nequally impatient to rejoin her, I needed no entreaties to persuade me\nto follow my guide. The same mystery as before was still observed in\nconducting me to the palace, where my presence was expected, and I was\nreceived at the first door by my charming wife, who loosened the\nbandage with her own hands.\n\n\"I passed another fortnight, still happier than the former, in those\nenjoyments which mutual love bestows, and amid those delights,\npleasures, and amusements which the eager wishes and riches of my\nspouse could bring together. At the conclusion of this period, which\nseemed very short, I returned to my father's house, and afterwards to\nmy business. My parents received me with the greatest affection; but\nscarcely did I enjoy it before I sighed for the return of the seventh\nday, when the old woman would come to blindfold me, and conduct me to\nan abode which I now considered as a celestial Paradise.\n\n\"My wife appeared to feel with equal force the pangs of separation.\nDuring my absence from the palace, the only method which she pursued\nto divert her attention was to play upon a musical instrument, or to\nsing in concert with her slaves.\n\n\"One day, during my absence, while my mistress and her slaves were\nsinging my praises and our loves, Zaliza, one of the slaves, hearing a\ncouplet in praise of my fidelity, affected to drop her lute, as if\nthrough impatience, and did not take it up again.\n\n\"'Why,' said my spouse, 'do you leave your lute lying upon the\nground?'\n\n\"'I cannot sing the fidelity of men,' answered Zaliza, 'for I do not\nbelieve it. Halechalbe,' continued she, 'is very amiable; he\nundoubtedly loves you, and who would not? But I do not believe that\nhis affection is equal to yours, or that he is more faithful than\nanother: of this I can give proofs whenever they are required.'\n\n\"These base and perfidious words infused the most fatal jealousy into\nthe heart of my spouse: she gave me no opportunity, however, of\nperceiving that she entertained any suspicions. At the time fixed\nbetween us, I returned to my father's house and my ordinary business,\nand when I went back to the lady I was received as kindly and\naffectionately as before.\n\n\"One day I was in my shop, when, about two hours before the usual time\nof the old woman's arrival to conduct me to my spouse, the public\ncrier proclaimed in the street a golden censer set with diamonds, to\nbe sold for two thousand sequins. I ordered a slave to call the crier.\n\n\"'Who is the proprietor of that censer?' said I to him.\n\n\"'It belongs,' answered he, 'to a young lady, whom you behold there;'\nat the same time he pointed out a handsome and well-dressed woman, and\nI desired him to bid her speak with me.\n\n\"The woman took the censer from the crier, gave him a reward, and\nadvanced towards me.\n\n\"'Madam,' said I, 'since this censer belongs to you, I know where to\nplace it; will you allow me to have it?'\n\n\"'Since it pleases you, Halechalbe,' said the lady, 'it is yours, and\nI demand nothing in return.'\n\n\"'I am not accustomed,' answered I, 'to make such bargains.'\n\n\"'Nor I,' said the lady, 'to enjoy the happiness of making a present\nto the most amiable and best-beloved of his sex. I have,' continued\nshe, 'for a long time past frequented your shop, unobserved, alas! by\nyou; but your figure and your manners enchanted me, and still enchant\nme more and more. Since the censer pleases you, I reckon myself very\nfortunate in having it in my power to present you with it.'\n\n\"'I will receive your present, madam,' said I, 'if you will accept\nfrom me its value.'\n\n\"'Silver and gold,' said she, 'are of no account in my estimation.\nThe love which I bear you has deprived me of repose: do not treat me\nwith cruel disdain. A liking for me would do you no dishonour, for,\nthank God! I may be proud of my descent. But if, despised by you, I\ncannot aspire to the highest marks of your affection, let me have a\nsingle kiss, and the censer shall be yours.'\n\n\"'I cannot agree,' replied I, 'that you should make so bad a bargain.\nTake your money, or keep your censer. A kiss is no trading price.'\n\n\"'It is beyond price,' answered the lady, 'to one who dies of love. I\nbrought not this censer here to sell, but to give it to you; accept it\nat the price mentioned, and you will save my life.'\n\n\"Venerable dervish, I will confess my weakness, and declare that I was\ngained over by these flattering praises and this language of love. I\nhad no suspicions, and was unable to discover the features of the lady\nthrough her veil. Overcome by self-love more than by her entreaties, I\nretired into a dark part of the shop, and presented my cheek; but\ninstead of kissing it, she bit it with such force as made me cry out;\nand I was left alone with the censer in my hand, my cheek bathed in\nblood, and my countenance totally disfigured. The blood was at length\nstopped, but I was unable to allay the swelling or remove the marks of\nher cruel teeth.\n\n\"At this moment the old woman came for me, and appeared surprised at\nthe situation in which she beheld me. I intended to tell her that I\nhad fallen upon a piece of broken glass, and I was ready to give the\nsame account to my spouse. But the treacherous Zaliza had previously\ninformed her of the whole matter. It was she who had played me that\nbase trick, and she had no doubt reported it to my spouse in such a\nmanner as to make me appear much more guilty than I really was. When I\narrived at the palace, instead of being received as formerly by an\neager and affectionate wife, I fell into the power of an enraged and\nimplacable judge.\n\n\"'What has hurt your cheek?' was the first question proposed by my\nwife as soon as I was before her. I was about to tell her of the\npieces of glass, but she interrupted me with asking, 'whence I got the\ncenser which I held in my hand?'\n\n\"'It cost me two thousand sequins,' said I, stammering.\n\n\"'Liar!' replied my spouse, her eyes inflamed with rage, 'it cost you\nmuch more: the account of it is on your cheek. Vile and base man! you\nhave made a trade of your love, but you shall pay dear for your\ninfamous conduct. Morigen,' said she, addressing her first eunuch,\n'let him be beheaded.'\n\n\"Morigen had already seized me, when the old woman, our confidante,\nthrew herself at the feet of her mistress.\n\n\"'Oh, madam!' said she, 'do not commit such a crime; do not expose\nyourself to remorse which you will be unable to support.'\n\n\"The behaviour of the old slave brought my wife to reflection. She\nappeared to meditate a little; and then, changing her opinion, ordered\nme to receive the bastinado. While Morigen was executing her rigorous\norders, which I endeavoured to bear without complaining, she seized a\nmusical instrument, and made the chords resound with an air which\nexpressed a mixture of jealous rage and malignant satisfaction.\n\n\"The pain I suffered totally deprived me of feeling; and I did not\nrecover till I was in my father's house, placed upon a bed, surrounded\nby the whole family, and attended by physicians, who were employed in\nprocuring me relief. I had been carried away after the fatal execution\nof my wife's orders, and left on the threshold of my father's door.\n\n\"It was six weeks before I recovered from the consequences of the\nsevere treatment I had undergone. At the end of this time, when I was\nagain able to be out of bed, my father tried to gain my confidence,\nand I concealed not the smallest circumstance of my last adventure.\n\n\"'O Heaven!' said he, 'you are united, my son, to a monster of cruelty\nand injustice.'\n\n\"'Do not say so, father!' exclaimed I: 'my wife, I must confess, was\ncruel, but she thought she had reason to complain, and I was wanting\nin my duty to her, even when she loaded me with kindness and\naffection. I find that I still adore her, and that my love is\nincreased by the consciousness of my fault, and by the fear of a\nfinal separation. Ah! would that I were admitted to be the lowest of\nher slaves!'\n\n\"'You have not the feelings of a man,' said my father: 'know the\ndignity of your sex. I cannot determine to what kind of a being you\nhave been united by the ceremony of a contract. I should suppose it\nentirely whimsical, if so strong proofs, and particularly the last,\nhad not been given us of its reality. Be ashamed, that a man like you,\nwho are well descended, and who might have aspired to a connection\nwith the best families in Bagdad, has been hurried away by a foolish\npassion to so extraordinary and unequal a connection as that which you\nhave now formed. Forget your disgraceful passion.'\n\n\"Every word which my father uttered, by way of invective against my\nmarriage and my wife, was a dagger to my heart.\n\n\"'I shall one day discover this abominable creature,' added he. 'I\nwill bring an information against her before the Caliph, who will put\nit out of her power to make further victims.'\n\n\"Instead of seconding my father's resentment, my heart revolted\nagainst his plans of revenge, and placed itself betwixt him and my\ncruel but charming spouse.\n\n\"This disposition of mind, in spite of the assistance of medicine,\nsoon injured my health, and deranged my understanding. I became\nthoughtful and melancholy, refused every means of consolation, grieved\nmy too affectionate parents, and was a torment to all the domestics.\nNothing could be prepared to my taste, and I constantly blamed the\nunskilfulness of the cooks.\n\n\"One of them came one day to justify his conduct.\n\n\"'See,' said I, overturning the table, and treading the dishes under\nmy feet, 'there is the estimation in which I hold your skill and\ndiligence!'\n\n\"As he wanted to make a reply, I threw myself upon him to give him a\nhearty beating. His cries and screams soon brought my mother, who\nwished to tear from me the person at whom I was offended. She even\nventured to add blows to her reproofs; and, in the blindness of my\nfury, I unfortunately struck her. When my father arrived, he was not\nmore prudent, and I was at length put in chains. I recollect that,\nhaving put my hand across my mouth, it was covered with foam. In\nshort, I lost my recollection, and only recovered it to behold myself\nan inhabitant of this mournful abode. I then learned that I was kept\nhere by order of Giafar, the Grand Vizier.\n\n\"Many months have now elapsed since I groaned a miserable captive in\nthis place. I have now recovered soundness of mind, in consequence of\nthe solitude, but more especially the opportunity of indulging my\nunfortunate passion, which I here enjoy without hearing the person\nwhom I will ever love loaded with imprecations.\n\n\"Here, O respectable dervish! I am swayed by sadness, and not by\npassion, and can discover in myself nothing for which I ought to be\ndetained in this hospital. My friends, it would appear, have forgotten\nme; but it is the duty of the Grand Vizier, whose orders are here\nfollowed, to inspect this place, and endeavour to bring back to me my\nparents, since I only offended by one fit of madness, and have now\nsufficiently recovered my reason to regulate my conduct. This,\nvenerable dervish, is the whole of my history. All my consolation is\nthe Koran, and the hope that some time or other the Commander of the\nFaithful, who wishes to see everything himself, will direct his steps\ntowards this mournful abode. I ask this from Allah a hundred times a\nday; but, alas! my supplications have never reached his throne.\"\n\n\"Cease not to pray, my dear son,\" replied the Caliph: \"you will soon\nknow the efficacy thereof, and your request will be heard.\"\n\nAfter these words of consolation, Haroun returned with Giafar and\nMesrour to the palace.\n\n\"What think you,\" said the Prince to the companions of his adventures,\n\"of the story which has now been related? You were at hand, and must\nhave heard everything which was spoken.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Giafar, \"that this young man, of whom I never heard\nbefore, though he accuses me of being the cause of his misfortunes,\nhas been employing his invention to relate to you a collection of\ndreams or falsehoods.\"\n\n\"It is impossible that everything can be false in his relation,\"\nreplied the Caliph; \"and I command you to think on the means of\nascertaining the truth. To-morrow I expect to hear from you.\"\n\nNext day the Grand Vizier gave an account of the plan which he had\ndevised for discovering what trust was to be placed in the history and\ncomplaints of Halechalbe.\n\n\"Those people,\" said the minister, \"who are deranged in their mind,\nare never consistent in their accounts. Let your Highness therefore\norder the young man to be brought before you; and if he repeats his\nlong story in the same connection he did yesterday, and without\nvarying its circumstances, it will then be proper to make the\nnecessary inquiries for ascertaining the truth of the facts.\"\n\nThe Vizier's opinion was highly approved of, and orders were instantly\ngiven to go for Halechalbe.\n\nWhen the young man was at the foot of the throne, the Caliph thus\naddressed him: \"Halechalbe, I have been informed that you have been\nconfined in a madhouse, by a series of the most extraordinary\nadventures: recover your spirits, and be assured that I am anxious to\ndo justice to all my subjects. But in the relation I demand from you,\nomit no circumstance, and consider the respect which is due to truth\nand to my presence.\"\n\nHalechalbe, seeing the prediction of the dervish fulfilled, being\ninspired with confidence and affected with his subject, again began\nhis history, and made not the smallest variations, even in the\nexpressions.\n\nGiafar was obliged to own that the recital which he had twice heard\nbore very striking marks of veracity. His sole object now was to\ndiscover Halechalbe's beloved but cruel enemy, in order to procure\njustice from her towards her injured husband; and his sagacity soon\nsuggested the steps which were proper to be taken.\n\nBy calling together all the Cadis in Bagdad, in order to learn by whom\nthe contract had been drawn up, the affair would be in danger of being\ndivulged, without resolving the difficulty. For, if any of them had,\ncontrary to law, drawn up a contract of so extraordinary a nature, he\nwould not readily confess it; and besides, a man might have been\nsuborned to act the part.\n\nIf Halechalbe's father was reconciled to him, and persuaded again to\nentrust his son with the management of his trade, it was probable that\nthe old woman would be going about him, were it only from curiosity;\nand spies, properly placed, might apprehend her, and force her to\ndisclose the name of her mistress.\n\nThe Caliph approved the scheme, and the syndic was immediately sent\nfor. This unfortunate father, still supposing that his son was totally\nderanged in his mind, was greatly astonished to find himself in his\ncompany at the foot of the Caliph's throne, and still more to see\nHalechalbe treated by Haroun with the kindest attention.\n\nUpon the first proposal of a reconciliation made by the Grand Vizier,\nthe father stretched out his arms to receive his son. Measures were\nthen agreed upon for unravelling the adventure, and Halechalbe's\nfather promised to execute with fidelity the orders which he received.\nThe father and son returned to their house, after having received two\nrich robes from the munificent Caliph; and next day Halechalbe was\nre-established in his shop, which was as richly furnished as before.\n\nThe young man endeavoured, by submission, kindness, and attention, to\nmake his parents forget the cause of complaint which he had given\nthem. Though still inflamed by love, he strove to conceal from them\nits effects, and to get the better of his melancholy. He yielded to it\nonly when free from every other business, and when left to himself in\nsolitude and retirement.\n\nHalechalbe's wife did not long enjoy the satisfaction of her revenge.\nHaving come to serious reflection on her conduct, she blamed herself\nfor the excess of her cruelty, and at length became uneasy about the\nfate of the husband whom she had treated with too much severity,\nthough she still supposed him criminal and ungrateful. Love soon\nregained the empire of her heart; and though she struggled for some\ndays against a feeling which she durst not avow, silence at length\nbecame burdensome to her, and she ordered the old woman, as if solely\nthrough compassion, to make inquiry about the situation of her\nunfortunate husband.\n\n\"Alas, madam!\" answered she, \"my pity for him led me to his father's\nhouse, and I there learned from the inhabitants of that quarter, that\nthe poor young man's life was in danger.\"\n\n\"His life in danger!\" replied the lady. \"Ah! unfortunate that I am! I\nhave killed the only man in the world I ever loved, or can love! Can I\nnot inform him that my life depends upon his? but everything prevents\nme from doing so. Go, however, and speedily get information concerning\nhim, as far as you can, consistently with the safety of my honour.\"\n\nThe old woman received the order with great pleasure, and for some\ntime was able to give her mistress good hopes of the recovery of her\nhusband's health. But her inquiries soon became fruitless, for the\nneighbours were altogether silent concerning Halechalbe, from the\nmoment when he was privately taken to a madhouse in a state of\ninsanity.\n\nHer mistress now yielded to despair, and shut herself up with her\nconfidante, that she might indulge her sorrow and shed her tears\nwithout restraint. The musical instrument, which had formerly been\nemployed to insult over the misfortune of Halechalbe, now served to\nexpress her own complaints. The lady, quite inconsolable, could no\nlonger make verses, as she was wont to do when inspired by love or\nrevenge, but only uttered a few broken words, intermingled with sighs\nand tears.\n\nThe good old woman was one day traversing the city, little thinking\nthat she would have any agreeable news to carry to her mistress, when,\nas she passed through the quarter where Halechalbe's shop was, she\nobserved it open. Stopping to look at it, she discovered the master\nhimself, seated on a sofa and lost in deep thought, and she determined\nto enter. As soon as she saw him she wished to throw herself into his\narms, and Halechalbe was running to meet her when he perceived her\napproaching; but the Grand Vizier's spies, who had not lost sight of\nthe slave, interposed, carried off the woman, and conducted her to\nGiafar.\n\nGreat was the astonishment of Giafar to find that the woman now\nbrought before him was Nemana, the old governess of his beloved\ndaughter Zeraide.\n\n\"Is it possible,\" said he, \"that you whom my daughter loads with her\nkindness should be engaged in the intrigue of Halechalbe's marriage?\nWho is the woman you have given him for a wife?\"\n\n\"O my Prince and master,\" answered Nemana, in great astonishment,\n\"whom could I serve but your daughter, the Princess Zeraide?\"\n\nGiafar was thunderstruck when he learned that his daughter had married\nwithout his knowledge and consent; but knowing that the Caliph was\nvery anxious to get this affair unravelled, instead of returning to\nhis own palace to get an explanation from Zeraide, he instantly\nrepaired to the Commander of the Faithful, followed by Nemana and the\nspies whom he had sent in pursuit of her.\n\n\"Wise Prince,\" said he \"the old woman who was concerned in\nHalechalbe's marriage has been found: she is at the door, and I have\nput some questions to her. Halechalbe's wife,\" continued the Vizier,\n\"has only availed herself of the law delivered in the Koran, by\nchastising her husband, who was surprised in a fault worthy of\npunishment. The duties of husband and wife are reciprocal, and\nHalechalbe had received the caresses of a strange woman.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Haroun, \"you strain the expressions of the law: you\nmake it too sanguinary, and you would expose a great many in Bagdad to\ndanger if the right of doing themselves justice was granted to all who\nreally are, or think themselves, injured in this respect.\"\n\n\"Marriages of every kind,\" replied the Vizier, \"will not admit of the\nrigorous application of the law; but when the lady who is married,\nwhile she subjects herself to the law in all its rigour, has it\nlikewise in her power to demand the same subjection from the man whom\nshe is to marry, and this condition is freely accepted, the injured\nperson in avenging herself only makes use of her legal right.\"\n\n\"Notwithstanding all your fine arguments,\" said Haroun, \"I am still\ninclined to favour the unfortunate Halechalbe: it yet remains that I\nbe informed of the name of the woman in whose cause you are so\neloquent.\"\n\n\"She is my daughter,\" answered the Vizier in great confusion.\n\n\"You have now,\" replied the Caliph, \"let me into the secret. I see\nthat the multiplicity of my affairs makes you neglect your own, and\nrenders you perfectly ignorant of what passes in your own house.\nMarriages are contracted, and men's lives disposed of, without your\nknowing anything of the matter. Imagine the consequences which would\nresult from allowing an arm directed by passion to execute a rigorous\nlaw. I know the rights which are assumed by women in cases of unequal\nmarriages. If conveniency and prudence, those powerful directors of\nhuman conduct, sometimes oblige them to give their hand to one of an\ninferior station, then they may avail themselves of these rights to a\ncertain extent: they are a sort of compensation for the sacrifice\nwhich they make. But this is not the case with your daughter, who has\nmade no sacrifice but to her own taste, and the son of the chief of\ntrade is in every respect become her equal. He loves and adores her,\nnotwithstanding all the cruelty which she has exercised against him,\nand she would certainly be too happy in having him again for her\nhusband. You well know that with one word I can make my meanest\nsubject a Prince. I will raise Halechalbe's father to that dignity,\nfrom a principle of justice, and I will take care of the son, from\nregard to himself and to you. Find out the name of the Cadi who drew\nup the contract, and why he ventured to do so without your consent,\nsince without that the deed would be void; take care that nothing be\nwanting in the form.\" After this discourse with his Vizier, the Caliph\nordered Halechalbe to approach.\n\n\"Young man,\" said he, \"your wife shall be restored to you, and you\nshall have it in your power either to pardon or punish her. She is my\nGrand Vizier's daughter; but nothing ought to have any influence in\npreventing you from following the inclinations of your heart and the\ndictates of your mind.\"\n\n\"O Commander of the Faithful!\" exclaimed the young Halechalbe, \"can I\nretain any resentment against the person who is dearer to me than\nlife? I aspire after nothing but the happiness of seeing her again,\nand if I can once more gain her heart, and the consent of her father,\nI vow to an affection which will terminate only with my existence.\"\n\n\"Giafar,\" replied the Caliph, \"I recommend the interests of your\ndaughter and son-in-law to your care. Henceforth consider him as a man\nconnected with my service, and for whom I mean to provide.\"\n\nThe Grand Vizier returned to his palace, holding Halechalbe by the\nhand, and followed by the old woman, who perceiving herself at\nliberty, soon made her escape to go and inform her mistress of the\nvisit which she might expect to receive. The Vizier, whom she had\noutrun, at length arrived at his house. Zeraide arose to meet him, and\nto give the usual marks of her attachment and respect; but a signal\nwith his hand, and a look of severity, forced her to desist.\n\n\"Suppress these demonstrations of attachment,\" said Giafar: \"there can\nbe no love without confidence, and no respect without obedience. You\nfirst married without my consent, and then, in a fit of delirium,\nabusing the authority which I gave you over my servants, you went to\nthe most criminal excess against your husband, and committed a crime\nwhich exposed us to the wrath of the Caliph. When you gave your hand\nto the son of the chief of trade at Bagdad--a man esteemed and\nrespected by everybody, and valued even by the Caliph himself--did you\nthink that you were entering into a connection with the meanest slave?\nAnd if the life even of these is to be spared, how could you imagine\nthat you might dispose of your husband's according to your pleasure\nand caprice? I have brought him to you; he is your master, and in his\nturn has your life in his power. Fall at his feet, and be assured that\nyou can never regain my esteem unless you obliterate from his mind, by\nsubmission and obedience, the undeserved and cruel treatment which he\nhas received.\"\n\nWhile the Vizier was speaking, the trembling Zeraide would have fallen\ndead at his feet if she had not perceived in the eyes of Halechalbe\nsomething more than compassion for the confusion to which she was\nreduced. With pleasure did she throw herself at his feet, and kissed\nthem with transport. The young husband, happy beyond expression,\nhaving raised Zeraide, embraced her, and for some moments their tears\nwere mingled together. This affecting scene made an impression on\nGiafar, who was passionately fond of his daughter: the father and the\nminister were at once disarmed. But the Cadi must be called to correct\nthe irregularity in the contract of marriage. He learned that his name\nwas Yaleddin, and ordered him to be instantly sent for.\n\nYaleddin arrived, and did not allow Giafar time to ask why he agreed\nto marry Zeraide in private, and without the concurrence of any one\nbut the young lady.\n\n\"Your daughter,\" said the judge, \"sent for me, and discovered the\nexcess of her passion. I thought it my duty to fulfil her wishes, that\nI might prevent, though by an irregular proceeding on my part, a\nconduct still more irregular in her. She proposed that I should be her\nguardian; and having undertaken this character, and not condemning her\nchoice, I believed I was doing an important service to this fond\ncouple, and I plainly foresaw that one day it would not meet your\ndisapprobation.\"\n\nGiafar, instead of showing dissatisfaction, generously expressed his\ngratitude to the Cadi; but ordered the slave Zaliza to be delivered to\nhim, that she might be punished, after a confession should be extorted\nfrom her of the odious stratagem which she had employed for separating\nher mistress and her husband.\n\nThe happy pair were then left to themselves, after the Vizier had\nassured Halechalbe that he would be as dear to him as his own son.\nMagnificent feasts were afterwards given, that all possible splendour\nmight accompany an union authorized and approved by the Caliph, and\nwhich diffused joy among all the inhabitants of Bagdad.\n\nThus did Halechalbe pass almost unexpectedly from a madhouse to that\nhonourable elevation to which he was raised by the Caliph Haroun, and\nfrom the most mournful of all situations to the highest degree of\nhappiness.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Four Talismans.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nAbouali Nabul,[7] Emperor of the Moguls, reflecting upon his great\nage, felt convinced that he could not long enjoy the light of the sun;\nhe therefore sent for his well-beloved and only son Nourgehan, and\nspoke to him thus:\n\n[Footnote 7: Great father.]\n\n\"Nourgehan, I leave my throne to thee. You will soon fill my place:\nforget not to do justice equally to the poor as to the rich. Be\nsatisfied with possessing a flourishing kingdom. Envy not the\ndominions of any other Prince: leave every one in possession of that\nwhich they have inherited from their fathers. In one word, always\nremember that clemency and justice are the noblest titles of a\nSovereign.\"\n\nAfter having said these words, the Emperor descended from his throne,\nmade his son ascend it, and retired into a delightful apartment (where\nhe had passed his happiest days), where he remained till he died,\nwhich was shortly afterwards.\n\nNourgehan, after having paid all the honours that nature and gratitude\nrequired for so good a father, was wholly occupied in fulfilling the\nlast counsels that he had received from him. His heart was naturally\ngood, and his judgment just; but if every man stands in need of\nexperience to form his mind, much more is it necessary for those who\nare destined to fill a throne. Nourgehan, persuaded of this important\ntruth, was far from the presumption too common to Princes. One day, as\nhe conversed with his courtiers upon the subject of government, he\napplauded those Kings who had shown the greatest love of justice.\nSolomon was quoted as having been the most just.\n\n\"This example is not a just one,\" replied Nourgehan. \"Solomon was a\nprophet, and could easily prevent the evils which he foresaw; but a\ncommon mortal can only use his best endeavours to repair the faults of\nhis weakness: therefore I command you all, not only to inform me of\nall my duties without flattery, but also to prevent or repair my\nfaults by your counsels. When a King testifies a love for virtue, all\nhis subjects become virtuous.\"\n\nAs soon as Nourgehan had ceased speaking, Abourazier rose up and said,\n\"Great Prince, if you wish to have justice truly exercised in your\ndominions, you must make choice of a disinterested Vizier, who has\nonly your glory and the good of the State in view. The satisfaction of\nhaving done right must be the only recompense he desires.\"\n\n\"You say well, Abourazier,\" returned Nourgehan; \"but the difficulty is\nto find such a man.\"\n\n\"You have, my lord,\" replied the courtier, \"one of your subjects whose\nmoderation and wisdom made him renounce all public employments under\nthe reign of your illustrious father: your Majesty, perhaps, is\nignorant of what happened to him in the city of Shiras.\"\n\nThe King having commanded him to inform him of it, Abourazier pursued\nhis discourse thus:\n\n\"Imadil Deule,[8] in the last war which we sustained against Persia,\nled our victorious army as far as Shiras, which he took, and, by a\nsentiment of humanity, preserved from being plundered. His soldiers,\nhowever, demanded a recompense that might make them amends for the\nbooty they expected to have obtained, and spoke to him so strongly,\nthat he was obliged to promise one to them, though he knew not where\nhe could procure it.\"\n\n[Footnote 8: The support and assistance of felicity.]\n\n\"One day as he was in his palace, thinking of this demand, he\nperceived a serpent creep out of a hole in the wall and return into it\nagain. He called the officers of his harem, and said to them, 'Break\nopen that hole, and take out the serpent that I saw enter it this\nmoment.'\n\n\"The courtiers obeyed him, and found a vault full of presses ranged\nalong the walls, with chests piled upon each other. They were opened,\nand found to be filled with sequins, while the presses were heaped up\nwith the most magnificent stuffs. Imadil Deule returned thanks to God\nfor this discovery, and distributed the treasure to his soldiers. He\nafterwards commanded a tailor to be sent for to make habits of these\nstuffs, with which he designed to recompense the merits of those\nofficers who had served under his command. The most experienced tailor\nof the city was presented to him, who had always wrought for the late\nGovernor. Imadil Deule said to him, 'Not only thou shalt be well paid\nif these habits are carefully made, but I will procure thee a further\nrecompense, and some bowls of cassonnade.'\"[9]\n\n[Footnote 9: A kind of sherbet mixed with honey.]\n\n\"The tailor, who was deaf of one ear, understood that he was to have\nthe bastinado, and fell a-weeping. Imagining that it was intended to\nexact an account of the late Governor's clothes which he had in his\npossession, he declared he had only twelve chests full, and those who\naccused him of having more had not said the truth.\n\n\"Imadil Deule could not forbear smiling at the effect which fear had\nproduced in the poor tailor: he caused the habits to be brought, which\nwere found to be magnificent and entirely new. The only use he made of\nthem, as well as of the rich stuffs he found in the presses, was to\nclothe and adorn the officers of his army. I believe, therefore, that\nso disinterested a man deserves the confidence of your Majesty.\"\n\nAbourazier having ceased speaking, Nourgehan said to him, \"Imadil\nDeule shall not be my Vizier. I believe him an honest man, but he\nwants prudence, and I do not think him capable of supporting my\nauthority. He had the seals of the empire, and yet knew not how to\norder everything necessary for his expedition; in a word, his treasure\nfailed him, and his soldiers presumed to give him laws. Without the\naccident of the serpent, of which any other man would have made the\nsame use, what would have become of him? The story of the tailor is of\nno consequence.\"\n\nNourgehan was continually occupied with the love of justice and the\ndesire of reigning well. He left his palace at all hours to inform\nhimself of the truth by his own knowledge. There was an old potter of\nearthen vessels who dwelt near his palace. Nourgehan, moved by seeing\nhim every day pray to God with the most ardent and zealous fervour,\nstopped one day before the little hut in which he dwelt, and said to\nhim, \"Ask of me whatever thou desirest, and I promise to grant it\nthee.\"\n\n\"Command all your officers,\" said the potter, \"to take each of them\none of my pots, and pay for it that which I ask. I will not abuse this\npermission.\"\n\nNourgehan granted him his request, and gave orders to his guard to\nwatch over the sale of the pots, and, above all, to do whatever the\npotter ordered him. He made a very modest use of the favour that he\nhad obtained, and, satisfied with the sale of his work, he exacted no\nmore than the value of it, thinking himself happy in being able to\nlive by his industry, and wishing that he might give a proof of his\ngratitude to his Sovereign. The Vizier of Nourgehan was avaricious;\nbut for fear of displeasing his master, he concealed that vice with\nthe utmost care. He went one morning to the Emperor's audience, when\nthe potter demanded a sequin for a pot which he presented to him. The\nVizier refused it, and said it was a jest to ask such a sum for a\nthing that the least coin would sufficiently pay for.\n\nThe potter, seeing that he added menaces to his refusal, answered him,\n\"that since he took it in that strain, he demanded a thousand sequins\nfor his pot,\" and added, \"that he should not enter into the Emperor's\npresence until he had hung the pot round his neck, and carried him\nupon his back to have an audience of the Emperor, that he might make\nhis complaints of the refusal and menaces he had given him.\"\n\nThe Vizier made many difficulties and great entreaties to avoid these\nvexatious and mortifying conditions; but the hour approaching which\nthe Emperor had appointed for an audience, and the guards refusing to\nlet him enter till he had satisfied the desires of the potter, he was\nobliged to submit to them; to promise the thousand sequins, to hang\nthe pot about his neck, and to carry the potter on his back, a\ncondition from which he would not recede. The Emperor, surprised at\nseeing his Vizier arrive in a manner so ridiculous and so unsuitable\nto his dignity, commanded him to explain what it all meant. When he\nwas told, he obliged the Vizier to pay the thousand sequins\nimmediately; and comprehending of how great an injury it might be to a\nPrince to have an avaricious minister, he deposed him, and was pleased\nwith the potter for having made known to him a fact that he never\nwould have suspected otherwise.\n\nNourgehan formed a counsel of the most worthy men of the empire,\nordained wise and prudent laws, and departed to visit his provinces,\nwith a resolution of releasing his people from any possible abuse of\nan authority which is always dangerous, when those who exercise it are\nat too great a distance from the Sovereign. This Prince, endowed with\nevery virtue, had no other wish than that of deserving after his death\nthe noble epitaph of that Persian monarch who has graved upon his\ntomb, \"Weep! for Shah Chuja is dead!\"\n\nNourgehan, visiting all the provinces of his kingdom, had already gone\nthrough the greatest part of them, and remedied numberless disorders,\nwhen his curiosity engaged him in a journey into Tartary, his\nneighbouring kingdom. Finding himself so near their country, he had a\ndesire also to see and know the manners of these Tartars, who were\nmore civilized than others, for they had cities and fixed habitations:\ntheir women also are not shut up like those of the other Asiatics. The\nTartars came to meet the Emperor of the Moguls. Some of them\nperformed courses on their swiftest horses to do him honour, others,\naccompanied with their women, formed a kind of dance which, though a\nlittle savage, was not destitute of grace. In the number of the Tartar\nwomen who presented themselves before him, Nourgehan was struck with\nthe beauty of a young person of eighteen, named Damake.[10] She\npossessed great beauty; an inexpressible sense and modesty was visible\nin her countenance. Nourgehan did homage to so many charms, and caused\na place in his harem to be proposed to her, but she refused it. Love\nbut too often causes the greatest change in the worthiest characters.\nThe Prince, so wise, and till then so moderate, led away by his\npassion, joined menaces to his entreaties; he even went so far as to\nthreaten that he would bring a formidable army thither to obtain a\nbeauty whose refusals did not permit him to hope to win her otherwise.\nHe made this rash speech to Damake alone; for if the Tartars, who are\na people most jealous of their liberty, had had the least knowledge of\nit, war would have been that moment declared. But Damake answered him\nwith the utmost sweetness, without showing the least fear, and without\nlosing that respect which she owed to a Sovereign; and it was with the\ngentle and yet resolved tone that courage and truth always inspire,\nthat she related this little history to him:\n\n[Footnote 10: Joy of the heart.]\n\n\"One of the great Lamas,\" said she, \"of whose supreme authority in\nthis country you are not ignorant, fell in love, in this very place,\nwith a maiden of my tribe. She not only refused all that he offered to\nher, but she would not accept the proposal he made to marry her. The\nlove she felt for a musician was the sole cause of her refusal, which\nshe confessed to the Lama, with a hope of appearing unworthy of his\nattachment. But that Prince--for they are looked upon as\nsuch--distracted with anger and sorrow, caused his unworthy rival to\nbe put to death, and under the pretext of her being agreeable to the\nGrand Lama, it was not difficult to have her carried off. For you are\nsensible, my lord, that in this country every one trembles at the very\nname of him, whom we look upon as a god. But the Lama enjoyed not\nmuch satisfaction from his cruelty and injustice; for after she had\npromised to marry him, in order to obtain a greater liberty, she\nprecipitated herself from the top of a rock, which can be perceived\nfrom hence, and which is always shown in the country as a proof of the\nconstancy and resolution of which the Tartar virgins are capable. It\nis not,\" continued Damake, \"love for another that makes me refuse the\noffers of your Majesty. My heart to this hour is free; but, my lord,\nlearn to know it thoroughly. It is noble, and perhaps worthy of the\nfavour you condescend to honour me with. My weak charms have seduced\nyou; but a woman who has no other merit than beauty, in my opinion, is\nof little value.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" returned Nourgehan, \"the difference of our religions is an\nobstacle to my happiness?\"\n\n\"No, my lord, I am a Mussulman,\" resumed Damake. \"Can you imagine I\ncould submit to the ideas that are given us of the Grand Lama? Can we\nbelieve that a man is immortal? The artifice that is made use of to\npersuade us of it is too gross. In one word, my eyes are too much\nenlightened for me to hesitate between the ideas inculcated by these\npriests, and those by which the divinity of God is preached by his\nmost sacred Prophet. No, my lord,\" continued she, \"I am sensible of\nthe risk I shall run by your goodness to me. Time causes the\nnightingale to perish and the rose to fade. The moon shines during the\nnight; but its lustre fades when the day approaches. Can I expect,\ntherefore, that time should spare me? Yet, notwithstanding these\nreflections, I confess, my lord, I should be flattered with the\nthought of pleasing a man whose virtues I esteem above his greatness.\nBut I should wish to please him by other qualities: I should wish to\nhave rendered myself worthy of him by services so considerable, that\neven a marriage thus unsuitable, far from exposing him to reproaches,\nshould only serve to make his choice more applauded.\"\n\nNourgehan, charmed at finding such uncommon sense and such delicate\nsentiments in an object whose figure alone would have rendered her\namiable, admired her virtue, gave her his royal promise never to\nconstrain her inclinations, and resolved never to depart from her. He\nsent a numerous train of slaves and camels to the beauteous Damake,\nwho followed him with all her family. She would never have consented\nto this step if she had been obliged to abandon her family, to whom\nshe was fondly attached. The King saw her every day, and could not\nexist a moment without wishing to see her, or without admiring her\nwhen he did see her. In the meantime the discourses of the Court and\nof the populace reached the ears of Damake. She knew the evil opinion\nthey had of her. To repair this wrong she conjured Nourgehan to\nassemble all the learned men of his kingdom, that she might answer\ntheir questions, and afterwards propose some to them. Nourgehan, who\ndreaded lest a person so young as Damake should expose herself too\nhastily, and return with confusion from such a dispute, used his\nutmost efforts to dissuade her from her request; for the fear and\nconcern that is felt for those whom we love is most certainly far\nstronger than that which interests us for ourselves. His remonstrances\nwere in vain.\n\nLearned men were assembled to the number of twelve; and in the\naudience that was given them, the King was placed upon an elevated\nthrone, in his habits of ceremony. Damake was seated lower, opposite\nto him, leaning upon a sofa, dressed with the greatest plainness, but\nshining with every charm of youth and every gift of nature, surrounded\nby the twelve sages, venerable by their extreme age and their flowing\nbeards, leaning upon a large table, round which they and she were\nseated. The sages, who knew not with what design Nourgehan had\nassembled them, were extremely astonished when he made known to them\nthe project of Damake. They looked upon the adversary who was\npresented to them, and kept silence, not doubting that the King did it\nwith the design of showing them contempt. Nourgehan said to them,\n\n\"I perceive your thoughts, but I have given my royal promise, and it\nis your duty to acquit me of it. Propose boldly the hardest questions\nto this lady, who has engaged to resolve all the difficulties that\nyour great learning gives you the opportunity of proposing to her.\"\n\nThe first sage demanded, \"What is that which takes the colour of\nthose who look upon it, which men cannot do without, and which of\nitself has neither form nor colour?\"\n\n\"It is the water,\" replied Damake.\n\nThe second said to her, \"Can you, O miracle of sense and beauty, tell\nme what is the thing which has neither door nor foundation, and which\nis within filled with yellow and white?\"\n\n\"It is an egg,\" said the beauteous maiden.\n\nThe third sage, after having considered a little, in hopes of\nsurpassing his brethren (for the learned men in the Mogul have a share\nof self-love), said to her, \"There is in a certain garden a tree; this\ntree bears twelve branches, upon each branch there are thirty leaves,\nand upon each leaf there are five fruits, of which three are in the\nshade and two in the sun. What is this tree? and where is it to be\nfound?\"\n\n\"This tree,\" returned Damake, \"represents the year: the twelve\nbranches are the months, the thirty leaves the days, the five fruits\nthe five prayers, of which two are made by day and three by night.\"\n\nThe sage was amazed, and the courtiers, whose minds vary like the air,\nand whose sentiments are changed by that which is less than nothing,\nbegan to be inwardly persuaded of the value of that which they had at\nfirst only pretended to admire.\n\nThe other sages, who had not yet spoken, would have excused\nthemselves, and had their silence passed over in favour of the\napplauses they gave to the uncommon sense of her who had confounded\nthose who preceded them. But Nourgehan, at the entreaty of Damake,\nhaving commanded them to continue the conference, one of them\ndemanded, \"What is heavier than a mountain?\" the other, \"What is more\ncutting than a sabre?\" and the third, \"What is swifter than an arrow?\"\nDamake answered that the first \"was the tongue of a man that complains\nof oppression;\" the second, \"Calumny,\" and the third, \"A glance.\"\n\nThere were four sages remaining who had not yet proposed their\ndifficulties. Nourgehan trembled, lest at length the mind of Damake\nshould be exhausted, and she should lose the honour of so great a\nnumber of judicious answers. Yet this beautiful maiden appeared\nneither fatigued nor exalted with that which would have raised the\nvanity of the greatest part of mankind. But the very property of love\nbeing to submit to the will of that which it loves, Nourgehan, whom\nthe preceding examples had not yet reassured, full of alarms and\ninquietudes, commanded them to speak by a sign of his head, which they\ndurst not refuse. The first demanded of her, \"What that animal was\nwhich avoided everybody, was composed of seven different animals, and\ninhabited desolate places.\" The second desired to know who that was\nwhose habit was armed with darts, who wore a black vest, a yellow\nshirt, whose mother lived above a hundred years, and who was liked by\nthe whole world. The third desired her to name that which had but one\nfoot, which had a hole in its head, a leathern girdle, and which\nraised up its head when its hairs were torn off and its face was spit\nupon.\n\nDamake answered to the first that it was a grasshopper, which is\ncomposed of seven animals; for it has the head of a horse, the neck of\nan ox, the wings of an eagle, the feet of a camel, the tail of a\nserpent, the horns of a stag, and the body of a scorpion.\n\nThe lady found it more difficult to answer the question of the second:\nfor a moment the whole assembly thought her vanquished. This idea,\nwhich she perceived in the eyes of all who looked upon her, made her\nblush. She appeared only still more beautiful from her modesty; and\nNourgehan was charmed when he saw the sage who had proposed the\nquestion agree that she had answered with her usual justness, when she\nsaid that it was a Chestnut. She answered the third without\nhesitation, that it was a Distaff.\n\nSo much knowledge, so much presence of mind, joined to such uncommon\npersonal charms, threw all minds into so pleasing a confusion that,\nnotwithstanding the awe that the presence of Nourgehan inspired, they\nall loudly expressed the joy, admiration, and pleasure they felt at\nbeing witnesses of so uncommon a scene. Damake then made a sign that\nshe wished now to speak. Silence was commanded, and she desired the\nsages to inform her what was sweeter than honey.\n\nSome of them answered that it was the satisfaction of having our\nwishes fulfilled, some that of gratitude, and others it was the\npleasure of conferring obligations.\n\nWhen Damake had let them speak, she applauded all their reasonable and\njust thoughts, but finished her discourse by asking them with\ngentleness if she was mistaken when she imagined the sweetest thing\nupon earth to be the love of a mother for her child.\n\nAn answer so suitable to her sex, who ought always to be attached to\ntheir maternal duty, and proposed with so much modesty, entirely\nfinished the conquest of their hearts. But Damake, who had no other\ndesign upon this occasion than to conciliate their esteem and\nauthorize the favours with which Nourgehan honoured her, was resolved\nto finish a scene which she did not design to repeat, resolving for\nthe future to be occupied with schemes and ideas of a higher kind.\nDamake then caused instruments to be brought, and sang and played in\nall the different modes of music, finishing by singing the famous\nstrain of Zeaghioule.\n\nNourgehan, in those transports of joy which are given by the repeated\nsuccesses of those one loves, dismissed the assembly, but not without\nmaking some large presents to the sages; and when they had all\nretired, he threw himself at the knees of Damake, saying, \"Thou art\nthe life of my soul: haste thee to make me happy!\"\n\nThe beauty answered that she was not yet worthy of him.\n\n\"What can you require further?\" cried the passionate Prince. \"You have\ncharmed my whole Court; you have confounded the learning of the men\nmost celebrated for their wisdom; the justness of your answers, the\nmoderation of your questions, and the modesty with which you bore the\nadvantage of so great a triumph, have dazzled them. Not satisfied with\nhaving proved your sense, what talents did not you show when you\ntouched the musical instruments! What taste did you not express in\nyour song! Whoever, like Damake, joined such merit to so much beauty?\nBut I perceive you love me not,\" added this passionate Prince, with\nthe utmost tenderness, \"since you refuse to attach your destiny to\nmine. Doubtless you have an aversion for my person.\"\n\n\"I am very far from deserving this reproach, my lord,\" said Damake;\n\"you yourself shall be the judge. The greatest pleasure and the\nhighest satisfaction I have felt on this day, which your prejudice in\nmy favour has made you think so glorious, was the being able to\nexpress before the whole Court, in a proper manner, the sentiments\nwith which you have filled my heart.\"\n\n\"What can you wait for further to render me the happiest man upon\nearth?\" cried Nourgehan with eagerness. \"You love me, and I adore you.\nWhat wants there more? My wishes for you are become an ocean unbounded\nby any shore.\"\n\n\"I resolve to deserve you, my lord,\" replied she, \"by talents of more\nvalue than those of music; by a justness of sense more valuable than\nthat which your sages set such a price upon, and which is only a mere\nsubtlety of mind. I wish to establish myself in your heart upon\nfoundations more solid than beauty, or those superficial talents that\nyou have had the goodness to applaud. In short, I wish that love may\nin you only be a passage to that esteem and friendship which I aspire\nto deserve. Submit your impatience to grant me this favour--it perhaps\ngives me more pain to ask it than your Majesty to grant: let me live\nsome time under the shadow of your felicity.\"\n\n\"I am capable of nothing now,\" replied Nourgehan, \"but of loving and\nadoring you; but at least permit me to give a full proof of the\njustice I do your merit. Assist in the divan, preside in all affairs,\nand give me your counsels: I can follow none that are more prudent or\nbetter judged.\"\n\n\"The diamond boasted,\" replied Damake, smiling, \"that there was no\nstone which equalled it in strength and hardness. Allah, who loves not\npride, changed its nature in favour of lead, the vilest of metals, to\nwhich He gave the power to cut it. Independently of the pride I must\nrender myself guilty of if I accepted your offers,--Allah forbid that\nI should do that wrong to my Sovereign Lord!--to authorize by my\nbehaviour the reproaches that would be thrown upon him. There would be\na foundation to say that he was governed by a woman. I allow,\" added\nshe, \"that your Majesty ought to have a Vizier: you cannot see to\neverything with your own eyes, and I believe I am able to show you one\nworthy of Nourgehan.\"\n\n\"Name him to me,\" replied he, \"and I will give him the charge this\nmoment.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" replied the beauteous Damake, \"must know him before\nyou accept him. I hope you will find in him whom I propose those\nvirtues and talents necessary in a man dignified with so great an\nemployment. He lives in the city of Balk, and is named Diafer. The\npost of Vizier to one of the most powerful Kings of the Indies has\nbeen in his family above a thousand years. Judge then, my lord, what a\ncollection of admirable precepts he must have upon all parts of\ngovernment, and yet a Prince, blinded by the pernicious counsels of\nhis favourites, has deposed him, and he passes his days at Balk--days\nwhich might be happy if he had not lived in the habit of labour and a\nhurry of great affairs, which seldom leave the mind at liberty to be\nsatisfied with anything less tumultuous.\"\n\nNourgehan immediately replied, \"Diafer is my Vizier: Damake can never\nbe mistaken.\"\n\nUpon the spot he wrote to the Governor of Balk, and sent him a note\nfor a hundred thousand sequins, to be delivered to Diafer, to defray\nthe expenses of his journey; and he charged the same courier with a\nletter for Diafer, in which he conjured him to accept the post that he\nhad destined him for.\n\nDiafer began his journey. He was received with magnificence in every\ncity, and the Emperor sent all the noblemen of his Court to meet him,\nand conduct him to the palace which he had destined for him in the\nkingdom of Visiapour, where he then resided. He was treated there with\nincredible magnificence during three days, after which he was\nconducted to an audience of the Prince. He appeared at the height of\njoy for possessing a man whom Damake esteemed so highly; but that joy\nwas of no long duration, for the Prince, who was so gracious and so\nprejudiced in his favour, flew into the most dreadful anger the moment\nDiafer appeared in his presence.\n\n\"Go,\" said he to him, \"depart this moment, and never see me again!\"\n\nDiafer obeyed, and retired in all the confusion, the sorrow, and the\nsurprise that such a reception must needs give him. He returned to his\napartment without being able to imagine the cause of the King's sudden\nanger, who, in the meantime, held a council, and examined the affairs\nof his kingdom, without taking any notice of what had passed with him\nwhom he had destined to be his Vizier.\n\nHe afterwards repaired to the apartment of Damake, who, already\ninformed of an event which employed the thoughts of the whole Court,\ndoubted not that there was an alteration in the mind of him to whom\nshe was so perfectly attached. The sorrow which this reflection had\ngiven her had plunged her into a state so languishing as scarce left\nher the use of speech. Yet making an effort to conquer herself, she\nsaid to him, after some moments' silence,\n\n\"How is it possible, my lord, that after all the expenses you have\nbeen at, and all the cares you took for the arrival of Diafer at your\nCourt--after all the honours you have ordered to be paid him, and\nthose that you have loaded him with, you should receive him so ill?\"\n\n\"Ah! Damake,\" cried Nourgehan, \"I should have had no regard to all\nthat I have done for him, to his illustrious family, nor to the\nfatigues that he has suffered in coming so far, if any one but you had\nrecommended him to me. I would have had his head struck off the moment\nhe presented himself before me, and it was wholly in regard to you\nthat I satisfied myself with banishing him from my presence for ever.\"\n\n\"But how did he incur your indignation?\" pursued Damake.\n\n\"Know, then,\" resumed Nourgehan, \"that when he came up to me he had\nthe most subtle of poisons about him.\"\n\n\"May I ask you, my lord,\" returned Damake, \"what certainty you have of\nsuch a fact, and if you may not doubt of the fidelity of him who made\nyou the report?\"\n\nNourgehan replied, \"I knew it myself. I permit you to inquire into it,\nand you will find whether I was mistaken or not.\"\n\nWhen Nourgehan had left Damake more reassured as to the heart of the\nEmperor, though alarmed at the impressions he was capable of taking so\nlightly, she sent for Diafer, who appeared sunk in the most violent\nchagrin. She conversed with him for some time, and perceiving how\ndeeply the ill-treatment he had received from the King had plunged the\nponiard of sorrow into his heart, she said to him that he ought not to\nafflict himself so much, that the wrath of Nourgehan would be of no\nlong duration, and that he would soon repair the affront that he had\npublicly given him. She added that Princes had their hasty moments,\nthat ought to be passed by and excused. When she had a little calmed\nhis chagrin, she finished her discourse by saying to him,\n\n\"If I have deserved your confidence, if you believe that I shall\nendeavour to repair the affront you have suffered--since I, by doing\njustice to your talents, was the innocent cause of that which has\nhappened to you--if I deserve any return from you, vouchsafe to inform\nme why you had poison about you when you were presented to Nourgehan?\"\n\nDiafer, surprised at this question, after having reflected some\nmoments, replied, \"True, I had poison with me; but my heart, though I\nbore it about me, was as pure as the dew of the morning. I even have\nit now that I speak to you.\" Saying this, he drew a ring from his\nfinger and presented it to her. \"The setting of this ring,\" said he,\n\"encloses a most subtle poison. It is a treasure that has been\npreserved in our family from father to son these thousand years. My\nancestors have always worn it, to preserve themselves from the anger\nof those Princes they served, in case they should have had the\nmisfortune to displease them in the exercise of their post of Vizier.\nYou may believe,\" continued he, \"that when the King sent for me, who\nwas wholly unknown to him, to exercise that charge, and conscious of\nthe many enemies a stranger generally meets with, I would not forget\nto bring this treasure. The sorrow that the cruel behaviour of\nNourgehan has given me, and the shame that he has covered me with,\nrender it still more precious to me: it will not be long before I make\nuse of it.\"\n\nDamake obtained from him that he should delay, at least for some days,\nthis fatal design, and conjured him to wait in his palace till he\nheard from her.\n\nShe immediately repaired to give an account to Nourgehan of what she\nhad learned. That Prince, perceiving by her relation that Diafer had\nno ill design, and that the cruelty of Princes in general authorized\nbut too justly such a precaution, repented that he had received him so\nunworthily, and promised Damake the next day to make amends for the\npain he had given him. She approved this design; but before she\nquitted him she conjured him to satisfy her curiosity by informing her\nhow he could perceive the poison which Diafer had with him. Nourgehan\nreplied,\n\n\"Never will I have anything concealed from the sovereign of my heart.\nI always wear a bracelet, which my father left me, and which has long\nbeen in our family, though I am ignorant of the name of the sage who\ncomposed it, or how it fell into the hands of my ancestors. It is of a\nsubstance that nearly resembles coral, and it has the property of\ndiscovering poison, even at a very great distance. It is moved and\nagitated whenever poison approaches; and when Diafer came near me, the\nbracelet was very nigh breaking, the poison which he bore had so much\nstrength and violence. Had he not been recommended by you, his head\nshould have been struck off that moment. I was the more certain that\nDiafer bore that dangerous poison, as my bracelet remained immovable\nimmediately after his leaving the hall where I gave audience.\"\n\nNourgehan loosed it from his arm, and gave it to Damake. She examined\nit with great attention, and said to him, \"This talisman, my lord, is\ndoubtless very wonderful; yet this adventure ought to prove to you how\nmuch those who have the sovereign power are obliged to be upon their\nguard against appearances, and of what consequence it is for them not\nto give judgment rashly.\"\n\nDamake retired, and Nourgehan commanded the greatest pomp and the most\nsplendid train to conduct Diafer the next day to an audience. This\norder was executed. Nourgehan received him with the utmost affability,\nand testified the greatest regret for what had passed. Then there was\npresented to him, by the Sultan's command, a standish of gold, a pen\nand paper. Immediately he wrote in the most beautiful characters\nsublime sentences upon the manner in which a Vizier ought to fulfil\nthe duties of his important post. Nourgehan admired his talents, made\nhim clothe himself in the robe of a Vizier, and, to crown his\ngoodness, confided to him the secret of his bracelet. Diafer\nstrenuously advised that Prince never to part with it; and in his\nadmiration, and the pleasure he felt at possessing so great a\ntreasure, he asked his new Vizier if he believed that through the\nwhole world there could be found anything so curious.\n\n\"Great Prince,\" replied Diafer to him, \"I have seen in the city of\nDioul another miracle of nature, less useful, indeed, but which for\nthe strength of art and learning with which a sage has composed it,\nmay be compared to this.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" returned Nourgehan. \"I should be glad to be informed of\nit.\"\n\nThen Diafer spoke thus:\n\n\"When I had received your Majesty's command to repair to your\npresence, I departed at once, but was obliged to make some stay at\nDioul, through which I passed in my way to Visiapour, where I knew I\nmight join your Majesty. Notwithstanding my impatience, I was obliged\nto collect several things which were necessary for my journey, and\nmade use of that time to view the beauties of the city. The Governor,\nwhose riches and opulence astonished me, came to meet me on the day of\nmy arrival, and conducted me to his palace. He loaded me with honours,\nand, during my residence there, showed me the utmost respect and\nfavour; yet it was accompanied with a constraint that rendered his\nfidelity suspected by me. Among the amusements that he procured for\nme, was a party upon the river: I consented to join it, and we\nembarked the next day in a small frigate which he had provided. The\nweather was fair, and the conversation most agreeable. The Governor of\nDioul was seated on the upper deck, and I was placed close to him. A\nyoung boy, beautiful as the sun, lay at his feet; the most exquisite\nwines were served upon a table which stood before us: their coldness,\nand that of the ice with which all the fruits were surrounded,\ncontributed to the most seducing voluptuousness. The slaves sang and\nplayed upon different instruments. Our pleasure was thus accompanied\nwith everything that could render it delicious; and as I was thinking\nupon something to say that might be agreeable to the Governor, I\nperceived upon his finger so magnificent a ruby, that I could not\nforbear giving it the praises it deserved. The Governor immediately\ndrew it off, and presented it to me. I examined it with attention, and\nreturned it to him again, but had great trouble to make him take it.\nSeeing that I absolutely refused to keep it, he was so concerned that\nhe threw it into the river. I repented then that I had not accepted so\nperfect a work of nature, and testified my sorrow to the Governor, who\nanswered, that it was my own fault.\n\n\"'Yet,' continued he, 'if you will promise me to accept it, it will\nnot be difficult for me to find the ring again, which is really\ndeserving of your acceptance.'\n\n\"I imagined that, having another not unlike it, he designed to offer\nme that; but, without saying any more to me, he immediately commanded\nthey should steer the vessel to the land. When he was arrived there,\nhe sent his slave to his treasurer to demand a small casket which he\ndescribed to him, and cast anchor to wait the return of the slave, who\nwas expeditious in executing the orders he had received. The Governor,\nhaving then taken out of his pocket a small gold key, opened the\ncasket, out of which he took a small fish of the same metal and of\nadmirable workmanship, and threw it into the river. Immediately it\nplunged to the bottom, and soon after appeared upon the surface of the\nwater holding the ring in its mouth. The rowers who were in the boat\ntook it in their hands and brought it to the Governor, to whom it\ndelivered the ring with a motion of its head: no other person could\nhave forced it from its teeth. The Governor again presenting the ring\nto me, I could not refuse it, especially as he redoubled his\nentreaties. The fish was replaced in the little casket and sent back\nto the treasury.\"\n\nDiafer, after having related this history, drew the ring from his\nfinger and presented it to Nourgehan, who, finding it to be extremely\nmagnificent, said to him,\n\n\"Never part from this ring, which is still more precious from the\nvirtue of the talisman which rendered you the possessor of it. But,\"\ncontinued he, \"you ought to have informed yourself at what time, how,\nand by whom that wonderful masterpiece of art was composed.\"\n\n\"I used my utmost efforts to be informed,\" replied Diafer, \"but they\nwere in vain. Struck with so singular an event, I thought no more of\nthe pleasures of the day. The Governor, perceiving that I fell into a\ndeep reverie, said to me, 'Life is short: make use of every moment and\nenjoy every pleasure. The soul is a bird imprisoned in the cage of the\nbody, which it must soon quit: rejoice while it is in your power, you\nknow not who shall exist to-morrow.' I confessed to him that curiosity\nhad penetrated my heart. He replied, 'I am in despair that I cannot\nsatisfy you,' and pronounced these words with a tone that expressed\nhis design of not giving a more particular answer. 'Let us think only\nof amusing ourselves agreeably,' continued he. I followed his counsels\nas much as it was in my power, and departed from Dioul without being\nable to obtain any information upon the subject, but fully persuaded\nthat this talisman was the source of all the treasures which he\npossesses.\"\n\nNourgehan terminated the audience of Diafer by assuring him of his\nfavour if he used his utmost care in the administration of justice. He\nafterwards gave an account to Damake of the conversation he had held\nwith his Vizier, and told her the history of the fish.\n\n\"I have a love for these talismans,\" said that Prince, \"and this\nlittle fish rouses my curiosity. I wish at least I knew the maker of\nit.\"\n\nDamake promised him to use her utmost efforts to inform him. In\neffect, the next day, she told him, that of all the talismans which\nthe great Seidel-Beckir had made, there existed only four--his\nbracelet, the little fish of which Diafer had spoken to him, and which\nshe presented to him from the Governor of Dioul, adding, that he had\njust sent it as a present to his Majesty in order to obtain a life\nwhich he had deserved to lose, his faithful subjects having taken him\nin arms against the Sultan. The third, a poniard, very meanly adorned,\nwhich she begged him to accept.\n\n\"The others,\" continued she, \"are either worn out (for you know, my\nlord they only last for a certain time), or have been destroyed by\ndifferent accidents.\"\n\n\"Why did the Governor of Dioul,\" resumed Nourgehan, \"conceal from\nDiafer that Seidel-Beckir was the maker of that which he possessed?\"\n\n\"He was ignorant of it, my lord,\" interrupted Damake; \"and perhaps,\nashamed of not knowing it, he feigned it to be a secret. It is the\nhabit of men to cover their ignorance by an affectation of mystery.\"\n\n\"But what is the virtue of this talisman that you offer me?\" said\nNourgehan, as he accepted the poniard.\n\n\"I will inform you of it, my lord,\" said Damake, \"at the same time\nthat I give you an account of what I have been able to learn\nconcerning the fish. It may be about three thousand years since there\nappeared, in the part of Asia which we inhabit, a man named Houna, who\nwas so great that he was surnamed Seidel-Beckir. He was a sage who\npossessed in perfection all those talents which acquire a general\nveneration. The science of talismans he possessed in so eminent a\ndegree, that by their means he commanded the stars and the\nconstellations. Unhappily, his writings are lost, and therefore no\ntalismans like his can now be made. Antinmour, King of Hindostan,\nhaving found means to form a friendship with him, Seidel-Beckir, in\nreturn for his kindness and some small services that he had done him,\nmade him a present of that little fish of which your Vizier gave you\nan account. It always remained in the treasury of Antinmour as long as\nhis family existed. One of the ancestors of the Governor of Dioul\nfinding himself the Vizier of the last of that race, when the family\nwas extinct by those revolutions which the history of the Indies\nrelates at length, and which are universally known, seized upon this\ncuriosity, and his successors have kept it with the utmost care till\nthis time. Not only does this talisman bring back whatever is fallen\ninto a river, or the sea, to the person to whom it belongs, but if you\nindicate to it anything to be brought out of that element, it goes in\nsearch of it with the greatest readiness, and brings it wherever it is\ncommanded.\"\n\n\"I am fully satisfied,\" replied Nourgehan, \"as to the two talismans,\nand never Prince was possessor of such treasures. I may now truly\nstyle myself the sovereign of the sea. What do I owe to thee, the\nruler of my soul! But of what use is this one which the beauteous\nDamake has presented to me?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied she, \"when I tell you for what reason it was\ncomposed, you will know its virtue.\"\n\n\"We read in the revolutions of Hindostan, that Antinmour would have\nunjustly exacted a tribute from Keiramour, who was too weak to resist\nthe forces of his enemy; and not knowing to whom to have recourse, he\nresolved to address himself to the sage Seidel-Beckir, and sent his\nVizier to him with magnificent presents. The sage refused them; but he\nwas so touched by the situation to which the King, his friend, had\nbeen reduced, that he declared Antinmour should not succeed in his\ndesigns. Immediately he composed this very poniard, which I have now\npresented to my Sovereign, and gave it to the Vizier. 'Tell your\nmaster from me,' said he, 'to choose out twenty of the bravest\nsoldiers of his kingdom, and deliver the poniard into the hands of him\nwho commands them; for this poniard has the virtue (when it is drawn)\nto render invisible not only the person who bears it, but all those\nwhom he designs should participate in the virtue of the talisman. His\nwill alone decides the effect of it. Keiramour shall send these twenty\npersons to Antinmour with a letter, in which he shall refuse to pay\nthe tribute that is demanded of him. Antinmour, in the excess of his\nanger, will order the ambassadors to be seized. Then the law of\nnations being violated, he who bears the poniard shall render himself\ninvisible by drawing it with one hand, and his sabre with the other;\nand his troop following his example, and doing the same, he shall\nobey, without hesitation, the dictates of his courage.'\n\n\"The Vizier returned to Keiramour, and all that Seidel-Beckir had\ncommanded was executed. The son of the King was charged with the\ncommand and execution of this great enterprise. Antinmour was enraged\non reading the letter that was presented to him.\n\n\"'Let this insolent ambassador be seized,' cried he, 'this moment.'\n\n\"Then the Prince, hastily drawing out his poniard and sabre, struck\noff the head of Antinmour. His train did the same to all those who\ncomposed the divan; and running directly into the city, an infinity of\nheads were flying off without knowing who caused this disorder. After\nthis great execution, the ambassador and his train made themselves\nvisible, and declared to the people in the public square that there\nwas no other method of avoiding certain death but to submit to the\ngovernment of Keiramour, which they did without reluctance. This\nponiard,\" continued Damake, \"has been long kept in the treasury of the\nPrinces of that country. By little and little, however, its value was\nforgotten, and the remembrance of its uncommon property totally lost;\nand when your Majesty desired an explanation of the talismans, I found\nthat this was at Balsora in the possession of a poor Jew, a broker,\nwho sells upon the bridge of that city all the old iron and useless\nweapons that are cast away. It was not difficult to procure the\npossession of it, therefore it was no merit in me to give my Sovereign\nLord a talisman which would be absolutely useless to me, whilst the\ndestiny of monarchs may unfortunately render such precautions\nnecessary to them.\"\n\nNourgehan made a thousand exclamations upon the boundless ocean of her\nliberality, and said to her,\n\n\"Sovereign of my heart, reflect upon what you have said to me:\nconsider that if these talismans, valuable in themselves, but mean in\ncomparison with you, have excited my wish to possess them, how much\ngreater must my desire be to wed the giver! All the sages,\nSeidel-Beckir himself, never composed a talisman so wonderful as you\nare. Yesterday you knew not a single word of the history of the\ntalisman, to-day you are perfectly instructed in it. This poniard was\nnot four and twenty hours since at Balsora, yet notwithstanding the\ngreat distance we are from that city, you have presented it to me this\nmoment. Are you the daughter of Seidel-Beckir, or are you an\nenchantress yourself?\"\n\nDamake blushed at this discourse, and Nourgehan again pressing her to\nspeak, she replied,\n\n\"Nothing is impossible when one desires to please him whom one loves.\nBut I will explain at once all that puzzles my Sultan. Not long after\nmy birth, my mother was seated at the foot of a palm-tree, enjoying\nwith me the coolness of the morning, without any other thought than\nthat of returning by her tender kisses my innocent caresses, when in a\nmoment she perceived herself surrounded by a numerous Court who\nattended a Queen, beautiful, majestic, magnificently dressed, and who\nhad herself also an infant in her arms. Notwithstanding the pomp of\nher train, and all the grandeur of royalty, she caressed me, young as\nI was, and after some moments' stay said to my mother,\n\n\"'This child whom you see in my arms, and who is mine, is by fate\nobliged to taste the milk of a mortal, it being a command laid upon us\nby Allah; and I cannot find one more modest, more wise, nor whose milk\nis purer than thine. Do me the pleasure, therefore, of nursing my\ninfant for a few moments.'\n\n\"My mother consented with pleasure; and the Queen, in return for her\ncomplaisance, said to her,\n\n\"'Whenever you have any sorrow or any desire, come to the foot of a\npalm-tree, cut a leaf off it, burn it, and call for me--I am named the\nPeri Malikatada--and I will haste immediately to your assistance. I\ngrant the same power to your little girl when she attains the age of\nreason.'\n\n\"My mother never importuned the Peri except for the care of my\neducation; and I, my lord, before I knew you, had never addressed\nmyself to her, for I knew no desire, nor had my heart formed any wish.\nFrom that time I fear I have fatigued her, so many troubles and\ninquietudes have seized upon my soul. It was she, as you will judge,\nwho made Diafer known to me, who dictated to me the answers I gave the\nsages, who informed me of the talismans, and delivered this one to me.\nIt was she, likewise, who caused the Governor of Dioul to be arrested,\nand who demands his life of you in return for the golden fish which I\nhave given you from him; she also would have given me----\" she paused.\n\n\"Go on, beauteous Damake,\" said Nourgehan, with tenderness; \"if you\nlove me, can you conceal anything from me?\"\n\n\"She would have given me,\" resumed Damake, \"a talisman of her\ncomposition that should force you always to love me, but I have\nrefused it. Can there be any happy talisman in love but the heart?\"\n\nNourgehan, struck with so many virtues, and such proofs of her\nattachment to him, would no longer defer his happiness. He immediately\ncaused his whole Court, and all the grandees of his kingdom, to be\nassembled.\n\n\"I may boast with reason,\" said he to them, \"that I am the happiest\nPrince upon earth: I possess a bracelet which preserves me from all\nfear of poison; all the treasures of the sea are mine by the means of\na fish, which at my command will fetch them from the bottom of the\nwaves; Damake has given me this poniard, which renders whoever I\nplease invisible. The proof that I can make before your eyes of this\nmagnificent talisman will convince you of their virtues better than\nthe golden fish, which it would be more tedious and difficult to\nexhibit.\"\n\nHe drew his poniard as he spoke, and disappeared from their sight. The\nastonishment of the spectators was not yet dissipated, when he\ndisappeared with all his military officers, and said to his\nmagistrates, \"Do you see such a general, such an officer that has\nserved so long in my army?\" To every question they answered No. He\nceased then to be visible to the eyes of his warriors, and disappeared\nwith his Viziers and all the Doctors of the Law, designing by that\nmeans to convince them fully, and leave no room for jealousy and\nsuspicion. \"Return thanks, then, with me,\" added he, \"to Allah and His\nholy Prophet, for having made me the most powerful Prince upon earth.\"\n\nHe performed his action of thanks with a fervour worthy of the bounty\nwhich Heaven had shown him, and all his courtiers followed his\nexample. When he had fulfilled that important duty, he said to them,\n\n\"The greatest vice of the human heart is ingratitude: it is to Damake\nthat I owe these powerful treasures; her beauty alone, her merit and\nher virtue, would deserve the gratitude I shall my whole life preserve\nfor her; but gratitude ought to be accompanied with more than words: I\nwill this day unite her to me for ever.\"\n\nAll the Court and the grandees applauded his choice; and Nourgehan,\nhaving commanded Damake to be brought, she appeared with all those\nmodest graces that nature had adorned her. When the Prince had given\nher his hand in presence of the Great Imam, Damake, who had prostrated\nherself before him, said with an audible voice,\n\n\"When I gave an account of the talismans of the great Seidel-Beckir, I\ninformed you, my lord, that there were four still subsisting in the\nworld: you have yet but three.\"\n\n\"Have I not riches enough in possessing thee?\" returned Nourgehan.\n\"Thou art reckoned, perhaps, for the fourth; but they are not all of\nhalf thy value.\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" resumed Damake, casting her eyes upon the ground, and\npresenting him with a ring, \"this was wanting. This ring of steel\ngives you a power of penetrating into the secrets of every heart.\nOthers, in my place, might look upon this talisman as a danger, but I\nshall look upon it as a blessing if you still condescend to interest\nyourself in the sentiments that you have for ever graved in mine; and\nif I have the misfortune not to deserve that interesting curiosity, it\nwill at least make known to you, without any doubts, the characters\nand the fidelity of your subjects.\"\n\nAt that instant the Peri Malikatada appeared with her whole Court, and\ndesired the King to pass into a garden, which by her power, and that\nof the genii, she had adorned with exquisite taste and magnificence.\nHere she honoured the nuptials with her presence, and Nourgehan lived\nhappily ever afterwards, more happy in the love and counsels of Damake\nthan in all the talismans upon earth, if he could have joined them to\nthose which he already possessed.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Bohetzad;\n\nOR,\n\nThe Lost Child.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThe kingdom of Dineroux comprehended all Syria and the isles of India\nlying at the mouth of the Persian Gulf. This powerful State was\nformerly subject to King Bohetzad, who resided in the city of\nIssessara. Nothing could equal the power of this monarch. His troops\nwere without number, his treasures inexhaustible, and the population\nof his dominions was equal to their fertility. His whole kingdom,\ndivided into ten great departments, was entrusted to the\nadministration of ten Viziers, of whom his divan was composed. This\nPrince used often to repair to the chase as a recreation after the\ncares of government.\n\nOne day, while he entered with his usual keenness into this exercise,\nhe allowed himself to be carried so far in pursuit of a stag which had\ndarted into the forest, and left his attendants at so great a\ndistance, that, upon coming out of the wood, he could perceive none of\nhis people; he had also lost sight of his prey. And while he\nendeavoured to find out the east of the place he was in, he perceived\nat a distance a pretty large troop of men. He approached them, and as\nhe drew near he could distinguish a body of forty knights,[11]\nsurrounding a splendid litter, the brightness of which was heightened\nby the rays of the sun. This carriage was made of rock crystal, the\nmouldings and hinges were of carved gold, and the roof, in form of a\ncrown, was made of wood of aloes, having cornices of silver. This\nlitter resembled in shape a small antique temple, but so brilliant\nthat the eye was quite dazzled with it. A prodigy of this kind in the\nmidst of a desert, astonished the King, and at the same time excited\nhis curiosity. He came up and saluted the convoy, and, addressing his\ndiscourse to the knight who held the reins of the mules,\n\n\"Friends,\" said he, \"be so kind as to tell me the meaning of all this\nequipage, and the name of the person to whom it belongs.\"\n\n[Footnote 11: Knights. The very ancient knighthood of India existed at\nthis time. Those who devoted themselves to this manner of life came,\narmed from head to foot, to offer their services to the different\nPrinces. See the \"Memoirs of Hyder Ali Khan.\"]\n\nNotwithstanding the civil and polite manner in which the monarch spoke\nthis, yet, as the hunting dress did not express the dignity of the\nwearer, they answered, \"What matters it to you?\"\n\nBohetzad was not discouraged with so dry an answer, but still insisted\nwith politeness, and even earnestness, for a more satisfactory reply.\nHe who appeared to be the leader of the troop then presented to him\nthe point of his spear, and said,\n\n\"Go on your way, audacious fellow! otherwise, if your curiosity\nbecomes more impertinent, be assured it will cost you your life.\"\n\nThis insolent behaviour excited the indignation of the King. He went\nup to the knight who thus threatened him, with that air of confidence\nand that commanding tone, the habit of which he had acquired in the\nexercise of absolute power.\n\n\"Slave of my throne!\" said he to him, \"dost thou not know Bohetzad?\nBut, had I been only a common man, after speaking to you in so modest\nand friendly a manner, ought you to have threatened me with death?\"\n\nAt the very name of Bohetzad, the knights alighted and prostrated\nthemselves on the earth.\n\n\"Sire,\" said one of the oldest of them, \"pardon an answer which we\ncould not think addressed to the greatest monarch of the earth; for it\nwas very possible not to recognize your Majesty in a hunting dress,\nand without attendants.\"\n\n\"Rise,\" said the King, \"and gratify my curiosity. Who is the person in\nthat litter, and whither are you conducting it?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" answered the knight, \"it is the daughter of Asphand, your\nGrand Vizier: we are conducting her to the Prince of Babylon, to whom\nshe is going to be married.\"\n\nDuring this, the daughter of the Vizier, uneasy on account of the\ndelay, presented her head at the curtain of the litter, in order to\nget information, and was perceived by Bohetzad. Whatever pains she had\ntaken to prevent herself from being seen, her extraordinary beauty\nstruck the Sovereign. His heart received a fatal wound: his passion,\narrived at its height, aspired after gratification from the very\nmoment of its existence; and Bohetzad, determined to make sure of the\nobject of it, made use of his absolute authority, and spoke thus to\nthe conductor of the litter:\n\n\"I command you to take the road to Issessara, and to conduct the\ndaughter of my Grand Vizier to my palace.\"\n\nThe commander of the troop thought it necessary to make some reply to\nhis Majesty.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"your Vizier is your slave as well as we; and\ntherefore, if we return his daughter to his own palace, she will\ncontinue there in equal subjection to your will.\"\n\n\"But my Vizier has disposed of his daughter without my consent, and I\ndo not owe him the attention which you propose I should pay him.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the knight, \"your Grand Vizier Asphand has always been\nheld in the highest estimation, and has had the honour to enjoy the\nconfidence of your Majesty. One instance of violence exercised against\nhim may affect his reputation, and cause him to lose, in the opinion\nof the public, that credit which it is your interest that he should\nenjoy.\"\n\n\"All his credit depends on me, and I do not detract from it by doing\nhim the honour to marry his daughter.\"\n\nThe oldest, and likewise the best informed of the knights, still\nventured to speak.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"precipitation is dangerous; it often draws\nrepentance after it: your slaves beseech your Majesty to reflect\nmaturely on this.\"\n\n\"I have reflected already, audacious old man!\" replied the Prince in\nanger; \"what caution should I observe with my slave? Obey.\"\n\nBeing able to restrain his impatience no longer, he himself seized the\nbridle of the mules, and directed their steps towards that part of the\nforest where he presumed his people would be assembled at the\nappointed rendezvous. He soon found himself at the tent which they had\nset up, and he ordered all his suite to accompany the Princess in the\nlitter to his palace. When the retinue was arrived, the King ordered\nthe chief of his eunuchs to bring the Cadi, who instantly appeared,\nand drew up a contract of marriage between Bohetzad and the Princess\nBaherjoa, daughter of Asphand the Vizier.\n\nWhile the King was taken up with the ceremonies of the marriage, the\nforty knights returned to the palace of the Grand Vizier, being forced\nto abandon the litter, and the Princess whom they were conducting to\nBabylon. The minister was confounded at so speedy a return. Having set\nout from the city of Issessara, how could they come back so soon from\nBabylon? He feared that some extraordinary accident had befallen them.\nOne of the knights came and told what had happened: he exaggerated the\nviolence and despotic manner of Bohetzad, and filled the mind of the\nminister with fear and resentment, although he assured him that the\nmonarch was that very night to marry his daughter.\n\n\"Thus to oppose himself to my disposal of my own family! to carry off\nmy daughter! to marry her against my will!--in this manner to repay my\nservices!\" said the enraged minister.\n\nFull of a desire of vengeance, he immediately ordered expresses to be\nsent to all his friends, the Princes and grandees of his family, to\nassemble them at his house. When they were come, he represented to\nthem the outrage which the King had committed against his daughter,\nthe Prince of Babylon, and himself. Shame and resentment entered into\nevery breast. Asphand perceived, from the effect of the relation which\nhe had made them, that it would be easy to associate them with him in\nhis schemes of revenge.\n\n\"Princes and lords!\" said he to them, \"the King, occupied with his\npleasures, is not delicate about the means of gratification; and, as a\nrecompense for my labours, he hesitates not to expose me to the\ndisgrace of an irreparable insult. I am nothing but a vile slave in\nhis eyes. Thinks he that my daughter is obliged to share his unsteady\nattachment? You yourselves will not be safe from this dishonour; your\nwives and daughters will not be spared. His torrent of iniquity will\ndischarge itself on you, if we endeavour not to stop its course.\"\n\nThe relations and friends of the Vizier entered into his interests,\nand a deliberation was held concerning the measures which were to be\ntaken. One of them, deeply skilled in politics, thus gave his opinion:\n\n\"Vizier, write to the King, and express to him how sensible you are of\nthe unexpected honour which he has done you, to which you could never\nhave had the smallest pretensions. Along with this letter send another\nto your daughter, in which you must seem delighted with her good\nfortune. Supplicate Heaven with her, to pour down happiness upon a\nmonarch so beloved by his people. Accompany these despatches with\nmagnificent presents, and Bohetzad, blinded by his passion, will\nreadily believe everything which can flatter it. You will take\nadvantage of this security to leave him at the first opportunity,\nunder pretence of attending to his business; and, having secured\nyourself against any sudden attack from him, transmit to all the\nPrinces, the Governors, and people entrusted with the management of\nthe finances, alarming accounts of the situation of the kingdom.\nRepresent to them the danger of the State, while the government, is in\nthe hands of a young Prince, addicted to the gratification of his\npassions, and incapable of rewarding the services done him, which he\nonly repays with violence and disgrace, being guided by no law but the\ndictates of a will as depraved as it is absolute.\"\n\nThe Grand Vizier and the rest of the assembly adopted this plan. They\nall agreed to embrace every opportunity which might present itself of\npreparing the minds of the people, without exposing themselves to\ndanger, and to continue at Issessara when Asphand had left it, for the\npurpose of giving him information and directing his conduct. These\nresolutions being entered into, the assembly quickly broke up, that\nthey might give no room for suspicion; and Asphand wrote to the King\nin the following terms:\n\n\"Mighty King, monarch of two seas! your slave, already elevated by you\nto the place of Grand Vizier, and honoured with the title of Prince,\ndid not expect the distinguished honour of becoming your relation.\nInfinitely obliged by this new favour, I offer up to the God of heaven\nthe most ardent wishes that He would continually heap on your Majesty\nnew marks of His kindness; that He would prolong your days, and grant\nyou all the blessings of a kingdom which shall not be shaken to the\nlatest posterity. My duty hitherto has been to labour for maintaining\nboth external and internal peace in your dominions, by the wise\nadministration of justice, and by defending your frontiers from the\nenemy. I filled the station of your First Vizier; the duties thereof\nare now become more sacred to me; the honour of a connection with you\ngives me a personal interest in their success; and my daughter and I\nwill only be slaves more faithfully attached to your person and\ninterests.\"\n\nThe letter to Baherjoa contained congratulations on her good fortune,\nand was as artfully expressed as the one addressed to her spouse.\nAsphand caused the first officer of his household to deliver these\nletters, and accompanied them with a magnificent present. The young\nson of the Vizier joined the envoy; they went together to the King's\npalace, and prostrated themselves before him.\n\nBohetzad, intoxicated with the good fortune which he enjoyed, did not\nin the least suspect the false declarations of the Vizier. He ordered\nhis son to be clothed with the richest robe, and a thousand pieces of\ngold to be given to the officer who was entrusted with the message.\nScarcely were they gone out, when the oldest of the Viziers came to\npay his court to the King. The monarch received him with his usual\ngoodness, made him sit down, and communicated to him the happiness\nwhich he expected to enjoy in the possession of his lovely spouse;\nfor, though he had gained her by an act of violence, he imagined that\nhis happiness could be obscured by no cloud.\n\n\"The attachment shown me by Asphand,\" said he, \"removes my fears\nconcerning the resentment which I might suppose him to possess: here\nare his letters; read them, and you will see how well he is pleased\nwith this alliance. Besides, the magnificence of his presents exceeds\neven the force of his expressions.\"\n\nThe old minister, after reading the letters, continued thoughtful, and\nwith downcast eyes.\n\n\"Are you not satisfied with what you have read?\" said the King.\n\n\"A dangerous reptile,\" replied the minister, \"when it means to\nintroduce itself anywhere, does not try to frighten by its odious\nhissings: it creeps in artfully under the folds of its flexible and\nthin body; its scales are glittering and smooth; its looks are soft\nand fawning, and it takes care to conceal its treacherous and venomous\nsting. The letters of Asphand are studied: doubt not that you have\noffended; and the pretended softness of his expressions only conceals\na scheme of revenge, the consequences of which you ought to guard\nagainst and prevent.\"\n\nBohetzad, entirely occupied with his love, and supposing that the\nminister who thus spoke to him was influenced by motives of jealousy,\npaid no regard to the advice, which proceeded from attachment, zeal,\nand prudence, but allowed himself to be blinded concerning the conduct\nof Asphand. The latter, in prosecution of his plan, and under pretence\nof appeasing some rumours in certain parts of the kingdom, left the\ncapital, in a few months after, with his whole retinue. As soon as he\nsaw himself out of the reach of power, he communicated to the\ngovernors of the provinces the affront which he had received; he\nexcited them to revolt, by inspiring them with a fear that they would\nall meet with a treatment similar to that which he had received; and\nto determine them, he calumniated, in every instance, the person and\ngovernment of Bohetzad.\n\nOn receiving the messengers of the Grand Vizier, the grandees of the\nkingdom, enraged against a Prince whose administration was held forth\nin such odious colours, concerted together, from one province to\nanother, and assured Asphand that, upon the first signal given by him,\nthey would take the field with the troops under their command. The\nVizier at the same time warned the Princes who remained at Issessara\nto hold themselves in readiness against the day on which he should\ncome to complete his revenge, and to free the State from a tyrant who\nwas sunk in effeminacy.\n\nThe plot was executed before Bohetzad had the smallest suspicion of\nit. The city of Issessara was completely invested by the army of\nAsphand. On receiving this news, the King armed in haste; he ordered\nthe troops who were about his person to follow him; but they had been\ngained over, and were devoted to his enemy. He saw no safety for\nhimself but in flight. He saddled, with his own hands, one of his\nfinest coursers; and, taking Baherjoa behind him, endeavoured to gain\nthe desert. He made a passage for himself through the midst of his\nmutinous subjects, whom he trod under his feet. The young hero, whose\ncourage seemed only to be increased by love, burst like a torrent\nthrough a troop of those who wished to interrupt his passage; his\ninvincible spear spared none of the rebels; and his horse, as vigorous\nas swift, soon carried him out of sight of his enemies.\n\nHe was now in the midst of the desert; and, night obliging him to\nallow some repose to his wife, fatigued with so violent an expedition,\nhe stopped at the foot of a frightful mountain. On this spot the\nQueen, exhausted with weariness, gave birth to her first-born child,\nand the Prince received in his arms a young boy, no less beautiful\nthan his mother.\n\nThe tender pair loaded him with caresses, and soon forgot, in their\nnew joy, the fatigue, uneasiness, and horror of their situation. The\nchild was wrapped in a part of the Queen's robes; and, in this\nsolitude, they enjoyed a profound sleep. The returning day invited\nthem, however, to pursue their journey. The affectionate mother nursed\nher infant tenderly, but it pined away, and the mother herself was in\ndanger. Bohetzad then saw himself under the cruel necessity of\nsacrificing nature to duty. He perceived a limpid fountain, on the\nborders of which there was a green bank, defended from the rays of the\nsun by the neighbouring willows. Here the unhappy parents abandoned to\nthe care of Providence the object of their affection, having first\nwatered it with their tears.\n\n\"Great Allah!\" said the afflicted mother, \"Thou who formerly watched\nover the young Ishmael, take care of this innocent creature. Send the\npreserving angel to him. We have no hope but in Thy succour.\"\n\nSighs prevented her from saying more. They both tore themselves away\nfrom this dreadful sacrifice, and committed this sacred deposit into\nthe hands of its Creator.\n\nThe noise they had made in coming thither had frightened away from the\nbrink a hind, who, along with her fawns, was refreshing herself at\nthis exuberant fountain. As soon as they were gone, she returned, and\napproached the languishing creature, which seemed about to lose for\never the little strength which remained. A powerful instinct led this\nanimal to give the child that nourishment which was reserved only for\nher young ones. She fed quietly around her nursling, and left the\nplace no more. The wild beasts of the forest, it appeared, had\nabandoned to her the enjoyment of this happy spot, although so\nnecessary to the supply of their wants, amid the burning sands and\nparched deserts with which they were surrounded. Nevertheless, men\ncame to disturb their repose.\n\nIt was a band of robbers, whom thirst had brought into these places.\nThey saw a child wrapped in rich swaddling-clothes, but still more\nremarkable for the beauty of its features. The leader of the banditti\napproached it, took it up, and sent it straightway to his wife, that\nshe might pay it the necessary attentions, and educate it as if it had\nbeen their own son. When the wife saw it she was moved with its\ninnocent beauty, entered into the benevolent views of her husband, and\nimmediately procured for their adopted son the best nurse in the\nhorde.\n\nHaving seen the son of Bohetzad in safe hands, let us now follow the\nsteps of those illustrious travellers.\n\nFull of grief for the sacrifice which they had been forced to make,\nthe King and Queen continued their journey in sadness till they\nreached the capital of Persia, where Kassera then reigned.\n\nThis powerful monarch received the fugitive Prince and his charming\nspouse with the respect which was due from a crowned head to a great\nSovereign, his ally, whose rebellious subjects had revolted under the\nstandard of a criminal usurper. To Bohetzad he allotted an apartment\nin his palace as magnificent as his own, and to Baherjoa one equal to\nthat of his favourite Sultana. Such were the riches and magnificence\nof the palace in which the King of Dineroux and his wife now were,\nthat, besides the magnificent apartments in which they were lodged\nthemselves, there were twenty-four others occupied by as many ladies\nbelonging to the Sultan, each of whom was served by fifty slaves of\ntheir own sex, in the bloom of youth and of the most exquisite beauty.\n\nThe treasures of the East seemed to have been exhausted in beautifying\nthese stately dwellings. The gardens were full of the rarest and the\nmost gaudy flowers; the waters, whose courses were distributed with\ngreat art, presented a magnificent scene to the eye; the trees gave at\nonce, by the beauty of their fruit and the thickness of their foliage,\nthe idea of plenty and the delight of repose; the birds, with the\nvariety of their plumage and their song, enchanted the inhabitants of\nthese happy regions. Everything, in short, concurred to display the\nriches of the great monarch of Persia, whose immense power was further\ndisplayed by an army of two hundred thousand men which constituted his\nlife guard. A Prince so powerful and magnificent need spare nothing in\ntreating, in a manner suitable to their rank, the illustrious guests\nwhom he had received into his palace.\n\nAt the same time that he ordered a powerful army to be assembled on\nthe frontiers, with the necessary stores and military engines, he\nendeavoured to dispel the melancholy of the husband and wife by\nfeasts, which displayed the greatest splendour and variety. But\ngenerosity and greatness of soul were not the only cause of his\nattentions; a less noble but more powerful feeling had taken\npossession of his heart. He was enamoured of Baherjoa, whose beauty\nwas superior to that of all the wives in his seraglio. His passion for\nher was disguised under the veil of friendship; but, from the\nprofusion which he displayed on every occasion, the delicacy of his\nattentions, and the care which he took to anticipate her wishes, it\nwas easy to discover the love by which he was actuated. The sad\nBaherjoa, whose attention was occupied solely by the loss of her son\nand the misfortunes of her husband, was far from ascribing any of the\nattentions which she met with to this motive; her soul, weighed down\nwith grief, was incapable of enjoying any of the pleasures which were\npresented to her; her heart, sincerely affected, was inaccessible to\nevery impression but that with which it was already occupied. Her son\nabandoned in the desert to the care of Providence, and her husband\nreduced by her father to the necessity of asking succour from a\nforeign King, were the only objects which engrossed her thoughts.\n\nIn the meantime, the army which Bohetzad was to command was assembled.\nHe took leave of Kassera to put himself at the head of this formidable\nbody, and soon penetrated into the heart of Syria. Asphand, the\nusurper, being informed of the danger which threatened him,\ncommunicated it to his associates, assembled them as quickly as\npossible, and met his enemy at the head of two hundred thousand men.\n\nThe armies were now in sight of one another. The centre of Bohetzad's\narmy was commanded by an experienced Vizier of the Persian King.\nBohetzad himself, at the head of a chosen body of knights, was\neverywhere to give orders. He suddenly began the combat on the right\nby attacking the opposite wing of the enemy with such fury that they\nwere obliged to fall back upon the centre, and were thrown into\nconfusion and disorder. The King of Dineroux lost not a moment: he\nadvanced his main body towards that of the enemy as if he meant to\nattack it; but, frugal of the blood of his subjects, whose lives he\nwished to spare, he made them halt, and ordered his left wing to\nattack the right wing of the enemy: they gave way and fell back in\ndisorder, so that three-fourths of Asphand's army remained surrounded.\nThe usurper endeavoured in vain to rally his troops, whom an attack\nequally prudent and vigorous had thrown into disorder. Fear, and above\nall remorse, disarmed them. A pardon being offered, they accepted it;\nand, that they might appear less unworthy of it, they unanimously\ndelivered up the ringleaders of the revolt. Asphand, his family, and\nhis principal associates, were put to death on the field of battle.\n\nThis victory decided anew the fate of the kingdom of Dineroux, which\nagain submitted to the laws of its rightful Sovereign. The monarch\nreturned to his capital, re-established order throughout his empire,\nand contrived proper means for testifying his gratitude to the\nSovereign who had given him such powerful assistance.\n\nHe determined that the most intelligent of his Viziers should go into\nPersia, at the head of twelve thousand men. Twenty elephants, loaded\nwith magnificent presents, were to follow in his train. At the same\ntime, he was charged with a more delicate commission. He was to pass\nthrough the desert in which the son of Baherjoa had been abandoned,\nand endeavour to find out the place near the fountain which had served\nhim for a cradle. He was to make inquiry of every living soul he might\nmeet on the road, in order to get information concerning the fate of\nthis precious deposit; and having found him, to carry him to the arms\nof his tender mother, whom he was to bring with him also to Issessara.\nBut many obstacles stood in the way of these things. The prudent envoy\ncaused the whole desert to be searched, but to no purpose: he did not\nsucceed so well in finding the child as in bringing back the mother.\n\nKassera, desperately in love with this Princess, could not think of\nparting with her. On the arrival of the ambassador, with presents from\nthe King of Dineroux, and a commission to bring away the Queen, he\nfelt some struggles in his heart; but love triumphed over them. This\nimperious passion magnified, in his eyes, the good offices he had\ndone, and made the giving up of a woman seem but a poor return for\nthem. In a word, he renounced the glorious title of a generous\nprotector for that of a base ravisher of the wife of his ally.\n\nNevertheless, he appeared to receive with gratitude the embassy of\nBohetzad, and the presents with which it was accompanied. Meanwhile,\nhe was informed that the auxiliary troops, which he had furnished this\nmonarch, had returned into Persia. The officers who commanded them\nextolled to the skies the bravery, the abilities, and the magnificence\nof Bohetzad. They returned from his dominions, delighted with himself,\nloaded with kindness, and astonished at the power with which he was\nsurrounded, and the resources of the country over which he reigned.\nThese universal reports raised an unusual conflict in the soul of\nKassera. He was not accustomed to victory over himself, for, till that\nmoment, he had yielded to every inclination. But he must now either\ngive up a violent passion, or the title of the benefactor of a\nSovereign equal to himself in dignity and in power, and that, too, at\nthe hazard of drawing upon Persia the scourge of a cruel war, and of\nseeing all Asia in dreadful confusion.\n\n\"Be ashamed, Kassera,\" said he to himself, \"of the guilty designs you\nhave formed. Return thanks to fortune for the favour it has done you,\nin opening your eyes to the folly of your conduct. May the King of\nDineroux for ever remain ignorant that, forgetting what you owe both\nto yourself and him, you have dared to covet a blessing which he holds\nso dear. Remember the benefit you have derived from encountering\ndifficulties which have recalled you to your duty. Oh! absolute power!\nhow much art thou to be dreaded by the man who knows not how to\ncommand himself! Allowing myself to be carried away by my desires, I\nwas about to become criminal, and to show myself unworthy to reign.\nBut I know how to check my passions and change my projects.\"\n\nThe King of Persia, having taken this resolution, sent immediately for\nhis principal treasurer, and gave orders that a litter, ornamented\nwith precious stones, and more splendid than had ever been seen,\nshould be prepared to carry Baherjoa into her husband's dominions. A\nconsiderable embassy was ordered to follow it, with magnificent\npresents. In this manner did Baherjoa begin her journey to Syria,\nafter being well assured of respect and attachment by the Sovereign\nwho had now determined to part with her. Bohetzad met his spouse\nbefore she entered Issessara. It is impossible to describe the\ntransports of this interview. Yet the tender uneasiness of the mother,\nrespecting the fate of her son, soon disturbed the happiness with\nwhich the pair were intoxicated. Baherjoa offered the greatest reward\nto obtain news of her son, and Bohetzad gave orders that the most\nminute inquiry should be made. It was by no means probable that he had\nbeen devoured by wild beasts, otherwise some remnants would have been\nfound, at the first search, of the clothes wherein he was wrapped. A\nthousand knights were again dispatched to the desert, and ordered to\nspread themselves all around the fountain; but their search was in\nvain. Bohetzad concealed their want of success from his inconsolable\nspouse, and endeavoured to soften her pain and vexation.\n\n\"There is as yet no room for despair,\" said he to her: \"the favour of\nHeaven, which did not abandon us amidst the dangers to which we have\nbeen exposed, and which has restored to us the throne whereon we are\nnow seated, will have preserved the son so dear to our heart. It only\nwithholds him in order to deliver him to us when we shall have merited\nthis favour by our submission to its will. To be deprived of him is\ngrievous, but we are still of an age to expect consolation. Dry up\nyour tears, my dear Baherjoa; they are the torment of my life.\"\n\nThe Queen appeared somewhat more tranquil, but the wound which her\nheart had received could not be so easily closed.\n\nIn the meantime, the tender object of their uneasiness, snatched from\nthe arms of death by the chief of the robbers, and educated by his\nwife with all the care of the most tender mother, grew in strength and\nbeauty. The leisure of his early youth was filled up by reading and\nstudy. He was soon able to engage in those exercises which strengthen\nthe body; he outstripped all the children of the horde by abilities,\naddress, strength, and intrepidity, very surprising at his years. He\nwas also distinguished by an application to study, from which he\nderived the greatest advantages, and by punctuality in those duties\nwhich were required of him by a society little suited to him, but of\nwhich chance had made him a member. The chief of these vagabonds,\nseeing him so expert in the use of arms and in riding, soon associated\nhim with himself in his expeditions against the travellers whom\nbusiness led into the countries infested by their depredations; and\nthe young Aladin (for this was his name) showed himself as brave as he\nwas expert.\n\nOne day the troop attacked a caravan returning from India, and which,\nas it was loaded with goods of the most valuable kind, a formidable\nguard defended from danger. The desire of booty prevented the\nvagabonds from thinking of the danger to which they were exposing\nthemselves. They attacked this convoy with an unusual degree of\nboldness, but were soon repulsed. Two-thirds of the troop remained on\nthe field of battle, and the rest fled. Aladin, as yet young and\ninexperienced, drawn on by his valour, was soon surrounded and made\nprisoner.\n\nWhen a robber is taken with arms in his hand he ought to be beheaded.\nBut the engaging air, the elegance, and beauty of this young Prince,\ninterested the whole caravan in his favour, and saved him from the\ncommon fate. They did not believe the ingenuous replies which he made.\nWhen questioned about his birth and profession, he declared himself\nthe son of the chief of the robbers. They could not imagine how this\nyouth should unite so many natural advantages with an air so\nremarkable. He was carried along with the caravan, which soon arrived\nat Issessara, where his father Bohetzad held his Court.\n\nThe arrival of the caravan afforded a new opportunity of diverting the\nattention of the Queen, as yet afflicted with the loss of a son, whom\nshe could not banish from her memory. The Sovereign sent the chief of\nthe eunuchs to make choice of such stuffs and valuable articles as\nmight be most agreeable to Baherjoa. The merchants were eager to\ndisplay them before him; but the figure of Aladin, who was there as a\nslave, appeared to him so ravishingly beautiful that he attracted his\nparticular attention. He wished to conduct him to the palace, hoping\nthat his service might be agreeable to the monarch; so that, after\nhaving purchased what was proper, he returned, together with Aladin,\nto the palace, where the King appeared satisfied with his bargains.\n\n\"Sire,\" said the eunuch, \"your Majesty seems pleased with what I have\npurchased; but the most beautiful article in the _kan_[12] was a young\nman of such complete beauty that I thought him the perfect image of\nhim who is mentioned in the Alcoran, before whom the eleven stars\nprostrated themselves, as before the sun and the moon.\"\n\n[Footnote 12: The _kan_ is a place allotted for the shops of foreign\nmerchants, where they expose their merchandise for sale.]\n\nThe King, curious to see this slave, ordered him to be brought with\nhis master, and they both quickly appeared before the King.\n\nThe appearance of the young stranger did not belie the favourable\ncharacter which the chief of the eunuchs had given of him. The King\ncould not believe that so beautiful a slave could owe his birth to a\nclass of men so vulgar as that which composed the caravan. He made\ninquiry concerning him of their chief, to whom he communicated his\ndoubts on that point.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the merchant, \"this young man does not in reality\nbelong to any of us, and we know neither his family nor origin. We\nwere attacked in the desert by a band of robbers; we defended\nourselves with bravery. Part of them remained on the field of battle,\nthe rest fled, and left in our hands the young man who now engages\nyour curiosity. Custom condemned him to death, but we could not think\nof inflicting it. We asked him concerning his station and family, and\nhe told us that he was the son of the chief of these vagabonds. We\nknow no more of him, and can say nothing more to your Majesty with any\ndegree of certainty.\"\n\n\"Let him be left here,\" said the King; \"I want him to enter into my\nservice.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" replied the chief, \"may dispose as you please of all\nthat belongs to the slaves of your throne.\"\n\nAt that instant Aladin fell at the feet of the monarch, with his face\non the ground, and kissed his robe. The King ordered the chief of the\neunuchs to admit him into the class of slaves which were most\nfrequently about his person.\n\nNature spoke in the monarch's heart in favour of his new page. He\nnever saw him without feeling emotions which he could by no means\naccount for. He always wished to have him with him; and that which at\nfirst appeared no more than a rising inclination, soon became a very\nwarm attachment. An interest which he felt very strongly made him\nregard with pleasure the progress both of the young Aladin's mind and\nbody. He admired his application, prudence, discretion, and fidelity,\nand already considered his rare virtues as the fruit of his cares.\n\nAfter long experience of his abilities and activity, he went so far as\nto trust him with the superintendence of his finances, and deprived\nhis Viziers of an administration in which he suspected them. In short,\nhe decided every affair of importance, by submitting it to the\nsagacity of the young Aladin. The confidence of the Sovereign was not\nmisplaced. The more he trusted the reason and wisdom of his favourite,\nthe more the happiness of his people, the prosperity of the realm, and\nhis revenues were increased. His confidence in a short time knew no\nbounds. Aladin became as dear to his father as if he had known himself\nto be so in reality, and the influence of the Viziers was lost in that\nof the young minister.\n\nJealous of a power which they had lost, the ten Viziers assembled in\nsecret for the purpose of contriving the means of gratifying their\nambition and their avarice. They determined, at any rate, to hasten\nthe ruin of their hated rival; and, unfortunately, he himself seemed\nto furnish a favourable opportunity for this purpose.\n\nA grand entertainment was given in the palace. Aladin was naturally\nsober; but, while he sought only to participate in the pleasure of the\nguests, he indulged himself in drink, with so much the greater\nsecurity that he was not accustomed to it, and was ignorant of its\neffects. At the end of the repast he wanted to retire to his own\napartment. He staggered, his eyes grew dim, and he lost the use of his\nsenses. The first apartment which came in his way seemed to be made\nready for him. It was a very rich one, and lighted by a great number\nof wax candles set in lustres. But Aladin saw nothing; he only sought\nrepose, and having found a sofa, he threw himself upon it and fell\nasleep.\n\nThere were no slaves there to inform him of his mistake. They were\nenjoying the feast, and only returned to the apartment, which they had\nleft open, to fill the pots with perfumes, and prepare, according to\nthe custom of the East, a collation of different sherbets and dried\nsweetmeats. The hangings concealed the sofa on which Aladin lay.\n\nAll these preparations being finished, the King and Queen retired to\ntheir apartment. Bohetzad approached the sofa, opened the curtains,\nand beheld his minister stretched upon it and asleep. He was instantly\nseized with frantic indignation.\n\n\"What dreadful behaviour is this of yours?\" said he to Baherjoa. \"This\nslave could not have got into your apartment and placed himself there\nwithout your knowledge.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the Queen, in astonishment, but without confusion, \"in\nthe name of the great Prophet I swear that I have never spoken to this\nyoung man. This is the first time I ever saw him, and in nothing have\nI encouraged his audacity.\"\n\nAt the noise which was made around the sofa Aladin awoke, surprised\nand astonished at his situation. He hastily arose.\n\n\"Traitor!\" said the frantic King to him, \"ingrate! is this thy\ngratitude for my favour? Darest thou enter into my womens' apartment,\nwretch that thou art? Speedily shalt thou receive the chastisement of\nthy boldness.\"\n\nHaving said this, Bohetzad, inflamed with rage, ordered the chief of\nhis eunuchs to shut up the minister in prison. The monarch, agitated\nwith the most violent and opposite passions, spent the night without\nclosing his eyes. At daybreak he called to him the first of his\nViziers, who had not, for a long time, been admitted into his\npresence. He told him of the insult which he supposed he had received.\n\nAt this recital the Vizier concealed his secret joy. Envy, hatred, and\nrevenge were about to triumph. It was no feeble victim which was\noffered: it was a most powerful rival whom he had to crush. The old\ncourtier recollected himself. He endeavoured still further to\nexasperate his Sovereign, and determine him to take distinguished\nvengeance; and with a humble air he spoke as follows:\n\n\"Sire, your faithful subjects were astonished when they saw your\nconfidence bestowed upon an avowed son of a chief of the robbers. It\nwould have been too great an instance of your Majesty's goodness to\nhave admitted the branch of so corrupt a stock near your sacred\nperson. You could expect nothing from him but treachery and crimes.\"\n\nAt this speech of the Vizier, the eyes of the monarch sparkled with\nrage. Immediately he ordered the young man to be brought before him,\nloaded with chains.\n\n\"Wretch!\" said he, as soon as he saw him, \"recollect the excess of my\nfavours, and of your ingratitude! Let the recollection of these, and\nyour remorse, be to you the preludes of the punishment that awaits\nyou! Your head is soon to fall upon the scaffold.\"\n\nThe fury and threatening of the King could not change the countenance\nof the innocent and unfortunate Aladin. No trouble altered the beauty\nof his features: he preserved that sweet, modest, and firm air which\nhad hitherto gained him the goodwill of the monarch. He began to\nspeak, and ingenuous candour flowed from his lips.\n\n\"Sire, my fault was an involuntary one. If an indiscretion on my part\nreduced me to a situation in which, during some time, I was deprived\nof the use of reason, so that it was no longer my guide, and allowed\nme to fall into a very gross mistake, the rest was the work of the\ncruelty of fate. My heart, overcome by your favours, and entirely\ndevoted to your Majesty, has hitherto felt no pleasure but in the\nhappiness of serving you. But, alas! what avail the best intentions,\nand all the exertions of zeal, if a superior law, ruling our destiny,\ncan put a different appearance on the purity of the motives by which\nwe are influenced?--if a single action of our life, and that, too,\ndone from the momentary disorder of our senses, can expose us to the\napparent guilt of a crime, although all our inclinations are virtuous?\nHurried from the summit of happiness into the horrors of disgrace, I\nmust submit to the decree which inflicts the blow, like the merchant,\nwhose memorable story is known even in your Majesty's palace.\"\n\n\"What merchant do you mean?\" said the King. \"What connection has his\nstory with thy crime? I allow you to relate it.\"\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF KASKAS, OR THE UNLUCKY MAN.\n\n\nSire, there lived at Bagdad a very wealthy merchant, whose manners and\nknowledge rendered him worthy of public confidence. His name was\nKaskas. Fortune had hitherto seconded his labours so well, that he\ncould boast of success in all his enterprises; but fate soon declared\nagainst him. He could now no longer send a commission, or receive a\nreturn, without being obliged to make considerable sacrifices. He\ndetermined at length to change the nature of his commerce. He sold his\nstock, and laid out one-half of the money in buying grain, in hopes\nthat this article would rise in its price during the winter.\nCircumstances, however, were against his speculation, for grain fell\nin its value. To avoid this loss, he locked up his granaries,\ndetermined to wait for a more favourable opportunity. In the meantime,\none of his friends having come on a visit to him, wished to persuade\nhim to give up this new kind of commerce in which he was engaged; but\nhe did not listen to this advice, and was obstinately determined to\nkeep his grain a third year. Soon after there happened so violent a\nstorm that the streets and houses of Bagdad suffered by an inundation.\nWhen the waters were abated, Kaskas went to see if his corn had\nreceived any damage; he found it all springing, and beginning to rot.\nIn order to escape the penalty, it cost him five hundred pieces to get\nthrown into the river that which he had heaped up in his granaries at\na great expense.\n\nHis friend returned to him.\n\n\"You have neglected,\" said he, \"the advice which I gave you. Distrust\nfortune, she seems to have sworn against you, and engage in no\nenterprise without the advice of a skilful astrologer.\"\n\nThere was no scarcity of these in Bagdad; and Kaskas, taught by his\nill success, thought the advice of his friend deserved attention. The\nsoothsayer drew out his horoscope, and assured him that his star was\nso malignant, that he must of necessity lose whatever stock he should\nhazard in commerce. Kaskas, shocked with a prophecy so contrary to his\nown inclination, attempted to prove the prediction false. He laid out\nall the money he had remaining in loading a vessel, and embarked in it\nwith all his wealth.\n\nAt the end of four days, during which he had an agreeable voyage, a\nterrible tempest arose, which broke in pieces the masts and sails,\ncarried away the rudder, and at last sunk the ship, with the whole\ncrew. Kaskas alone, after seeing the remainder of his fortune perish,\nwas saved from shipwreck by a fragment of the vessel, which carried\nhim towards a sandy country, where he landed at length, after much\ndifficulty and fatigue. Tired and naked, he landed in the\nneighbourhood of a village which was situated on the sea-shore. He\nhastened thither to implore relief, and return thanks to Heaven for\nhaving preserved him from death, while his unfortunate companions had\nperished.\n\nAs he entered this little colony, he met an old man whose features and\ndress inspired respect and confidence. This man, affected with the\nsituation of Kaskas, covered him with his cloak, and led him to his\nhouse, where, after having given such relief as his exhausted strength\nrequired, he clothed him in a suitable dress.\n\nIt was natural for Kaskas to gratify his landlord's curiosity by the\nrelation of his adventures, and he recounted them with such an air of\ncandour as to leave no doubt of their truth. As this old man had just\nlost his steward, he judged Kaskas worthy to succeed him, and offered\nhim this new office, with an appointment of two pieces of gold a day.\nIt was a laborious office: he had to sow a considerable quantity of\nground, to direct the work and workmen, to gather in immense harvests,\nto look after the flocks, and to give in accurate and faithful\naccounts of the whole at the end of the year. The poor Kaskas returned\nthanks to Providence for thus putting it in his power to earn a\nsubsistence by his labour, since every other resource in the world had\nfailed him; and he immediately entered on the duties of his new\nplace.\n\nThese he fulfilled with assiduity, zeal, and knowledge, till the very\nmoment when he was to treasure up the different crops. As his master\nhad never yet given him any part of his wages, he suspected that he\nwould not fulfil his engagements, and, to make sure of his salary, he\nset apart as much of the grain as would amount to the sum, and shut up\nall the rest, giving an account of it to his master. The latter\nreceived this account, full of confidence in his steward, and paid him\nall the wages which he owed him, assuring him of the same punctuality\nin that respect every year. Kaskas was much ashamed of the precautions\nwhich he had taken, and of the suspicions which he had allowed himself\nto entertain.\n\nHe immediately returned to the little magazine he had made, in order\nto repair his injustice, if happily it were still in his power. But\nwhat was his surprise when he did not find in it the grain he had set\napart! He thought he saw in this theft the punishment of Heaven, and\ndetermined to confess the fault of which he had been guilty. With a\nheart full of grief he returned to his master.\n\n\"You appear vexed,\" said the old man. \"What can be the cause of it?\"\n\nThen Kaskas, flattering himself that he would obtain by his sincerity\nthe pardon of his fault, made a humble confession of the motive, and\nall the circumstances of it, even to the carrying off the grain which\nhe had set apart, and of which he had not been able to discover the\nthieves.\n\nThe old man, discovering the marked influence of his steward's\nmalignant star, thought it would be imprudent to keep him any longer\nin his service, and determined to give him his dismissal immediately.\n\n\"We do not suit one another,\" said he to him; \"let us part. But, as it\nis not just that I should bear the loss of that which you improperly\nset apart, restore me the money which I gave you, and seek the reward\nof your labour in the sale of the grain which you took from me. I\nabandon you.\"\n\nThe unfortunate Kaskas acknowledged the justice of this order: he\nsubmitted to it without murmuring, and left the house of his\nbenefactor somewhat less naked than he entered it, but without a\nsingle piece of money, and plunged into a deep melancholy.\n\nThis sorrowful sport of fortune was thoughtfully walking along the\nsea-shore, when he perceived a tent, which he approached. He found in\nit four persons, who, discovering in his countenance, which was\notherwise engaging, the traces of deep sorrow, eagerly asked him the\ncause of it. He gratified their curiosity by the recital of his\nmisfortunes. As he spoke he drew a very marked attention from one of\nthe four, who seemed to have a kind of authority over the other three.\nThis man soon recognized him as one of his correspondents at Bagdad,\nwith whom he had formerly had important and lucrative concerns. The\nmerchant was moved with compassion. At that time he was engaged in an\nadventure of pearl-fishing, and was the chief of the three divers who\nwere with him.\n\n\"Throw yourselves into the sea,\" said he to them, \"and the first take\nof pearls which you have shall be for this unfortunate traveller.\"\n\nThe three divers, affected as well as their master with the misfortune\nof Kaskas, threw themselves into the sea, and brought up, in shells\nwhich they carried with them, ten pearls of an inestimable value for\ntheir size and beauty. The merchant was delighted with the little\nfortune he had been able to procure for his former correspondent.\n\n\"Take these pearls,\" said he to him; \"sell two of them when you arrive\nin the capital, and their price will be sufficient for any adventure\nin which you may be inclined to engage; but take particular care of\nthe other eight, that they may serve you in the time of need, and sell\nthem where you can do it to the greatest advantage.\"\n\nKaskas, after thanking his benefactor, departed, and took the road\nwhich he was directed to follow in his way to the capital. He had been\nthree days on his journey, when he perceived at a distance some people\non horseback. Afraid lest they should be robbers, he hid eight of the\npearls betwixt the two cloths of his vest, and put into his mouth the\ntwo others which he proposed to sell. He was not wrong in his\nconjecture concerning the persons he had seen--they were in reality\nrobbers. They came up to him, surrounded him, and stripped him; and in\nthis situation they left him on the road, with nothing but a single\npair of drawers.\n\nThe unfortunate traveller recognized in this new feature of fortune\nthe effect of the evil destiny which pursued him. Meanwhile, he\ncongratulated himself on having been able to save from the hands of\nthe rascals the two most beautiful pearls, which were sufficient to\nre-establish his affairs and assist him in some lucrative adventure.\nThe capital was not far distant. He arrived there, and entrusted to\nthe Dellal[13] the two pearls which remained, to expose them for sale.\nThe Dellal proclaimed the jewels with a loud voice in the market, and\ninvited the curious to bid for them. Unfortunately, some days before\nthere had been some pearls stolen from one of the richest jewellers in\nthe city. He thought he recognized some of his own in those which were\nset up to sell, and demanded that the pretended owner of the jewels\nshould appear. When he saw him so ill dressed he was convinced he had\nfound the thief.\n\n[Footnote 13: The Dellal is a public crier.]\n\n\"There are two pearls,\" said he to him, \"but you ought to have ten:\nwhat have you done with the other eight?\"\n\nKaskas, thinking the jeweller had been informed of the present that\nthe fisher had made him, ingenuously replied, \"I had ten of them, it\nis true; but some robbers whom I met on the road have carried off the\nother eight in the lining of my waistcoat, where I had concealed\nthem.\"\n\nOn this confession, which appeared to the jeweller an acknowledgment\nof guilt, he took Kaskas by the hand and carried him before the civil\nmagistrate, accusing him of having stolen his pearls. This judge, led\naway by appearances, and on the declaration of the rich citizen,\ncondemned the poor Kaskas to the bastinado, and to imprisonment as\nlong as his accuser should be pleased to detain him in custody. This\nunhappy creature, the sport of fortune and of men's injustice,\nunderwent the punishment, and was forced, during a whole year, to\ngroan under the rigour of a severe confinement, till at length chance\nbrought a man of his acquaintance into the same prison. This was one\nof the three divers in the Persian Gulf, whose labour appeared to have\nbeen so profitable to him.\n\nThe diver, surprised to see him in this situation, asked the cause of\nit. Kaskas related to him all that had happened since they parted.\nThis new confidant immediately addressed a petition to the King, in\nwhich he implored the favour of being admitted into his presence, that\nhe might communicate to him a secret of the utmost importance. The\nKing caused the diver to be brought before him. He prostrated himself;\nand the King, after having made him rise up, ordered him to\ncommunicate the secret which he was to reveal.\n\n\"Great King,\" said the diver, \"the greatness of your Majesty's soul,\nand your love of justice, are known to all your subjects. I venture,\nthis day, to call upon these sublime virtues, in favour of an unhappy\ninnocent stranger, who has suffered an unjust punishment for a crime\nwhich he did not commit, and who is still confined in the same dungeon\nin which I have been shut up for a trifling fault. You love, sire, to\npunish the wicked; but it is with the spirit of equity, and for the\nmaintenance of good order. Your Majesty would wish that the wolf and\nthe lamb should walk together securely; and it is the duty of your\nslave to co-operate with your benevolent intentions, by putting it in\nyour power to repair an injustice committed against a man, persecuted\nby his evil destiny, and worthy of your compassion.\"\n\nHe then entered into a minute detail of the adventure of Kaskas with\nregard to the pearls. He showed him the circumstance which had led the\njeweller into a mistake, and occasioned the ignorance of the judge; in\nfine, he added, \"If your Majesty still suspects the truth of my\nrecital, you may cause the chief of the fishery, and my companions the\ndivers, to be interrogated concerning it.\"\n\nThe diver, having no interest in a matter that concerned only an\nunfortunate and helpless man, spoke with that boldness and openness\nwhich truth inspires. In the end, the monarch was convinced of the\ninnocence of the unfortunate Kaskas, and ordered the chief of the\neunuchs to set him at liberty, conduct him to the bath, and, after\nhaving clothed him decently, to bring him into his presence.\n\nThe eunuch obeyed. Kaskas was led to the feet of the Sovereign, where\nhe confirmed the report of the diver. He told the fruitless efforts he\nhad made to undeceive the jeweller and remove the prejudice of the\njudge. In a word, by the detail of all his adventures, he interested\nthe King so much, that he obtained from him, that instant, a lodging\nin the palace, and a place of trust near his person, with great\nappointments.\n\nAs to the jeweller, after being obliged to restore the pearls, he was\nsentenced to receive two hundred strokes of the bastinado: the judge\nreceived double that number, and was deposed from his office. Kaskas,\nloaded with favours, thought fate reconciled to him for ever. He took\npleasure in hardening himself against his bad fortune, and was already\narranging the plans of that success which he promised himself in the\nnew office which he filled, when his curiosity laid a new snare for\nhim.\n\nHe discovered one day in the apartment which was allotted to him a\ndoor covered up with a thin coat of plaster, which, from age, fell to\ndust at the smallest touch. It required no effort to force this\npassage--the door opened of itself. He entered, without reflecting,\ninto a rich apartment, to which he was an entire stranger, and found\nhimself, without knowing it, in the middle of the palace.\n\nScarcely had he made one step when the chief of the eunuchs observed\nhim, and without delay informed the King of it. The monarch instantly\ncame. The fragments of the plaster, which were still upon the ground,\nappeared a proof that the door had been forced, and the astonishment\nof Kaskas carried a complete conviction of his guilt.\n\n\"Unhappy man!\" said the King to him, \"is it thus you acknowledge my\nfavours and your obligations? My justice saved you when I believed you\ninnocent: guilty now, it condemns you to lose your sight.\"\n\nThe imprudent man, without daring to attempt any justification, was\ninstantly delivered over to the executioner, asking no other favour\nthan that they would put into his hands the eyes which were to be torn\nout.\n\nHe carried them in his hand as he walked groping through the streets\nof the capital.\n\n\"Behold,\" said he, \"O ye who hear me, that which the unfortunate\nKaskas hath gained by hardening himself against the decrees of his\nevil destiny, and despising the advice of his friends! Behold the lot\nof the obstinate!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAladin having thus finished the history of the merchant, addressed\nhimself directly to Bohetzad.\n\n\"Sire, you have seen the effect of fortune's influence on the man\nwhose adventures I have now related. So long as his star was\npropitious, he succeeded in everything; but whenever it changed, his\nefforts to correct its malignity were fruitless. The transient\ninstances of success which seemed to arrest the current of his\nmisfortunes soon plunged him into greater evils than those which he\nhad escaped. Circumstances that were unforeseen, and steps that were\ninnocent, gave him the appearance of ingratitude and guilt, even when\neverything assured him of the purity of his conduct. My lot, alas! is\nbut too like that of his.\"\n\nThe young man had related the adventures of the unfortunate merchant\nof Bagdad so naturally and with so much grace, and had made so happy\nan application of them, that Bohetzad, still disposed to favour a\ncriminal whom he had loved so well, and moved by the instance of rash\njudgment which he had just heard, put off the execution which he had\nordered till the day following, under pretence of its being too late\nfor it then.\n\n\"Return to thy prison,\" said he to him. \"I grant thee thy life till\nto-morrow: I put off till that time the punishment that is justly due\nto thee.\"\n\nIn the meantime the First Vizier expected with impatience the account\nof Aladin's execution, and when he heard that it was delayed, he\nassembled his associates, and thus addressed the Second Vizier:\n\n\"The favourite has found means to suspend the execution of his\nsentence. I have done my duty in determining the King to an act of\njustice. It now belongs to you to do yours by representing to him the\nwrong which he does in forgetting the duties of the throne, and in\nwithholding so long the punishment of a crime that has been proved.\nMake your remonstrances to his Majesty, and give them that force which\nboth his personal safety and ours requires.\"\n\nThe next morning, as soon as access could be had to Bohetzad, Baharon\n(for that was the name of the Second Vizier) was introduced to the\nKing.\n\n\"Sire,\" said this minister to him, \"I heard in the retirement of my\ncloset, and amid the important business with which I am entrusted, of\nthe insult your Majesty has received. Excuse the zeal by which I am\nanimated if I offer your Majesty all the service which can arise from\nmy experience and attachment to you to stop the progress of this\nevil.\"\n\nThe King thought Baharon might really be ignorant of the event which\nhad happened within the palace, and told him the crime of which Aladin\nwas guilty.\n\nThe Vizier seemed to shake as he listened to this report.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he to the King, as soon as he had done speaking, \"if the\nson of a chief of villains, brought up and nourished amidst guilt,\ncould have been capable of virtuous sentiments, this phenomenon would\nhave contradicted experience, and even proved it deceitful. I will\nhere venture to recall to your Majesty a fable of our ancestors which\ntradition has preserved to us:\n\n\"In ancient times a young wolf was put to school, to endeavour, by\ninstruction, to correct his natural propensity to voracity. His\nmaster, in order to teach him to read, transcribed, in large\ncharacters, some letters of the alphabet, and attempted to make him\nunderstand these signs. But instead of reading K L S, as it was\nwritten, the savage animal read fluently Kid, Lamb, Sheep. He was\ngoverned by instinct, and his nature was incorrigible. The son of a\nrobber is in the very same situation: vice is coeval with his\nexistence. From the beginning he is an infected mass, which it is\nimpossible to purify. But what astonishes me most, sire, is that such\na criminal should have survived one moment the insult he has offered\nto the Crown.\"\n\nThese remonstrances of the Second Vizier having enraged the mind of\nthe monarch still more, he ordered the prisoner to be brought in\nchains into his presence. He was obeyed.\n\nAladin appeared. The King, doing violence to the sentiments which\nmoved him in his favour, addressed him with the greatest severity.\n\n\"Traitor!\" said he to him, \"nothing can hereafter delay your\npunishment; and the world shall be informed of your crime and my\nvengeance!\"\n\nAt the same time he gave the executioner the signal of death.\n\n\"Sire,\" interrupted Aladin, whose steady and modest countenance was\nthe genuine proof of courage and innocence, \"my life is in the hands\nof your Majesty; but I conjure you still not to hasten my death. He\nwho thinks only of the present, without reference to the future,\nexposes himself to as bitter a repentance as that which the merchant\nfelt, whose history I have heard. He, on the contrary, who looks into\nfuturity, has a right one day to congratulate himself on his prudence,\nas it happened to the son of this merchant.\"\n\nBohetzad, in spite of himself, felt his curiosity excited anew, and\nwas desirous to hear the story which Aladin wanted to relate to him.\n\n\"I will consent,\" said the monarch, \"to hear the adventures of this\nmerchant; but it is the last instance of complaisance I shall show\nyou.\"\n\n\"May it please your beneficent Majesty,\" returned Aladin, \"order this\nman, who holds the sabre above my head, to be gone. I think I see the\nangel of death.\"\n\nThe executioner, having withdrawn by the King's order, Aladin\nfulfilled the engagement he had come under in the following terms:\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF ILLAGE MAHOMET AND HIS SONS.\n\n\nThere was, in the city of Naka in Tartary, a merchant, whose name was\nIllage Mahomet, who, wishing to extend his commerce to the most remote\nboundaries of the world, constructed a vessel in such a manner as to\nbe able to endure the longest voyage and carry a considerable burden.\nWhen this ship was ready to go to sea, he filled it with merchandise;\nand observing that the wind was favourable, he took leave of his wife,\nembraced his three children, went on board, and sailed with a fair\nwind for the Indies.\n\nA fortunate voyage having, in a short time, brought him to the port of\nthe capital of India, he took lodgings, and placed his merchandise in\nthe _kan_. Quite at ease respecting the fate of his effects, he then\nvisited the different quarters of the city, accompanied by four\nslaves, and soon entered into friendship with the most celebrated\nmerchants of the place. As his attendants had orders to publish the\nnature of his merchandise, and to distribute patterns of them, a crowd\nof purchasers resorted to his magazines.\n\nThe King of India was accustomed to come out of his palace in order to\nwalk through the town, and inform himself of what was going on there,\nunder a disguise which rendered it impossible he should be known.\nChance having directed his steps to the neighbourhood of the _kan_, he\nwas anxious to know what drew everybody there. He saw this foreign\nmerchant, whom a happy and engaging physiognomy, with a gracious\naddress, announced in a very favourable manner. He heard him answer,\nwith good breeding and perspicuity, the questions that were put to\nhim, and saw him conduct his affairs with an openness which gained the\nconfidence of all. He was desirous of having some conversation with\nhim; but the fear of being discovered made him renounce his design for\nthe present. He returned to his palace as quickly as he could, resumed\nthe dress which became his dignity, and sent for this honourable\nmerchant. The merchant quickly obeyed the will of the monarch. He was\nadmitted into his presence, and the King expressed his desire to be\nacquainted with him.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the merchant, \"I was born and established in Naka,\nnear Mount Caucasus. Commerce is my profession. The favour and liberty\nwhich your Majesty grants it have directed my speculations to your\ndominions, and Heaven hath favoured my voyage.\"\n\nThe King, satisfied with the simple and noble reply of this stranger,\nwished to find out more particularly the amount of his knowledge, by\nshowing, by turns, curiosity on some subjects and embarrassment on\nothers; but he was equally pleased with all his answers. Convinced, by\nall that he had heard, that the stranger's abilities were far beyond\nthose necessary for trade, he determined to attach him to his own\nservice by raising him to the highest office. It was not the design of\nthe Sovereign to try the stranger by the allurements of honour; but,\nknowing that distinguished merit may become useless in an inferior\nstation, and is frequently only the object of envy, he gave him the\noffice of Grand Vizier, in order that it might afford him an\nopportunity of displaying to greater advantage his knowledge and\nability. Illage received this favour with expressions of respect and\ngratitude.\n\n\"I should have considered myself as too much honoured, sire, in being\nadmitted into the number of the slaves who surround your throne. The\ndignity of the honourable office to which you have called me far\nsurpasses my merit and pretensions; but the high idea which I have\nconceived of your Majesty inspires me with an unbounded zeal for your\nservice, and a confidence that I shall be wholly devoted to it.\"\n\nThe monarch, still more pleased with his new minister, ordered him a\nmagnificent robe, assigned him for lodgings a palace in the\nneighbourhood of his own, and caused him to be installed in his new\ndignity. The Prince had no reason to repent of his choice, which might\nappear rash. The new minister sat in the divan on the right hand of\nhis master. He was never embarrassed in the discussion of affairs,\nhowever intricate. He had great sagacity in understanding every report\nconcerning them. Justice and equity were summed up in his decisions,\nso that the people and the monarch enjoyed, under the administration\nof this enlightened minister, all the blessings of a wise government.\n\nTwo years passed in labour and great employments; but at last nature\nresumed her rights. The Vizier, separated so long from a family which\nhe tenderly loved, felt a desire to see them. The first request which\nhe made on this subject alarmed the Sovereign. But he had a soul of\nsensibility; he could not long resist the voice of nature, and\npermitted his minister to undertake a voyage which he limited to a\ncertain period, assuring him that if he brought his whole family along\nwith him he should never be exposed to any uneasiness in his service.\nWith this permission, the Vizier embarked for Naka in a vessel of war,\nof which he had the command.\n\nThe family of this merchant of Tartary, being entirely ignorant of his\nfate since the time of his departure, were abandoned to the most cruel\nuneasiness. Fortunately, a merchant of the country, returning from\nIndia, had given them news of him, and restored tranquillity to the\nfamily, who were raised to the summit of joy on hearing of the\nelevation and success of him on whose account they were alarmed. The\nwife of Illage determined that moment to repair to her husband, less\nto share his glory than his love. She set her affairs in order, and,\nafter having taken every necessary step, she embarked with the same\nmerchant who had given her the consolatory news.\n\nAfter some days' sailing, the vessel which carried them cast anchor\nnear an island where they were to land and exchange merchandise.\nContrary winds had obliged Illage to land at the same place. He had\nhired a lodging pretty near the harbour, and, being fatigued with the\nbad weather which he had met with, had thrown himself upon a bed in\norder to take repose. His spouse, who lived in an opposite quarter of\nthe city, soon learned that a vessel had arrived on its way from\nIndia, and that it had sailed from the capital. She sent her children\nto ask the news concerning the Grand Vizier, thinking it impossible\nbut that they should be able to receive some.\n\nThe young people went from the inn where their mother was, running,\nthe one after the other, till they had come under the windows of the\napartment where the Vizier was at rest. They took possession of a\nlittle eminence on which a number of bales of goods were collected to\nkeep them dry. The thoughtless youths went to play on the bales,\ntrying which of the two could push down his brother. These playful\nlads, disputing with address and roguery, announced their victory or\ntheir defeat by such piercing shouts that they awoke the Vizier.\n\nHe lost his patience: he went to the window to check the noise, and,\nleaning over it, three diamonds, which the King had given him, fell\nfrom his fingers. The agitation of the sea had already stirred up the\nminister's choler; the habit of command rendered him incapable of\nforbearance; and, the island on which he was being within the\njurisdiction of his government, he ordered these troublesome children\nto be taken into custody. He came down himself to search for his\ndiamonds; but, amidst such confusion, this search was fruitless.\nDriven by degrees to indignation and fury, he accused the children,\nnot only of being the cause of the loss of his diamonds, but even of\nhaving stolen them. Their innocence could not defend them against\nprejudice. He punished them with the bastinado, and then caused each\nof them to be tied to a board and cast into the sea. The innocent\nvictims, expecting a cruel death, became the sport of the waves and\nbillows.\n\nMeanwhile night approached, and the spouse of Illage, not seeing her\nchildren return, uneasy, and bathed in tears, went out to seek them.\nThe neighbours could tell her nothing of them. She ran from street to\nstreet, without meeting any person who could satisfy her well-founded\nimpatience. This tender mother came at last to the harbour. There,\nfrom the description she gave of the three persons who were the object\nof her search and the cause of her uneasiness, a sailor replied to\nher,\n\n\"Madam, the young people whom you inquire after are the same whom a\npowerful man, lately arrived from India, hath punished by his slaves\nfor a theft which he imputed to them. They gave them the bastinado,\ntied them to a plank, and, by his order, threw them into the sea.\"\n\nAt these words, the unhappy mother filled the air with her shrieks and\ngroans: she rent her clothes and tore her hair. \"O my children,\" said\nshe, \"where is the Vizier your father, to revenge me on the man who\nhath murdered my children?\"\n\nHer despair struck the ear of her husband, who was not far distant. He\nseemed to know the voice, and learned that it was that of the\ninconsolable mother whose children he had condemned to death. The cry\nof nature resounded in his heart, and he no longer doubted that the\nchildren he had punished were his own. He hastened to the unfortunate\nwoman whose misery he had occasioned, and immediately knew her.\n\n\"Ah, barbarian that I am, I have been the murderer of our children!\nFatal power with which I am invested! blinded by thee, I had not time\nallowed me to be just! I am the executioner of my own children!\"\n\nAs he spoke these words, all the signs of the most violent despair\nwere painted in his countenance, and manifested themselves by every\nsort of extravagance. His wife sank at his feet under the weight of\nher grief.\n\n\"Do not pardon me,\" added he: \"I am a monster; and so much the more\ncriminal as I am at this moment placed beyond the reach of the law. I\nmust for ever be torn by my own remorse and loaded with your\nreproaches. I thought myself injured, and I hastened to revenge\nmyself, without taking time to reflect. I saw a crime where there was\nnone, and let fall the stroke upon innocence without thinking it would\nrebound upon myself.\"\n\n\"You see, sire,\" continued Aladin, \"what cause this Vizier had to\nrepent his believing these children guilty upon a deceitful\nappearance, and his having hurried on a severe punishment without\nreflecting on whom it was to fall. He forgot that a regard to futurity\nought to regulate the present.\"\n\nThe unfortunate minister, disgusted with glory and opulence, renounced\nthe search for his diamonds, abandoned the vessel and its lading, and\nsupporting the tottering steps of a weeping mother, they both walked\nalong the shore of the sea mournfully demanding of it the treasures\nwhich the Vizier had cruelly committed to the inconstancy of its\nwaves.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" continued Aladin, \"will pardon me, if, for a short\ntime, I make you lose sight of this disconsolate pair, while I fix\nyour attention on their unhappy children.\"\n\nThe billows, to whose caprice they had been abandoned, were so\nagitated that, although they were frequently thrown against one\nanother, they were immediately separated again. One of them, after\nhaving struggled for two days against the billows, and after having\nescaped the danger of being dashed to pieces on the rocks against\nwhich he was continually driven, found himself, all at once, ashore on\nthe coast of a neighbouring kingdom. The chains which fixed him to the\nplank were much worn by the sea, and notwithstanding his fatigue and\nhunger, he had still strength enough to disengage himself from them,\nand reach the land. He there found an officer who was going to refresh\nhis horse at the stream of a neighbouring fountain. This man, affected\nwith the sight of the unfortunate child, gave him part of his clothes,\nset him behind him, and carried him to his own house. There\nnourishing food and repose completely recovered the shipwrecked youth.\n\nAfter decently dressing him, his benefactor presented him to the King,\nalready informed of the event.\n\nThe happy physiognomy of the young man made an impression on the King,\nand his answers soon completed the very favourable opinion he had of\nhim. He became a distinguished officer in the palace, where his\nconduct gained the complete esteem and confidence of his Sovereign.\nThis Prince, to whom Heaven had not granted children, thought he could\nnot do his people a greater service than by adopting the youth, whom\nfortune had thrown into his arms. His choice was applauded by the\nwhole Court, and confirmed by the divan. The people were happy, and\nthe abilities of the young Prince soon placed him in the number of the\nmost valiant Kings of Asia. Age and infirmities rendered the King\nunable to support the weight of the government, and he abdicated the\nsceptre in favour of his adopted son. He saw him married, and thus\nterminating his career of glory, calmly resigned his life into the\nhands of his Creator.\n\nThe young Sovereign, bewailing the loss of his benefactor, gave\nhimself up to the justest sorrow. He wished to fulfil the duties of\ngratitude and piety, and summoned his divan, that he might honour the\nashes of his predecessor by prayers and solemn ceremonies. The people\nrepaired to the mosques. The Imam, the Nabib, the dervishes, and all\nthose who serve at them, paid to his memory the homage which was due\nto it. He caused many alms to be distributed among the poor and\nthrough all the hospitals of the kingdom. These religious duties early\nannounced the wisdom of his government, and they were not proved false\nby the event. He was always a just and active King, and governed his\npeople with the affection of a father.\n\nIn this manner did fortune snatch from the fury of the waves one of\nthe Vizier's children, to raise him to the summit of greatness. But\nthis unhappy father continued to grieve for the loss of his two sons,\nuntil, in one of the islands where he had his residence, he heard the\nDellal proclaim, with a loud voice, that there was a young slave to\nbe sold, and that the curious were invited to come and examine him.\nIllage stopped, looked at the young man, and, constrained by a feeling\nof which he knew not the cause, he determined to purchase him.\n\nThe figure of this stranger had attractions which he could not resist.\nHis age corresponded to that of one of his own children; and if the\nbeauty of his features was a true indication of the virtues of his\nmind, he hoped he would supply the place of one of those whom he had\nlost. He returned home with his new purchase.\n\nHis wife, who perceived them at a distance, recognized the youth, and\nwas about to throw herself into his arms, but sank under this\nunexpected surprise. But although her joy deprived her of the use of\nher senses, she was still able to utter the name of her son. The\nattention of her husband, and that of the young man, who bathed her\nwith his tears, recalled her to life. The father, affected with what\nhe saw, recognized the cry of nature, and returning thanks to Heaven\nfor the unexpected favour he had received, mingled together his tears\nand caresses at this moving picture, and partook of the happiness of\nan unlooked-for discovery. Nevertheless, he was tormented by a new\nuneasiness: the presence of his son recalled to him his brother--\"What\nis become of him?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" replied the young man, \"the waves soon separated the planks on\nwhich we were carried, and I can tell you nothing of his fate.\"\n\nThis answer redoubled the affliction of the husband and wife; but they\nseemed to be comforted with the hope of another blessing similar to\nthat which they had just received; and in this pleasing expectation\ntheir tenderness centred on the beloved son whom Heaven had at length\nrestored to their arms.\n\nSeveral years had elapsed. Achib, the son of Illage, grew stronger\nevery day. He acquired knowledge, and became capable of following\ncommerce, in which his father had instructed him. Seeing him fit even\nto undertake a profitable voyage, his father purchased a ship, loaded\nit with merchandise, and destined it for the capital of the islands in\nwhich they were settled, entrusting him with the management of it.\nUpon his arrival in the capital, Achib hired a storehouse in the\n_kan_, deposited his goods there, and passed some days in arranging\nthem to advantage.\n\nThe Feast of the Ramezan came. The young man, a faithful Mussulman,\npossessed the art of singing so perfectly, that he was able to fulfil\nwith dignity the functions of the Imam.[14] He dressed himself in his\n_faragi_, and went to the principal mosque. There the King, with all\nhis Court and the grandees of the kingdom, were present at the noonday\nservice. The young man took his place near the King, and when the\nAthib[15] mounted the pulpit and began to chaunt the _Falhea_,[16]\nAchib repeated three times, _Alla Akbar_.\n\n[Footnote 14: Imam is a priest who reads and explains the Koran.]\n\n[Footnote 15: Athib is a reader who chaunts over the prayers in plain\nsong.]\n\n[Footnote 16: Falhea, the Mahommedan Confession of Faith.]\n\nThe assembly, and the King himself, were astonished at this young\nstranger seating himself so near his Majesty; but the pleasure of his\nmelodious and affecting voice excited so agreeable a surprise, that\nthey soon forgot his assurance. All agreed that they had never heard\nanything so exquisite and perfect. The Athib was jealous of him: he\nhad never supposed that there was a voice in the world superior to his\nown, and the despair which he felt deprived him of the use of it--he\nfelt it die upon his lips. Achib did not give him time to recover it:\nhe continued the prayer with a force and ease which the efforts of the\nAthib, supposing him to have had the courage to attempt it, could not\nhave surpassed.\n\nWhen the King had ended his prayer, as he came out of the mosque he\nordered his officers to wait for the new singer, to have a horse ready\nfor him, and to conduct him to the palace, where his Majesty desired\nto see him. Achib received this invitation with respect, and obeyed\nthe orders of his Sovereign.\n\nThe monarch gave him a most gracious reception, bestowing the highest\npraise upon his talents, and soon felt himself prejudiced in favour of\nthis stranger by a sympathy of which he could not discover the\nsprings; but it seemed to be of the most interesting nature. Achib was\nonly in his seventeenth year, and was endowed with every personal\ngrace. Everything seemed to unite in strengthening the liking which\nthe King showed for this stranger. Thus, whether on this pretence or\nto do a beneficent action, he made him lodge in his palace, and gave\nhim a distinguished preference over the pages and those who composed\nhis household.\n\nThe officers soon conspired the destruction of their rival. In the\nmeantime the virtuous Achib, after a long residence at Court, became\ndesirous of seeing his parents and giving them an account of the goods\nwith which he had been entrusted. Afraid lest he should not obtain the\nmonarch's permission to return to them, he wrote to them and informed\nthem of the favour he enjoyed. This motive, and the desire he\nexpressed of seeing them again, determined the family to go to him\nimmediately.\n\nIllage and his wife bore in their hearts the letter which they had\njust received; and both being flattered with having a son who at so\nearly an age had been able to gain the good graces of a King, they\ninstantly determined to hasten their departure, and informed their son\nof this resolution. As soon as Achib received this information, he\npurchased a house and suitable furniture, and in a short time embraced\nin it the authors of his existence, to whom the King sent presents of\nsuch magnificence as showed that they were intended for the family of\nhis favourite.\n\nThe fineness of the season having invited the King to one of his\ncountry houses, he removed thither, and gave entertainments for the\namusement of his Court. One evening, contrary to his usual custom, he\ngave himself up to the pleasures of the table, and drank of a strange\nliquor of which he knew not the strength. In a short time after he was\nsuddenly seized with such a stupidity that he was obliged to throw\nhimself on a sofa, where he soon fell asleep. Pleasure had removed\nfrom him all his servants. Achib alone, following from affection every\nstep of his master and benefactor, entered into the apartment and\nfound him asleep. Then placing himself within the door, he drew his\nsabre, and stood there as a guard.\n\nOne of the pages having returned, was surprised to find him in this\nsituation, and asked him the cause of it.\n\n\"I am watching,\" said Achib, \"for the safety of my King: my attachment\nand my duty fix me here.\"\n\nThe page ran and told his companions what he had seen. They thought\nthey might easily avail themselves of this event to destroy him, and\nwent in a body to the monarch. The witness swore that he had found\nAchib with a naked sabre in his hand in his Majesty's chamber while he\nwas asleep. He ascribed the most criminal intentions to this faithful\nguard, and pretended that nothing but some sudden alarm had prevented\nthe intended blow.\n\n\"If your Majesty, sire,\" added he, \"suspects the truth of my report,\nyou need only to-day feign giving yourself up to sleep without any\nprecaution, and we do not doubt that this rash man, pursuing his\ndetestable purpose, will come to renew his attempt.\"\n\nThough moved by this accusation, the King was unwilling to trust\nentirely to the declaration of his pages, and thought it his duty to\nclear up his doubts himself.\n\nIn the meantime the pages had gone to find the young favourite.\n\n\"The King,\" said they to him, \"is highly pleased with the zeal you\nhave shown for the safety of his person. 'Achib,' hath he said, 'is to\nme as a shield; under his protection I can sleep without fear.'\"\n\nNight came, and the King, after a repast, during which he affected\nmuch gaiety and cheerfulness, suddenly retired, and threw himself upon\na sofa, apparently in the same state in which he had been the night\nbefore. Achib, who never lost sight of him, supposing he was asleep,\nentered the apartment to place himself on guard, with his sabre\nuplifted and naked.\n\nAs soon as the King saw the gleam of the sabre he was seized with\nterror, and a cry which he uttered brought to him all the officers of\nhis guard. Achib was arrested by his order, loaded with chains, and\nled away to prison.\n\nThe next morning, after the first prayer, the King assembled his\ndivan, ascended his throne, and caused the man to be brought before\nhim whom slanderous and false reports and deceitful appearances had\nexposed to the presumption of so much guilt.\n\n\"Ungrateful that you are!\" said he to him. \"Is it by putting me to\ndeath that you would show your gratitude and repay my favours? I will\nnot delay to take signal vengeance on your detestable baseness.\"\n\nAchib, having made no reply to these reproaches, was sent back to\nprison.\n\nScarcely was he gone out, when two of the courtiers who were most\neager for his destruction approached the King.\n\n\"Sire,\" said they to him, \"everybody is surprised to see the execution\nof the criminal delayed. There is no crime equal to that which he\nintended to commit; and you ought to give such a speedy example of\njustice as your personal safety and the tranquillity of your people\nrequire.\"\n\n\"Let us not be rash,\" replied the King, \"in a judgment of this nature.\nThe criminal is in chains, and cannot make his escape. And as to\npublic vengeance, it will never be too late to gratify it. It is easy\nto take away a man's life, but it is impossible to restore it. Life is\na blessing of Heaven which we ought to respect, and it becomes not us\nto deprive our fellow-creatures of it without the most mature\ndeliberation. The evil, once done, can never be repaired. I have it\nnow in my power to reflect on what I ought to do, and wish not that\nthe future should have to reproach me with the improper conduct of the\npresent.\"\n\nHaving said this, the King dismissed the divan, ordered his hunting\nequipage to be got ready, and gave himself up for some days to the\namusements of the chase.\n\nOn his return, he was again set upon by the enemies of Achib. The\nlonger, according to them, that this criminal's punishment was\ndelayed, the more the people were discontented. Clemency and\nmoderation ceased to be virtues when they spared such crimes as his.\nThese new remarks embarrassed the Sovereign, who had now nothing to\noppose to them, since the delay which he had granted had brought\nnothing to light. He determined to inflict that severe punishment\nwhich justice seemed to require, and ordered the criminal to be\nbrought before him, accompanied by the officers of justice and the\nexecutioner.\n\nAchib stood blindfolded at the foot of the throne. The executioner,\nwith the sword in his hand, waited the King's command. At that instant\na confused noise was heard; a stranger pierced through the crowd, and\nhastened to the feet of the King. It was the unfortunate Illage.\n\n\"Mercy, sire! mercy!\" exclaimed he: \"pardon the only child that Heaven\nhas restored to me! My son could not intend an attack upon your life:\nhe was incapable of designing so unnatural a murder; your life is\ndearer to him than his own. I have letters of his which made me fly to\nyour Majesty, that I might admire more nearly those virtues which I\nadored. But, O monarch, whose illustrious virtues are renowned through\nthe most distant corners of the world, justify the public admiration\nby a new display of wisdom, in overcoming a resentment with which\nfalse appearances have inspired you! Consider with horror the\nmelancholy consequences of a too rash judgment! Behold in me a\ndreadful example of the consequence of being led away by passion, and\nof yielding, without reflection, to its imprudent follies. Heaven\nblessed me with children; but having been separated from them from\ntheir earliest infancy, the day at length came when we were to be\nreunited. Not knowing them, and being blinded by passion, I abused the\npower with which I was invested. I had them bound upon planks and\nthrown into the sea. The man whom you threaten with death alone\nescaped from perishing in the waves, and must I this day be the\nwitness of his death? Behold the reward of my guilty rashness! My\nheart is filled with bitterness, and tears will flow from mine eyes\ntill they are closed in death.\"\n\nDuring this discourse, the King stood motionless through astonishment.\nIt was his own history he had just heard. The man who spoke was his\nfather, and the supposed criminal his brother!\n\nHaving happily acquired, in the exercise of power, the habit of\nself-command, he knew how to shun the dangers of too sudden a\ndiscovery. Nature, however, yielded at length to his eagerness, and he\naffectionately embraced the author of his life. He ordered his brother\nto be set free from those shameful chains with which envy had bound\nhim. He made himself known to him; and after mutual consolation.\n\n\"Behold,\" said he to his divan, \"to what a dreadful evil I should have\nexposed myself, had I lightly credited the detractions of slander,\nand, upon your artful reports, had hastened the punishment which you\nso eagerly urged! Go, and be ashamed! Was there one among you all who\nsupported innocence?\"\n\nAfter these few words, the King retired into his apartments with his\nfather and brother. He admitted them to a share in all the joys of his\nCourt, and sent twenty slaves, magnificently dressed, in quest of his\nmother. This family, so happily reunited, lived in the blessings of\nthe most affectionate unity, grateful to the Almighty, and faithful to\nthe law written by His great Prophet, till the moment when they were\ncalled, by the decree of fate, from this world to a better.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAladin, having thus finished the history of \"Illage Mahomet, or the\nImprudent,\" added some reflections fitted to make an impression on the\nmind of the King, whose attention he had been so fortunate as to\nengage.\n\n\"Sire!\" said he to him, \"if the son, when he became a King, had\nconducted himself as rashly as the father when he was a minister,\ninnocence would have been sacrificed to jealousy and ambition, and a\nwhole family devoted for life to misery and remorse. There is always\nsomething gained by delay. Appearances are equally against me, and\nenvy hath availed itself of them to make me appear guilty; but I have\nHeaven and your wisdom on my side.\"\n\nWhen the young man had done speaking, Bohetzad turned towards his\nministers.\n\n\"I do not mean,\" said he, \"that crimes should remain unpunished. But\ntruth, even when it comes from the mouth of an enemy, ought to be\nesteemed precious. This criminal hath well remarked, that there can be\nnothing lost by taking time to reflect. Let him be carried back to\nprison.\"\n\nThe Viziers were enraged. Delay might discover the truth, through the\ncloud under which they had concealed it. As they jointly endeavoured\nto conceal the stratagems they had devised in secret, the third among\nthem went early the next day to the palace.\n\nThe King inquired if the interval that had elapsed had produced no new\nlight.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied this minister, \"the police which, under your Majesty's\norders, we exercise, maintains the peace of your capital, and all\nwould be perfectly quiet if the throne were avenged of the outrage of\nthis son of a villain, whose punishment your Majesty still delays. The\npeople are murmuring at it, and I should have thought myself wanting\nin my duty had I concealed from you their uneasiness, the consequences\nof which may be dangerous. It is never too soon to prevent a\nrebellion, and that which is now forming would be extremely fatal.\"\n\nConstrained by these observations, the King commanded the criminal to\nbe brought before him.\n\n\"Unhappy man!\" said he to him, \"thou shalt never summon me to the\ntribunal of Heaven for having hastened thy punishment. I have listened\nto all the weak shifts by which thou hast defended thyself. I have\nweighed their value. But reserve and circumspection have an end. My\npeople murmur. Their patience and mine is exhausted. Heaven and earth\nlook to me for justice, and thou hast reached thy last moment.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the modest Aladin, \"do the people look for an example\nof your justice? Impatience is the fault of the people. But patience\nought always to sit upon the throne, amidst the virtues which form its\nbasis and safety. This virtue, necessary to all, and which calls upon\nus for that resignation which we owe to the eternal decrees, raised\nthe patient Abosaber from the bottom of a well even to the throne.\"\n\n\"Who is this Abosaber?\" asked the King. \"Give me a short account of\nhis history.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF ABOSABER THE PATIENT.\n\n\nSire (said Aladin), Abosaber, surnamed the Patient, was a wealthy and\ngenerous man, who lived in a village which he rendered happy by his\ncharities. He was hospitable and beneficent to the poor, and every one\nthat applied to him. His granaries were full, his ploughs were\ncontinually at work, his flocks covered the plains, and he maintained\nplenty in the country. He had a wife and two children, and the\nhappiness of this way of life was disturbed by nothing but the\ndevastations of a monstrous lion, which ravaged the stables and folds\nbelonging to the peaceful cultivators of these happy regions,\naccording to its necessities and those of its young.\n\nThe wife of Abosaber wanted her husband, at the head of his people, to\nhunt this animal, by whose devastation they, on account of their\nriches, were more particularly affected.\n\n\"Wife,\" said Abosaber to her, \"let us have patience! I have not any\nskill in lion hunting; leave it to others.\"\n\nThe King of the country heard of the ravages of this lion, and ordered\na general chase. The people immediately took arms: the lion was sought\nfor, and soon surrounded on every side. A shower of arrows was\ndischarged upon him. He became furious: his bristles stood on end, his\neyes flashed, he beat his sides with his terrible tail, and, setting\nup tremendous roarings, darted with fury upon the nearest of the\nhunters. This was a young man of nineteen years of age, mounted upon a\nvigorous horse.\n\nAt the cries of the lion the courser was seized with terror, and his\nstrength instantly failed him. He fell, and died as if he had been\nstruck with a thunderbolt. The valiant knight soon got upon his feet,\nand, invoking the name of the great Prophet, he plunged his spear into\nthe enormous jaws which were opened to devour him. This exploit of\ncourage and intrepidity gained him, together with the applauses of his\nSovereign, the office of commander-in-chief of all his troops.\n\nAbosaber, hearing of the lion's death, said to his wife, \"See of what\nadvantage patience hath been to us! Had I followed your advice, and\nexposed myself to the danger of attacking an animal against which it\nwas necessary to draw out so much strength, I should have lost my\nlife, with all my people, to no purpose.\"\n\nThe dangerous lion did not alone disturb the peaceful retreat of\nAbosaber; the inhabitants of the village did not all enjoy the same\ngood character. One of them committed a considerable robbery in the\ncapital, and made his escape, after having murdered the master of the\nhouse he had plundered. The King, informed of this double crime, sent\nin search of the relations and slaves of the man who had been so\ninhumanly murdered. No one could give him any information, but by\nthrowing out suspicions against the inhabitants of the village where\nAbosaber dwelt. These had the character of being very bad people, and\nwere known to have frequented the house in which the murder and theft\nhad been committed, the perpetrators of which they were endeavouring\nto discover. Upon this declaration alone, and without having recourse\nto any other proof, the enraged monarch commanded an officer at the\nhead of a detachment to lay waste the village, and bring away its\ninhabitants loaded with chains.\n\nThose who are employed in the execution of severe commands frequently\ngo beyond the orders they have received. Troops very ill disciplined\nspread their devastation over all the neighbouring country. They\nspared only the dwelling of Abosaber and six persons of his household;\nbut they pillaged his granaries and his standing corn, with those of\nall the inhabitants.\n\nThe wife of Abosaber bewailed this disaster.\n\n\"We are ruined,\" said she to her husband; \"you see our flocks carried\noff with those of the guilty, notwithstanding the orders they have to\nspare whatever belongs to us. See with what injustice we are treated.\nSpeak to the officers of the King.\"\n\n\"I have spoken,\" said Abosaber, \"but they have not time to hear me.\nLet us have patience: the evil will recoil on those who commit it.\nUnhappy the man who gives orders at once rigorous and urgent! unhappy\nthe man who acts without reflection! I fear that the evils which the\nKing has brought upon us will soon return upon himself.\"\n\nAn enemy of Abosaber had heard this discourse, and reported it to the\nKing.\n\n\"Thus,\" said he, \"speaks the man whom the goodness of your Majesty had\nspared!\"\n\nThe monarch instantly gave orders that Abosaber, his wife, and his two\nchildren, should be driven from the village and banished from his\ndominions.\n\nThe wife of the wise and resigned Mussulman made loud complaints: she\nreproached the authors of her calamity, and carried her resentment to\nexcess.\n\n\"Have patience, wife,\" said he to her: \"this virtue is the sovereign\nbalm against adversity; it gives salutary counsel, and carries with it\nhope and consolation. Let us go to the desert, since they persecute us\nhere.\"\n\nThe good Abosaber lifted up his eyes and blessed the Almighty as he\npursued his journey with his family. But they had scarcely entered\nthe desert when they were attacked by a band of robbers. They were\nplundered, their children were carried off, and, deprived of every\nresource or human aid, they were left to the care of Providence.\n\nThe wife, having lost by this new stroke of fate what was most dear to\nher, gave free course to her grief, and set up mournful cries.\n\n\"Indolent man!\" said she to her husband, \"lay aside your listlessness.\nLet us pursue the robbers: if they have any feeling of humanity left,\nthey will restore us our children.\"\n\n\"Let us have patience,\" replied Abosaber; \"it is the only remedy for\nevils which appear desperate. These robbers are well mounted; naked\nand fatigued as we are, there is no probability of our overtaking\nthem. And suppose we should succeed in that, perhaps these barbarous\nmen, harassed with our lamentations, might put us to death.\"\n\nThe wife grew calm, for the decay of her strength made her unable to\ncomplain; and they both arrived on the bank of a river, from whence\nthey discovered a village.\n\n\"Sit down here,\" said Abosaber to his wife; \"I will go to seek a\nlodging and some clothes to cover us.\"\n\nSaying this, he went away, taking the road to the village, from which\nthey were not far distant.\n\nScarcely was Abosaber out of sight when a gentleman passing near her\nstopped in astonishment at seeing a most beautiful woman plundered and\nabandoned thus in a solitary road. He put several questions to her,\nwhich this singular adventure might seem to authorize, and she\nanswered them with sufficient spirit. These replies increased the\nfancy of the young man.\n\n\"Madam,\" said he to her, \"you seem formed to enjoy a happier lot, and\nif you will accept of that which I will prepare for you, follow me,\nand, together with my heart and hand, I offer you a situation that\ndeserves to be envied.\"\n\n\"I have a husband,\" replied the lady, \"to whom, unfortunate as he is,\nI am bound for life.\"\n\n\"I have no time,\" replied the gentleman, \"to convince you of the\nfolly of a refusal in your situation. I love you. Mount my horse\nwithout reply, or with one stroke of my scimitar I will terminate both\nyour misfortunes and your life.\"\n\nThe wife of Abosaber, forced to yield, before she departed wrote these\nwords upon the sand: \"Abosaber, your patience hath cost you your\nfortune, your children, and your wife, who is carried off from you.\nHeaven grant that it may not prove still more fatal to you!\"\n\nWhile she traced these words, the gentleman quitted his horse's\nbridle, and when everything was ready, he seized his prey and\ndisappeared.\n\nAbosaber, on his return, sought for his spouse, and called upon her in\nvain. He demanded her of all nature, but nature was silent. He cast\nhis eyes upon the ground, and there learned his misfortune. He could\nnot restrain the first accents of grief: he tore his hair, rent his\nbreast, and bruised himself with strokes. But soon becoming quiet,\nafter all this agitation,\n\n\"Have patience, Abosaber!\" said he to himself; \"thou lovest thy wife,\nand art beloved by her. Allah hath undoubtedly suffered her to fall\ninto the situation in which she is in order to snatch her from more\ndreadful evils. Does it become thee to search into the secrets of\nProvidence? It is thy part to submit, and also to cease from fatiguing\nand offending Heaven by thy cries and thy complaints.\"\n\nThese reflections completely restored his tranquillity, and abandoning\nthe design he had of returning to the village from which he came, he\ntook the road to a city whose distant spires had attracted his\nattention.\n\nAs he approached it, he perceived a number of workmen engaged in\nconstructing a palace for the King. The overseer of this work took\nhold of him by the arm, and obliged him to labour with his workmen,\nunder pain of being sent to prison. Abosaber was forced to have\npatience, while he exerted himself to the utmost, receiving no wages\nbut a little bread and water.\n\nHe had been a month in this laborious and unprofitable situation, when\na workman, falling from a ladder, broke his leg. This poor unhappy\nman set up dreadful cries, interrupted by complaints and imprecations.\nAbosaber approached him.\n\n\"Companion,\" said he to him, \"you increase your misfortunes instead of\nrelieving them. Have patience! The fruits of this virtue are always\nsalutary: it supports us under calamity, and such is its power that it\ncan raise a man to the throne, even though he were cast into the\nbottom of a well.\"\n\nThe monarch of the country was at this moment at one of the windows of\nhis palace, to which the cries of the unfortunate workman had drawn\nhim. He had heard Abosaber's discourse, and was offended at it.\n\n\"Let this man be arrested,\" said he to one of his officers, \"and\nbrought before me.\"\n\nThe officer obeyed. Abosaber was in the presence of the tyrant whose\npride he had unintentionally shocked.\n\n\"Insolent fellow!\" said this barbarous King to him, \"can patience then\nbring a man from the bottom of a well to a throne? Thou art going to\nput the truth of thy own maxim to the trial.\"\n\nAt the same time he ordered him to be let down to the bottom of a dry\nand deep well which was within the palace. There he visited him\nregularly every day, carrying him two morsels of bread.\n\n\"Abosaber,\" would he say to him, \"you appear to me to be still at the\nbottom of the well: when is your patience to raise you to the throne?\"\n\nThe more this unfeeling monarch insulted his prisoner, he became the\nmore resigned.\n\n\"Let us have patience,\" would he say to himself; \"let us not repel\ncontempt with reproach; we are not suffered to avenge ourselves in any\nshape whatever. Let us allow the crime to come to its full height:\nHeaven sees, and is our judge. Let us have patience.\"\n\nThe King had a brother, whom he had always concealed from every eye in\na secret part of the palace. But suspicion and uneasiness made him\nafraid lest he should one day be carried off and placed upon the\nthrone. Some time ago he had secretly let him down into the bottom of\nthis well we have spoken of. This unhappy victim soon sank under so\nmany difficulties. He died, but this event was not known, although the\nother parts of the secret had transpired.\n\nThe grandees of the realm and the whole nation, shocked at the\ncapricious cruelty, which exposed them all to the same danger, rose\nwith one accord against the tyrant, and assassinated him. The\nadventure of Abosaber had been long since forgotten. One of the\nofficers of the palace reported that the King went every day to carry\nbread to a man who was in the well, and to converse with him. This\nidea led their thoughts to the brother who had been so cruelly used by\nthe tyrant. They ran to the well, went down into it, and found there\nthe patient Abosaber, whom they took for the presumptive heir to the\ncrown. Without giving him time to speak, or to make himself known,\nthey conducted him to a bath, and he was soon clothed in the royal\npurple and placed upon the throne.\n\nThe new King, always steady to his principles, left Heaven to operate\nin his favour, and was patient. His deportment, his reserve, and his\ncoolness disposed men to prophecy well of his reign, and the wisdom of\nhis conduct justified these happy presages. Not contented to weigh\nwith indefatigable patience the decisions of his own judgment, he was\npresent as often as possible at all the business of the State.\n\"Viziers, Cadis, ministers of justice,\" said he to them, \"before\ndeciding hastily, take patience and inquire.\"\n\nThey admired his wisdom, and yielded themselves to its direction. Such\nwas the disposition of their minds with respect to him, when a train\nof events produced a great change in it.\n\nA neighbouring monarch, driven from his dominions by a powerful enemy,\nvanquished, and followed by a small retinue, took refuge with\nAbosaber, and implored on his knees the hospitality, assistance, and\ngood offices of a King renowned for his virtues, and especially for\nhis patience.\n\nAbosaber dismissed his divan to converse with this exiled Prince, and,\nas soon as they were alone, he said to him, \"Behold in me Abosaber,\nyour former subject, unjustly spoiled by you of all his fortune, and\nbanished from your kingdom. Observe the just difference in the\nconduct of Heaven towards us. I departed from my village, reduced by\nyou to the last point of wretchedness. I submitted, however, to my\nlot, was patient, and Providence hath conducted me to the throne,\nwhile your passionate, cruel, and rash conduct hath brought you down\nfrom one. It appears to me that, in seeing you thus at my discretion,\nI am commissioned to execute on you the decrees of Heaven, as a\nwarning to the wicked.\"\n\nAfter this reproof, and without waiting a reply, Abosaber commanded\nhis officers to drive the exiled King and all his followers from the\ncity. These orders were instantly put in execution, but they\noccasioned some murmurs. Should an unfortunate and suppliant King be\ntreated with so much rigour? This seemed contrary to all the laws of\nequity, of humanity, and of policy.\n\nSome time after this Abosaber, having been informed that a band of\nrobbers infested a part of his dominions, sent troops in pursuit of\nthem. They were surprised, surrounded, and brought before him. The\nKing recognized them to be those who had carried off his children, and\nprivately interrogated their chief.\n\n\"In such a situation,\" said he to him, \"and in such a desert, you\nfound a man, a woman, and two children. You plundered the father and\nmother, and carried away their children. What have you done with them?\nWhat is become of them?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the chief of the robbers, \"these children are among\nus, and we will give them to your Majesty to dispose of them as you\nplease. We are ready, moreover, to deliver into your hands all that we\nhave heaped up in our profession. Grant us life and pardon; receive us\ninto the number of your subjects; we will return from our evil\ncourses, and no soldiers in your Majesty's service shall be more\ndevoted to you than we.\"\n\nThe King sent for the children, seized the riches of the robbers, and\ncaused their heads to be instantly struck off, without regarding their\nrepentance or entreaties.\n\nThe subjects of Abosaber, seeing this hasty conduct, and recollecting\nthe treatment of the exiled Monarch, in a short time did not know what\nmight be their own. \"What precipitation!\" said they. \"Is this the\ncompassionate King, who, when the Cadi was about to inflict any\npunishment, continually repeated to him, '_Wait, examine, do nothing\nrashly; have patience_'?\" They were extremely surprised, but a new\nevent rendered them still more astonished.\n\nA gentleman came with complaints against his wife. Abosaber, before\nhearing them, said to him, \"Bring your wife with you: if it be just\nfor me to listen to your arguments, it cannot be less so to hear\nhers.\"\n\nThe gentleman went out, and in a few moments after returned with his\nwife. The King had scarcely looked at her, when he ordered her to be\nconducted into the palace, and the man's head to be cut off, who had\ncome to complain of her. The order was obeyed. The Viziers, the\nofficers, and the whole divan murmured aloud, that Abosaber might hear\nthem.\n\n\"Never was there seen such an act of violence,\" said they among\nthemselves. \"The King who was beheaded was never guilty of so shocking\nan action, and this brother, coming out of a well, and promising at\nfirst wisdom and prudence, is carried in cold blood to an excess which\nborders on madness.\"\n\nAbosaber listened and remained patient, till at length a wave of his\nhand having imposed silence, he spoke as follows:\n\n\"Viziers, Cadis, ministers of justice, and all ye vassals of the Crown\nwho hear me, I have always advised you against precipitation in your\njudgments; you owe me the same attention, and I pray you hear me.\n\n\"Arrived at a point of good fortune to which I had never even dared to\naspire, the circumstances which were necessary for my success being so\ndifficult to be united; indifferent as to the crown which I wear, and\nto which I had no right by my birth; it only remains for me to gain\nyour esteem by justifying the motives of my conduct, and making myself\nknown to you.\n\n\"I am not brother to the King whom you judged unworthy to reign; I am\na man of mean birth. Persecuted, undone, and driven from my country, I\ntook refuge in this kingdom, after having seen my two children and my\nwife torn from me in the way. I devoutly submitted to the strokes\nwhich fate had laid on me, when, at the entrance of this city, I was\nseized by force, and constrained to labour at the building of the\npalace. Convinced in my mind that patience is the most necessary\nvirtue to man, I exhorted one of my fellow-labourers to bear with\nresignation a dreadful evil he had met with in breaking his leg.\n_Patience_, said I to him, _is so great a virtue, that it could raise\na man to the throne, although he were cast into the bottom of a well_.\n\n\"The King, my predecessor, heard me. This maxim shocked him, and that\ninstant he caused me be let down into the well, from which you took me\nto set me on the throne.\n\n\"When a neighbouring monarch, driven by an usurper from his dominions,\ncame to implore my assistance, I recognized in him my own Sovereign,\nwho had unjustly stripped me of my possessions and sent me into\nbanishment. I was not the only object of his capricious cruelties: I\nsaw all his subjects groaning under them.\n\n\"The robbers, whom I punished, had carried off my children and reduced\nme to the last point of wretchedness.\n\n\"In fine, the gentleman whom I caused to be beheaded is he who\nviolently took away my wife.\n\n\"In all these judgments, I have not had the revenge of my own\nparticular offences in view. King of these dominions by your choice,\nthe instrument of God upon earth, I did not think myself at liberty to\nyield to an arbitrary clemency, which would have weakened your power.\nIt was my duty to execute the decrees of Providence upon such as were\nclearly convicted of guilt, and to cut off from society mortals too\ndangerous for it.\n\n\"A tyrannical King who respects not the laws, and is only directed by\nhis passions and caprice, is the scourge of his people. If it is not\nlawful to make any attempt upon his life, it is still less so to grant\nhim such assistance as would authorize him in the perpetual exercise\nof revenge, and in the indulgence of the injustice and atrocity of his\ndisposition. It is even wise to deprive him of the means of it.\n\n\"Villains whose sole occupation is to attack caravans, plunder\ntravellers, and who are accustomed to nothing but disorder, can never\nbecome useful and valuable citizens. They deserve still less to be\nadmitted to the honour of defending their country. Banishment to them\nis only a return to their former life. By increasing their number, the\nevils of the world are rendered perpetual.\n\n\"The ravisher of a wife is a monster in society from which it ought to\nbe freed. The man who indulges himself in this crime is capable of\nevery other.\n\n\"Such are the motives of my conduct: severity costs me more than any\none else. But I should have been unworthy of the confidence of my\npeople, and wanting in the duties of the throne, had I not exercised\nit in this situation.\n\n\"If I have exceeded the limits of my authority, I am ready to resign\nit into your hands. Reunited to my wife and my children, and thus\nloaded with the most precious blessings of the Almighty, I should have\nnothing left but to wish you happy days under a government wiser than\nmine.\"\n\nWhen Abosaber had finished this justification of his conduct,\nadmiration and respect held the whole assembly in silence. Soon,\nhowever, a shout followed by a thousand others resounded through the\ndivan.\n\n\"Long live Abosaber! long live our King! long live the patient\nmonarch! may he live for ever! and may his reign endure to eternity!\"\n\nThe King having returned into his apartment, sent for his wife and his\nchildren, and after yielding to the sweet impulses of nature,\n\"Behold,\" said he to his spouse, \"the fruits of patience, and the\nconsequences of rashness. Give up at last your prejudices, and engrave\non the hearts of our children these important truths. Good and evil\nhappen under the inspection of Providence, and divine wisdom\ninfallibly bestows the punishment or the reward. The patient man who\nsubmits to his lot is sooner or later crowned with honour.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter having ended his story Aladin kept a respectful silence.\nBohetzad seemed lost in thought.\n\n\"How is it possible,\" said he, \"that the maxims of wisdom should flow\nfrom the lips of a man whose heart must be corrupted, and whose soul\nmust be guilty? Young man!\" added he, addressing himself to the\nsupposed criminal, \"I will still defer your punishment till to-morrow.\nYou are to be carried back to prison. The counsels which you have\ngiven me shall have their proper effect. A professed robber ought to\nbe cut off from the class of citizens, from that of the defenders of\nthe kingdom, and from the whole world. But as you have at the same\ntime guarded me against precipitation in judgment, I consent that you\nmay live during the remainder of this day and the following night.\"\n\nAt these words the King dismissed the assembly.\n\nThe Viziers took counsel together respecting the step they should take\nto secure the destruction of the favourite. Perceiving the punishment\nso often delayed, it was their business to alarm the King respecting\nthe dangerous effects of his clemency, and his weakness in allowing\nhimself to be led away by these discourses, prepared on purpose to\nsuspend an act of justice which was absolutely necessary. He ought to\nbanish from the people every suspicion of weakness on the part of the\ngovernment, and show them that equity was its foundation.\n\nThe artful detail of this reasoning was entrusted to the Fourth\nVizier; and this minister came next morning to Bohetzad to perform his\npart.\n\nThe poison of flattery was artfully mingled with remonstrances, which\nappeared to be dictated by a disinterested zeal, and made a deep\nimpression on the King. He ordered the Superintendent to be brought\nbefore him, as formerly, with all the apparatus of punishment.\n\"Unhappy man!\" said he to him, \"I have reflected enough to punish you\nfor your crime. May your death, if it be possible, make me forget you\nfor ever!\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Aladin, with respect and firmness, \"I receive with\nsubmission the sentence of my crime. It is dictated by circumstances;\nand were it not, I feel that the misery of having fallen under your\ndisgrace would be worse to me. The sacrifice once made, I can repent\nof it no more. But the day will come, when your Majesty, regretting\nyour unjust precipitation, will repent that you did not sufficiently\nconsult the rules of prudence, as it happened to Bhazad, the son of\nCyrus, founder of the Syrian empire.\"\n\n\nHISTORY OF BHAZAD THE IMPATIENT.\n\n\nBhazad was a Prince possessed of every external accomplishment. His\nbeauty, celebrated by the poets, was become proverbial among all\nnations. He was the delight of every company, and scarcely anything\nwas noticed in it but himself. One day, while he was unperceived, his\nbeauty became the subject of conversation. After it had been much\npraised, one who was present, and had till then been silent, added,\n\n\"Prince Bhazad is doubtless one of the most beautiful men in the\nworld; but I know a woman who in this respect is much more superior to\nher own sex than he is to his.\"\n\nThis discourse roused the curiosity of Bhazad more than his pride;\nand, addressing himself in private to the man who spoke thus:\n\n\"Might one know from you,\" said he to him, \"the name of this beauty,\nin whose praise you have just now spoken?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied this man, \"she is the daughter of one of the most\nillustrious vassals of the Syrian throne; and if she enchants every\neye by her external charms, the virtues of her heart and of her mind\ncontribute still more to make her perfect.\"\n\nThose few words made a lively impression upon the heart of Bhazad. He\ncould think of nothing but of the object whose praises he had heard,\nand he endeavoured to make a conquest of her. The love which consumed\nhim injured his health, rendered him thoughtful and solitary; and the\nKing his father, being surprised at this change, upon inquiring of\nhim, was informed of its cause.\n\nBhazad, after having made a confession of his passion to Cyrus,\nsuffered from him some reproaches for his reserve.\n\n\"Why have you concealed from me the state of your heart?\" said he to\nhim. \"Are you ignorant that I have all power over the Prince whose\ndaughter you are desirous to marry? Are you afraid that he will not\naccept the honour of our alliance?\"\n\nUpon this Cyrus sent in quest of the father of the young beauty, and\ndemanded her for his son. The dowry, which was to be three hundred\nthousand pieces of gold, was agreed upon at once. But the future\nfather-in-law required that the celebration of the nuptials should be\ndelayed for nine months.\n\n\"Nine months without seeing her!\" said the impatient Bhazad to\nhimself. \"Nine months without her! It is insupportable.\"\n\nHe quickly formed the design of going to her. He mounted the best\ncourser in his stables, and immediately departed, having provided\nhimself with some necessary articles, such as a bow, a lance, and a\nscimitar. He was not far from the capital of Syria when he was\nattacked by a band of robbers. His undaunted countenance and his\nmartial air made an impression upon them; and far from endeavouring,\naccording to their usual custom, to murder him after they had robbed\nhim, they proposed to him a very different plan, and promised him his\nlife on condition that he would associate with them. Bhazad thought it\nnecessary to discover to these vagabonds his rank, his projects, and\nthe fatal delay of nine months, which his impatience had been unable\nto endure. Upon this declaration, the chief of the robbers replied to\nhim,\n\n\"We will shorten this delay. We know the castle in which the object of\nyour love dwells, and the strength that defends it. March at our head;\nwe will attack it, and no object shall be able to resist us. All we\nask of you for this important service is a share in the dowry, your\nfuture protection, and a delay of some days to prepare ourselves for\nthe enterprise.\"\n\nBhazad, in his impatience, thought himself already on the very point\nof happiness. Every method seemed just to him which could serve his\npassion, and he was by no means delicate in the choice of them. Thus\nhe deliberated no more, but continued his journey at the head of the\nrobbers.\n\nThey soon met a numerous caravan, and the robbers, constrained by\ntheir natural propensity, attacked it in disorder. They were repulsed,\nhowever, with the loss of several men and a considerable number of\nprisoners, among whom Bhazad was included. He was conducted to the\ncapital of the country to which the caravan was travelling. The\ncommander of it, after relating his adventure, presented Bhazad to the\nKing.\n\n\"Here, sire, is a young man who, in our opinion, deserves to be\ndistinguished from the rest, and we beseech your Majesty to dispose of\nhim according to your pleasure.\"\n\nThe countenance of the captive attracted the particular attention of\nthe King.\n\n\"Who are you, young man?\" inquired the Prince. \"You seem not to have\nbeen born for the criminal profession you follow. How did you fall\ninto the hands of the caravan?\"\n\nBhazad, lest he should dishonour his respectable name, was unwilling\nto make himself known.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied he, \"my appearance ought not to impose upon your\nMajesty: I am, and always have been, a professed robber.\"\n\n\"Your answer,\" said the King, \"is your sentence of death. Yet,\" said\nhe to himself, \"I ought to be rash in nothing. Regard must be had to\nhis youth and external qualities, which seem to distinguish him from\npeople of his profession. If this young man is in reality a robber, he\ndeserves punishment; but if he is an unfortunate sport of destiny, who\nhath sought for death as a deliverance from the sorrows of life, one\nmay become an accomplice in his crime by not preventing his death.\"\n\nThe prudent Sovereign, having made this soliloquy, ordered Bhazad to\nbe shut up in close confinement, expecting some great discovery\nrespecting his rank.\n\nIn the meantime the King of Syria, having in quest of his son searched\nhis dominions in vain, addressed circular letters to all the\nSovereigns of Asia. One of them came to the King in whose dominion\nBhazad was in custody. From the description which it gave of him, he\nhad no doubt that the young adventurer whom he kept in prison was the\nwell-beloved son of the powerful monarch of Syria. What reason had he\nto applaud himself for not having hurried his judgment!\n\nHe sent immediately for the handsome prisoner, and asked his name.\n\n\"My name is Bhazad,\" replied the young man.\n\n\"You are the son, then, of King Cyrus. But what motives determined you\nto conceal your birth? Had I not been slow in the execution of\npunishment, it would have cost you your life, and me the remorse of\nhaving treated you as a vile assassin.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Bhazad, after having revealed to him the secret of his\nescape, \"finding myself seized among robbers, in whose crimes I had\ninvoluntarily shared, I preferred death to shame, and was unwilling to\ndishonour a name so illustrious.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied the sage monarch, \"there has been a great deal of\nimprudence in your behaviour. You were in love, and assured of wedding\nin a few months the object of your affection. See to what rashness and\nimpatience have brought you. Instead of waiting patiently till you\nshould become the son-in-law of one of your father's noble vassals,\nafter having quitted the Court of Syria without permission, and after\nhaving incautiously exposed yourself to be murdered by the robbers who\ninfest these deserts, you joined yourself to these vagabonds to carry\noff by force the woman who was voluntarily to be given you in\nmarriage. See into what a train of crimes you have drawn yourself.\nCheck this passion and calm your impatience. I will procure you the\nmeans of uniting yourself soon to the Princess whose hand you are\nanxious to obtain. But as everything ought to be done in a manner\nsuitable to her condition and your rank, we will hurry nothing.\"\n\nAfter this, the King, having caused Bhazad to be magnificently\ndressed, appointed him lodgings in his palace, and admitted him to his\ntable. He wrote to Cyrus to set him at ease respecting the fate of his\nson, whose equipage was getting ready that he might appear with more\nsplendour at the Court of the Prince whose daughter he was about to\nespouse.\n\nThe impatient Bhazad saw these preparations with uneasiness. The\nattention which was paid to them retarded his happiness. At length,\nhowever, the order for his departure was given, and he might begin his\njourney. A small army escorted him, but every halt which it made\nappeared an age to this impatient Prince.\n\nMessengers had been dispatched to the father of the Princess, to\ninform him of the arrival of his son-in-law. He came, with his\ndaughter covered with a veil, to receive him at the gate of his\ncastle, and allotted him a magnificent apartment next to that of his\nfuture spouse. All the arrangements had been previously fixed by the\ntwo fathers. The term of nine months would have elapsed in three days,\nand all the preparations suitable to this so much wished-for union\nwere finished.\n\nBhazad was only separated from the object of his affection by the\nbreadth of a thin wall. In three days he might see her. But this wall\nwas like Mount Ararat to him, and these three days seemed an eternity.\nAs he constantly inquired what she was doing, he learnt that she was\nat her toilet, assisted by her female slaves, and without her veil.\nThis was the time for him to surprise her and behold her at his\npleasure. He presently examined all the openings of his apartment, to\nfind some way of gratifying his impatience and curiosity. He\ndiscovered, to his misfortune, a small grated window, to which he\napplied his eye. But an eunuch, placed there on guard, perceived the\ninquisitive man, and, without knowing him, struck him with the point\nof his scimitar, which at once ran through both his eyes, and drew\nfrom him a piercing cry, which soon collected around him all those\nengaged in his service.\n\nThey stood around the wounded, inquiring the cause which could have\nreduced him to the unhappy situation he was in. His misfortune\ndiscovered to him his crime.\n\n\"It was my impatience,\" replied he, with sorrow. \"I have too soon\nforgotten the sage counsels of the King my benefactor. In three days I\nwould have seen her who was to crown my happiness; but I was unable to\nbear this delay with patience. I wished to enjoy beforehand the\npleasure of seeing her, and for this I am punished with the loss of my\nsight.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"In this manner,\" added Aladin, \"did the impatient Bhazad, on the very\npoint of becoming happy, lose that hope for ever, and was condemned to\nthe most cruel loss in being deprived of the sense of sight. He ought\nto have recollected the dangers to which his former imprudence had\nexposed him; with what maturity of deliberation, with what wise delay,\nthe monarch to whom he was indebted for his fortune and life had\nconducted himself with respect to him, and he ought to have yielded\nentirely to his advice. But it is not from acting without reflection\nthat experience is acquired, and the wise alone can profit by that of\nothers.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe young Superintendent, having made an end of speaking, Bohetzad,\ndrowned in thought, dismissed the assembly, and remanded the criminal\nto prison.\n\nThe ten Viziers, afraid lest their victim should escape, assembled\nagain next day, and sent three of their number in a deputation to the\nKing to strike the last blow against the young Aladin. They assured\nBohetzad that the dangerous consequences of his clemency were already\nfelt.\n\n\"Every day,\" said they, \"ordinary justice is engaged in checking the\naudacious crimes of your subjects against the sanctity of the harem.\nPrevaricating criminals have the boldness to defend themselves by the\nexample that is before their eyes; and the delays which arise from\nyour Majesty in this affair are so many pretences which they allege in\ntheir justification. We conjure you, sire, to put an end to this\ndisorder, which your ministers will soon be unable to restrain.\"\n\nBohetzad, ashamed of his too great indulgence, caused the\nSuperintendent to be brought before him.\n\n\"Thou appearest at length,\" said he to him, \"for the last time, on the\nscaffold, which thou art about to stain with thy blood. The crime\nwhich thou hast committed allows me no rest. The too long suspension\nof the sword of the law draws along with it an example fatal to my\nsubjects. Every voice is united against thee, and not one justifies\nthee.\"\n\n\"Men pursue me,\" interrupted the undaunted Aladin. \"I am the object of\nhatred and slander; but, if the Eternal and His Prophet are for me, I\nhave nothing in this world to fear. Heaven protects my innocence, and\nthe sword cannot deprive me of it. It will always shine upon my\nforehead, even when it shall be separated from my body. My confidence\nis in God. I expect everything from Him, as King Bazmant at length did\nafter the reverses he experienced.\"\n\n\nHISTORY OF BAZMANT, OR THE CONFIDENT.\n\n\nThis Sovereign, too much addicted to the pleasures of the table, was\ngiving himself up one day to the immoderate enjoyment of a sumptuous\nfeast, when his Vizier came to inform him that the enemy was coming to\nbesiege his capital.\n\n\"Have not I,\" replied he, \"excellent generals and good troops? Let\nthem take care of everything, and beware of disturbing my pleasures.\"\n\n\"I will obey, sire,\" replied the Vizier; \"but remember that the\nAlmighty disposes of thrones, and that if you invoke not His aid, your\nriches and power will not support you or yours.\"\n\nDisregarding this wise counsel, Bazmant fell asleep in the arms of\nsensuality; and when he awoke was obliged to take to flight:\nnotwithstanding the bravery of his soldiers, the enemy had become\nmasters of the city.\n\nThe fugitive King withdrew to one of his allies, his father-in-law and\nfriend, who granted him a powerful army, with which he hoped in a\nshort time to re-enter his dominions and take vengeance on his enemy.\nFull of confidence in this assistance, he marched at the head of his\ntroops, and advanced towards the capital which he had lost. But\nvictory again declared in favour of the usurper. His army was routed,\nand he himself owed his safety to the swiftness and vigour of his\nhorse, which, pursued by the enemy, crossed an arm of the sea which\nlay in his way, and soon landed him on the opposite shore.\n\nNot far from the shore was situated a fortified city called Kerassin,\nat that time under the dominion of King Abadid. Bazmant went to it,\nand demanded an asylum in the hospital destined for the reception of\npoor strangers. He learned that King Abadid resided in Medinet-Ilahid,\nthe capital of the kingdom. He took the road to it, arrived there, and\ndemanded an audience of the Sovereign, which was immediately granted.\nHis external appearance prejudiced the monarch in his favour, and he\nasked him concerning his rank, his country, and the motives which had\nbrought him to Medinet-Ilahid.\n\n\"I was,\" replied he, \"a distinguished officer in the Court of King\nBazmant, to whom I was much attached. This unfortunate Prince has been\ndriven from his kingdom, and as it became necessary for me to choose a\nmaster, I am come to make a voluntary offer of my person and services\nto your Majesty.\"\n\nAbadid, full of prudence and penetration, conceived a favourable\nopinion of the stranger. He loaded him with presents, and assigned him\na distinguished rank among his officers. Bazmant might have been proud\nof his new situation could he have banished from his memory the\nfortune he had once enjoyed, and had he not been still wholly occupied\nwith the loss of his kingdom.\n\nA neighbouring power at that time threatened Abadid with an invasion\nof his dominions. The Sovereign put himself in a posture of defence,\nand took every necessary precaution to repel his enemy. He himself\ntook arms, and left his capital at the head of a formidable army.\nBazmant had the chief command of the van.\n\nThe battle was soon begun, during which Abadid and Bazmant conducted\nthemselves like experienced chiefs, and were distinguished by\nremarkable feats of courage and intrepidity. The enemy was entirely\ndefeated and repulsed. Bazmant extolled to the skies the mighty deeds\nand wise plans of Abadid.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he to him, \"with an army so well disciplined and so much\ngood conduct you might easily humble the most formidable nations.\"\n\n\"You are mistaken,\" replied the wise monarch; \"without the assistance\nof Allah I could not resist the most feeble atoms in the creation. It\nis by trusting in Him alone that we have the power of posting our\ntroops to advantage, of directing our plans with wisdom, and of\npreserving that presence of mind which is the guide of all our\noperations. If I had not had recourse to Him, the greatest force would\nhave vanished in my hands.\"\n\n\"I am convinced of it,\" replied Bazmant, \"and the misfortunes which I\nhave experienced are a proof of it. A false prudence induced me to\nconceal my name and my misfortunes. But your virtues forcibly draw the\nsecret from me. You see before you the unhappy Bazmant, whom too much\nconfidence in his own troops could not preserve upon the throne.\"\n\nUpon this confession, Abadid, seized with astonishment, wished to make\nan apology to Bazmant for the reception he had given him.\n\n\"How could you know me,\" replied the dethroned Prince, \"since shame\nand confusion obliged me to be silent? Could you read upon my forehead\na character which the justice of Heaven had effaced? Great King,\"\nadded he, embracing him, \"I owe to your generosity a full account of\nmy faults: lend me your attention.\"\n\nAt these words Bazmant related his history.\n\n\"My dear brother,\" said Abadid to him, after having heard it, \"cease\nto humble yourself before a man brought up in your very principles,\nand corrected at last by a series of misfortunes similar to yours. I\nhave not been wiser than you. It appears that we must be instructed by\nmisery! Formerly I put my confidence in my troops and my own\nabilities, and at the head of a numerous army I was conquered by an\nenemy who had nothing to oppose me but a handful of men. Forced to\ntake to flight, I retired to the mountains, with fifty men who would\nnot abandon me. Providence caused me to fall in with a dervish in his\nhermitage, where he was wholly devoted to the exercise and duties of\nreligion. He showed me the cause of my misfortunes, and told me that\nthe enemy had put his trust in Allah alone, and was thus enabled to\nstrike me with unerring blows; while I, depending upon the effort of\nmy spear and the thickness of my battalions, and full of audacious\npride, neglected my duty, and gave no order which did not lead to an\nerror. 'Put,' said he to me, 'your confidence in Him who directs\neverything here below, and if His arm is engaged in your behalf, fifty\nmen will be sufficient to regain your kingdom.' These discourses of\nthe sage made a strong impression upon me. I raised my eyes on high,\nand, full of a salutary confidence, I returned to my capital.\nProsperity had blinded my enemy. He had forgotten in the lap of\npleasure the wise maxims to which he was indebted for his victory.\nEverything seemed quiet in his dominions. He believed himself secure\nin the possession of them, and neglected the maintenance of an army. I\narrived unawares at the beginning of the night. I hastened to the\npalace with my small party, which curiosity, however, increased. It\nbecame a formidable army within the palace: dismay and terror marched\nin its train. The usurper had only just time to make his escape and\navoid the danger which surrounded him. And the next day beheld me\nre-established on my throne, and in the undisturbed possession of my\nkingdom.\"\n\nThe recital of Abadid's adventures completely changed the opinions of\nBazmant.\n\n\"You have,\" said the Prince to him, \"inspired me with a confidence\nequal to that which animated you, and henceforward I will place it\nnowhere else. God alone and His great Prophet are able to restore me\nmy crown; and in order to regain it, I will follow the same method\nthat you did.\"\n\nAt these words he took leave of Abadid, and hastened into a desert,\nthrough which he was obliged to pass in order to reach his dominions.\nGuided by the confidence which he had placed in the Sovereign Ruler of\nmen, and imploring His support by prayer, he gained the summit of a\nmountain. He was oppressed with fatigue, and, having fallen asleep, he\nsaw a vision in a dream.\n\nHe thought he heard a voice say to him, \"Bazmant, Allah has heard thy\nprayers: He accepts thy penitence, and thou mayest march without fear\nwhither thou intendest.\"\n\nThe Prince believed he had heard his guardian angel, and hastened his\njourney towards the capital of his kingdom. Scarcely had he reached\nthe frontiers, when he met a party of those who had been most faithful\nto him. They lived under a tent, ready to seek another asylum on the\nleast instance of tyranny in the usurper. Without making himself\nknown, he entered into conversation, and told them that he was\ntravelling to the capital. They endeavoured to divert him from his\ndesign. They described the avenues to the city as extremely dangerous.\nThey told him that suspicion and fear were upon the throne; that\nstrangers who approached it were believed to be emissaries of Bazmant,\nand were, without distinction, beheaded by order of the tyrant.\n\n\"He causes the former King to be regretted, then?\" inquired the\nPrince, certain that they could not know him.\n\n\"Alas!\" replied they, \"would indeed that our worthy monarch were here!\nHe would find a safe asylum in the hearts of all his subjects, and a\nhundred thousand arms to avenge him. The monster who has dethroned\nhim, confiding in his forces, sacrifices everything to his unbridled\ndesires, and frees himself by the sword of his slightest alarms.\"\n\n\"He is in the wrong,\" replied Bazmant, \"to trust wholly in his army:\nthe true support of Kings is the favour of Heaven. As for me, who have\ncome here with no other intention than to acquire knowledge by\ntravelling, knowing that no one can injure me while I have the divine\nprotection, I will, without fear, approach the place which the vain\nprecautions of your master have caused to be looked upon as so\ndangerous.\"\n\n\"We conjure you not to do this,\" replied these worthy people, in a\nfeeling tone: \"do not give us another misfortune to bewail. Since you\nare a good Mussulman, wait patiently till the divine justice shall\nhave struck this tyrant: the time is not far distant, for the measure\nof his iniquity is full. And should the arm of man delay to strike,\nthe pillars of his palace will fall upon him.\"\n\nAt these words, Bazmant felt his hopes revive. He laid aside all\ndisguise, and declared that he was the monarch whom they wished to\nreturn. At that instant his faithful subjects, exiled on his account,\nfell at his feet. They kissed his hands and moistened them with their\ntears. A part of the knights who were there devoted themselves as his\nlife-guard. The rest spread all around to announce his happy return,\nand appoint a place of rendezvous. A formidable army was soon in a\ncondition to advance to the capital, the tyrant was overthrown, and\nBazmant resumed the reins of government and power amidst the\nacclamations of all his people.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt the end of this history, Aladin ventured to add some reflections of\nhis own.\n\n\"You see,\" said he to Bohetzad, \"how Bazmant reascended his throne,\nwithout any other assistance than that of Heaven. My true throne,\nsire, is my innocence; and, as if inspired from above, I have a fixed\nbelief that I will yet be re-established on it, and triumph over mine\nenemies.\"\n\nAs the young minister mingled sage truths with the recital of his\nstories, the Sovereign, who had listened to him, felt his anger\nrelent.\n\nHe again ordered the punishment to be deferred, and the criminal was\ncarried back to prison.\n\nThe Viziers again resolved to diffuse in the mind of the King the\npoison of those perfidious insinuations which had hitherto been so\nunsuccessful.\n\nOne of them accordingly arrived well prepared. He brought with him\nseditious libels and a list of disorders which, he said, the violation\nof a law that was refused to be put in execution had occasioned, in\nleaving unpunished a crime which appeared in so obvious a manner.\n\nThese reports, which seemed to be dictated by disinterestedness and\nfidelity, again inflamed Bohetzad. He resumed his first resolutions,\nand sent for the criminal to his presence.\n\n\"I have hesitated too long,\" said he. \"Thy death is essential to the\nsafety of my kingdom, and thou canst no more hope either for delay or\nmercy.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Aladin, \"every fault deserves pardon. I have committed\none in indulging myself in a drink which I did not know, and which\ndeprived me, for a moment, of reason. But I have a right to obtain\nyour Majesty's pardon. I am incapable of the crime of which I am\naccused. Sovereigns, sire, have a noble right which they derive from\nHeaven: it is that of exercising mercy when it is proper. Let us\nsuppose that, after a little delay and deliberate examination, you had\nsnatched an innocent person from punishment, would not your Majesty\nhave done an action something like that of raising him from the dead?\nAn action may often appear agreeable to strict justice, while in\nreality it is only the effect of lawless tyranny. And what glory is\nthere not, even in pardoning an offence? He who is capable of mercy\nwill, like Baharkan, sooner or later receive his reward.\"\n\nAladin, perceiving Bohetzad inclined to listen to him, proceeded thus\nin the explanation of what he had advanced:\n\n\nHISTORY OF BAHARKAN.\n\n\nBaharkan was an intemperate Prince. He sacrificed everything to his\npassions, and, in order to gratify them, he boldly plunged into the\ngreatest excess of tyranny. He never pardoned even the appearance of a\ncrime: so that involuntary faults were punished no less than avowed\ntransgressions.\n\nBeing one day at the chase, one of his officers inadvertently\ndischarged from his bow an arrow which he was holding prepared. It\nstruck the ear of the King, and unfortunately carried it off.\nBaharkan, in his fury, ordered the offender to be brought before him,\nand his head to be struck off. As soon as the unhappy young man was in\nhis presence, having heard the sentence of death pronounced by the\nmonarch, he spoke to him thus:\n\n\"Sire, the fault I have committed was unpremeditated on my part; it\nwas the effect of the fatality of the stars. I throw myself on your\nclemency. I implore your pardon. It will be meritorious in the sight\nof God and approved of by men. In the name of the heavenly Power which\nhath put the sceptre into your hands, I entreat for pardon, and your\nMajesty will one day receive your reward.\"\n\nThis prayer softened the unrelenting heart of the King, and, contrary\nto the general expectation, the young officer obtained his pardon.\n\nHis name was Tirkan. He was a Prince who had fled from his father's\nCourt in order to escape the punishment of a fault which he had\ncommitted. After having wandered unknown from kingdom to kingdom, he\nat length settled at the Court of Baharkan, where he obtained\nemployment. He remained there for some time after the accident which\nhad befallen him; but his father, having discovered the place of his\nretreat, sent him his pardon, and advised him to return to him. He\ndid this in such affectionate and paternal terms that Tirkan, trusting\nin his father's goodness, immediately departed. His hopes were not\ndeceived, and he was re-established in all his rights.\n\nKing Baharkan, desiring one day to amuse himself with pearl-fishing,\nembarked in a vessel with a design to coast along the shores of his\nkingdom in search of pearls. An unexpected storm drove the ship into\nthe open sea. It became the sport of the winds and the waves, and,\nstripped of all its rigging, ran aground on an unknown shore, and was\ndashed to pieces against the rocks which surrounded it. The whole crew\nperished. Baharkan alone was saved from shipwreck by a plank which he\nhad had the good fortune to seize. Fortunately, he landed on the\ndominions of the monarch whose son had shot away his ear, and whom he\nhad pardoned.\n\nNight began to descend when Baharkan landed. He wanted neither courage\nnor vigour, and therefore took the first road that presented itself,\nwhich led to a large fortified city. But, as the gates had just been\nshut, he was forced to wait without till next day, and to pass the\nnight in a neighbouring churchyard.\n\nDay began to appear, and the gates were opened. The first persons who\ncame from the city found, at the gate of the churchyard, a man who had\nbeen murdered. Baharkan was coming out of it at the same time. The\nefforts he had made in the evening to reach the coast with his plank\nhad given him some slight wounds, from which the blood was still\ntrickling. This proof appeared sufficient in the eyes of the\nbystanders: he was taken for the murderer, and carried to prison.\n\nThere this unfortunate Prince, left to his own reflections, thus\ncommuned with himself: \"Heaven chastises thee, Baharkan. Thou wast\ncruel, vindictive, and inexorable. With thee humanity had no value.\nThou sacrificedst thy brethren on the slightest suspicion. Behold\nthyself now on a level with the vilest of mortals. Thou hast met with\nno more than thy desert.\"\n\nAs he rendered this terrible justice to himself, he perceived in the\nair a vulture, which hovered above the prison in the court of which\nhe was walking. He instinctively took a flint, and threw it with great\nforce at the bird, which avoided the stroke; but, in falling, the\nstone accidentally struck the same Prince Tirkan who formerly had\ncarried off his ear by the stroke of an arrow. It wounded him exactly\non the ear, but not so severely as Baharkan had been. Pain forced a\ncry from the young Prince, which brought all his courtiers around him.\nSurgeons were sent for, who soon cured this slight wound.\n\nThe King ordered a search to be made, in order to discover the person\nwho had thrown the stone. Baharkan was accused by his fellow-prisoners\nof picking up and throwing it. He was brought before the monarch, who\ncondemned him to lose his head, since, besides this, he believed him\nto be the murderer of the man who had been assassinated near the\nchurchyard. The executioner of justice had already taken off the\nturban which covered him, and was drawing the sword from its scabbard,\nwhen the King, examining attentively the head which had just been\nuncovered, perceived that it wanted an ear.\n\n\"It appears,\" said he to the criminal, \"that this is not your first\noffence. For what crime have you been already condemned to lose an\near?\"\n\nBaharkan, having assumed a manly spirit since his misfortunes,\nreplied, with boldness, \"Sire, if I have committed crimes, I owe no\naccount of them but to Heaven; and till it should have determined to\npunish me, human justice had no right to inflict it. I have been, in\none word, your equal--I was a King. The ear which I want was\nunfortunately carried off by an arrow, which escaped from the bow of\none of my officers, whose name was Tirkan. Impelled by the first\nemotion of anger, I condemned him to death. He besought my pardon, and\nobtained it. My name is Baharkan.\"\n\nTirkan, without giving him time to finish, had already thrown himself\ninto his arms. He recognized at once his ancient master and his\ndeliverer. Baharkan, far from being punished, was treated as a King,\nand an unfortunate one. He related the adventure which had landed him\nin the dominions of Tirkan's father. The latter communicated to him\nhis own, and especially the unfortunate accident which had wounded\nBaharkan.\n\n\"Recollect, sire,\" added he, \"that in soliciting a pardon, I ventured\nto promise you, from Heaven, the same favour which I expected from\nyou. Here you have received it, under the very same circumstances,\nthrough the instrumentality of my father.\"\n\nAfter these discoveries, the two Sovereigns embraced each other, with\nmarks of esteem and kindness. A short time after, Baharkan returned to\nhis kingdom in a fleet well equipped, and at the head of an army of\nfifty thousand fighting men, commanded by Prince Tirkan.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"In this manner,\" added Aladin, \"Baharkan was rewarded for suffering\nhimself to be softened when he was personally offended. Heaven did not\nconfine its blessings to his receiving the same treatment in a similar\nsituation and restoring him to his subjects, it moreover granted to\nhim every virtue requisite in a good King; and in governing his\nsubjects, it enabled him always to govern himself.\"\n\nBohetzad, shaken in his resolution by this discourse, ordered the\ninstruments of death to be again removed, and the minister to be\nconducted back to prison. He even pronounced these last words so\nhesitatingly, that the Viziers, who observed it, were alarmed.\n\nThe whole conspiracy formed against Aladin awoke with still greater\nforce, and it was determined that the ten Viziers should go in a body\nto the King. Their danger would become so great, if Aladin should\nsucceed in justifying himself, that every step should be taken to\ndestroy him.\n\nThe next day they all repaired to the palace, and he who was possessed\nof the warmest eloquence spoke. If the monarch would believe it, the\nwicked story-teller, whose talents were so specious, was indebted for\nhis success to the art of magic, in which he was well skilled. But he\nought to distrust an illusion which exposes at once the laws,\nreligion, morals, the honour of the throne, and the public welfare;\nand unless he punished this crime, it would be impossible to check\ndisorder. All the other Viziers supported this insidious harangue.\nEach of them alleged his own disinterestedness, his zeal, and his\nfidelity.\n\n\"Unbridled audacity is in him united with matchless cunning,\" they\nsaid. \"Everything is in danger if this offence remains unpunished.\"\n\nBohetzad could not resist the unanimous voice of so many counsellors.\nHis anger re-awoke, and he ordered the criminal to be brought forth.\n\nAladin appeared in chains, and the King, perceiving him, exclaimed,\n\n\"Let the head of this unhappy man be struck off.\"\n\nThe ten Viziers hastened to seize the sword of the executioner, in\norder to dispute with him the execution of his office. This motion\ngave Aladin time to speak.\n\n\"Behold, sire, the eagerness of your Viziers to bathe themselves in\nthe blood of innocence. Justice pursues the crime, but does not rush\nupon the criminal. Zeal, like every other virtue, should be moderated.\nStop, eager and wicked men! I am here under the justice of the King,\nnot under yours. You have no power over my life. It is sacred with\nrespect to you, who are neither judges nor executioners. Speak! Show\nyourselves openly as you really are. I have offended you by checking\nyour rapine. You are my enemies and base slanderers.\"\n\n\"You recriminate upon my Viziers,\" interrupted the King; \"truth which\nflows from their mouths confounds you.\"\n\n\"Nothing from them can confound me,\" replied Aladin; \"not even the\nblackness of their calumny. It is coeval with their existence. But for\nthese, who have reduced me to the necessity of this defence, I must\nquestion them in my turn. They are all here, and let them answer. Does\nnot the law require that every accuser or deponent should have been a\nwitness of the crime? Their evidence is therefore objectionable in\nthis case; the law rejects it. It is only the effect of envy and\njealous rage by which they are devoured. Look at them, sire, and at\nme. The sword is above my head, yet I dare raise it up, while their\neyes shun both yours and mine. Heaven supports me and condemns them;\nour sentence is written on our countenance. O great King! deserving of\nbetter ministers, beware of being drawn into the guilty plot they have\ncontrived for you. One may, but without passion, bear testimony\nagainst the accused. If he is convicted, justice condemns him. But the\njudge, in describing the crime and pronouncing sentence, never forgets\nthe duty due to the creature of God on whom the punishment is about to\nfall. Here I see nothing but fury and jealous rage. They are devoured\nby their thirst for blood, and equity is not the basis of their\njudgments. All the injurious imputations which have been levelled\nagainst me vanish. An invisible hand imprints on my forehead the\nserenity of innocence. An inward sentiment tells me that, having lived\nfree from crimes, I shall not be confounded with the guilty. Unhappy\nis the man whose conscience gives a contrary testimony. He endeavours\nin vain to shun the stroke that threatens him. The history of the\nSultan Hebraim and of his son is a proof of this.\"\n\nBohetzad, struck with astonishment at the intrepid firmness of Aladin\nand the united rage of his ministers, wished to hear the adventures of\nHebraim; and the Superintendent, having obtained permission to relate\nthem, thus began:\n\n\nHISTORY OF THE SULTAN HEBRAIM AND HIS SONS, OR THE PREDESTINATED.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThe Sultan Hebraim, called by his birth to the government of extensive\ndominions, had enlarged them considerably by the success of his arms.\nBut the want of an heir disturbed the enjoyment of his glory. At\nlength, however, a son was born, whose birth was celebrated by public\nrejoicings and feasts, which, during forty days, announced to the\npeople the happiness of the Sovereign.\n\nThis time was employed in a very different manner by the astrologers\nwho were employed to cast the infant's nativity. They could not\nconceal from the Sultan that an evil star had presided at the birth of\nhis son. The orbit of his planet, black and stained with blood,\nannounced misfortunes, which it would be difficult to resist. They\nunanimously declared that before he was seven years old, the infant\nwould be exposed to the devouring jaws of a tiger; and that if he\ncould escape the fury of that animal during this determinate space of\ntime, his hand would become fatal to the author of his existence; and\nthat there was no other way by which he could escape the evils that\nthreatened him but by becoming, from the effects of education, an\nenlightened, wise, and virtuous Prince.\n\nThe annunciation of so mournful a prediction dissipated the joy of\nHebraim, and the days of public happiness were spent by him in tears\nand in grief. Nevertheless, as hope never forsakes the unfortunate, he\nflattered himself, and was happy to think, that it was possible to\nscreen the heir of his power from the decrees of fate. It did not\nappear to him impossible to protect his son from the attacks of the\ntiger during the appointed term of seven years; and after having\nsnatched him from the first decree of destiny, he might, by carefully\nwatching over his education, beget in him sentiments of wisdom and the\nlove of virtue, and thus disprove the prediction of the astrologers.\n\nAfter these reflections, the Sultan prepared a retreat on the summit\nof a mountain, in which he hoped that his son would be safe from the\nattacks of the tiger for the seven years determined by fate. A number\nof workmen were employed in forming in the rock a cavity of a hundred\nfeet in depth, about a hundred and fifty in length, and thirty in\nbreadth. They let down into this every material necessary to make a\ncommodious lodging; a spring of water was found there, and they\ncontrived a passage for it, as well as for the rain-water which might\nbe collected in this cavity. They carried earth to it, and put plants\nthere, which were soon in a thriving condition.\n\nAfter having furnished this little palace in a proper manner, they let\ndown into it the Prince and his nurse by the help of a pulley,\ntogether with every necessary article for a month. At the end of every\nmoon Hebraim came regularly to visit his son. The nurse laid the\nchild in a basket made of bulrushes, which was lifted up to the very\nbrim of the entrance; and while the father yielded to the sweetest\nemotions of nature in caressing his son, a numerous guard, by the\nthundering sound of their instruments, kept the wild beasts at a\ndistance. When the visit was over the provisions were renewed, and the\ncord, rolling upon the pulley, gently returned to the bottom of the\ncave the basket and the infant.\n\nThe young Prince grew and prospered in this solitary habitation, which\na very strong vegetation had adorned with trees and shrubs of every\nkind. The fatal term marked out by the astrologers had almost elapsed.\nOnly twenty days were wanting to fulfil the seven years, when a troop\nof unknown hunters, in vigorous pursuit of an enormous tiger which\nthey had already wounded, came to the summit of the mountain in full\nview of their prey. The furious animal, terrified by their shouts, and\nstruck by arrows which were shot at it from every quarter, found this\ncavity in its course, and either blinded by terror or being now in\ndespair, immediately sprang down it. It fell upon a tree, which,\nbending under its weight, considerably broke the force of a fall which\nwould have dashed it to pieces on the bottom of this pit.\n\nThe terrified nurse endeavoured to conceal herself, and the monster\nfound the child, which it grievously wounded on the shoulder. On\nhearing the cries of the infant, however, the nurse, forgetting her\nown danger, flew to his assistance. The tiger darted at her, and\nhaving torn her in pieces, was about to devour her, when the huntsmen,\ncoming suddenly up to the brink of the precipice, discharged at once a\nshower of arrows upon the voracious animal. His body was full of them,\nthe blood gushed from every part of it, and an enormous stone thrown\nat his head killed him on the spot.\n\nAfter this exploit the huntsmen, anxious to discover the child whose\ncries resounded in this frightful habitation, eagerly descended into\nit. But what was their astonishment when they found there at the side\nof a dead woman a beautiful infant, richly dressed, and swimming in\nthe blood of the wounds it had received! Their first care was to\nassist the innocent creature, which still breathed. They bathed its\nwounds, and wrapped them up with healing herbs. As soon as the infant\nappeared more calm, they buried the nurse and examined this strange\nretreat. The furniture of this small habitation appeared extremely\nrich, and a quantity of provisions was found there, which seemed to\nhave come down from heaven. The huntsmen took possession of everything\nby the right of conquest, and sought how they might take out of this\ndungeon everything it concealed.\n\nThe basket of bulrushes was first employed in drawing up the young\nchild out of this habitation, and next all the effects, the furniture,\nand the provisions, were raised by means of the pulley which was fixed\nat the top of the cave. When everything was out a division was made.\nThe chief of the troop took possession of the infant, in whose\npreservation he felt himself strongly interested, and carried it with\nhim to his own house.\n\nThe only son of the Sultan Hebraim had fallen into good hands. His\nbenefactor was a man of distinction, wealthy, and without a fault but\nthat of an unlimited passion for the chase. Struck with the beauty and\nthe sweetness of his young charge, he paid the greatest attention to\nhim. And when he found him capable of answering his questions, he\nendeavoured to learn from him who he was, and for what reason he had\nbeen made to dwell in so extraordinary a habitation.\n\n\"I know not,\" replied the child. \"I lived with the woman whom you\nfound dead; she gave me everything I wanted. From time to time a man,\nmuch bigger than you, came and stood at the top of the dwelling where\nyou found me. I was put into a basket and drawn up to him. He caressed\nme very much, and called me his dear child. I called the woman Nurse,\nand she likewise said I was her dear child. I know nothing more.\"\n\nThe benefactor could not conclude, from this simple declaration,\nanything else than that this child owed its birth to parents of an\nillustrious rank, but he could not discover the very extraordinary\nreason which had forced them to conceal its existence by a method\nstill more extraordinary. Expecting that time would unravel this\nmystery, he paid every attention to the boy's education, had him\ninstructed in the sciences, and trained up in exercises suitable to\nthe most illustrious descent.\n\nThe young disciple early answered the hopes of his friend. He excelled\nparticularly in the art of horsemanship, handled every sort of weapon\nwith dexterity, and in general acquired all the knowledge necessary\nfor the most resolute warrior or hunter.\n\nOne day, as they were both hotly engaged in the pursuit of some\ntigers, they were suddenly surrounded by a band of robbers. Abaquir\n(for that was the young man's name) displayed, as well as his master,\nprodigious feats of valour. But, overpowered by numbers, they were\nboth plundered. The protector of Abaquir lost his life, and he himself\nreceived some slight wounds; but the faintness which succeeded was\nmore the effect of fatigue than of blows. As soon as the robbers had\ndisappeared he came to himself, and being naturally courageous, he\nattempted, though deprived of every aid, to cross the desert, in order\nto reach some inhabited place, having nothing for his defence but a\nhunter's javelin, which had been left on the field of battle.\n\nHe had travelled but a few hours when he perceived in the plain a man\nin the habit of a dervish. He made haste to join him, to address and\nsalute him. The dervish prevented him by beginning the conversation\nhimself.\n\n\"Beautiful young man,\" said he to him, \"you are naked and wounded. Who\nhath reduced you to the distressed situation in which I see you?\"\nAbaquir did not hesitate to relate his adventure to this man, whom he\ntook for some holy person, and confidently asked from him some food\nand clothing.\n\n\"One ought,\" replied the dervish, \"to know what it is to strip himself\nin order to clothe his brother, and to share with him his food in\norder to preserve him.\"\n\nAt the same time he covered the young man with his cloak, made him sit\ndown, and drew from a sort of wallet some dates, bread baked with the\nmilk of a camel, and a bottle of the skin of a goat, containing five\nor six pints of water.\n\n\"Hold,\" said he, \"you shall have the repast of a penitent. I carry\nthese with me to supply my own wants and those of others; but we will\ngo to my cave, and there you will find both repose and plenty.\"\n\nAbaquir, before he began to eat, returned thanks to the holy Prophet\nfor so seasonable a relief. When the first calls of hunger were\nsatisfied, the dervish prevailed upon him to go with him to his cell,\nwhich was at no great distance.\n\nAbaquir was received therewith every mark of benevolent charity. His\nwounds were washed and dressed, and the most nourishing food was set\nbefore him. In this wild habitation the tables and chairs were nothing\nbut stones rudely thrown together, and the beds were made of heaps of\nmoss; but it was very well for Abaquir, who had been reduced to the\nwant of everything. Besides, the attention of his landlord supplied\nthe want of conveniences in this retreat. The young man conceived the\nhighest idea of the profession of a dervish, from its inspiring\nsentiments so humane.\n\n\"My dear child,\" said the disguised person to him, \"I take pleasure in\nbestowing care on you; do not place all to the account of religion.\nYou inspire me with a strong interest, and if you wish to go away from\nme, you must at least tarry till you are perfectly recovered of your\nwounds, for the passage from this desert is extremely difficult.\"\n\nAlthough the young man could not but show himself grateful for so much\nattention, yet it did not appear uncommon to him. Accustomed to the\ntender caresses of his nurse, to those of his father, and of his\ngenerous benefactor who had since directed his education, the\nattentions of the pretended dervish seemed to him affectionate and\nnatural. The latter, by degrees, came to know all the adventures of\nAbaquir, and appeared to take in him an interest always more marked.\n\n\"Either I am much deceived, child,\" said the recluse, \"or I perceive\nthat you are reserved for very high fates, and I devote myself to\nbecome your conductor in this fortunate career. I will restore to you\nthis father who took so much pleasure in lavishing his caresses upon\nyou.\"\n\n\"Ah! if you can,\" replied Abaquir, \"conduct me to him immediately.\"\n\n\"In your present condition? No, my child, you are unacquainted with\nmankind. Nature speaks not with the great in favour of a stranger\ncovered with the old cloak of a dervish. Before you could obtain a\nhearing, you would experience the treatment reserved for an impostor,\nand there would be a number of interested people ready to forbid you\nall access. But at present you are with a man who loves you, and whose\nresources are inexhaustible. A disgust at the riches and vanities of\nthe world made me form the resolution of retiring from it. But\nto-morrow, if I choose, I can have more of them in my possession than\nwould satisfy the ambition of the most wealthy potentates on earth. I\ncan show you part of them. The earth conceals treasures which I can\nforce her to give up. Not far from this there is great abundance of\nthem, and I will conduct you thither. You shall take what may be\nnecessary to carry you to your father's Court, preceded by a hundred\ncamels, loaded with the richest stuffs of the East, and each of them\nled by a slave. You shall be surrounded by a guard, which will secure\nyou respect wherever you pass.\"\n\nAbaquir was lost in admiration. He could not imagine that these\nmagnificent promises were real when he looked upon the coarse cloak\nwith which he was covered, the furniture, and the fantastic utensils\nof his landlord. The latter, after having been some moments lost in\nreflection, thus resumed his speech:\n\n\"O my child, never let appearances deceive you! The more you advance\nin years, the more you will learn to distrust its illusions. I am a\ndervish by inclination, but all the garments I wear are not mean. Here\nis one which becomes none but brave and powerful men.\" At the same\ntime the pretended dervish opened his cassock, and discovered a girdle\nof red, yellow, and green silk.\n\n\"Take courage, young man,\" continued he: \"to-morrow I will show you\ngreat things. Our attention shall be engaged about your fortune. I\nshall be able, without being obliged to go far, to find out this\nsingular cave in which you were brought up. I shall know the\narchitect; and in a month, after having finished all our preparations,\nwe will depart for your father's Court, with a train of attendants\nthat will force everybody to welcome us.\"\n\nThe discovery of this girdle under rags had struck Abaquir with\nastonishment. He depended upon the promises of his new protector, and\naccepted his offers.\n\n\"But,\" continued this extraordinary man, \"as soon as you shall be at\nyour father's house, and, notwithstanding the pain which our\nseparation will cost you, I shall require your permission to return to\nmy solitary manner of life.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" replied Abaquir; \"but you will not prevent me from\nconducting you thither.\"\n\nOn the morning of the next day the dervish made the young man take a\nbasket with provisions for breakfast, and a parcel of ropes, and they\nwent together to the bottom of a steep mountain. When they had arrived\nthere, the companion of Abaquir encouraged him to exert new strength.\n\n\"You may,\" said he, \"suffer a little fatigue, but reflecting that you\nare to reap the fruit of it, you must redouble your courage. Be not\nastonished at what you are about to see. This mountain contains in its\nbosom a treasure which cannot be estimated. These riches are abandoned\nto magi, like me; but we despise using them for ourselves. Do not\nspend your time in gathering gold, which you will find here in great\nquantity: take nothing but precious stones. This is the best method of\nenriching yourself speedily.\"\n\nAfter this advice, the dervish threw off his cloak, and appeared as a\nmagician. He was covered only with his large particoloured girdle\nwhich adorned his breast. He took from a purse which hung from his\ngirdle an instrument for striking fire, and, having lighted a taper,\nhe burnt perfumes, and running over a book, he pronounced with a loud\nvoice a magical charm. Scarcely had he finished when the earth shook\nunder his feet, opened before him, and discovered a square stone of\nmarble, upon the middle of which the magician immediately scattered\nperfumes. When he thought the air sufficiently purified and refreshed\nwith them, he girded Abaquir with a rope under his arms, put a taper\nin his hand, and let him down into the opening.\n\nAs soon as Abaquir had got into it, his eyes were dazzled by the\nsplendour of the riches with which he was surrounded. But, faithful\nto the advice of the magician, he picked up only precious stones, with\nwhich he filled the basket which his guide had let down to him by a\ncord. When it was full and lifted out of the pit, the magician took\nit; and at that moment a dreadful noise was heard, the fatal trap was\nshut, and the young Abaquir found himself swallowed up in the bowels\nof the earth, without any hope of ever getting out.\n\nHe believed he was betrayed by the magician, and, without great vigour\nof mind, would have abandoned himself to despair. But, after having\nshed some tears, he retraced in his memory the events of his former\nlife. Threatened in his early infancy with becoming the prey of a\ntiger, Providence had protected him from danger. Attacked afterwards\nby robbers, the same protection had saved him. \"The arm which hath\ndefended me,\" said he, \"will not cease to do so still. I am innocent\nand betrayed.\" In this confidence he prostrated himself before Him who\nhas the keys of the deep, and rested with confidence in His\nassistance.\n\nBy the light of the candle, which was still burning, he examined the\nimmense cave which served him as a prison. He thought he perceived at\nthe bottom a passage, the path of which could not be followed without\nstooping. He approached it with his light, but there came from it so\nstrong a wind that it was instantly extinguished. Far from lessening\nhis hopes, this accident increased them. So violent a wind announced\nto him a passage outward. He entered it with great difficulty, and\nalmost creeping in the darkness. As he advanced he heard a hollow\nnoise, the murmur of which presaged to him some singular event. He\nsoon perceived that he dipped his hands and his knees in a spring of\nrunning water. He raised his head, and finding that he could take some\nrest, he sat down upon a stone which he had met with, amid the murmurs\nof many other streams which flowed from these deep caves. He filled\nthe hollow of his hand with the water, which was fresh and delicious.\nHe drank of it, and after having recruited his strength, he continued\nthis fatiguing journey. But these little streams, which thus far had\nonly run upon the ground, had here hollowed out a bed for themselves.\nHe was obliged to enter it, and the farther he advanced the more the\ndanger increased, till at last he began to swim. The darkness around\nhim at length began to be dissipated. The cavern grew wider and\nhigher, and admitted a feeble ray of light, which seemed to announce\nthat the outlet was near. The strength of the swimmer increased with\nhis hopes; and he soon found himself under the vault of heaven, at the\nmoment when the sun was ceasing to adorn it, and the goddess of the\nnight was succeeding to her task.\n\nAbaquir might now repose without fear, and his strength was exhausted.\nHe laid himself upon the ground, and, overcome with fatigue, soon fell\nasleep. He had but few of the wet clothes which he had received from\nthe magician to put off, for the rubbing of the flints had carried\naway part of them, and the remainder were but shreds.\n\nThe singing of birds announced the return of morning, and the first\nrays of the sun awakened Abaquir. The young Prince, on opening his\neyes, recollected the dangers from which he had just escaped. He\nretraced the most trifling circumstances of them in his memory. He\nthought he remembered to have seen, in the frightful cavern he had\ntraversed, the carcasses of many who had fallen victims to the avarice\nof the wicked magician. This remembrance filled his soul with terror\nand dismay; but, at the same time, he felt the value of the blessings\nof the Almighty hand, which had miraculously rescued him from this\ntomb. His eyes, raised to heaven and swimming in tears, expressed his\ngratitude, while his lips celebrated the praises of the Almighty and\nof His Prophet.\n\nThese first duties being fulfilled, it became necessary to appease the\nhunger which preyed upon him. In running round the borders of a small\nlake where he was, he perceived some reeds, of which he sucked the\nstalks, and chewed the roots with his teeth. He dug up the earth all\naround, which furnished him such supplies as his urgent need required.\nBy the help of care and patience he at last regained strength, and\nwith it, courage. He then took up some shreds of his clothes, already\ndried by the sun, and fixed them to a girdle made of the leaves of\nreeds; and by searching carefully he found a stick, which served him\nat once for support and defence. He arrived, after much fatigue, upon\na little plain, from whence he discovered a neighbouring city, to\nwhich he directed his steps by the first road that presented itself.\n\nAs soon as he was perceived by the inhabitants, one of them ran to\nmeet him, and appeared eager to lavish upon him the assistance of\nwhich his external appearance showed he had need. He obliged him to\ntake an asylum in his house, where he was received with kindness; the\nrecital of his adventures was listened to with feeling, and he found\nfriends in his misfortunes.\n\nAnd now, without feeling a moment's uneasiness concerning the fate of\nthis young Prince, let us return to the Sultan Hebraim, his father,\nmuch more afflicted than he by the accomplishment of the mournful\nprediction.\n\nThe second day after the defeat of the tiger was the term assigned by\nthe astrologers. The Sultan, thinking to reap at length the fruit of\nhis cares and prudence, appeared at the top of the opening, and\nannounced his arrival as usual by the sound of a horn. But nobody\nhaving answered his first signal, Hebraim, uneasy at this silence,\nmade some of his officers go down into the pit, who, after much\ndiligent but fruitless search, found nothing in it but the dead body\nof a tiger. The unhappy father doubted no longer the death of his son:\nhe returned in haste to his palace, and sent for the same astrologers\nwhom he had formerly consulted respecting the fate of his heir.\n\n\"Unhappy that I am!\" said he to them, \"your fatal prediction is\nverified: my son has been devoured by a tiger before the expiration of\nthe seven years; for in the retreat which I prepared for him I have\nfound nothing but the body of an enormous tiger.\"\n\n\"Invincible Sultan!\" replied the astrologers, \"since the event forces\nfrom you an acknowledgment of the truth of our presage, we must\ncongratulate you now on being beyond the reach of an inevitable death,\nwhich he whose loss you deplore would have brought upon you. Your son,\nfalling under his destiny, has died in innocence and you are\npreserved.\"\n\nThis reflection brought some relief to the natural sorrow of the\nSultan, and time completely effaced the remembrance of it.\n\nIn the meantime, Abaquir, of whom we must not lose sight, grew weary\nof his idleness in this little village where he had been so well\nreceived. His landlord had a numerous family, and but very small\nresources for their maintenance. The young Prince being unwilling to\nbe a burden on him, went frequently to hunt in the country. One day as\nhe had killed a deer, and was preparing to lay it on his shoulders, he\nwas suddenly surrounded by a troop of horsemen, and doubted not that\nhe was in the middle of a band of robbers.\n\n\"Companion!\" said the chief to him, \"you hunt on foot, and carry\nnothing but a bow. There are, however, in these deserts many lions and\ntigers, and you may some day be worsted. Come and hunt along with us,\nand we will give you an excellent horse.\"\n\nAbaquir, already eager for the chase, thought he had found an\nexcellent opportunity of following his inclination, and of relieving\nhis landlord of the burden of his entertainment. He briskly replied to\nthis offer by saying that he accepted the favour they intended him of\nadmitting him into their number. The chief of the band perceived by\nthis reply that the young man, who was as yet a novice, had not\nunderstood his proposal in its true sense, and thus resumed his\nspeech:\n\n\"Since you are willing to join us, we will breakfast together to\nconfirm our acquaintance.\"\n\nUpon this the rest of the band dismounted, opened their knapsacks, and\nbegan each to satisfy his appetite.\n\n\"Since you are one of us,\" said the chief, \"I must inform you of the\nlaws by which we are governed. We love and assist one another as\nbrethren, we make an equal division of our booty, and we swear to be\nfaithful in life or in death.\"\n\n\"I have already lived among hunters,\" replied Abaquir; \"I love that\nway of life, and you must know that if I do not owe my birth to them,\nI am at least indebted to them for my life. Your laws appear to me\nextremely equitable.\"\n\n\"Since it is so,\" said the chief, \"I have nothing more to do but\ninstruct you in our rules. Although I am only your equal, every one\nhere submits to me as their chief. And as it is necessary that I\nshould be feared and respected, I treat with extreme rigour all those\nwho disobey my orders.\"\n\n\"The moment you associate in a band,\" said Abaquir, \"subordination is\nessentially necessary.\"\n\n\"Swear, then, upon the Koran, and by the name of the holy Prophet,\"\nreplied the chief, \"to submit to all our laws without limitation.\"\n\nAs soon as Abaquir heard the divine book mentioned, he believed he had\ngot among saints, and without hesitating took the Koran, put it thrice\nupon his heart, his head, and his lips, and promised more than was\nrequired of him. Thus was he enrolled without knowing it in the number\nof the greatest miscreants of the desert. All his new companions\nembraced him with joy. He mounted a fine horse, was covered with a\ncloak, and armed with a bow, a sabre, and a spear. Abaquir was\ndelighted, and perceived not till next day the rashness of the\nengagements he had made.\n\nIn a short time these vagabonds spread themselves over the desert, and\nrobbed and plundered travellers and caravans. Their number was every\nday increased by the success of their fatal expeditions. At length\ntheir ravages became so considerable that the Sovereign of these\ncountries put himself at the head of some troops to pursue them. This\nwas the Sultan Hebraim. The robbers were surrounded on every side; and\nAbaquir, being at the head of the band, was particularly aimed at by\nthe Sultan. But the young man, warding off the danger which threatened\nhim, wounded his adversary with an arrow; while, in another quarter,\nthe subjects of the Prince had made themselves masters of the robbers.\nEvery one that did not fall by the sword was taken prisoner, and the\ndeserts were at last cleared of this wandering and destructive band.\n\nThe Sultan, however, was very grievously wounded. On his return to the\ncapital, and after having received some medicines for his hurt, he\nsent for the astrologers.\n\n\"Impostors!\" said he to them. \"Did you foretell that I was to die by\nthe hand of a robber?--you who threatened me only with dying by that\nof my son?\"\n\n\"Sultan,\" replied they, \"everything which we have foretold is\nunhappily but too true. First let your Highness examine the criminal;\ninform yourself from what hand the fatal arrow came, and then form\nyour opinion of us.\"\n\nHebraim ordered all the prisoners to be brought into his presence, and\npromised them their lives and their liberty if they would discover the\nperson that wounded him.\n\n\"It was I,\" said Abaquir, with firmness; \"I have been so unfortunate\nas to attack the life of my Sovereign, whom I did not know, and I\ndeserve death.\"\n\n\"Take courage, young man,\" said the astonished Sultan. \"Tell me only\nwho you are, and who is your father.\"\n\nUpon this demand, Abaquir gave a full detail of his history, so far as\nwas consistent with his knowledge, up to that part of it where the\ntiger wounded him and devoured his nurse. The relation was interrupted\nby the visible change which was observed on the countenance of the\nSultan. But somewhat recovered from this first emotion, Hebraim warmly\nsolicited the account of his adventures. The young Prince continued\nhis history, and ended by describing the dread he had felt when\nfighting against the Sultan.\n\n\"Stop!\" said Hebraim, with tears in his eyes. \"Approach, and show me\nthe bite of the tiger.\"\n\nAbaquir obeyed.\n\n\"I have found the truth,\" exclaimed the Sultan, as he examined the\nscar. \"Hesitate no more, my dear son; come into my arms! Let me have\nat least the consolation, before going down to the grave, of having\nfound my only son.--Astrologers!\" said he, turning towards them, \"you\nhave told me truth as far as it was possible for you, but I was in the\nwrong to consult you about my destiny: we ought to submit in silence\nto the decree pronounced upon us; in seeking to shun it, we only\nincrease its weight.\"\n\nThen addressing the whole Court:\n\n\"Viziers, and grandees of the realm!\" said he to them, \"acknowledge as\nyour rightful Sovereign Ben-Hebraim, my only son and assist him in\nfulfilling with dignity the difficult duties of the throne.\"\n\nAbaquir having been immediately crowned, under the name of\nAbaquir-Ben-Hebraim, his father died; for he caused the arrow which\nhad entered his body to be pulled out, and his life escaped with the\nblood which issued from the large wound, while he reverenced the\ndecree whose execution he had drawn upon himself, and blessed God for\ngranting him an heir worthy of his crown.\n\nBen-Hebraim, early called to the government of a kingdom, but\ninstructed by adversity, brought up amid labour, and virtuous from\nprinciple, showed himself worthy of the public confidence. The\nadventure of the magician and the robbers put him on his guard against\nappearances. He pardoned the latter, but ardently wished that Heaven\nwould bring the former under his power, that he might make him an\nexample of justice.\n\nOne day, as the young Sultan was passing through the market-places of\nthe city in disguise, he perceived a stranger surrounded by a crowd,\nwhom curiosity had attracted. They were admiring some diamonds and\njewels of the most exquisite beauty.\n\nBen-Hebraim observed this stranger attentively, and, under the rich\ndress of an Armenian, he recollected his wicked dervish. The tone of\nhis voice and his striking air marked him so strongly, that it was\nimpossible to mistake him.\n\nThe Sultan speedily returned to his palace, and sent secretly for the\nyoungest of the robbers, whom he had kept on account of the happy\ndispositions he had discovered in him, and of the aversion he had\nshown for a manner of life which he had formerly been compelled to\nembrace.\n\n\"Margam,\" said he to him, \"I have need of your assistance in\ndelivering the world from a most dangerous man.\"\n\nAnd at the same time he pointed out to him the part he was to act in\nthe plan which they concerted together.\n\nTwo days after, Ben-Hebraim sent his chief eunuch, attended by four\nofficers of the palace and a train of slaves, to invite the Armenian\njeweller Daboul to come to the palace. And for this purpose one of the\nfinest horses in the stables was led to him.\n\nThe pretended Armenian was astonished at so much honour; and not\nsupposing that this invitation had any other motive than curiosity, he\ncollected his most precious effects, and intended to dazzle every eye\nby the magnificence of the present he was to carry to the Sultan. He\nentrusted two of his own slaves with it, and allowed himself to be\nconducted by the eunuch.\n\nAs soon as he arrived at the gates of the palace, a deputation from\nthe Sultan, with an officer at their head, came to present him with a\nrichly-ornamented box filled with betel-nuts. All the halls of the\npalace which he crossed were perfumed with aloes and sandal-wood; he\npassed thus even to the most retired closet of the Sultan's\napartments.\n\nMargam, in the robes of a Sultan, seated upon an elevated sofa, well\ninstructed in what he was to do and say, was waiting for the stranger.\nBen-Hebraim had acquired some knowledge in the magical art, the effect\nof which will soon be perceived.\n\nAt the sight of Daboul, Margam descended from the sofa, and came to\nmeet the pretended Armenian, without allowing him time to kneel, as\nwas usual, and made him sit down on the sofa, giving him the\nright-hand place.\n\n\"Permit this homage,\" added he: \"it is that of a young magician\ntowards his master.\" The astonished Daboul was silent. \"Here are my\nproofs,\" pursued Margam, and, uncovering his deliman, he showed him\nthe red, yellow, and green-coloured girdle which adorned his breast.\n\"I earnestly wished,\" continued the false Sultan, \"again to bring near\nme the man for whom wonderful circumstances have inspired me with as\nmuch respect as curiosity. The moment is now come, and I congratulate\nmyself upon it.\"\n\n\"Sultan,\" replied Daboul, \"when science is united with power,\neverything must bend before them. And you see me in admiration at\nbeing within the reach of kissing the feet of another Solomon.\"\n\n\"Let us leave to ordinary men,\" said Margam, \"the desire of external\nrespect. I seek not for empty homage, but am desirous to obtain new\nknowledge. Besides, what is an earthly sovereignty, subjected to so\nmuch labour and exposed to so many dangers, compared to that which you\nenjoy? What a happiness to be able to acquire immense riches, and to\ndiffuse the blessings thereof, without being burdensome to any!\"\n\n\"I cannot, O wise Sultan,\" replied Daboul, \"but approve of this noble\nambition and these virtuous sentiments. We can make ourselves masters\nof many things with great facility, and without delivering a whole\npeople to misery and the horrors of war: we sacrifice but one man.\"\n\n\"That is precisely,\" interrupted Margam, \"what I wanted to avoid. I\nwould wish to be able to save a man, and it is on this very subject I\nwas desirous to consult you.\"\n\n\"To save him?\" said Daboul. \"When he is predestined to it, one could\nnot preserve him even by putting oneself in his place.\"\n\n\"In this case, he must be abandoned; but I would wish, at least, that\nhe might only be a slave.\"\n\n\"Sultan, you would obtain nothing. He must be a victim of consequence,\nand of a distinguished rank.\"\n\n\"But it appears to me,\" said Margam, \"that in a choice like this one\nis exposed to dangerous resentments.\"\n\n\"There is a method of consulting beforehand,\" replied the magician,\n\"such as I made use of in my last search, and I received for answer,\n'_In order that you may run some danger, it would be necessary that\nyou should meet with your victim on earth_.' Now, having put him two\nhundred feet below ground, I could not fear the danger of his return.\"\n\nAfter appearing to muse, Margam added, \"It will be necessary, then,\nthat I overcome my scruples. I have only one thing to desire of you.\nWe can work together during your residence here. I am going to show\nyou the book which I have upon my breast, and wish you to give me\nyours.\"\n\nDaboul could not refuse; he was in a place where everything was\nsubject to the power of the Sultan. Margam took the book, carelessly\napproached a burning pan, and threw it in. The magician wished to pull\nit out; but at that instant the real Sultan, coming from behind a\ncurtain, stopped him.\n\n\"Wretch,\" said he, \"thy hour is come! Thou art in presence of Abaquir,\nthy victim, and at the same time of Ben-Hebraim, Sovereign of these\ndominions.\"\n\nThen, addressing his page, \"Margam,\" said he to him, \"lay aside your\nroyal dress, and make my eunuchs approach. Infamous magician!\"\ncontinued he, speaking to Daboul, \"see how the deceitful illusions of\nthy art have hurried thee under the sword which must strike thee.\nWhither shall guilt flee when Heaven pursues it?--when the Divine\nvengeance arises from the earth to strike?\"\n\nAt these words the magician remained horror-stricken. But in a short\ntime the terrible remorse which gnawed his conscience appeared to have\nthe same effect upon him that the hot fire had upon his detestable\nbook.\n\n\"I burn!\" exclaimed he at short intervals, and setting up dismal\nshrieks.\n\n\"Let him be conducted from the palace,\" said the Sultan, \"and let his\nhead be cut off in presence of his slaves and of the people who are\nthere assembled.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAladin thus finished the history of the Sultan Hebraim and of his son;\nand, after a moment's silence, he again addressed himself to Bohetzad.\n\n\"Sire, I might here apply to my own adventures the reflections which\nnaturally arise from the history you have just heard. But if the\ndecree of Heaven hath not determined my deliverance, there is no means\nwhatever which could save me from the danger in which I am involved.\nThe characters imprinted upon my forehead decide concerning my safety,\nand the success or the shame of my enemies. But at all events I shall\nremain rich in my innocence, and sooner or later it will triumph.\"\n\nBohetzad, more irresolute than ever, gave notice by a signal that the\nminister was to be conducted back to prison.\n\nThe seventh day had just appeared since the condemnation of the young\nAladin had been so often deferred. It was the time of a festival. The\ngrandees, the courtiers, and the nobility of the kingdom were\nassembled around the throne, a duty they were obliged to fulfil. The\nten Viziers had all their creatures there. Some of these, authorized\nby the duties of their station, undertook to speak to the King\nagainst the Superintendent, by repeating all the strongest and most\ndeceitful things that had been said, in order to bring the Sovereign\nto the resolution of exercising against this convicted criminal all\nthe severity of justice. They finished by insinuating that, being\ndescended from robbers, nothing was to be expected from him but\ncrimes. Every one appeared to support these assertions by looks and\ngestures.\n\nThe unanimity of these advices, in appearance so disinterested, shook\nthe monarch once more. He thought himself obliged to acknowledge these\nmarks of zeal by thanks, and to justify the irresolution of his\nconduct. \"I do not mean,\" he said, \"that the wicked should remain\nunpunished, but I would wish that the criminal himself, convinced that\nhe has merited death, should be forced to acknowledge the equity of\nthe judgment by which he is condemned.\"\n\nAfter this observation he ordered the criminal, who was still loaded\nwith irons, to be brought before him.\n\n\"Audacious young man!\" said he to him, \"you see around me the\nrepresentatives of my nation, to whom the continuance of your life is\na grievance. It is only by your death that the murmurings of my people\ncan be appeased.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Aladin, with respect and dignity, \"as to the crime\nwith which so many voices seem to accuse me, and with whose vengeance\nI am pursued, I throw it always far from me, even to the shadow of\nsuspicion. If the nation were here worthily represented, its voice\nwould be the voice of God, and would be lifted up in favour of my\ninnocence. This voice, to whose sound every one is deaf at this\nmoment, yet resounds at the bottom of your Majesty's heart. The fowler\nhas less power to smother with his hands the bird which he holds in\nthem, than you have to take away my life. Your clemency alone would\nnot have led you to have deliberated so long, if the finger of Allah\ndid not weigh in your heart the atrocity of the imputations with which\nI am charged, and if the power of the star which rules my fortune were\nnot opposed to my fall. I find, among the adventures of the family of\nSelimansha, innumerable circumstances that have a resemblance to\nmine. Balavan, his son, found, in attempting the death of one of his\nnephews, that no human power can hasten the moment of death marked out\nby Providence.\"\n\n\"I should wish to know,\" said Bohetzad, \"if you can show us in the\nhistory of this family an example of ingratitude like yours.\"\n\n\nHISTORY OF SELIMANSHA AND HIS FAMILY.\n\n\nSire (replied the young Superintendent immediately) history has\npreserved to us the memory of a King of Persia, named Selimansha, who\npossessed all the virtues of a great Sovereign. His family consisted\nof two sons, but was increased by an only daughter of Kalisla, his\nbrother, whom the latter, when dying, had entrusted to his care.\nSensible of his preference, Selimansha forgot nothing in order to\nreturn his confidence. His love for his brother, joined to the purest\nvirtues, engaged him to bestow the greatest care on the education of\nthis Princess, whom he looked upon as his own daughter. Favours so\ndelicate met in this young disciple the happiest dispositions, and\nsoon brought her to a great degree of perfection.\n\nFrom the age of twelve the charms of her person and the graces of her\nmind caused her to be remarked by persons of her own sex as the star\nof morning in the bosom of the firmament. Her well-stored memory\nalways enabled her to display the soundness of her judgment. She was\nso well acquainted with the Koran as to repeat chapters of it at\npleasure, and she explained its meaning with a precision that\ndelighted every hearer.\n\nSelimansha, seeing his amiable niece fit for marriage, thought he\ncould not dispose of her hand better than by bestowing it on one of\nhis sons. He proposed this to the Princess, leaving her, however,\nabsolute mistress of her choice.\n\n\"It is only your happiness that I seek, daughter; pronounce, and my\nwill shall follow your decision.\"\n\n\"On whose judgment could I better rely than on yours?\" replied\nChamsada. \"I commit myself entirely to the tenderness of which I have\nevery day the most affecting proofs, and I submit with pleasure to\neverything which your wisdom shall determine concerning me.\"\n\n\"Your confidence flatters me,\" replied the good monarch, \"and would\nredouble my affection for you were it capable of being increased.\nSince you leave to me the disposal of your lot, I will join it to that\nof my second son. The happy similarity which I have observed in your\ndispositions seems to me to promise the most agreeable union. I\ndiscern in him virtues which, now unfolding themselves, will soon\nbecome the rivals of your own. You are born to govern kingdoms, and I\nthink he possesses virtues worthy of a throne. In giving him your\nhand, and in allotting him my crown, I promote your happiness, his,\nand that of my people.\"\n\nThe amiable Princess cast down her eyes, while she thanked her uncle\nfor his goodness. Selimansha immediately ordered the preparations\nnecessary for the celebration of the nuptials.\n\nPublic rejoicings followed it, and manifested the general\nsatisfaction. They lasted sixty days. At the end of this term\nSelimansha, desirous of repose, abdicated the crown in favour of the\nson to whose fortunes he had just united the lovely Chamsada.\n\nBalavan, the eldest of Selimansha's sons, expected to ascend the\nthrone at the death of his father. Smitten with the charms of his\nbeautiful relation, he was reckoning upon offering her his hand, and\nassociating her with his fortune. Indignation and jealousy took\npossession of his heart when he saw the rank and happiness to which he\nthought himself called by the right of age pass into the hands of his\nbrother. Even if his merit had not been a reason for this preference,\nhe knew that the Sovereigns of this part of the East have the power of\nchoosing their successors in their family without regard to the\nprerogatives of age. But the impetuous Balavan thought they should\nhave departed from this usage in his behalf, and followed that of\nother nations.\n\nThe birth of a son to his brother increased his rage, and was another\nobstacle to his pretensions. He found means to introduce himself\nsecretly into the apartment of the King his brother, and with a\nfurious hand plunged his poniard into his breast. He entered with the\nsame precautions and the same design into that where the infant was\nasleep; but lifting the veil which concealed this young Prince, more\nbeautiful than the day, a supernatural feeling seemed to withhold his\nhand.\n\n\"Thou shouldst have been my son,\" said he, \"if injustice had not torn\nfrom me the heart and the hand of Chamsada.\"\n\nAnd recognizing at the same time in this innocent victim the features\nof her whose charms he adored, an involuntary emotion made him strike\na feeble blow; the poniard wavered in his trembling hand, and the\nwound of the stroke was not mortal.\n\nBalavan was only induced to spare his sister-in-law from the hopes he\nentertained of one day obtaining her hand. This hope, however,\nrestrained his murdering arm. As for Selimansha, he escaped this\nmonster by the vigilance of his guards. At the moment when he\napproached the apartment of his father, in the dreadful design of\ncompleting his crimes by embruing his hands in his parent's blood, he\nwas perceived by a slave, who, assisted by the eunuchs of the guard,\ndeprived the murderer of every hope of success in the crime he was\nabout to commit. Convinced then that he could not escape suspicion, he\nfled and concealed himself on the frontiers of the kingdom, in a\ncastle fortified both by nature and by art.\n\nDay, which began to appear, was soon to discover the horrors of this\nbloody night. With the first rays of morning the nurse went to feed\nher tender care, whose blood deluged the cradle. Lost in astonishment,\nshe ran to the apartment of the King and Queen to announce this fatal\nnews. Her despair and shrieks went before her, and awakened Chamsada.\nThe unhappy Queen opened her eyes, and found her husband breathing his\nlast at her side. The cries of the nurse made her dread misfortunes\nstill more terrible. A widowed spouse and a weeping mother, she ran to\nthe cradle of her son and took him in her arms. He still breathed, and\nshe conceived the hope of saving his life. The whole palace was in\nmotion. Selimansha arrived with his eunuchs, and surgeons were called,\nwhose skill and attention restored the life of this innocent creature.\nBut they were employed to no purpose on the body of the young monarch,\nwhose death the unfortunate Chamsada deplored. Aromatic and medicinal\nherbs and the balms of the East produced their effect on the wound of\nthe child, and rekindled the hopes of his mother. He was again placed\nin the bosom of his nurse, and the presumptive heir of Selimansha was\nat length out of danger.\n\nIn the meantime the aged monarch endeavoured to discover the murderer\nof his children. The hasty flight of Balavan, his poniard stained with\nblood, which was found in the apartment, soon confirmed the suspicions\nto which his vicious disposition had at first given rise. The\nunfortunate old man with difficulty restrained the excess of his\ngrief.\n\n\"Heaven,\" exclaimed he, \"keep far from me the angel of death, since it\nis your will that I should still be useful on earth.\"\n\nAfter this he assembled the grandees and the Viziers, and announced to\nthem his intention of resuming the reins of government.\n\nHis first care was to comfort the disconsolate Chamsada, and they\nagreed in directing their attention to the lovely infant whom\nProvidence had preserved. While they strengthened his constitution,\nthey also formed his understanding and his heart. The mother explained\nto him passages of the law which ought to guide his manners and his\nconduct, and the old man instructed him in the important knowledge of\nthe world and of men.\n\nAt the age of eight, the young Prince was so robust that he was able\nto handle arms and endure the fatigue of riding; and in a few years\nmore, his moral virtues were unfolded, and promised one day to eclipse\nthose which had shone so conspicuous in the King his father.\n\nSelimansha, now judging that his grandson, with the assistance of good\ncounsel, was capable of wearing the crown, resigned the reins of\nempire into his hands amidst the assembled divan, and caused him to be\nproclaimed King, under the name of Shaseliman, amidst the acclamations\nof the kingdom. The people, not yet recovered from astonishment at the\ndreadful stroke which had deprived them of a Sovereign they adored,\npromised his heir the same attachment, and expected from him the same\nlove.\n\nThe new King, directed by wise counsels, did not belie the happy\nanticipation of his subjects in his favour. The Cadis and Viziers,\nfulfilling with propriety the duties of their office, made the laws\nbeloved, the wise and speedy execution of which confirmed the\nhappiness of all. Equally punctual in the duties of religion as in\nthose of the throne, Shaseliman was regular in his ablutions, attended\nprayers in the mosques, held three divans in the week, was every day\nbusied with his ministers, and was found in every place where his\npresence was necessary to restore tranquillity and good order. The\npeople, happy under his government, enjoyed their felicity in peace,\nwhen new crimes came to disturb it, and tear from them the hope of a\ndurable happiness.\n\nThe accursed Balavan, pursued by remorse at the crime which he had\ncommitted, and not thinking himself safe among a people by whom he was\nhated, left the fortified place where he had taken refuge, and\nattempted to retire into Egypt, in order to implore the protection of\nthe Sovereign of that vast empire. There, concealing his crimes, he\npresented himself as an unfortunate Prince, the victim of a woman, and\nsacrificed by a father whom age had rendered weak. The King of Egypt\nreceived him with kindness, and was preparing to give him assistance,\nwhen an envoy of Selimansha arrived and demanded audience.\n\nThis old monarch, informed by his spies of the road which Balavan had\ntaken, had sent deputies to all the Courts at which this wretch might\nbeg a retreat or support. A very full description was given of the\nfugitive, and all his crimes were mentioned.\n\nThe Sultan, in communicating to the criminal the despatches he had\nreceived, gave immediate orders that he should be shut up in close\nconfinement, waiting the sentence which an enraged father should pass\nagainst him. Such was the order intimated to Balavan, and such was the\nimport of the answer which was given to the King Selimansha. But this\nfather, too weak and affectionate, committed at once two capital\nblunders.\n\nIn order to excite against his son all the anger of the Egyptian King,\nhe had concealed from him that the young Shaseliman had escaped the\nmortal blow which was aimed at him. He did not correct this opinion\nin his second letter, and advised the King of Egypt to set the\ncriminal at liberty.\n\n\"Already too unhappy,\" said he, \"I do not wish to stain my hand by\ntracing the order for my son's death. Let him wander from place to\nplace, destitute of resources and assistance, having no companion but\nremorse, and no society but the tigers of the desert, less inhuman\nthan himself. Assailed by want, tormented by grief, and detested by\nothers, may he himself become the instrument of my vengeance, which I\nleave to the King of Kings.\"\n\nUpon this resolution, the Sultan set Balavan at liberty, and banished\nhim for ever from his kingdom. Of this he gave an account to\nSelimansha, with whom he entered upon a much more agreeable\nnegotiation.\n\nThe fame of the beauty and valuable qualities of Chamsada had reached\neven to Egypt. Bensirak, the Sultan just mentioned, perceiving that it\nwas possible to obtain her hand, made the proposal to Selimansha in\nthe most urgent and respectful terms, beseeching him to gain the\nconsent of her whom both nature and blood had made subject to him as\nhis niece and daughter-in-law.\n\nThe aged monarch of Persia, pleased with a demand which offered to his\namiable niece so advantageous an establishment, instantly laid the\nproposal before her. The feeling Chamsada could not hear it without\ntears. Her heart still belonged wholly to the husband whom she had\nlost, and she must tear herself from the arms of her uncle and her\nchild to be able to open her soul to the impressions of a new\naffection!\n\n\"Alas! dear uncle,\" said she, \"what sentiments will ever replace those\nwhose sweetness I here experience? Where could I find duties so\npleasant to fulfil?\"\n\n\"My dear daughter,\" replied Selimansha, \"you are asked in marriage by\none of the most powerful monarchs in the world. His virtues are highly\npraised, and his person favourably spoken of. Your son, whom I have\nplaced upon my throne, stands in need of a protection more vigorous\nand lasting than mine. You will be able by your address to bring about\na strict alliance betwixt the two monarchs. But forget not that, in\norder to procure the expulsion of Balavan, I have charged him with\nthe double crime of having assassinated his brother and his nephew.\nShaseliman reigns in Persia as a descendant of my house, and his\nmother must be concealed from Bensirak. You will become dearer to him\nwhen he can hope for your undivided affections, and that they will\nonly be extended to the children who shall be born of this marriage.\nMy experience hath taught me the weakness of the human heart. A\npowerful man always distrusts discourses in which personal interest is\nconcerned. You can render your son upon the Persian throne the most\nessential services as a distant relation without being suspected of\nsacrificing the interests of your husband and children; but were you\nto speak in behalf of a son, you would be looked on as a mother\nblinded by an excess of love. Besides, it is very fortunate for us\nthat Bensirak expects from our favour that which he might force from\nus by his power. Let us not by a refusal draw the scourge of war upon\nour people, and let us sacrifice to their repose and our own interests\nthe pleasure we should have in living together.\"\n\nChamsada made no opposition to these arguments, more specious than\nsolid; and Selimansha in a short time returned, in answer to the\nSultan, that his niece found herself extremely honoured by the choice\nof the powerful Sovereign of Egypt, and that she was ready to be\nunited to him. On hearing this, the Sultan, intoxicated with joy, sent\nan ambassador with a superb retinue to bring his spouse. Selimansha,\ninformed of the arrival of the Egyptian minister in his kingdom, went\ntwenty leagues from his capital to meet him, received him in a\nmagnificent camp, and after having feasted him for two days, delivered\nto him his niece. The ceremonies were shortened, as well to gratify\nthe impatience of the Sultan as to conceal from the ambassador the\nsecret of the existence of Chamsada's son. The aged monarch at that\ntime assumed the dignity of envoy from the King of Persia, to fulfil\nthe conditions of the treaty.\n\nNo sooner had Chamsada arrived in the capital of Egypt, than the\nSultan sent for the Mufti and the Cadi for the contract and ceremony\nof marriage. Their obedience was immediately rewarded by a present of\nrobes and five thousand pieces of gold. The Princess entered the\napartment allotted for the nuptials. A crowd of most beautiful slaves,\nand magnificently dressed, conducted her to the bath, carrying pots in\nwhich the most precious spices were burning. At her coming out of the\nbath she was dressed by her attendants with the greatest care. They\nfanned her with peacocks' feathers while her long and lovely hair was\ndressed, and spared no pains to attire her in the most costly\ngarments, till her splendour outshone the lights of the apartment, and\nher beauty eclipsed that of everything around her. Thus attired, she\nwas conducted to the Sultan.\n\nThe monarch received her with demonstrations of the most tender\naffection, and seated her by his side. A supper was served up to them,\nof which the delicacy exceeded the profusion of the dishes; and he\npresented his future spouse with several boxes stored with the rarest\njewels.\n\nIn the meantime Chamsada, far from partaking of the public felicity\nand of the happiness of her husband, pined in secret. Separated from\nher son, she was occupied about him alone, to whom her heart was truly\nattached. Seconding the political and foolish views of her uncle, she\nwould hazard nothing with the Sultan which might lessen the character\nof this respectable old man, and she durst not speak of her son. What\nevils, however, might she not have prevented by a proper confidence!\nAnd what might she not have expected from the love of Bensirak, which\ngrew stronger every day!\n\nThe event was soon to justify the tender uneasiness of the Queen\nrespecting her son. Balavan, informed of the marriage of his\nsister-in-law with the Sultan of Egypt, and having learned that\nSelimansha reigned in Persia, felt his projects of vengeance awaken in\nhis heart. He beheld himself deprived of the fruit of his crimes, of\nthe throne of Persia, the object of his ambition, and of the beauty he\nwas anxious to conquer. The wretch, delivered over to his\ninclinations, infested by every sort of crime the kingdom, which he\nhoped to seize after the death of his father. He lived by rapine and\nrobbery.\n\nAt length Selimansha, sinking under the weight of years, resigned his\nsoul into the hands of his Creator. No sooner was Balavan informed of\nthis event than he placed himself at the head of the banditti of whom\nhe was the chief, stirring them up to revolt, drawing together new\nforces--gaining some by magnificent promises, and seducing others by\nthe allurement of the gold which his crimes had amassed. They\nconcerted their measures together. He dethroned his nephew, threw him\ninto a dungeon, and was proclaimed in his stead.\n\nThis cruel usurper, not content with his success, determined to put to\ndeath the innocent victim, who had formerly had such a miraculous\nescape from his murdering arm. But compassion, which could find no\navenue to his soul, had entered the heart of his wretched accomplices.\n\n\"We cannot consent to the death of a young man that hath done no\nevil,\" said they to Balavan: \"keep him in close confinement if you are\nafraid of his interest, but spare his life.\"\n\nHe was forced to comply with their demand, and shut up his nephew in a\ncave.\n\nChamsada, having heard this afflicting news, was unable to restrain\nher excessive grief. But she could not inform her husband of the\nmisfortunes of her son without exposing the memory of her uncle\nSelimansha, without representing him as an impostor, since he had\nwritten that the young Shaseliman had been assassinated. In the\nmeantime the detestable Balavan completed the conquest of Persia. All\nthe grandees of the kingdom came to pay him homage. The young\nShaseliman remained shut up four years, scarcely receiving as much\nfood as was necessary for his subsistence. Loaded with misfortune, his\nbeauty no longer recalled the image of his mother, of whom he was the\nperfect resemblance. At length it pleased Providence, that watched\nover him, to relieve him for a time from so many evils.\n\nBalavan, seated in his divan and surrounded by a brilliant Court,\nseemed to enjoy in peace an authority which appeared immovable. In\nmidst of grandees whose confidence he thought he possessed, and of\ncourtiers whose flattery he received, a voice was heard. This voice,\nsacred to truth, and still devoted to the memory of Selimansha, spake\nas follows:\n\n\"Sire, Heaven has crowned you with prosperity: in giving you, with\nthis empire, the hearts of your people, your throne appears to rest\nupon an immovable foundation; show yourself more and more worthy of\nthe favours of the Most High. Cast a look of compassion upon a feeble\nyoung man, whose innocence is his only support; who never opens his\neyes to the light but to shed tears; every moment of whose existence\nhas been marked by sufferings and misfortune. The unfortunate\nShaseliman never could offend you: restore him his liberty.\"\n\n\"I would agree to your request,\" replied Balavan, \"had I not some\nreasons to fear that he would form a party against me, and become the\nleader of the malcontents whom a King never fails to make in spite of\nhis best intentions.\"\n\n\"Alas! sire,\" replied the Prince who had spoken, \"who would follow a\nyoung man in whom nature is partly wasted by suffering, and whose soul\nhas no longer any vigour? Your subjects are devoted to your interest,\nand where would he find any who would be foolish enough to cherish\nambitious designs against you?\"\n\nBalavan yielded to these arguments, and affecting clemency in the\npresence of his Court, he set the young Shaseliman at liberty, dressed\nhim in a rich robe, and gave him the command of a distant province.\nBut this was not so much with a view to procure him prosperity as to\nget rid of him altogether, by sending him to the defence of a country\nwhich was continually exposed to the attacks of Infidels. He presumed,\nwith some reason, that he would sacrifice his life there, since none\nof his predecessors had ever escaped the dangers with which that part\nof Persia was threatened.\n\nThe young Prince departed with a small party. Scarcely had they\narrived at the place of their destination when the conjectures of his\nuncle Balavan were partly verified. The Infidels made an irruption.\nShaseliman, having nothing to oppose to them but a handful of men, was\nforced to yield to numbers, and fell himself into the hands of the\nenemy. But they, on account of his age and beauty (departing from the\ncruel usage they practised on such occasions), instead of putting him\nto death, were satisfied with letting him down into a well, where\nseveral Mussulmans were already shut up prisoners. This unhappy\nPrince, the victim of destiny, saw a whole year elapse in this\ndreadful captivity.\n\nThese Infidels had a custom every year, on a certain day, of carrying\nsuch as they had made prisoners to be thrown from the top of a very\nhigh tower.\n\nShaseliman was drawn up from the well, conducted to the top of the\ntower, and thrown down with others. But Providence, who watched over\nhis life, made him fall upon the body of one of his companions in\nmisfortune. This body partly bearing him up, and the air supporting\nhis clothes, preserved him from a mortal fall. He was stunned by the\nrapidity of the motion, but he neither met with a fracture nor a\ncontusion, and except a long swoon, he experienced no other accident.\n\nHe was at length recalled to life amidst the unfortunate people who\nhad lost it. His first step was to raise his soul to God, and to\ntestify his gratitude to Him, through the intercession of His great\nProphet. He discovered that he was in the middle of an immense forest,\nand that the corpses which surrounded him must necessarily attract the\nwild beasts; he therefore removed from this dangerous spot. He walked\nall night, and as soon as he thought himself beyond the reach of men\nand animals, he ascended a tree, endeavouring to conceal himself in\nits foliage from the notice of travellers, and supporting himself by\nwild fruits. This way of life he constantly pursued till he reached\nthe dominions of Balavan his uncle.\n\nHe was near entering the first city of Persia when he perceived five\nor six men conversing together. Perceiving them to be Mussulmans, he\naccosted them, and gave them an account of the treatment he had\nreceived from the Infidels, and of the miraculous way in which he had\nbeen saved. The simplicity of his relation leaving no room to suspect\nits truth, they were affected with compassion in his favour, and\nconducted him to their house, where he enjoyed all the rites of\nhospitality. After some days' rest he took leave of his benefactors,\nin order to continue his journey towards the capital where Balavan\nreigned. His hosts, after furnishing him with whatever he had need of,\nshowed him the way, without suspecting that the young man whom they\nhad entertained in so obliging a manner was the nephew of their\nSovereign.\n\nThe young Prince walked night and day. Fatigued, tired, his legs and\nfeet torn by the brambles and flints, he at length arrived under the\nwalls of Ispahan, and sat down near a basin which served as a\nreservoir to a neighbouring fountain. Scarcely had he time to recover\nhis breath, when he saw several gentlemen on horseback approaching.\nThey were officers of the King who were returning from the chase, and\nwere going to give their horses drink. Looking about them, they\nperceived the young Shaseliman; and notwithstanding the disorder of\nhis dress, and the change which sufferings and dejection had made upon\nthe natural charms of his countenance, they easily distinguished its\nsweetness and beauty, and were not able to look at him without feeling\nan emotion of the most tender interest.\n\n\"What are you doing here, young man?\" asked one of the officers.\n\n\"Brother!\" replied the wise Shaseliman, \"you know the proverb: 'Ask\nnot a stranger who is naked where are his clothes.' Let that answer\nfor me. I am hungry and thirsty, I am weak and deprived of every\nresource.\"\n\nAt this reply one of the officers ran to their beasts of burden, and\ntaking some venison and bread, brought it to him. As soon as he had\nprofited by this food, and seemed to have sufficient strength to\ncontinue the conversation,\n\n\"Brother!\" said one of the officers of the company to him, \"we are\ninterested in your fortune. Would it be indiscreet in us, should we\nbeg of you to give us some account of your history?\"\n\n\"Before satisfying you,\" replied the unfortunate Prince, \"answer, if\nyou please, one question of the greatest consequence to me. Is King\nBalavan, your Sovereign, still alive?\"\n\n\"Do you know the King?\"\n\n\"Yes. You see before you Shaseliman, his nephew.\"\n\n\"How can you be Shaseliman,\" replied the officer, \"since we know that\nhis uncle, after delivering him from a dungeon in which he had been\nfor four years shut up, gave him the command of a province, where it\nwas impossible but he must have died by the hands of the Infidels?\nBesides, we have heard that he was thrown down from the summit of a\nhigh tower by them with many other Mussulmans.\"\n\nThen the young Prince, in order completely to convince them, entered\ninto the detail of all his adventures, and of the wonderful manner in\nwhich Providence had preserved his life. At this relation the officers\nwere struck with astonishment: they prostrated themselves at his feet\nand watered his hand with their tears.\n\n\"You are King, sire,\" said they to him, \"the son of our rightful\nSovereign, and in all respects worthy of a better fate. But, alas!\nwhat do you come to seek at a Court where you can find nothing but\ndeath? Recollect the cruelties of which you have been the victim--the\ntreatment you have experienced, and the dangerous snare by which,\nunder the shadow of power, you were devoted to certain death in the\noffice to which you were appointed. Fly! Seek the country where the\nbeautiful Chamsada reigns Queen over the heart of the Sultan of Egypt.\nIt is there you will find happiness.\"\n\n\"Alas! how can I direct my steps to Egypt? Selimansha, my grandfather,\ndeceived the Sovereign of that empire by assuring him that I was dead:\nmy mother and I would be considered as impostors should I hazard an\nappearance there.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" replied he to him; \"but should you be reduced to the\nnecessity of living concealed in Egypt, you will at least be beyond\nthe reach of your uncle's attempts, whose cruelties you will not\nescape if he learns that you are alive.\"\n\nTo these advices the oldest of the officers likewise added his\nentreaties.\n\n\"O my master and my King!\" said he to the Prince, throwing himself on\nhis knees, \"the only and true descendant of Selimansha! Alas! must the\nslave who for thirty years was subject to his orders, who was the\nwitness of his virtues and the object of his kindness, see you reduced\nto this depth of misfortune? Does fate, then, pursue this monarch even\nbeyond the grave? Fly, dear Prince and wait not till you are attacked\nby greater misfortunes!\"\n\nEach of them was eager to supply the most urgent necessities of\nShaseliman. One stripped himself of part of his garments in order to\nclothe him; another divided with him his little provision; and all\ntogether made up a small sum of money, which might enable him to\ncontinue his journey. The unfortunate Prince, availing himself of\ntheir beneficence and counsel, took his leave. They did not separate\nfrom him without giving proofs of their attachment; and Shaseliman\nbegan his journey, recommending himself to God, and Mahomet His great\nProphet.\n\nAfter a long and fatiguing journey, he at length arrived in Egypt,\nwhere Chamsada, his mother, reigned. When he drew near to Grand Cairo,\nhe was unwilling to enter that great city, lest he should expose\nhimself to discovery. He therefore stopped at a village at a little\ndistance from the road, with the intention of entering into the\nservice of some of its inhabitants. He offered himself to a farmer of\nthe place to tend his flocks. He did not demand high wages, and lived\nin this obscure and miserable situation, subsisting with difficulty on\nthe crumbs which fell from his master's table.\n\nBut while the presumptive heir of the Persian throne was reduced to\nsuch a strange situation, how was Queen Chamsada employed? Every day\nthis disconsolate mother felt her uneasiness increase. In the struggle\nbetwixt her affection for her son and the secret which she must keep\nfrom the monarch, for the sake of her uncle's honour, her situation\nwas as distressing as that of Shaseliman. There was at the Court of\nBensirak an old slave of Selimansha, who had accompanied the Queen\ninto Egypt, and who since that time had remained in her service. He\nhad all her confidence, and was frequently the depository of the\nuneasiness of this tender mother. One day she perceived him alone, and\nmade him a signal to approach her.\n\n\"Well,\" said she to him, \"you know my attachment for my son; you know\nmy fears on his account, and you have taken no step in order to know\nwhat has become of him.\"\n\n\"Queen!\" replied the slave, \"that which you wish to know is extremely\ndifficult, and I know no means by which I could get information of it.\nYou know that you have yourself confirmed the report of his death,\nwhich was attested by Selimansha; and although by chance your son\nshould appear here, how could you destroy the public opinion? How\ncould you make him known?\"\n\n\"Ah! would to God that my son were here, although I should even be\ndeprived of the pleasure of seeing him. To know that he was still\nalive would be sufficient to confirm my repose and happiness.\"\n\n\"Queen,\" replied the slave, \"I am willing to sacrifice my life for\nyou: what do you require of me?\"\n\n\"Take from my treasures,\" said the Queen, \"the sum which you judge\nnecessary for your journey: go to Persia and bring my son.\"\n\n\"Money alone is less necessary here than prudence. Some plausible\nreason must be given for the journey which your Majesty proposes to\nme. You know that the Sultan honours me with his bounty, and that,\nengaged in his service, I cannot remove from his Court without his\nexpress permission. You yourself must ask and obtain it under some\nspecious pretence, which may prevent him from entertaining any\nsuspicion, and at the same time secure the success of your\napplication. Tell him that during the disturbances which preceded the\ndeath of your husband you concealed, in a place known only to me, a\ncasket of precious jewels, which you were anxious to put beyond the\nreach of accident. Beseech his Majesty to grant you permission to send\nme into Persia in search of this treasure. The care of the rest\nbelongs to me.\"\n\nThe Queen, convinced of her slave's attachment, and approving his\ncounsels, flew instantly to put them in execution, and found no\ndifficulty in obtaining her desire.\n\nThe faithful emissary speedily departed, disguised as a merchant, that\nhe might not be recognized in Persia. After much fatigue, he arrived\nat Ispahan, and having privately made inquiry concerning the fate of\nShaseliman, received at first the most distressing accounts of him.\n\nSome days after, as he was walking in the environs of the palace, he\nfound by chance one of the officers who had assisted the young Prince\nwhen he was sitting near the fountain which we have already mentioned.\nHaving served together under the reign of Selimansha, they\nrecollected one another, and entered into conversation.\n\n\"You come from Egypt,\" said the officer: \"did you meet Prince\nShaseliman?\"\n\n\"Shaseliman!\" replied the slave. \"Ah! can he be alive after the\ndreadful news that are spread here concerning him?\"\n\n\"Yes, he is alive, and I will tell you, in confidence, how we learned\nthis.\"\n\nHe then related everything which had befallen him, as well as the\nother officers, when they had met the Prince, and how, upon their\nadvice, the latter had taken the road to Egypt.\n\nThe pretended merchant, transported with joy, wished, in his turn, to\nreturn the confidence of his former companion, and revealed to him the\nwhole mystery of his mission into Persia; after this he took his leave\nof him to return into Egypt. In every place through which he passed he\nmade diligent inquiry after the young Prince, describing his\nappearance as the officer had represented it to him. Being arrived at\nthe village where he expected to meet him, he was very much surprised\nthat no person could give any information concerning him. As he was\npreparing to continue his journey, he found, at his going out of the\ncity, a young man asleep under a tree, near which some sheep were\nfeeding quietly.\n\nHe cast a look of compassion upon this poor creature, whose tattered\ngarments announced his misery.\n\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"it is impossible that this can be the man whom I\nseek. This is doubtless the child of some unhappy shepherd. My trouble\nwill be lost; yet what do I risk by awaking this young man, and\ninquiring concerning the person of whom I am in search? Let me not\nneglect even this hopeless expedient.\"\n\nHaving soon awakened him, he put the same questions to him which he\nhad been accustomed to propose to every one.\n\n\"I am a stranger in these places,\" replied Shaseliman, who was afraid\nto make himself known, being ignorant of the motives of this\ncuriosity; \"but, if I am not greatly mistaken, from the description\nwhich you have given, the person whom you are in search of is\nShaseliman, the young King of Persia, and grandson to Selimansha. His\nfather was killed by his barbarous brother Balavan, who usurped his\nthrone; the son was wounded in his cradle, yet Allah preserved the\nlife of that unfortunate infant.\"\n\n\"O Heaven!\" exclaimed the slave, \"am I so happy as to hear Shaseliman\nmentioned? How, young man, have you guessed the cause which made me\ntravel from Egypt into Persia? Who could inform you of it? Do you\nknow, then, what has become of this unfortunate Prince? Shall I reap\nat length the fruit of my anxiety and labours? Where could I find\nhim?\"\n\nWhen Shaseliman was convinced that he who thus spoke to him was a\nmessenger from his mother, he thought he might make himself known.\n\n\"In vain would you run over the whole world,\" said he to him, \"in\norder to find Shaseliman, since it is he who now speaks to you.\"\n\nAt these words, the slave fell at the feet of his Sovereign, and\ncovered his hands with tears and kisses.\n\n\"Ah,\" exclaimed he, \"how overjoyed will Chamsada be! What happy news\nshall I bring to her! Remain here, my Prince: I am going to find\neverything that is necessary for your going with me.\"\n\nHe ran quickly to the village, and brought from it a saddled horse and\nmore suitable clothes for Shaseliman, and they both took the road to\nGrand Cairo.\n\nAn unforeseen event interrupted their journey. As they were crossing a\ndesert, they were surrounded by robbers, seized, plundered, and let\ndown into a well. Shut up in this frightful place, the slave abandoned\nhimself to grief.\n\n\"How! are you disconsolate?\" said the young Prince. \"Is it the\nprospect of death which terrifies you?\"\n\n\"Death hath nothing dreadful to me,\" replied he; \"but can I remain\ninsensible to the hardships of your lot? Can I think calmly upon the\nloss which the sorrowful Chamsada will suffer?\"\n\n\"Take courage,\" said Shaseliman. \"I must fulfill the decrees of the\nAlmighty. All that has happened to me was written in the Book of Life;\nand, if I must end my days in this dreadful abode, no human power can\nrescue me from it, and it becomes me to be submissive and resigned.\"\n\nIn these sentiments and in this dreadful situation did this virtuous\nPrince and his slave pass two days and two nights.\n\nIn the meantime, the eye of Providence continually watched over\nShaseliman. It brought the King of Egypt, in pursuit of a roebuck, to\nthe place where this Prince was shut up. The animal, struck by a\ndeadly arrow, came to lie down and die on the brink of the well.\n\nA hunter, outstripping the King's retinue, came first to seize the\nprey. As he approached it, he heard a plaintive voice from the bottom\nof the well. Having listened to ascertain whether it was so, he ran to\nreport this to the King, who was speedily advancing with his train,\nand ordered some of them to descend into the well. Shaseliman and the\nslave were immediately drawn out of it. The cords which tied them were\ncut, cordials recalled them to life; and no sooner had they opened\ntheir eyes than the King recognized in one of them his own officer.\n\n\"Are not you,\" said he to him, \"the confidant of Chamsada?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire, I am.\"\n\n\"Well, what has brought you into this situation?\"\n\n\"I was returning,\" said the slave, \"loaded with the treasure the Queen\nhad ordered me to search for in Persia; I was attacked by robbers,\nplundered, and thrown alive into this sepulchre.\"\n\n\"And who is this young man?\"\n\n\"He is son to the nurse of your Majesty's august spouse. I was\nbringing him to your Court, with the view of procuring him a place.\"\n\nAfter these two unfortunate men had received proper food, the King\nreturned to his palace. He flew instantly to Chamsada, to give her an\naccount of what he had seen, of the return of her slave with a young\nman, and of the loss of her treasure. When the Queen learned that they\nhad been thrown into a well, grief took possession of her soul. She\ntried to hide her disorder, which was, however, betrayed by the\nvisible alteration of her countenance under the mask of apparent\ntranquillity. The King, who was looking at her, and perceived the\nefforts she employed to restrain herself, wished to penetrate into the\ncause of her trouble.\n\n\"What is the matter with you, Chamsada?\" said he. \"Are you afflicted\nat the loss of your treasure? Is not mine at your disposal?\"\n\n\"I swear by your life, O glorious Sultan,\" replied she, \"that I am\nless sorry for the loss of my treasures, than for the sufferings of\nthe poor slave, of which I have been the cause. I have a feeling\nheart, and you know how much I am affected by the misfortunes of\nothers.\"\n\nHowever, as the King continued to relate the adventure of the well,\nand as she learned that the slave and the young man had been drawn up\nfrom it, she recovered her tranquillity, and at the end of her\nhusband's relation her feelings were entirely calm.\n\n\"Be comforted, my dear Chamsada,\" said he to her. \"If all that I\npossess is not sufficient to make up for the loss of your treasure,\nthink that you have one that is inexhaustible in the affection of a\nheart which is yours for life.\"\n\nHaving said this, he retired.\n\nAs soon as Chamsada was alone she called for her slave. He gave her an\naccount of the manner in which he had got information of the Prince's\nadventures; of the means which Providence had employed in saving him\nfrom the cruelties and snares of his uncle; of the barbarity of the\nInfidels; and even of his too great confidence, when, having escaped\nbeing dashed to pieces by the fall, from which no Mussulman before him\nwas ever saved, he was about again to deliver himself into the power\nof the barbarous Balavan. He continued his recital even to the moment\nwhen, drawn up from the well, the young Prince had been seen by the\nEgyptian monarch, whose curiosity he had excited.\n\nThe Queen then interrupted him.\n\n\"Ah!\" said she to him, \"what answer did you make to the King when he\nasked you who this young man was?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" replied the slave, \"I told a lie, and I beseech you to pardon\nit. I told him that he was the son of your nurse, and that he was\nintended for his Majesty's service.\"\n\n\"Wise and faithful friend!\" exclaimed Chamsada, her eyes bathed in\ntears, and still moved with what she had heard, \"what gratitude will\never repay the service you have rendered to the most tender mother?\nWatch over my son. I trust him to your zeal and prudence. Never shall\nI forget the obligation I am under for what you have already done for\nhim, and for what your attachment may still be able to do.\"\n\n\"Queen! the recommendation is unnecessary. I know what I owe to the\nposterity of my Sovereigns, and there is no sacrifice I am not ready\nto make for your Majesty.\"\n\nThese were not empty promises; the slave was no courtier. Considering\nwhat care and precaution would be necessary to repair the health and\nconstitution of the young Prince, wasted by sufferings and fatigue, he\nmade this his only study. A salutary and light diet, the use of the\nbath, and moderate exercise, gradually succeeded in renewing his\nstrength. Nature resumed her empire; his body and mind regained their\nenergy and every external charm, restored at length to the fairest of\nQueens the most beautiful Prince in the world.\n\nA happy similarity of disposition gained him the monarch's heart, who\ndistinguished this page above all the rest. He soon became so\nnecessary to his service, that he alone was admitted into his private\napartment. The monarch boasted continually of his virtues, and praised\nthis new favourite to the grandees of his Court, endeavouring to\nrender him as dear to them as he was to himself.\n\nAmidst these flattering praises, which resounded in the ears of\nChamsada, what conflicts of tenderness did not this feeling mother\nexperience in the loss of her own son! She often perceived him, but\ndurst not cast upon him one affectionate look. She was forced to\nrestrain the affection of her heart, and give no visible tokens of her\nregard. Every day she observed his steps, and secretly longed for the\nmoment when she might pour out her soul in his embraces. As he passed\none day before the door of her apartment, and when she presumed no one\nwould perceive her, she suddenly yielded to a mother's transports,\nthrew herself on his neck, and in that happy moment forgot many years\nof sorrow.\n\nWhile this fond mother was indulging the sweetest feelings of nature,\ndanger surrounded her. One of the King's ministers, coming\naccidentally out of the neighbouring apartment, was the unintentional\nwitness of this scene. He was uncertain what to think of it. As\nChamsada was veiled he might have mistaken her. But having asked of\nthe eunuchs the name of the lady who inhabited the apartment before\nwhich he had passed, he came trembling to his Majesty, eager to\ndiscover the mystery of which chance had made him a witness. The\ncharming page had already gone before him to the throne.\n\n\"August Majesty,\" said the minister, \"you see me still in horror at\nthe crime which has just now been committed, and of which I have been\na witness. Pardon me, sire, if I am under the necessity of discovering\nto you the conduct of a spouse whom you have loved too dearly, but as\nI passed before her apartment, I saw her embracing the vile slave who\nis at your side.\"\n\nHe knows not the power of the passions who cannot figure to himself\nthe sudden revolution which this report occasioned in the soul of the\nenamoured Sultan. The confusion of Shaseliman seemed still to increase\nit, and to remove every doubt concerning the truth of the fact. The\nSultan instantly ordered the young man and the slave who had brought\nhim from Persia to be thrown into a dungeon.\n\n\"What abominable treachery!\" exclaimed he. \"What! was this pretended\ntreasure nothing but a slave?\" And running hastily into Chamsada's\napartment, \"What has she become,\" said he, addressing himself to\nChamsada, \"whose prudence, wisdom, and love were the glory of my Court\nand the pattern of wives? How has this mirror of perfection been\ntarnished in a moment! How has she become my shame after having been\nmy true honour, and a subject of reproach to the world after having\nbeen its admiration! How, alas! have appearances deceived me!\nHenceforward, every woman shall be dishonoured in my eyes, from past\nand present to all future generations.\"\n\nHaving said this, the King went out, his soul struggling betwixt love\nand jealousy, fury and grief.\n\nChamsada was astonished at the reproaches she had just heard, and\ntormented by the false suspicions to which her husband, whom she\nloved, was abandoned. But how could she remove them? She had always\nconfirmed to the Sultan the false report of her son's death\nintentionally spread by her father Selimansha, and she could not\nventure to discover him at present without exposing him to the utmost\ndanger. Alas! when one has so long wandered from truth, is it possible\nto return? Could one regain confidence who has not known how to\ndeserve it by a sincere and timely confession?\n\n\"No, no,\" would she say, \"it was my inclination, and, without doubt,\nmy duty, to spare the reputation of my uncle, and to-day I would in\nvain attempt to sully it. O Sovereign Wisdom! Divine Goodness! only\nresource of the innocent, to Thee I lift my hands and my heart. By\ninvisible means you formerly snatched my unfortunate son from the\nsnares of death with which he was on all sides surrounded. He falls\ninto them still, notwithstanding his innocence. The fatality of his\nstar draws along with him my faithful slave and myself, and even the\nSultan my husband, who is weighed down by the too well-founded\npresumption of our crime. Deliver us, O Allah, from the horrors of\nsuspicion! And thou, great Prophet! if thou bearest in thy heart thy\nfaithful followers--if all thy prayers in their behalf are heard--make\nmine ascend before the God of Justice! And since all the wisdom of the\nworld could not untie the fatal knot in which we are bound, be pleased\nto employ in this work thy omnipotent power.\"\n\nAfter this invocation, she placed her confidence in Allah, and waited\nthe event with resignation.\n\nIn the meantime the irresolute soul of the Sultan was abandoned to the\ngreatest uncertainty. His passion for Chamsada seemed to acquire new\nstrength in proportion as he attempted to destroy it. He knew not what\nstep to take. How should he take vengeance on the guilty? How could he\ndiscern if they were both equally so? How could he know which of the\ntwo he ought to spare? How could he strike two objects who were so\ndear to him? Harassed by these painful and afflicting considerations,\nhe lost his repose and his health, and his nurse, who still remained\nin the seraglio, was alarmed at this change. This woman, whom age and\nexperience had rendered prudent, having deserved the confidence of her\nmasters, had acquired the right of approaching them whenever she\nthought proper, and accordingly she went to the Sultan.\n\n\"What is the matter with you, my son?\" said she to him. \"You are not\nas you used to be. You shun the amusements which, till now, appeared\nagreeable to your inclinations. Riding, walking, and hunting, please\nyou no more. You do not now assemble your Court, nor give feasts and\nentertainments. I well know that you scarcely take food. What secret\ngrief consumes you? Open to me your heart, my son. You know my tender\nattachment, and you ought to fear nothing from my indiscretion. We\noften allow ourselves to be prepossessed by phantoms, and perhaps I\nmay be able to dissipate, in a moment, those which disturb your\nimagination. Trust me with your affliction, my son, and I hope to\nsoothe it.\"\n\nWhatever confidence this Prince had in his good nurse, and\nnotwithstanding the great estimation in which he held her excellent\nqualities, he did not think it proper to disclose his grief to her. He\nmust speak against Chamsada, and this remembrance would make the wound\nbleed afresh which she had made in his heart. The sage old woman was\nnot discouraged by the ill success of her first attempt: she watched\nevery opportunity of being seen by her master; and the tender looks\nwhich she cast upon him seemed to say, \"O my dear son! speak to me,\nunfold your heart to your good nurse.\" But all her cares were\nfruitless.\n\nFinding that she could not succeed by this method, and presuming that\nChamsada must have been informed of the Sultan's grief, and\nconjecturing, moreover, that a woman would more easily reveal the\nsecret which she wished to know, she flew to the Queen, whom she found\nplunged in sorrow apparently as deep as that which consumed the\nSultan. She employed every method which address and experience could\nfurnish her, in order to deserve the confidence of Chamsada.\n\n\"But why this cruel reserve with me?\" said the good nurse. \"Look, my\ndaughter, upon my grey hairs! If age and time have furrowed my brow\nwith wrinkles, they have also given me experience. I am no more the\nsport of passion, and my counsels will be dictated by prudence.\"\n\nChamsada, shaken but not convinced by these arguments, replied to her,\n\n\"My secret is very weighty, my dear nurse; it weighs down my heart;\nbut it is impossible it should ever come out of it. In trusting you\nwith it, I must be well assured that it will remain for ever shut up\nin your breast.\"\n\n\"Your wishes shall be fulfilled,\" said the old woman. \"I am discreet,\nand never shall my lips divulge your secret; but let it be no more one\nwith her who takes so lively an interest in your happiness.\"\n\nAt length Chamsada could resist her no longer: she related to her all\nher adventures, and informed her that the young man of whom the Sultan\nwas become jealous was her son Shaseliman, who had been supposed to\nhave been dead.\n\n\"O great Prophet, I thank you!\" exclaimed the nurse. \"Praised be\nMahomet! we have nothing to struggle with but chimeras! Be comforted,\nmy daughter: every cloud will disappear: I behold the rising of a\nbright day.\"\n\n\"O my good mother, we shall never, never reach it. Never will this\nyoung man be believed to be my son. We shall be accused of falsehood,\nand I would prefer the loss of his life, and of my own, rather than be\nsuspected of this infamy.\"\n\n\"I approve of your delicacy,\" said the nurse; \"but my precautions\nshall prevent everything that might hurt it.\"\n\nUpon this she went out, and immediately entered the Sultan's\napartment, whom she found in the same state of dejection and sorrow in\nwhich she had left him; she embraced him and took him by the hand.\n\n\"My son,\" said she to him, \"you are too much afflicted. If you are a\ntrue Mussulman, I conjure you by the name of the great Prophet to\nreveal to me the true cause of the grief which afflicts you.\"\n\nUnable any longer to withstand the force of this intercession, the\nSultan was forced to reveal all his distress.\n\n\"I loved Chamsada with my whole heart,\" said the Sultan. \"Her graces,\nher wisdom, her virtues, all the charms, in a word, with which she was\nadorned, appeared to me a delicious garden, where my thoughts wandered\nwith delight. All is now changed into a frightful desert, where I see\nnothing but hideous monsters and dreadful precipices. Chamsada is\nfaithless. The false Chamsada whom I adored, and whom I love still,\nhas betrayed me. She has given her heart to a vile slave. I am fallen\nfrom the height of an imaginary happiness into a hell where every evil\ntorments me. The two criminals must perish: nothing remains for me but\nto proportion the punishment to the crime, and endeavour to\ndistinguish on which of the two my severest justice ought to fall.\nBut, alas! what will it cost me to execute this fatal sentence! The\nsame weapon which pierces the heart of my adorable Chamsada, will\nwound my own with a deadly stroke.\"\n\n\"My son! do nothing rashly,\" said the nurse. \"You may expose yourself\nto eternal repentance. Those whom you think guilty are in your hands:\nyou will always have time to punish them: allow yourself time to\nexamine them. 'Time,' says the proverb, 'is the wisest of all\ncounsellors: many things are brought to light by time and patience.'\"\n\n\"Ah! my good nurse, what explanation can I expect? Is there any that\ncould destroy an attested fact? Chamsada loves this young man; and\npretending that she had a treasure in Persia, she abused my confidence\nand affection to obtain from me an order to go in search of him.\"\n\n\"My dear son, be calm,\" said the old woman. \"I have a method of laying\nopen to you the soul of Chamsada. Cause your hunters to bring me an\negret.[17] I will tear out the heart of this bird, which I will give\nto you, and as soon as Chamsada shall be asleep, you must bring it\nnear hers, and it will be impossible for her to conceal from you the\nsmallest secret.\"\n\n[Footnote 17: Egret. A bird with a tuft upon its head.]\n\nThe King, delighted with having it in his power to discover so easily\nthe mystery which kept him in such perplexity, instantly ordered his\nofficers to go and catch an egret in his gardens. One was brought to\nhim, which he immediately gave to the old nurse. She tore its breast,\naccompanying this action, extremely simple in itself, with a magical\ncharm, and the Sultan was put in possession of its reeking heart.\n\nWhile the Prince was reflecting on the surprising virtues of this\nmethod, the nurse had gone secretly to the apartment of Chamsada.\n\n\"Everything goes well,\" said she to her. \"Let your heart be filled\nwith hope, and let your mouth be prepared to disclose the truth,\nwithout any reserve. Expect this night to receive a mysterious visit.\nIt will be from the Sultan himself, with the heart of an egret in his\nhand. As soon as you perceive that he brings it near yours, feign to\nbe asleep, but answer with precision all the questions which he may\nput to you, and let truth flow from your mouth, unsullied by the\nslightest scruple.\"\n\nChamsada tenderly thanked the nurse, and prepared herself to second\nthis innocent stratagem, beseeching the favour of the holy Prophet to\ncarry conviction to his heart who was endeavouring to discover the\ntruth.\n\nAs soon as night had spread her shades, Chamsada, contrary to her\ncustom, signified that she had need of rest. She sent away her slaves,\nand threw herself upon a sofa. Scarcely had she been there two hours\nwhen the Sultan, impatient to prove the nurse's secret, presented\nhimself at the apartment of his favourite: he found there the chief of\nthe eunuchs.\n\n\"How is Chamsada employed?\" demanded he.\n\n\"She had need of rest,\" replied the eunuch, \"and I believe she is upon\nher sofa.\"\n\nThe Sultan entered without making the least noise, and found her\nasleep. He approached very near her, in order the better to judge of\nthe soundness of her sleep, and, thinking it profound, he judged it\nproper to try his experiment, and gently applied the heart of the bird\nto that of Chamsada, saying to her, \"Chamsada, who is that young man\nwhom you were caressing when one of my ministers surprised you?\"\n\n\"He is Shaseliman,\" replied she, without awaking, \"the only child of\nmy first marriage with the son of Selimansha my uncle.\"\n\n\"This child was stabbed in his cradle; I am assured of this by letters\nfrom your uncle himself.\"\n\n\"He was indeed wounded, but the stroke was not mortal; skilful\nsurgeons restored him to life; and this was kept a secret from the\nmurderer of my husband.\"\n\n\"Why have you concealed it from me, who loved you so dearly?\"\n\n\"Because my uncle, whose memory I cherished, and wished to be\nrespected, had for a political reason imposed upon you respecting this\nfact. If what I have told you does not appear possible, interrogate\nthe young man, and his mouth will confirm the truth of this\ndeclaration.\"\n\nHaving got this ray of light, the Sultan gave over his inquiries,\nwithdrew from his spouse, whom he supposed still asleep, left her\napartment, and gave orders that the young man and the slave should be\nbrought out of the dungeons in which they were shut up. This order was\nimmediately executed.\n\nThe unfortunate Shaseliman, who was languishing in his prison,\nsuddenly hearing the vaults resound with the noise of the bolts and\nkeys, believed that his last hour was come, and that the ignominy of\npunishment was about to terminate his existence.\n\n\"O Allah!\" said he, raising his innocent hands to heaven, \"my life is\nin Thy hands; to Thee I resign it; but watch over the life of my\nmother!\"\n\nShaseliman and the slave were brought before the Sultan. The Prince\ndid not leave to others the care of proving a fact so important to his\nhonour and repose. He ran to the young man, and searched in his bosom\nfor the scar of Balavan's poniard; he found it, and, transported with\njoy, he exclaimed, \"O Allah! for ever be Thou blessed for having\npreserved me from the dreadful crime I was about to commit! and thou\nHis great Prophet, a signal mark of whose protection the virtues of\nChamsada have drawn down upon me, to so many favours still add that of\nenabling me to efface, by my services, the dreadful sorrows I have\noccasioned, and the idea of the injustice I was about to commit!\"\n\nThen throwing himself into the arms of Shaseliman, \"Come, dear and\nunfortunate Prince, come to my heart! Let your image be joined there\nwith that of my beloved Chamsada, that my most tender affections may\nhenceforth be centred on one object alone! But deign to satisfy my\ncuriosity, and inform me by what chain of events you have been\nconducted hither, unknown to all the world. How have you existed?\nSpeak, Prince. I am impatient to know more particularly the person who\nrestores me to happiness.\"\n\nShaseliman, encouraged by the demonstration of such affecting\nkindness, then gave a faithful detail of his adventures, from the very\nmoment in which he had been hurled from the throne into prison, even\nto that in which, reduced to the humble condition of a shepherd, he\nhad been found by the messenger of his mother, surrounded by robbers,\ndrawn up out of the well into which they had been let down, and\nconducted to the Court of the Sultan.\n\nWhile this recital engaged the attention of Bensirak, Chamsada, his\nspouse, although less troubled than on the preceding days, was not\naltogether in a tranquil state. The events had become too important\nfor her. She endeavoured to find out with what design the Sultan,\nafter having questioned her, had departed so abruptly. She had not\nbeen able to learn what he had done, nor what was become of him, since\nthe confession which she had made to him. She was indulging these\nreflections, and continued sunk in the sleep in which the Sultan\nseemed to surprise her. All at once twenty slaves, carrying flambeaux,\ncame to illuminate her apartment; they walked before the Sultan, who\nconducted by the hand and looked with kindness on the beloved son of\nthe most virtuous of mothers. He had caused Shaseliman to be dressed\nin the most magnificent garments; he was adorned with beautiful\ndiamonds, in which Bensirak had delighted to be decked on the days of\ntriumph.\n\n\"Soothe your sorrows, adorable Chamsada,\" cried he, throwing himself\ninto her arms. \"The favour of Heaven restores to you a husband and a\nson, whose feelings and affection secure your felicity for ever.\"\n\nShaseliman, on his knees, kissed the hands of his mother; and tears of\nconsolation expressed the sentiments of the son and of the delighted\npair.\n\nAs soon as day had succeeded this happy night, the Sultan assembled\nthe best of his troops, and put himself at their head, accompanied by\nShaseliman. He took the road for Persia, causing heralds go before\nhim, and announce to the people of that kingdom that he was about to\nre-establish on the throne their rightful King, assassinated,\npersecuted, and dethroned by the usurper Balavan. Scarcely had they\nreached the frontiers of Persia, when a party of the faithful subjects\nof the old King Selimansha, always attached to the blood of this\naugust family, came to range themselves under the banners of the\nSultan of Egypt and of Shaseliman. The perfidious Balavan heard this\nintelligence, and endeavoured to assemble his forces, in order to\ndispute the ground with a powerful enemy who came to overwhelm him;\nbut no one would repair to his colours, and he was obliged to shut\nhimself up in his capital with his usual guard and the few subjects on\nwhose fidelity he thought he could depend.\n\nBut if virtue, pursued by a superior force, is so often deserted,\nwhere are the resources of guilt?\n\nIspahan is invested, and Balavan, betrayed by his ministers, is\ndelivered up to the Sultan Bensirak, who, turning his eyes from a\nmonster who had dishonoured the throne by the most dreadful crimes,\nand directing himself to Shaseliman,\n\n\"My son,\" said he, \"to you I commit the scourge of your subjects and\nyour father's murderer; dispose of his lot, and give orders for his\npunishment.\"\n\n\"O my benefactor! O my father! it belongs not to me to dispose of\nhim,\" replied Shaseliman; \"vengeance must come down from above. Let\nhim go to the frontiers to guard that dangerous post with which I was\nentrusted. If he is innocent, he will be preserved as I have been; but\nif he is guilty, his decree is pronounced, and nothing can suspend its\nexecution.\"\n\nThe Sultan approved of the decision of Shaseliman, and Balavan set out\nto make head against the infidels. But divine justice was now\nprepared to inflict its stroke. He was taken, chained, and thrown into\nthe fatal well, where gnawing remorse and dreadful despair continued\nto torment him till the moment of his death.\n\nMeanwhile the presumptive heir of the Persian crown, the happy\nShaseliman, seated on the throne of his ancestors, received the oaths\nof his people. He commenced a reign of which the wisdom and piety\nrecalled to the Persians the sublime virtues of the Grand Caliph\nMoavie. The Sultan of Egypt, after having seen this young Sovereign\nshine in the splendour of the most distinguished virtues, and having\ntenderly embraced him, returned to his dominions, and by his presence\ncompleted the joy of Chamsada. Nothing afterwards disturbed the repose\nof this happy pair, and having reached at last the term allotted to\nhuman greatness, they fell asleep in that peace which is the portion\nof faithful Mussulmans.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Sire,\" said Aladin to King Bohetzad, after having finished his\nrecital, \"see by what secret and wonderful ways Providence delivered\nShaseliman from the hands of persecution! See how it led Balavan into\nthe very gulf he had dug for another! No, Allah will never suffer\nguilt to triumph and innocence to be punished. His vigilance and\njustice nothing can escape, and sooner or later He will tear asunder\nthe veil with which the wicked are covered. As for me, sire,\nencouraged by my conscience and convinced that man cannot alter the\ndecrees of my destiny, I am always firm and hopeful. I only fear that\nyour justice will light on your Viziers, my accusers.\"\n\nAt this discourse, equally firm, wise, and modest, the King was left\nstill more irresolute than ever.\n\n\"Let the execution of the sentence be suspended,\" said he; \"let this\nyoung man be conducted back to prison. The silence of the night, and\nthe reflections which his recital will occasion, may enlighten my\njudgment, and to-morrow I shall more easily take my resolution.\"\n\nAs soon as Aladin had been led back to his dungeon, one of the Viziers\nbegan:\n\n\"Sire, your Majesty suffers yourself to be overcome by the magic of\nthis young impostor's discourses. The great Prophet preserve you from\nyielding to sentiments of mercy in his behalf! When guilt remains\nunpunished, the splendour of the throne is obscured. You are seated\nthere for no other purpose but to administer justice: the crime of\nthis villain is evident, and his punishment ought to be signal; the\nmost awful should be fixed upon, that it may serve as an example to\nsuch.\"\n\n\"Let orders be immediately given,\" interrupted Bohetzad eagerly, \"to\nerect a scaffold without the walls of the city, on the most elevated\nsituation. Let the dread of death terrify those who might attempt to\nfollow his footsteps. Such is my final resolution, and let it be\nannounced to the people by the public criers.\"\n\nThe ten Viziers were well pleased to hear this resolution. They hoped\nat length, by their secret plots, to make the object of their envy\nfall beneath the sword of justice, and were eager to order the\napparatus of punishment.\n\nOn the morning of the following day, which was the eleventh since the\nconfinement of Aladin, the ten Viziers went to the King.\n\n\"Sire,\" said they, \"your orders are obeyed; your pleasure is known,\nand the people assembled round the spot wait only for him who is to\ndie there.\"\n\nBohetzad gave orders that the criminal should be brought to him. As\nsoon as he appeared the ten Viziers lifted up their voices against\nhim.\n\n\"Wretch! offspring of villains!\" said they to him, \"the scythe of\ndeath is raised over thy head; thy stratagems are exhausted, and thou\nart about to receive the reward of thy crimes and rashness.\"\n\n\"Audacious ministers,\" said Aladin, looking at them with a confident\nbut modest air, \"it belongs not to you to mark my forehead with the\nseal of death! If the decree which strikes me comes not from Heaven,\nwhat could all your attempts avail? Guilt alone can be afraid of them.\nBut since I have nothing wherewith to reproach myself, had I even my\nhead under the fatal sword, I should be preserved from the stroke,\nlike the slave who was accused although innocent.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" interrupted all the Viziers at once, \"impose silence on this\naudacious fellow; he wishes still to deceive your Majesty by a new\ntale.\"\n\n\"I wish not to impose upon the King,\" said Aladin; \"it is you who\ncherish falsehood and imposture.\"\n\n\"Stop!\" said Bohetzad to him; \"I will yet put my patience to a last\neffort, and agree to hear the history of your slave and of his\ndeliverance.\"\n\n\"Oh, the clemency of my King!\" replied Aladin. \"May truth at length\nreach your heart, which is so difficult of access! I wish not by a\nfalse relation to deceive your Majesty; the story I am going to relate\nis well known throughout all Chaldea.\"\n\n\nHISTORY OF THE KING OF HARAM, AND OF THE SLAVE.\n\n\nThe King of Haram, uneasy at the manner in which his Viziers and Cadis\nadministered justice in the provinces of his empire, went one night\nfrom his palace disguised, and only escorted by two eunuchs. By chance\nhe passed near a dungeon, from whence he heard a plaintive and\nlamentable voice. He learned that this place served as a prison, in\nwhich criminals condemned to death were shut up; and approaching\nnearer it in order to hear distinctly the doleful accents, which\nappeared to come from the bowels of the earth, he heard these words:\n\n\"O powerful Allah! Thou who watchest constantly over the unfortunate,\nstooping under the burden of his misery, wilt Thou suffer innocence,\nfalsely accused, to sink under presumptions which a fatal destiny hath\nheaped upon it? Infinite mercy! none of Thy creatures are\ninsignificant in Thy eyes; Thou hearest the cries of a worm; listen to\nthat of Thy slave; and if my death is not determined by Thy\nprovidence, arrest the stroke with which I am threatened.\"\n\nA silence, interrupted only by sighs, succeeded this prayer. The King\nof Haram returned to his palace with a heart moved by these\nlamentations, and a spirit troubled with this adventure. In vain did\nhe seek repose: the idea of the death of an innocent person agitated\nhim, and he only waited the return of day to clear up this mystery.\n\nAs soon as the sun had enlightened the earth, he called together his\nministers, and described to them the place from which the cries came\nthat had excited his pity. They informed him that the unfortunate\nperson confined in this dungeon was destined to die that very day upon\nthe scaffold. They gave him an account of his trial, from which the\ncrime appeared clear, and two witnesses certified that the slave, whom\nhis Majesty had heard, was the perpetrator of it. The King of Haram\ncould not resist what human justice reckons evidence, and immediately\nconfirmed the order for his execution.\n\nThe slave, convicted of the crime, was taken from the dungeon: he\nwalked to punishment with a firm and modest countenance; his hands\nbound, and his eyes lifted up to Heaven, which was now his only hope.\nHe was at the foot of the scaffold; the executioners were preparing to\nstrip him of his clothes, when an unexpected noise entirely changed\nthe aspect of this scene of death. A hostile party, having formed the\ndesign of making themselves masters of the city, waited until the\npeople, attracted by curiosity to see the execution, should have gone\nout of it. They hastily quitted the ambuscade in which they were\nconcealed, fell upon the guard, and dispersed it. All those who\nendeavoured to defend it either fell by the sword or were made\nprisoners; not one escaped except the unhappy slave who was about to\nsuffer an ignominious death.\n\nThe enemy, dreading the approach of the King, then withdrew to a\ndistance in order to increase their forces, carrying with them the\nbooty they had got, and deferred to another time the consummation of\ntheir enterprise.\n\nMeanwhile, the slave, delivered from his chains by the hands of the\nenemy, and still fearing lest people should be dispatched to pursue\nhim, gained the country, and walked day and night without stopping. At\nlength, overcome with fatigue, he stopped under the shade of a laurel,\nwhich, from its size and height, appeared coeval with the world, and\nsat down. Opposite to this tree, and very near it, was the entrance of\na dark cave; two torches threw a dreadful light around it, without\naltogether dispelling its darkness. His attention was fixed with\nastonishment on these objects, which inspired him with terror, when he\nthought he observed these two lights move and advance towards him.\nThese bright fires were nothing but the glaring eyes of a monstrous\nlion, which came out of the cave and slowly approached the unhappy\nslave, who had nothing with which he could defend himself. The animal\nseized him, and, without hurting him, carried him into the cave. He\ninstantly went out of it again, tore down the enormous laurel under\nwhich the man had been formerly seated, and, having placed it at the\nmouth of the cave in order to shut up its passage, ran into the desert\nin search of its mate, whom the need of food for their whelps had\ncarried far from their common haunt.\n\nThe mouth of this cave, shut up by the trunk of the tree, was\ninaccessible to all human power. However, there was still sufficient\nlight left for the slave to view the inside of this dreadful\nhabitation, to distinguish its inhabitants, and to see there the\nfragments of bones and food with which the ground was covered. He saw\nlikewise two young lions couching on a heap of moss, who were not\nfrightened by his presence. In an opposite corner he perceived a heap\nof human bones, the sad remains of the unfortunate whom the same\ndestiny that had brought him there had drawn toward this frightful\nabode. Nevertheless, amid these objects, fear did not damp his\ncourage: he turned towards the south, and, like a faithful Mussulman,\naddressed his prayer to the great Prophet with as much zeal and\nfervour as if he had been in the most splendid mosque and in the most\nsecure asylum.\n\nFull of confidence in the Sovereign Arbiter of Destiny, he then cast\nhis eyes into the dark cavities of this den. There were many clothes\nin it: he put his hand into the pockets of one garment, and found\nthere a stone and a piece of steel for striking fire; the earth was\ncovered with a dry moss, which served as litter to the savage\ninhabitants of this dwelling. The possibility of getting out revived\nhis courage; and scarcely was the enterprise conceived when it was put\nin execution. He set fire to the moss which he had collected at the\nmouth of the cave; the flames penetrated the moist bark of the\nlaurel's roots, and the fire speedily increasing, the tree lost its\nsupport and fell upon its side with a crash, so as to leave the mouth\nof the cave quite open. In examining this cave he had seen a bow,\nsabres, and poniards, which might serve for his defence. He had also\ndiscovered, by the light, a pan with coined gold, and pieces of this\nmetal, with precious jewels of different kinds. Provided in this\nmanner, with everything which could assist his escape, he armed\nhimself with what was necessary, cut away with his sabre the burning\nbranches which opposed his passage, and, blessing Heaven, at length\nrecovered his liberty.\n\nScarcely had the slave got out of this dangerous cave, when he\nperceived the lion at the distance of four bowshots, and the lioness\nsomewhat farther off in the plain. He put upon his bow a deadly arrow;\nand the lion, thinking to dart upon his prey, ran with great rapidity\nagainst the arrow, which was discharged at him. The steel reached his\nheart, and he fell lifeless.\n\nThe slave, freed from this enemy, soon had the other also to contend\nwith. He darted another arrow, but it made only a slight wound. The\nanimal, rendered still more furious, rushed forwards to throw him on\nthe ground. The slave opposed her with his poniard, and plunged it\ninto her side. The lioness, roaring aloud, made a new effort; but with\nhis scimitar he struck off one of her fore-paws, and disabled her for\nfurther combat. She rolled along the earth, making the echoes resound\nwith her roaring: the young lions from the cave answered her with\nhideous cries, which would have filled the most warlike soul with\nterror. In the meantime the conqueror secured his victory by piercing\nthe animal in the vital parts, till at length she sank under the\nvigour of his arm. He ran immediately to kill the whelps, and drew\nthem out of the cave. After this feat of valour, he looked in the\nplain for a tree, the fruit of which might afford him nourishment, and\na stream in which he might quench his thirst; and still aided by\nProvidence, everything seemed subject to his desires and offered\nitself to his hand.\n\nHaving at length recruited his strength, exhausted by so much fatigue,\nhe re-entered the cave whose inhabitants he had destroyed, made\nhimself master of the treasures it contained, shut up its entrance\nwith the branches of a tree, and, armed to as much advantage as\npossible, and furnished with gold and silver to satisfy his wants, he\ntook the road to his native country. He arrived there at the end of\nsome days, and gave an account of his history to his relations. Camels\nand slaves were dispatched to bring away the precious effects which\nwere left in the lions' den. Possessed of so much riches, the\nbeneficent slave shared them with the indigent. Not far from his\nhabitation he built an asylum for caravans, pilgrims, and travellers\nwho might be obliged to take that road; and from the spoils of a\nlions' den he erected a temple of charity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Sire,\" added Aladin, after having finished his relation, \"you see how\nthis slave, condemned to perish upon the scaffold, on the false\nevidence of his enemies, and in danger of being devoured by lions, was\nmiraculously delivered from these dangers; while his accusers and\nenemies, eager to feast their eyes with the sight of his tortures,\nwere massacred and punished. The King of Haram, deprived of part of\nhis subjects, suffered the punishment of his negligence in not\nexamining the proceedings himself, and not listening sufficiently to\ncomplaints which, although they moved his pity, had not armed his\njustice.\"\n\nBohetzad felt an unusual struggle betwixt his own power, the relations\nand reflections of Aladin, and the solicitations of his ministers. A\nvoice within him pleaded powerfully against the judgment he had\npronounced; yet the orders which he had given publicly, the scaffold\nalready prepared without the walls of the city, the crowd of people\nimpatient to enjoy this execution, so long delayed, all seemed to\nincrease the embarrassment of the King. His Viziers, seeing him\nhesitate again, were eager to fix his resolution by the strongest\nremonstrances; and going over all the arguments they had already\nalleged, they ended by alarming the King respecting the duration of\nhis power.\n\n\"I feel in spite of you,\" said the King, \"that my heart revolts at\nwhat I am doing; nevertheless, as the safety of my kingdom depends\nupon this decree, I yield to your reasons. Let the criminal be\nconducted to punishment.\"\n\nThat very instant the guard seized Aladin. He was bound with cords,\nloaded with chains, and led without the city to the place where he was\nto terminate his existence. The King himself, mounted upon an\nelephant, and followed by his whole Court, repaired to the place of\npunishment: he was seated upon a throne from which he would behold the\nexecution. The unfortunate Aladin was already on the scaffold, when\nsuddenly a stranger, rushing through the crowd, and removing the\nguards and every obstacle that opposed his passage, threw himself into\nthe arms of Aladin.\n\n\"Oh, my son! my dear son!\" exclaimed he, the tears flowing in a\ntorrent from his eyes. He could say no more, for grief stopped his\nutterance.\n\nThis unexpected event threw the people into commotion, and the King\ngave orders that the stranger should be brought before him.\n\n\"Sovereign monarch,\" said he to him, embracing his knees, \"save the\nlife of the unfortunate young man whom you have condemned to death. If\na criminal must die, give orders for my punishment: I await it at your\nfeet.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" said the King. \"What interest have you in this\ncriminal?\"\n\n\"Sire, I am the chief of a band of robbers. Searching one day in the\ndesert for a fountain to allay the thirst of my company, I found upon\nthe grass, on the brink of a fountain, and at the feet of five\npalm-trees, which covered it with their shadow, a piece of cloth\ninterwoven with gold, and some swaddling-clothes, on which an infant\nlay. Moved with compassion for this innocent creature, I carried him\nto my house, where my wife became his nurse. This child was not ours,\nsire; but he was to us a gift from Heaven, and became dearer to us\nthan our own. He was endowed with such excellent qualities and so many\nvirtues, that we regretted our having abandoned those which the\nexercise of our profession had made us forget; for in short--to my\nshame I avow it, sire--we were robbers. He followed us in our\nexpeditions, and distinguished himself on every occasion by deeds of\nvalour and humanity. We lost him in a conflict with your troops.\"\n\nNo other circumstance was necessary to inform the King that he who was\nabout to die by his command was his only son! He rushed from his\nthrone, flew to Aladin, with his own poniard struck the cords off him,\nand clasped him in his arms, with marks of the most tender affection.\n\n\"Ah! my son,\" exclaimed he, \"I have been on the point of plunging in\nmy heart the dagger of endless repentance. My heart must have been\ntorn at the sight of a cruel punishment, and it has been mercifully\nconverted into a spectacle of triumph and joy, whose ravishing\nsplendour my soul can with difficulty support!\"\n\nHe again embraced Aladin, set him upon his elephant, and returned to\nthe palace, amid the din of trumpets and the acclamations of the\npeople.\n\nBaherjoa had been already informed of his unexpected happiness in\nfinding a son for whose fate she had been so often alarmed. In a short\ntime the King himself presented to her this dear child, dressed in\nsuch splendid garments that it was not easy to discover the alteration\nwhich a tedious confinement had produced upon him. The joy of this\nevent soon spread through all ranks in the kingdom. Courtiers,\nmerchants, and artists partook of it; the mosques were opened, and the\npeople crowded thither to render thanks to Allah and His Prophet;\npublic rejoicings testified the general happiness; the city of Ispahan\nwas on this day transformed into a scene of pleasure; and everything,\neven the birds of heaven, sang the glory of the monarch and the\ndeliverance of Aladin.\n\nThe ten Viziers alone, far from participating in the public happiness,\nwere thrown into a dark dungeon, where the remorse of their\nconsciences anticipated the punishment which, at the end of the thirty\ndays that had been appointed for feasting, they were doomed to suffer.\nAt length, by the orders of the Sovereign, they were brought to the\nfoot of the throne, which was now become so formidable to them. Aladin\nwas seated at his father's right hand. They turned away their guilty\neyes, and after a silence that imposed respect and terror, Bohetzad\nthus addressed them:\n\n\"Pretended supports of my throne!\" said he to them, \"ministers so\njealous of my glory! behold this criminal whom, with so much cruel\nobstinacy and such distinguished eagerness, you pursued. I ought to\nhave sent him to punishment without hearing him! by listening to his\nstories, I exposed my glory, my safety, and the peace of my subjects!\nJustify yourselves if you can: you have liberty to speak.\"\n\nIn vain did the King endeavour to make these guilty ministers open\ntheir mouths. They were seized with a mortal coldness; their eyes,\nfixed on the ground, could not be drawn from it; their lips quivered;\ntheir feeble limbs bent under their knees and seemed ready to fail\nthem.\n\n\"Speak,\" said Aladin to them in his turn: \"where now is that\nattachment to the rules of justice which rendered you so eloquent\nagainst the son of a chief of the robbers, whose mere mistake was in\nyour eyes a crime which ought to be expiated by the most infamous\npunishment? Are your courage and your zeal for the glory of the\nkingdom annihilated? Guilt weighs you down, remorse preys upon you,\nand you are confounded with shame.\"\n\n\"Your sentence, already written in heaven,\" resumed Bohetzad, \"is\nabout to be executed on earth. On the scaffold where my son was to\nsuffer let these ten wretches finish their days, and let the public\ncriers announce this decree to the people.\"\n\nThe order was instantly executed.\n\nBohetzad then leading back his son to the palace, continually renewed\nthe tender proofs of his affection.\n\n\"Ah, dear son!\" would he say, \"how were you so little intimidated by\nthe death which threatened you as to recollect all the circumstances\nyou related? Whence have you drawn those numerous maxims and judicious\nreflections which can only be the fruit of experience and study?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Aladin, \"it was not I who spoke, but Heaven which\ninspired me. In my infancy I had not been neglected; and since the\nhappy moment in which I had the good fortune to be placed near your\nMajesty, I have been perfected in wisdom. The woman, whom I took for\nmy mother, early directed my attention to the divine Koran, by whose\nsacred precepts, she told me, I ought to regulate my conduct. And that\nwhich will appear most extraordinary to you, sire, is, that her\nhusband, led away by the force of habit, brought up in guilt almost\nfrom his infancy, and not hesitating in the least to plunder caravans,\nshould yet be afraid of breaking his word. He was a faithful husband,\na kind master to his slaves, to me more than an affectionate father,\nand of all men the least greedy of plunder. He cherished me; and as at\nthat time I was not so well informed as I am at present, I honoured\nhim as a benefactor and loved him as a parent.\"\n\n\"Enough respecting him, my son,\" replied the King. \"Returning from the\nawful scene they have just beheld, and warned by the signal which the\nMuezzins have sounded from the tops of the mosques, the people are\nabout to fill them. Order my treasurer to follow you; let plentiful\nalms and charity everywhere accompany your steps, and announce, in a\nsuitable manner, the heir, whom, for the prosperity of my empire,\nHeaven has restored to my arms.\"\n\nAs soon as the religious ceremonies were finished, the King ordered\nthe chief of the robbers, who was known to have remained at Issessara,\nto be conducted to the bath, to be decently dressed, and brought to\nthe palace, that he might enjoy the triumph of his adopted son. Far\nfrom reproaching him with his former manner of life, but presuming on\nthe natural principles of this man, whom example had not corrupted,\nwhom opportunities had not seduced, and whom want had not provoked, he\nappointed him to the command of a frontier province, where he must\nnecessarily command respect by his activity and military talents.\n\nBohetzad, Baherjoa, and Aladin, reunited by the ties of blood, of\nlove, and of friendship, passed many years in unalterable affection,\ncontinually finding means to draw closer the knots which bound them\ntogether. At length, the monarch, feeling from his age and strength\nthat it was time to resign the sceptre into more steady hands,\nassembled his divan, his ministers, Viziers, Cadis, lawyers, princes,\nlords, and all the grandees of the realm.\n\n\"Nature,\" said he to them, \"hath called my son to succeed me; but, in\nhis miraculous preservation, Heaven has given a clear indication of\nits will. In putting the crown upon his head this day, I only obey its\ndecrees, and give you a master more worthy than I to command.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Adventures of Urad; or, The Fair Wanderer.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOn the banks of the river Tigris, far above where it washes the lofty\ncity of the Faithful, lived Nouri, in poverty and widowhood, whose\nemployment it was to tend the worm who clothes the richest and the\nfairest with its beautiful web. Her husband, who was a guard to the\ncaravans of the merchants, lost his life in an engagement with the\nwild Arabs, and left the poor woman no other means of supporting\nherself, or her infant daughter Urad, but by her labours among the\nsilk-worms, which were little more than sufficient to support nature,\nalthough her labours began ere the sunbeams played on the waters of\nthe Tigris, and ended not till the stars were reflected from its\nsurface. Such was the business of the disconsolate Nouri, when the\nvoluptuous Almurah was proclaimed Sultan throughout his extensive\ndominions; nor was it long before his subjects felt the power of their\nSultan; for, Almurah resolving to inclose a large tract of land for\nhunting and sporting, commanded the inhabitants of fourteen hundred\nvillages to be expelled from the limits of his intended inclosure.\n\nA piteous train of helpless and ruined families were in one day driven\nfrom their country and livelihood, and obliged to seek for shelter\namidst the forests, the caves, and deserts, which surround the more\nuncultivated banks of the Tigris.\n\nMany passed by the cottage of Nouri the widow, among whom she\ndistributed what little remains of provision she had saved from the\nearnings of her labours the day before; and, her little stock being\nexhausted, she had nothing but wishes and prayers left for the rest.\n\nIt happened, among the numerous throngs that travelled by her cottage,\nthat a young man came with wearied steps, bearing on his shoulders an\nold and feeble woman; setting her down on the ground before the door\nof Nouri, he besought her to give him a drop of water, to wash the\nsand and the dust from his parched mouth.\n\nNouri, having already distributed the contents of her pitcher,\nhastened to the river to fill it for the wearied young man; and, as\nshe went, she begged a morsel of provisions from a neighbour, whose\ncottage stood on a rock which overlooked the flood.\n\nWith this, and her pitcher filled with water, the good Nouri returned,\nand found the feeble old woman on the ground, but the young man was\nnot with her.\n\n\"Where,\" said Nouri, \"O afflicted stranger, is the pious young man\nthat dutifully bore the burden of age on his shoulders?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the stranger, \"my son has brought me hither from the\ntyranny of Almurah, and leaves me to perish in the deserts of Tigris.\nNo sooner were you gone for the water, than a crowd of young damsels\ncame this way, and led my cruel son from his perishing mother. But,\ncourteous stranger,\" said she to Nouri, \"give me of that water to\ndrink, that my life fail not within me, for thirst, and hunger, and\ntrouble are hastening to put an end to the unhappy Houadir.\"\n\nThe tender and benevolent Nouri invited Houadir into the cottage, and\nthere placed her on a straw bed, and gave her the provisions, and a\ncup of water to drink.\n\nHouadir, being somewhat refreshed by the care of Nouri, acquainted her\nwith the cruel decree of Almurah, who had turned her son out of his\nlittle patrimony, where, by the labour of his hands, he had for many\nyears supported her, and that till that day she had ever found him a\nmost dutiful and obedient son, and concluded with a wish that he would\nshortly return to his poor helpless parent.\n\nNouri did all she could to comfort the wretched Houadir, and, having\npersuaded her to rest awhile on the bed, returned to the labours of\nthe day.\n\nWhen her work was finished, Nouri, with the wages of the day,\npurchased some provisions, and brought them home to feed herself and\nthe little Urad, whose portion of food, as well as her own, had been\ndistributed to the unhappy wanderers.\n\nAs Nouri was giving a small morsel to Urad, Houadir awaked, and begged\nthat Nouri would be so kind as to spare her a bit of her provisions.\n\nImmediately, before Nouri could rise, the little Urad ran nimbly to\nthe bed and offered her supper to the afflicted Houadir, who received\nit with great pleasure from her hands, being assured her mother would\nnot let Urad be a loser by her benevolence.\n\nHouadir continued several days with the widow Nouri, expecting the\nreturn of her son; till, giving over all hopes of seeing him, and\nobserving that she was burdensome to the charitable widow, she one\nevening, after the labours of the day, thus addressed her hospitable\nfriend:\n\n\"I perceive, benevolent Nouri, that my son has forsaken me, and that I\ndo but rob you and your poor infant of the scanty provision which you,\nby your hourly toil, are earning: wherefore, listen to my proposal,\nand judge whether I offer you a suitable return. There are many parts\nof your business that, old as I am, I can help you in, as the winding\nyour silk and feeding your worms. Employ me, therefore, in such\nbusiness in the day as you think me capable of performing; and at\nnight, while your necessary cares busy you about the house, give me\nleave (as I see your labour allows you no spare time) to instruct the\ninnocent Urad how to behave herself, when your death shall leave her\nunsheltered from the storms and deceits of a troublesome world.\"\n\nNouri listened with pleasure to the words of Houadir.\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"benevolent stranger, you well advise me how to\nportion my poor infant, Urad, whom I could neither provide for by my\nindustry nor instruct without losing the daily bread I earn for her. I\nperceive a little is sufficient for your support; nay, I know not how,\nI seem to have greater plenty since you have been with me than before;\nwhether it be owing to the blessing of Heaven on you I know not.\"\n\n\"Far be it from me,\" said Houadir, \"to see my generous benefactress\ndeceived; but the thinness of inhabitants, occasioned by the tyranny\nof Almurah, is the cause that your provisions are more plentiful; but\nyet I insist upon bearing my part in the burden of the day, and Urad\nshall share my evening's labour.\"\n\nFrom this time Houadir became a useful member of the family of Nouri,\nand Urad was daily instructed by the good old stranger in the\npleasures and benefits of a virtuous, and the horrors and curses of an\nevil, life.\n\nLittle Urad was greatly rejoiced at the lessons of Houadir, and was\nnever better pleased than when she was listening to the mild and\npleasing instructions of her affable mistress.\n\nIt was the custom of Houadir, whenever she taught Urad any new rule or\ncaution, to give her a peppercorn; requiring of her, as often as she\nlooked at them, to remember the lessons which she learnt at the time\nshe received them.\n\nIn this manner Urad continued to be instructed; greatly improving, as\nwell in virtue and religion, as in comeliness and beauty, till she was\nnear woman's estate; so that Nouri could scarcely believe she was the\nmother of a daughter so amiable and graceful in person and manners.\nNeither was Urad unskilled in the labours of the family, or the\nsilk-worm; for, Nouri growing old and sickly, she almost constantly,\nby her industry, supported the whole cottage.\n\nOne evening, as Houadir was lecturing her attentive pupil, Nouri, who\nlay sick on the straw bed, called Urad to her.\n\n\"My dear daughter,\" said Nouri, \"I feel, alas! more for you than\nmyself: while Houadir lives, you will have indeed a better instructor\nthan your poor mother was capable of being unto you; but what will my\ninnocent lamb, my lovely Urad do, when she is left alone, the helpless\nprey of craft or power? Consider, my dear child, that Allah would not\nsend you into the world to be necessarily and unavoidably wicked;\ntherefore always depend upon the assistance of our holy Prophet when\nyou do right, and let no circumstance of life, nor any persuasion,\never bias you to live otherwise than according to the chaste and\nvirtuous precepts of the religious Houadir. May Allah and the Prophet\nof the Faithful ever bless and preserve the innocence and chastity of\nmy dutiful and affectionate Urad!\"\n\nThe widow Nouri spoke not again; her breath for ever fled from its\nconfinement, and her body was delivered to the waters of the Tigris.\n\nThe inconsolable Urad had now her most difficult lesson to learn from\nthe patient Houadir; and scarcely did she think it dutiful to moderate\nthe violence of her grief.\n\n\"Sorrows,\" said Houadir, \"O duteous Urad, which arise from sin or evil\nactions, cannot be assuaged without contrition or amendment of life;\nthere the soul is deservedly afflicted, and must feel before it can be\ncured: such sorrows may my amiable pupil never experience! But the\nafflictions of mortality are alike the portions of piety or iniquity:\nit is necessary that we should be taught to part with the desirable\nthings of this life by degrees, and that by the frequency of such\nlosses our affections should be loosened from their earthly\nattachments. While you continue good be not dejected, my obedient\nUrad; and remember, it is one part of virtue to bear with patience and\nresignation the unalterable decrees of Heaven; not but that I esteem\nyour sorrow, which arises from gratitude, duty, and affection. I do\nnot teach my pupil to part with her dearest friends without\nreluctance, or wish her to be unconcerned at the loss of those who, by\na marvellous love, have sheltered her from all those storms which\nmust have overwhelmed helpless innocence. Only remember that your\ntears be the tears of resignation, and that your sighs confess a heart\nhumbly yielding to His will who ordereth all things according to His\ninfinite knowledge and goodness.\"\n\n\"O pious Houadir,\" replied Urad, \"just are thy precepts: it was Allah\nthat created my best of parents, and Allah is pleased to take her from\nme; far be it from me, though an infinite sufferer, to dispute His\nwill; the loss indeed wounds me sorely, yet will I endeavour to bear\nthe blow with patience and resignation.\"\n\nHouadir still continued her kind lessons and instructions, and Urad,\nwith a decent solemnity, attended both her labours and her teacher,\nwho was so pleased with the fruits which she saw spring forth from the\nseeds of virtue that she had sown in the breast of her pupil, that she\nnow began to leave her more to herself, and exhorted her to set apart\nsome portion of each day to pray to her Prophet, and frequent\nmeditation and recollection of the rules she had given her, that so\nher mind might never be suffered to grow forgetful of the truths she\nhad treasured up. \"For,\" said the provident Houadir, \"when it shall\nplease the Prophet to snatch me also from you, my dear Urad will then\nhave only the peppercorns to assist her.\"\n\n\"And how, my kind governess,\" said Urad, \"will those corns assist me?\"\n\n\"They will,\" answered Houadir, \"each of them (if you remember the\nprecepts I gave you with them, but not otherwise), be serviceable in\nthe times of your necessities.\"\n\nUrad, with great reluctance, from that time was obliged to go without\nher evening lectures; which loss affected her much, for she knew no\ngreater pleasure in life than hanging over Houadir's persuasive\ntongue, and hearing, with fixed attention, the sweet doctrines of\nprudence, chastity, and virtue.\n\nAs Urad, according to her usual custom (after having spent some few\nearly hours at her employment), advanced toward the bed to call her\nkind instructress, whose infirmities would not admit her to rise\nbetimes, she perceived that Houadir was risen from her bed.\n\nThe young virgin was amazed at the novelty of her instructress's\nbehaviour, especially as she seldom moved without assistance, and\nhastened into a little inclosure to look after her; but not finding\nHouadir there, she went to the neighbouring cottages, none of the\ninhabitants of which could give any account of the good old matron;\nnevertheless the anxious Urad continued her search, looking all around\nthe woods and forest, and often peeping over the rocks of the Tigris,\nas fearful that some accident might have befallen her. In this\nfruitless labour the poor virgin fatigued herself, till the sun, as\ntired of her toils, refused any longer to assist her search; when,\nreturning to her lonely cot, she spent the night in tears and\nlamentations.\n\nThe helpless Urad now gave herself up entirely to grief; and the\nremembrance of her affectionate mother added a double portion of\nsorrows to her heart: she neglected to open her lonely cottage, and\nwent not forth to the labours of the silk-worm; but, day after day,\nwith little or no nourishment, she continued weeping the loss of\nHouadir, her mild instructress, and Nouri, her affectionate mother.\n\nThe neighbouring cottagers, observing that Urad came no longer to the\nsilk-worms, and that her dwelling was daily shut up, after some time\nknocked at her cottage, and demanded if Urad the daughter of Nouri was\nliving. Urad, seeing the concourse of people, came weeping and\ntrembling toward the door, and asked them the cause of their coming.\n\n\"O Urad,\" said her neighbours, \"we saw you, not long ago, seeking your\nfriend Houadir, and we feared you also were missing, as you have\nneither appeared among us, nor attended your daily labours among the\nworms, who feed and provide for us by their subtle spinning.\"\n\n\"O my friends,\" answered Urad, \"suffer a wretched maid to deplore the\nloss of her dearest friends. Nouri, from whose breasts I sucked my\nnatural life, is now a prey to the vulture on the banks of the Tigris;\nand Houadir, from whom I derive my better life, is passed away from me\nlike a vision in the night.\"\n\nHer rustic acquaintance laughed at these sorrows of the virgin Urad.\n\"Alas!\" said one, \"Urad grieves that now she has to work for one,\ninstead of three.\" \"Nay,\" cried another, \"I wish my old folks were as\nwell bestowed.\" \"And I,\" said a third, \"were our house rid of the\nold-fashioned lumber that fills it at present (my superannuated father\nand mother), would soon bring a healthy young swain to supply their\nplaces with love and affection.\" \"Ay, true,\" answered two or three\nmore, \"we must look out a clever young fellow for Urad; whom shall she\nhave?\" \"Oh, if that be all,\" said a crooked old maid, who was famous\nfor match-making, \"I will send Darandu to comfort her, before night;\nand, if I mistake not, he very well knows his business.\" \"Well, pretty\nUrad,\" cried they all, \"Darandu will soon be here: he is fishing on\nthe Tigris; and it is but just that the river which has robbed you of\none comfort, should give you a better.\" At this speech, the rest\nlaughed very heartily, and they all ran away, crying out, \"Oh, she\nwill do very well when Darandu approaches.\"\n\nUrad, though she could despise the trifling of her country neighbours,\nyet felt an oppression on her heart at the name of Darandu, who was a\nyouth of incomparable beauty, and added to the charms of his person an\nengaging air, which was far above the reach of the rest of the country\nswains, who lived on those remote banks of the Tigris. \"But, O\nHouadir, O Nouri!\" said the afflicted virgin to herself, \"never shall\nUrad seek, in the arms of a lover, to forget the bounties and precepts\nof so kind a mistress and so indulgent a parent.\"\n\nThese reflections hurried the wretched Urad into her usual sorrowful\ntrain of thoughts, and she spent the rest of the day in tears and\nweeping, calling for ever on Nouri and Houadir, and wishing that the\nProphet would permit her to follow them out of a world where she\nforesaw neither comfort nor peace.\n\nIn the midst of these melancholy meditations, she was disturbed by a\nknocking at the door. Urad arose with trembling, and asked who was\nthere.\n\n\"It is one,\" answered a voice in the softest tone, \"who seeketh\ncomfort and cannot find it; who desires peace, and it is far from\nhim.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered Urad, \"few are the comforts of this cottage, and\npeace is a stranger to this mournful roof: depart, O traveller,\nwhosoever thou art, and suffer the disconsolate Urad to indulge in\nsorrows greater than those from which you wish to be relieved.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the voice without, \"the griefs of the beautiful Urad\nare my griefs; and the sorrows which afflict her, rend the soul of the\nwretched Darandu!\"\n\n\"Whatever may be the motive for this charitable visit, Darandu,\"\nanswered Urad, \"let me beseech you to depart; for ill does it become a\nforlorn virgin to admit the conversation of the youths that surround\nher: leave me, therefore, O swain, ere want of decency make you appear\nodious in the sight of the virgins who inhabit the rocky banks of the\nrapid Tigris.\"\n\n\"To convince the lovely Urad,\" answered Darandu, \"that I came to\nsoothe her cares and condole with her in her losses (which I heard but\nthis evening), I now will quit this dear spot, which contains the\ntreasure of my heart, as, however terrible the parting is to me, I\nrest satisfied that it pleases the fair conqueror of my heart, whose\npeace to Darandu is more precious than the pomegranate in the sultry\nnoon, or the silver scales of ten thousand fishes enclosed in the nets\nof my skilful comrades.\"\n\nDarandu then left the door of the cottage, and Urad reclined on the\nbed, till sleep finished her toils, and for a time released her from\nthe severe afflictions of her unguarded situation.\n\nEarly in the morning the fair Urad arose, and directed her steps to\nthe rocks of the Tigris, either invited thither by the melancholy\nreflections which her departed mother occasioned, or willing to take a\nnearer and more unobserved view of the gentle Darandu.\n\nDarandu, who was just about to launch his vessel into the river,\nperceived the beauteous mourner on the rocks; but he was too well\nversed in love affairs to take any notice of her: he rather turned\nfrom Urad, and endeavoured by his behaviour to persuade her that he\nhad not observed her, for it was enough for him to know that he was\nnot indifferent to her.\n\nUrad, though she hardly knew the cause of her morning walk, yet\ncontinued on the rocks till Darandu had taken in his nets, and, with\nhis companions, was steering up the stream in quest of the fishes of\nthe Tigris. She then returned to her cottage, more irresolute in her\nthoughts, but less than ever inclined to the labours of her\nprofession.\n\nAt the return of the evening she was anxious lest Darandu should renew\nhis visit--an anxiety which, though it arose from fear, was yet near\nallied to hope; nor was she less solicitous about provisions, as all\nher little stock was entirely exhausted, and she had no other prospect\nbefore her than to return to her labours, which her sorrows had\nrendered irksome and disagreeable to her.\n\nWhile she was meditating on these things, she heard a knocking at the\ndoor, which fluttered her little less than the fears of hunger or the\nsorrows of her lonely life.\n\nFor some time she had not courage to answer, till, the knocking being\nrepeated, she faintly asked who was at the door.\n\n\"It is Lahnar,\" answered a female: \"Lahnar, your neighbour, seeks to\ngive Urad comfort, and to condole with the distressed mourner of a\nmother and a friend.\"\n\n\"Lahnar,\" answered Urad, \"is then a friend to the afflicted, and\nkindly seeks to alleviate the sorrows of the wretched Urad.\"\n\nShe then opened the door, and Lahnar entered with a basket on her\nhead.\n\n\"Kind Lahnar,\" said the fair mourner, \"leave your burden at the door,\nand enter this cottage of affliction. Alas! alas! there once sat\nNouri, my ever-affectionate mother, and there Houadir, my kind\ncounsellor and director; but now are their seats vacant, and sorrow\nand grief are the only companions of the miserable Urad!\"\n\n\"Your losses are certainly great,\" answered Lahnar; \"but you must\nendeavour to bear them with patience, especially as they are the\ncommon changes and alterations of life. Your good mother Nouri lived\nto a great age, and Houadir, though a kind friend, may yet be\nsucceeded by one as amiable; but what I am most alarmed at, O Urad! is\nyour manner of life. We no longer see you busied among the leaves of\nthe mulberries, or gathering the bags of silk, or preparing them for\nthe wheels. You purchase no provision among us; you seek no comfort in\nsociety; you live like the mole buried under the earth, which neither\nsees nor is seen.\"\n\n\"My sorrows indeed hitherto,\" replied Urad, \"have prevented my labour;\nbut to-morrow I shall again rise to my wonted employment.\"\n\n\"But even to-night,\" said Lahnar, \"let my friend take some little\nnourishment, that she may rise refreshed; for fasting will deject you\nas well as grief; and suffer me to partake with you. And see, in this\nbasket I have brought my provisions, some boiled rice, and a few fish,\nwhich my kind brother Darandu brought me this evening from the river\nTigris.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, kind Lahnar,\" answered Urad, \"but I must refuse your\noffer. Grief has driven away appetite to aught but itself far from me,\nand I am not solicitous to take provisions which I cannot use.\"\n\n\"At least,\" replied Lahnar, \"permit me to sit beside you, and eat of\nwhat is here before us.\"\n\nUpon which, without other excuses, Lahnar emptied her basket, and set\na bowl of rice and fish before Urad, and began to feed heartily on\nthat which she had brought for herself.\n\nUrad was tempted by hunger and the example of Lahnar to begin, but she\nwas doubtful about tasting the fish of Darandu; wherefore she first\nattempted the boiled rice, though her appetite was most inclined to\nthe fish, of which she at last ate very heartily, when she recollected\nthat as she had partaken with Lahnar, it was the same whatever part\nshe accepted.\n\nLahnar having finished her meal, and advised Urad to think of some\nmethods of social life, took her leave, and left the unsettled virgin\nto meditate on her strange visitor.\n\nUrad, though confused, could not help expressing some pleasure at this\nvisit; for such is the blessing of society, that it will always give\ncomfort to those who have been disused to its sweet effects.\n\nBut Urad, though pleased with the friendship of Lahnar, yet was\nconfounded when, some few minutes after, she perceived her again\nreturning.\n\n\"What,\" said Urad, \"brings back Lahnar to the sorrows of this\ncottage?\"\n\n\"Urad,\" said Lahnar, \"I will rest with my friend to-night, for the\nshades of night cast horrors around, and I dare not disturb my\nfather's cottage by my late approach.\"\n\nBut as soon as she had admitted Lahnar, she perceived that it was\nDarandu disguised in Lahnar's clothes. Urad, greatly terrified,\nrecollecting her lost friend Houadir, felt for a peppercorn, and let\nit fall to the ground.\n\nA violent rapping was in a moment heard at the cottage, at which Urad\nuttered a loud cry, and Darandu, with shame and confusion, looked\ntrembling toward the door.\n\nUrad ran forward and opened it, when the son of Houadir entered, and\nasked Urad the reason of her cries.\n\n\"O thou blessed angel!\" said Urad; \"this wicked wretch is disguised in\nhis sister's clothes.\"\n\nBut Darandu was fled, as guilt is ever fearful, mean, and base.\n\n\"Now, Urad,\" said the son of Houadir, \"before you close your doors\nupon another man, let me resume my former features.\"\n\nUpon which Urad looked, and beheld her old friend Houadir. At the\nsight of Houadir, Urad was equally astonished and abashed.\n\n\"Why blushes, Urad?\" said Houadir.\n\n\"How, O genius,\" said Urad, \"for such I perceive thou art--how is Urad\nguilty? I invited not Darandu hither: I wished not for him.\"\n\n\"Take care,\" answered Houadir, \"what you say. If you wished not for\nhim, you hardly wished him away, and, but for your imprudence, he had\nnot entered your home. Consider how have your days been employed since\nI left you? Have you continued to watch the labours of the silk-worm?\nHave you repeated the lessons I gave you? or has the time of Urad been\nconsumed in idleness and disobedience? Has she shaken off her\ndependence on Mahomet, and indulged the unavailing sorrows of her\nheart?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the fair Urad, \"repeat no more, my ever-honoured\nHouadir: I have indeed been guilty, under the mask of love and\naffection; and I now plainly see the force of your first rule, that\nidleness is the beginning of all evil and vice. Yes, my dearest\nHouadir, had I attended to your instructions I had given no handle to\nDarandu's insolence; but yet methinks some sorrows were allowable for\nthe loss of such a mother and such a friend.\"\n\n\"Sorrows,\" answered Houadir, \"proceed from the heart, and, totally\nindulged, soon require a change and vicissitude in our minds;\nwherefore, in the midst of your griefs, your feet involuntarily\nwandered after Darandu, and your soul, softened by idle sighs, was the\nmore easily impressed by the deceits of his tongue.\n\n\"But this remember, O Urad--for I must, I find, repeat an old\ninstruction to you--that of all things in the world, nothing should so\nmuch engage a woman's attention as the avenues which lead to her\nheart. Such are the wiles and deceits of men, that they are rarely to\nbe trusted with the most advanced post; give them but footing, though\nthat footing be innocent, and they will work night and day till their\nwishes are accomplished. Trust not, therefore, to yourself alone, nor\nsuffer your heart to plead in their favour, lest it become as much\nyour enemy as the tempter, man. Place your security in flight, and\navoid every evil, lest it lead you into danger, for hard it is to turn\nthe head and look backward when a beautiful or agreeable object is\nbefore you. Remember my instructions, O Urad! make a prudent use of\nyour peppercorns, and leave this place, which holds a man sensible of\nyour folly and resolute in his own dark and subtle intentions.\"\n\nUrad was about to thank Houadir, but the genius was fled, and the\neyelids of the morning were opening in the east.\n\nUrad, in a little wallet, packed up her small stock of necessaries,\nand, full of terror and full of uncertainty, struck into the forest,\nand without reflection took the widest path that offered. And first,\nit was her care to repeat over deliberately the lessons of Houadir.\nShe then travelled slowly forward, often looking, and fearing to\nbehold the wicked Darandu at her heels.\n\nAfter walking through the forest for the greater part of the day, she\ncame to a steep descent, on each side overshadowed with lofty trees;\nthis she walked down, and came to a small spot of ground surrounded by\nhills, woods, and rocks. Here she found a spring of water, and sat\ndown on the grass to refresh herself after the travels of the day.\n\nAs Urad's meal was almost at an end she heard various voices issuing\nfrom the woods on the hills opposite to that which she came down. Her\nlittle heart beat quick at this alarm; and recollecting the advice of\nHouadir, she began to repeat the lessons of her instructress, and ere\nlong she perceived through the trees several men coming down the hill,\nwho, at sight of her, gave a loud halloo, and ran forward, each being\neager who should first seize the prize.\n\nUrad, trembling and sighing at her danger, forgot not to drop one of\nher peppercorns, and immediately she found herself changed into a\npismire, and with great pleasure she looked for a hole in the ground,\nand crept into it.\n\nThe robbers, coming down to the bottom of the vale, were surprised to\nfind their prize eloped; but they divided into separate bodies,\nresolved to hunt till night, and then appointed that little vale as\nthe place of rendezvous.\n\nUrad, perceiving that they were gone, wished herself into her original\nform, but alas! her wish was not granted, and the once beautiful Urad\nstill continued an ugly pismire.\n\nLate at night the robbers returned, and the moon shining bright,\nreflected a gloomy horror upon their despairing faces. Urad shuddered\nat the sight of them, though so well concealed, and dared hardly peep\nout of her hole--so difficult is it to forget our former fears. The\ngang resolved to spend the rest of the night in that place, and\ntherefore unloaded their wallets, and spread their wine and provisions\non the banks of the spring, grumbling and cursing each other all the\ntime for their unfortunate search.\n\nUrad heard them lamenting their ill fortune with the utmost horror and\nindignation, and praised continually the gracious Allah who had\nrescued her from such inhuman wretches; while they with singing and\ndrinking spent the greatest part of the night, and wishing that their\ncomrades in the other part of the forest had been with them; at length\nfalling into drunkenness and sleep, they left the world to silence and\npeace.\n\nUrad, finding them fast asleep, crawled out of her hole, and going to\nthe first, she stung him in each eye, and thus she went round to them\nall.\n\nThe poison of the little pismire working in their eyes, in a short\ntime occasioned them to awake in the utmost tortures; and perceiving\nthey were blind, and feeling the pain, they each supposed his\nneighbour had blinded him in order to get away with the booty. This so\nenraged them that, feeling about, they fell upon one another, and in a\nshort time almost the whole gang was demolished.\n\nUrad beheld with astonishment the effect of her stings, and at a wish\nresumed her pristine form, saying at the same time to herself, \"I now\nperceive that Providence is able by the most insignificant means to\nwork the greatest purposes.\"\n\nContinuing her journey through the forest, she was terribly afraid of\nmeeting with the second band of robbers, and therefore she directed\nher steps with the greatest caution and circumspection.\n\nAs she walked forward, and cast her eyes all around, and stopped at\nevery motion of the wind, she saw the son of Houadir coming to meet\nher in the path in which she was travelling.\n\nAt this sight Urad ran toward him, and with joy begged her old\ngoverness would unmask herself, and entertain her with instruction and\npersuasion.\n\n\"No, my dear child,\" answered the son of Houadir, \"that I cannot do at\npresent; the time is not as yet come. I will first, as you have been\ntried, lead you to the palace of the Genii of the Forest, and present\nyour unspotted innocence before them; for, O my sweet Urad, my\nheavenly pupil!\" said he, kissing and taking her in his arms, \"your\nvirtue is tried; I have found you worthy of the lessons which I gave\nyou. I foresaw evils might befall you, and therefore I took pity on\nyour innocence, and lived with Nouri your mother, that I might train\nup my beloved Urad in the paths of virtue; and now your trial is past,\nUrad shall enjoy the happiness of a genius.\"\n\nUrad, though somewhat confounded at Houadir's embrace under the\nappearance of a man, yet with great humility thanked her benefactor;\nand the son of Houadir, turning to the left, led Urad into a little\nby-path, so concealed that few, if any, might ever find its beginning.\nAfter a long walk through various turnings and intricate windings,\nthey came to a small mean cottage, where, the son of Houadir leading\nthe way, Urad followed.\n\nThe son of Houadir striking fire with his stick, a bright flame arose\nfrom the centre of the floor, into which he cast divers herbs, and\nrepeating some enchantments, the back part of the cottage opened and\npresented to the view of Urad a beautiful dome, where she saw sitting\nround a table a numerous assembly of gay persons of both sexes.\n\nThe son of Houadir, leading in Urad, said, \"This, my dear pupil, is\nthe assembly of the Genii of the Forest.\" And, presenting her to the\ncompany, \"Behold,\" said he, \"the beautiful and well-tried Urad. But\nhere you may cast off your reserve, fair maid, and indulge in the\ninnocent pleasures of the Genii of the Forest.\"\n\nThe son of Houadir then led her to the table, and seated her on the\nsame sofa with himself. The remainder of the day was spent in mirth\nand pleasure.\n\nUrad, having never beheld anything splendid or magnificent, was\ngreatly delighted at the gay company and beautiful saloon, nor did she\nreceive the caresses of the son of Houadir reluctantly.\n\nAt night, Urad was shown a glorious apartment to rest in, and the son\nof Houadir attended her.\n\n\"My dear Houadir,\" said Urad, \"when shall I behold your proper shape?\nWhen shall I see you as my tutelary genius?\"\n\n\"That,\" answered the son of Houadir, \"I shall be in every shape; but\ncall neither one nor the other my _proper_ shape; for to a genius all\nshapes are assumed: neither is this my proper shape, nor the wrinkles\nof an old woman. But, to confess the truth, O beautiful Urad, from the\nfirst moment of your birth I resolved to make you my bride, and\ntherefore did I so patiently watch your growing years, and instruct\nyou in the fear of vice and the love of virtue.\"\n\nUrad, astonished at the words of the son of Houadir, knew not what\nanswer to make; but the natural timidity of her sex, and the\nstrangeness of the proposal, filled her with strange apprehensions.\nHowever, she begged at least that the genius would, for a time, leave\nher to herself.\n\n\"No, my lovely Urad,\" answered the son of Houadir, \"never, never, will\nthy faithful genius leave thee!\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Urad, \"didst thou bestow so many peppercorns upon me, as\nthey now will become useless?\"\n\n\"Not useless,\" said the son of Houadir: \"they are indeed little\npreservatives against danger; but I have the seeds of some melons\nwhich will not only rescue you, but always preserve you from harm.\nHere, faithful Urad,\" continued he, \"take these seeds, and, whenever\nyou are fearful, swallow one of these, and no dangers shall surround\nyou.\"\n\nUrad thankfully received the seeds.\n\n\"And what,\" said she, \"must I do with the peppercorns?\"\n\n\"Give them,\" said the son of Houadir, \"to me, and I will endue them\nwith stronger virtues, and thou shalt by them have power also over\nothers, as well as to defend thyself.\"\n\nUrad pulled the peppercorns out of her bag, and presented them to the\nson of Houadir, whose eyes flashed with joy at the sight, and he\nimmediately thrust them into the folds of his garments.\n\n\"O son of Houadir, what hast thou done?\" said Urad.\n\n\"I have,\" answered the false son of Houadir, \"gained the full\npossession of my lovely Urad, and now may address her in my proper\nshape.\" So saying, he resumed his natural figure, and became like a\nsatyr of the wood.\n\n\"I am,\" said he, \"O beautiful Urad, the enchanter Repah, who range in\nthe solitude of the forest of the Tigris. You I saw surrounded by the\ninfluence of the genius Houadir, and therefore was obliged to use\nartifice to gain you as my wife.\"\n\nThe poor deluded victim, with tears in her eyes, implored his mercy\nand forbearance; but he laughed at her tears, and told her her eyes\nglittered the brighter for them.\n\nUrad, in her despair, again put her hands into the bag whence she had\nfatally resigned the peppercorns, and felt about in agony for her lost\ntreasure. And now finding none, and perceiving that the genius Houadir\nattended not to her cries, she was drawing out her hand when, in a\ncorner of the bag, she felt one peppercorn, which had before escaped\nher search.\n\nShe instantly drew it out, and, throwing it on the ground, the\nenchanter stood motionless before her; the apartments vanished, and\nshe found herself with him in a dark hut, with various kinds of\nnecromantic instruments about her.\n\nUrad, though fearful, yet was so much overcome with fatigue and fright\nthat she sank on the ground; and, happily for her, the enchanter was\nin no condition to persecute her.\n\n\"Curse on my folly,\" said he, as he stood fixed to the ground, \"that I\nneglected to ask for the bag itself which held the gifts of the genius\nHouadir! her pretty pupil had then been my slave, in spite of the many\nfine lessons she had been taught by that pitiful and enthusiastic\ngenius; but now by chance, and not by the merit of thy virtues, or thy\neducation, art thou delivered from my seraglio. But this grieves me\nnot so much to lose a sickly girl as that I find a superior power\ncondemns me to declare to you the causes of your error.\n\n\"Know, then, Urad--I speak not from myself, but He speaks who, from\ncasual evil, can work out certain good--He forces me to declare that\nno specious appearance, no false colours, should incline the virtuous\nheart to listen to the wiles of deceit; for evil then comes most\nterrible when it is cloaked under friendship. Why, then, had Urad so\ngreat an opinion of her own judgment as to confide in the false\nappearance of the son of Houadir when she might have consulted her\nfaithful monitors? The falling of a peppercorn would have taught her\nto trust to no appearances, nor would she have parted with her\npeppercorns, which were to refresh in her memory the sentiments of\nvirtue, chastity, and honour--no, not to Houadir herself. No adviser\ncan be good who would destroy what he himself has first inculcated;\nand no appearance ought to bias us to receive as truths those things\nwhich are contrary to virtue and religion. How, then, did Urad keep to\nthe instructions of Houadir?\"\n\nThus spoke the enchanter, and no more; his mouth closed up, and he\nstood fixed and motionless. And Urad, finding her spirits somewhat\nrecovered, hastened out of the hut, and perceived that it was morning.\n\nShe had now no more peppercorns to depend upon; wherefore she cried\nto Houadir to succour her; but the genius was deaf to her entreaties.\n\n\"Poor miserable wretch!\" said Urad to herself, \"what will become of\nthee, inclosed in a forest through which thou knowest no path? But,\"\ncontinued she, \"why should I not examine the enchanter, who perhaps is\nyet immovable in the cottage? I saw him fold them in the plaits of his\ngarments, and they may yet become mine.\"\n\nSo saying, she returned to the hut, where entering, the very sight of\nthe dumb enchanter affrighted her so much, that it was a long time\nbefore she could venture near him. At length she put out her hand, and\npulled forth her beloved peppercorns, the enchanter still standing\nmotionless.\n\nAway flew Urad like lightning from the hut, and ran till she had again\nreached the road from which she had been decoyed.\n\nShe continued her journeying for seven days, feeding on the fruits of\nthe forest, and sleeping in the densest thickets.\n\nThe eighth day, as she was endeavouring to pass a ford where a small\nrivulet had been swelled by the rains, she perceived a large body of\nhorsemen riding through the woods, and doubted not that it was the\nremainder of the gang of robbers whom she had before met with.\n\nUrad was now in some measure reconciled to danger; and therefore,\nwithout much fear, dropped a peppercorn, and expected relief.\n\nThe peppercorn had been dropped some time, the horsemen advanced, and\nno one appeared to her succour.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Urad, \"why has Houadir deceived me? Neither her advice,\nnor her magical peppercorns, can save me from these cruel robbers. O\ngenius, genius! why hast thou forsaken me in my severest trials!\"\n\nBy this time the robbers were come up, and were highly rejoiced to\nfind such a beautiful prize.\n\nTheir captain leaped from his horse to seize her, and the trembling\nUrad gave a loud shriek, which was answered from the woods by the\nroaring of a hundred lions.\n\n\"O Allah,\" said the chief, \"the lions are upon us!\"\n\n\"That may be,\" said he who was dismounted; \"but were the whole world\nset against me, I would secure my prize.\" So saying, he took Urad in\nhis arms to place her on his horse.\n\nThe roaring of the lions continued, and many of them came howling out\nof the woods: the robbers fled in dismay, all but the ruffian who had\nseized on the fair Urad, who was striving in vain to fix her on his\nhorse. A lion furiously made at him, and tore him limb from limb,\nwhile Urad expected the same fate from several others who came roaring\naround.\n\n\"But,\" said she, \"better is death than infamy, and the paw of the\nhungry lion, than slavery to a robber.\"\n\nThe noble beast, having devoured his prey, came fawning at the feet of\nUrad, who was surprised at his behaviour and gentleness; but much more\nwas her astonishment increased when she heard him speak.\n\n\"O virgin (for none other can experience the assistance of our race,\nor stand unhurt before us), I am the King and Sovereign of these\nmighty forests, and am sent by the genius Houadir to thy protection.\nBut why did the distrustful Urad despair, or why did she accuse\nProvidence of deserting her? should not the relieved wait with\npatience on the hand that supports him, and not cry out with\nimpatience, and charge its benefactor with neglect?\"\n\n\"True, O royal lion,\" answered the fair Urad; \"but fear is\nirresistible, and the children of men are but weakness and\ningratitude. But blessed be Allah, who, though justly provoked at my\ndiscontent, yet sent to my assistance the guardian of the fair. Yet\nhow cometh it to pass, O royal protector, that you, who are so bold\nand so fierce in your nature, should yet behave with such tenderness\nand kindness to a helpless virgin, whom you might with pleasure to\nyourself in a moment devour?\"\n\n\"The truly great and noble spirit,\" answered the lion, \"takes a pride\nin protecting innocence, neither can he wish to oppress it. Hence\nlearn, fair virgin, that of all mankind he only is noble, generous,\nand truly virtuous, who is ready to defend helpless womanhood. What,\nthen, must you think of those mean wretches who cajole you under the\nappearance of affection, and yet tell you that it was only to try you?\nHe that is suspicious is mean: he that is mean is unworthy of the\nchaste affections of the virtuous maid. Wherefore, O Urad, shun him,\nhowever honoured by mankind, or covered by the specious characters of\nvirtue, whoever attempts the honour of your chastity, for he cannot be\njust: to deceive you he must himself swear falsely, and therefore\ncannot be good; or if he tell the truth, he must be weak and\nungenerous, and unworthy of you.\"\n\nIn such conversation they passed along the forest, till, after a few\ndays, they were alarmed at the noise of the hunters and the music of\nthe chase.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the beautiful Urad, \"what is this that I hear?\"\n\n\"It is,\" answered the royal beast, \"the noise of the hunters; and thou\nshalt escape, but me will they in sport destroy. The lion you call\ncruel, who kills to devour. What, then, is he who wantons in the death\nof those who advantage him not? But man is lord of all: let him look\nto it how he governs!\"\n\n\"Nay, but,\" answered Urad, \"leave me, gentle protector, and provide\nfor your safety; nor fear but Houadir will prevent the storms that\nhover over from breaking upon me.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the royal beast, \"she has commanded me to follow you\ntill I see her presence; and where can I better sacrifice my life than\nin the service of chastity and virtue?\"\n\nThe hunters were now in sight, but advanced not towards the lion; they\nturned their coursers aside, and only one of superior mien, with\nseveral attendants, rode towards Urad.\n\nThe lion erecting his mane, his eyes glowing with vivid lightnings,\ndrew up the wide sinews of his broad back, and with wrathful front\nleaped towards him who seemed to have the command.\n\nThe horseman, perceiving his intention, poised his spear in his right\nhand, and spurred his courser to meet him.\n\nEre the royal beast had reached the horseman, the rider threw his\nspear, which, entering between the fore-paws of the lion, nailed him\nto the ground. The enraged animal tore his paw from the ground; but\nthe spear still remained in his foot, and the anguish of the wound\nmade him shake the whole forest with his lordly roarings.\n\nThe stranger then rode up to the fair Urad, whom viewing, he cried\nout, \"By Allah! thou art worthy of the seraglio of the Vizier\nMussapulta: take her, my eunuchs, behind you, and bear her through the\nforest of Bagdad, to the home of my ancestors.\"\n\nThe eunuchs obeyed, and bore her away, though Urad dropped her corn\nupon the ground; but still she trusted in the help of Houadir.\n\nThe Vizier Mussapulta then ordered that one of his slaves should stay\nbehind, and destroy and bury the lion; which he commanded to be done\nwith the utmost caution, as Almurah had made a decree that if any\nsubjects should wound, maim, or destroy any lion in his forests, the\nsame should be put to death.\n\nThe eunuchs bore away Urad to the seraglio, taking her through by-ways\nto the palace of the Vizier, lest her shrieks should be heard.\nMussapulta followed at a distance, and the slave was left with the\ntortured and faithful lion.\n\nIn a few hours they reached the palace, and Urad, being conducted to\nthe seraglio, was ordered to be dressed, as the Vizier intended\nvisiting her.\n\nUrad was thunderstruck at the news, and now began to fear Houadir had\nforgotten her, and resolved, as soon as the eunuchs had left her, to\ndrop a second peppercorn. But poor Urad had forgotten to take her bag\nfrom her old garments, which the women who dressed her had carried\naway. She dissolved in fresh tears at this piece of carelessness.\n\n\"Well,\" said she, \"surely Houadir will neglect me, if I so easily\nneglect myself.\"\n\nShe waited that night with fear and trembling; but no Vizier appeared.\n\nThis eased her greatly, and the next day, when the eunuchs came, they\ninformed her that Mussapulta had that evening been sent by the Sultan\nto quell an insurrection, and that they did not expect him home under\ntwenty days.\n\nDuring this time no pains were spared with Urad to teach her the\naccomplishments of the country, all which, in spite of her\nunwillingness to learn in such a detestable place, she nevertheless\nacquired with the utmost ease and facility.\n\nThe insurrection being quelled, the Vizier returned, and, not\nunmindful of his fair captive, ordered that she might be prepared for\nhis reception in the evening.\n\nAccordingly Urad was sumptuously adorned with jewels and brocades, and\nlooked more beautiful than the fairest Circassian; and the dignity of\nher virtue added such a grace to her charms, that even her keepers,\nthe eunuchs, dared not look upon her. In the evening the chief eunuch\nled her into the presence of Mussapulta. She shrank from him with\nhorror.\n\n\"What!\" said he, \"cannot a fortnight's pleasure in this palace efface\nthe remembrance of your sorrows? But be gay and cheerful, for know\nthat the Vizier Mussapulta esteems you beyond any of his wives.\"\n\n\"The esteem of a robber, the esteem of a lawless ranger,\" answered\nUrad, \"charms not the ears of virtue.\"\n\n\"What,\" said Mussapulta, sternly, \"dost thou refuse my proffered love?\nThen shalt thou die! Slay this proud maiden in my sight. Cut off her\nhead at once.\"\n\nThe eunuch hesitated.\n\n\"Why,\" said the proud Vizier, \"do you delay to obey me?\"\n\nAs he said this an eunuch came running in haste, crying, \"The Sultan,\nthe Sultan Almurah, approaches!\"\n\nAll was instant confusion. Mussapulta turned pale and trembled. He\nordered the eunuch to release the fair Urad, and at that moment the\nfaithful lion entered with the Sultan Almurah.\n\nThe lion instantly seized on the Vizier Mussapulta, and tore him limb\nfrom limb. Yet the generous animal would not defile himself with the\ncarcass, but with great wrath tossed the bloody remains among the\nfemales of the seraglio.\n\nAlmurah commanded Urad to advance, and at the sight of her,\n\n\"O royal beast,\" said he to the lion, \"I wonder not that thou wert\nunable to describe the beauties of this lovely maid, since they are\nalmost too dazzling to behold. O virtuous maid,\" continued Almurah,\n\"whose excellencies I have heard from this faithful animal, if thou\ncanst deign to accept of the heart of Almurah, thy Sultan will be the\nhappiest of mankind; but I swear, by my unalterable will, that no\npower on earth shall force or distress you.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" sighed Urad, \"royal Sultan, you honour your poor slave too much;\nyet happy should I be were Houadir here!\"\n\nAs she spoke, the genius Houadir entered the room: the face of the\nsage instructress still remained, but a glowing splendour surrounded\nher, and her walk was majestic and commanding. Almurah bowed to the\nground, Urad made obeisance, and the rest fell prostrate before her.\n\n\"My advice,\" said Houadir, \"is necessary now, O Urad, nor ought young\nvirgins to enter into such engagements without counsel and the\napprobation of those above them, how splendid and lucrative soever the\nunion may appear. I, who know the heart of Almurah, the servant of\nMahomet, know him to be virtuous: some excesses he has been guilty of,\nbut they were chiefly owing to his villanous Vizier, Mussapulta.\"\n(Here the lion gave a dreadful roar.) \"Against your command, Almurah,\ndid he wound this animal, which I endowed with speech for the service\nof Urad, to teach her that strength and nobleness of soul would always\nsupport the innocent.\n\n\"Mussapulta having wounded him, commanded his slave to put the royal\nbeast to death; but I gave the slave bowels of mercy, and he carried\nhim home to his cottage till the wound was healed, when the lion,\nfaithful to his trust, came towards you as you were hunting, and being\nendowed with speech, declared the iniquity of Mussapulta--but he is no\nmore.\n\n\"Now, Urad, if thy mind incline to Almurah, receive his vows, but give\nnot thine hand where thy heart is estranged, for no splendour can\ncompensate the want of affection.\"\n\n\"If Almurah, my gracious lord,\" answered Urad, \"will swear in three\nthings to do my desire, his handmaid will be happy to serve him.\"\n\n\"I swear,\" answered the fond Almurah. \"Hadst thou three thousand\ndesires, Almurah would satisfy them or die.\"\n\n\"What strange things,\" said Houadir, \"has Urad to ask of the Sultan\nAlmurah?\"\n\n\"Whatever they are, gracious genius,\" said Almurah, \"Urad, the lovely\nUrad, may command me.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Urad, \"first I require that the poor inhabitants of the\nforest be restored to their native lands, whence thou hast driven\nthem.\"\n\n\"By the great Allah, and Mahomet the Prophet of the just,\" answered\nAlmurah, \"the deed was proposed and executed by the villain\nMussapulta! Yes, my lovely Urad shall be obeyed. But now, Urad,\"\ncontinued the Sultan, \"ere you proceed in your requests, let me make\none sacrifice to chastity and justice, by vowing, in the presence of\nthe good genius Houadir, to dismiss my seraglio, and take thee only\nfor my wife.\"\n\n\"So noble a sacrifice,\" answered Urad, \"demands my utmost returns;\nwherefore, beneficent Sultan, I release thee from any further\ncompliance with my requests.\"\n\n\"Lovely Urad,\" said Almurah, \"permit me, then, to dive into your\nthoughts:--yes, by your kind glances on that noble beast, I perceive\nyou meditated to ask some bounty for your deliverer. He shall, fair\nvirgin, be honoured as Urad's guardian, and the friend of Almurah; he\nshall live in my royal palace, with slaves to attend him; and, that\nhis rest may not be inglorious or his life useless, once every year\nshall those who have injured the innocent be delivered up to his\nhonest rage.\"\n\nThe lovely Urad fell at the feet of her Sultan, and blessed him for\nhis favours; and the sage Houadir approved of Urad's request and the\npromises of Almurah. The lion came and licked the feet of his\nbenefactors; and the genius Houadir, at parting, poured her blessings\non the royal pair.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nAlischar and Smaragdine.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThere lived once on a time, in the province of Khorassan, a rich\nmerchant, to whom, in his sixtieth year, a son was born, and he called\nhis name Alischar. Fifteen years afterwards the father died, but not\nwithout giving his son, in the hour of death, many excellent advices\nand moral instructions as to his conduct through life. Alischar buried\nhis father, and not long afterwards his mother also, and began to\nexercise diligently the trade which his parents had bequeathed to him.\nIn this way a whole year was spent, without the least departure from\nthe wise course of behaviour which his father had prescribed for him\nin his last moments. But, unfortunately, ere many weeks more were\ngone, he fell into the company of certain vicious people, who seduced\nhim into a life of such luxury and extravagance, that in a short time\nthe money the old man had left him was entirely spent. Proceeding in\nthe same follies, he by-and-bye was obliged to part with the shop\nitself,--the household furniture followed,--and, in a word, Alischar\nwas left without anything he could call his own, except the bare roof\nover his head and the clothes upon his back.\n\nHaving nothing wherewithal to still the cravings of hunger, the youth\nmight now be seen daily roaming about the streets, idle and listless.\nOne day in this sad condition he was loitering about in the great\nsquare of the city, when his attention was attracted by a crowd of\npeople, who seemed to be gathered around one who sold some merchandise\nby auction. He drew near, and, mixing among the assemblage, saw that\nthe business was the selling of a beautiful young slave, who stood in\nthe midst with a form of the most fascinating elegance, cheeks that\noutshone the rose, and beauty more dazzling than the reflection of the\nfull moon in a fountain of dissolved pearls. Scarcely had he looked\nupon her ere love seized him and mastered him; he knew not what to do\nor to say, but remained like a stone in the midst of the crowd,\ngazing. The bystanders, who were ignorant that Alischar had so soon\ndissipated his patrimony, never doubted that he had come in order to\nbe a bidder for the beautiful slave. The crier moved his situation so\nas to stand right opposite to him, with the girl in his hand, and\nbegan to call out the usual words more loudly than before, \"Ye rich\nmerchants, ye honourable wholesale dealers, gentlemen all of worth and\ncondition, what say ye for this brunette slave, who is the mistress of\nthe moon of heaven, whose name is called Smaragdine, and whose fame is\npurer than the pearl in the depths of the Red Sea? Say your bidding,\ngreat and small.\"\n\nAt first five hundred and twenty-five ducats were offered; but\nimmediately there came forward an old man, by name Beschadeddin,\nshapeless in his form and shuffling in his gait,--the aversion of\nevery eye that rested on him. This old man came forward across the\nmarket-place, and offered without hesitation a thousand ducats.\n\nThe crier cast his eyes around, but the former bidders remained\nsilent, and then asked the master of the slave if he was satisfied\nwith this offer.\n\n\"I am,\" said the merchant, \"but upon condition that the girl herself\nis so also; for I have sworn to her, that she shall be sold to no one\nfor whose service she does not herself feel an inclination.\"\n\nUpon this the crier turned to the girl, and asked her what she had to\nsay to the matter. She cast her bright eyes upon the hateful old man,\nand replied, \"Know ye not the verse of the old poet, how he says:\n\n    \"'Grey hairs were never formed to give me delight;\n    Sooner would I twist my fingers amidst the dead leaves\n    That are about to fall from the tree, when the wind of winter\n        is blowing?'\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said the auctioneer, laughing (and the master of the\nslave re-echoed his laugh and his answer); \"let us see whether we\ncannot light upon a younger bidder.\"\n\nWith that there drew near a man whose years were not few, but he had\ndyed his beard and moved trippingly. He also offered a thousand\nducats; but at that moment Smaragdine began to recite as from the book\nof some poet, but the verses were in truth her own:\n\n    \"'Say to him that dyes his beard, that I love not the false.\n    Deception is in him that conceals the works of God and Time.\n    He that disguises his countenance, how shall one put faith in his\n        words?'\"\n\nA third now came forward, but unfortunately he was one-eyed. The slave\nregarded him, and quoted, or seemed to quote, without hesitation,\n\n    \"'Avoid the one-eyed lover, maiden;\n    How shall he be thy safe guardian, fair woman?\n    Will he love thee better than the apple of his eye?'\"\n\n\"Look round you,\" said the crier; \"is there none here that pleases you\nbetter?\" And with this he pointed to a short stout man whose beard was\nof unusual dimensions.\n\n\"Fie!\" said the slave, \"this is he whom the poet had in his eye when\nhe sang,\n\n    \"'Providence has given my adorer too great an allowance of beard.\n    This bush resembles the night of winter--long, black, and cold.'\"\n\n\"Choose for yourself, girl,\" said the auctioneer, laughing more\nheartily than before; \"I pray you look round upon all the circle of\nthe bystanders.\"\n\nThe slave cast her eyes slowly around the company, and at last rested\nthem upon Alischar, whose appearance had charmed her from the first\nmoment.\n\n\"Mr. Crier,\" said she, \"I will belong to no one but this handsome\nyoung man. It is of him that the poet was thinking when he wrote those\nverses:\n\n    \"'Sorrow and pain fly from the loveliness of his countenance,\n    And pierce the hearts of the maidens every one.\n    Why are they not veiled deeply over the eyes?\n    Why court they destruction in gazing upon his beauty?\n\n    The breath of his lip is like the odour of myrrh and camphor.\n    Men slander him; but the moon rises in heaven, and who will then\n        believe that there is darkness?'\"\n\nWhen she ceased from her recitation, her master drew near to Alischar,\nand said, \"Friend, you see what a wonder of beauty, education, and\neloquence this slave is; and, if you got such a treasure for a\nthousand ducats, be assured you were a most fortunate man. I swear to\nyou that she can read the Koran in seven different methods--that she\nexcels equally in seven different styles of penmanship--that she\nembroiders to admiration in silk, in silver, and in gold--and that you\nwill soon get your money out of her, if it were but by the sale of her\nworks in the market-place.\"\n\nThe crier also put in his word. \"O sir,\" quoth he to Alischar, \"it is\nobvious that Providence has an especial kindness for you: she is a\npearl and a jewel. You are about to be the happiest of men.\"\n\nAlischar could not help smiling when he heard all this.\n\n\"How!\" said he to himself, \"last night I went supperless to bed, and\nyet these people all fancy I am in a condition to pay a thousand\nducats for a dark-eyed slave!\"\n\nHe shook his head, for he would fain escape the pain of saying openly\nthat he was too poor to think of such a purchase.\n\n\"Quick,\" said the beautiful slave, \"let me speak to the young man\nmyself: I must talk to him a little in private, for I am determined\nthat he, and he only, shall buy me.\"\n\nThe crier took her by the hand, and, leading her to Alischar, retired\na few paces to allow them opportunity of conversation.\n\n\"Amiable young man!\" whispered she to the youth, \"will you not buy\nme?\"\n\nAlischar shook his head sorrowfully.\n\n\"Aha!\" said she, \"I have it. Perhaps you think I am too dear? Will you\ngive nine hundred ducats for me?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Eight hundred?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Seven hundred?\"\n\n\"No, no.\"\n\nAnd in this way she came down to one hundred ducats, receiving always\nthe same melancholy monosyllable in reply.\n\n\"I have not a hundred ducats in the world,\" said Alischar, and a deep\nsigh came from his breast.\n\n\"Perhaps you could give ninety--eighty--seventy?\"\n\nAt last he could not help himself, and whispered in her ear,--\"Angel\nof light!\" said he, \"I have neither gold nor silver, not to talk of\nducats; I have not a penny in the world: you must find another\npurchaser.\"\n\n\"Do what I bid you,\" answers she. \"Take hold of my hand, and kiss me\non the side of the cheek, for that is the signal of the bargain being\ncompleted.\"\n\nAlischar, scarcely conscious of his proceedings, obeyed the girl. The\ninstant afterwards she drew a purse from her bosom, and said, \"Take\nthat, my love; you will find a thousand ducats in it: pay nine hundred\nto my master for me, and lead your new slave home with all speed.\"\n\nWhen they came to the house there was neither bed, sofa, table, nor\ndish in it. The slave instantly sent Alischar to the market to get a\nfew necessary moveables and provisions. He did what she bade him.\nSmaragdine forthwith put the house in the nicest order, and set about\ndressing a little supper with the most exquisite skill. In short, the\nnext day Alischar married the beautiful slave. Then Smaragdine set\nherself busily to work in embroidering a carpet. She represented on it\nall sorts of quadrupeds so skilfully that one expected to see them\nmove; and birds, so that it was a wonder one did not hear them\nsinging. In the whole of this work she occupied only eight days, and\nwhen these were over she sent her man to the market to sell the\ncarpet, cautioning him, however, with great strictness, to avoid\nfalling into any adventure that might terminate in their separation.\nAlischar followed scrupulously the instructions of his wife, and in\nthis manner, supported by Smaragdine's needlework, they spent a whole\nyear of undisturbed felicity.\n\nOne day, as Alischar was going to market with one of Smaragdine's\ncoverlets, as usual, to sell, he happened to meet with a certain\nInfidel who at once offered him sixty ducats for it. He had a secret\ndisinclination to have any dealings with a Giaour, and asked first\nsixty-five, and then seventy ducats, and so up at last to a hundred.\nThe man, to his astonishment, said, \"Well, there is your money;\" and\nnot having the face to play the extortioner further, Alischar pursed\nthe gold, and returned homewards. He was close to the door of his\nhouse ere he observed that the Giaour had been following him, and was\njust behind him.\n\n\"I see you are now at home,\" said the Infidel, \"and I beg you will\nhave the kindness to give me a cup of water, for I have been broiling\nin the streets all day, and am ready to expire with thirst.\"\n\nAlischar, who would never have forgiven himself for refusing so\ntrivial a civility, went immediately into the house for a jug of\nwater.\n\n\"Where have you been lingering so long to-day?\" said Smaragdine. \"I\nknow not how or why, but a certain painful anticipation of some\nmisfortune has been hanging over my mind ever since you went out. It\nrejoices my very heart to see you come home sound and well again; but\nwhat is it you want with the water-jug?\"\n\n\"Only to refresh a person who seems about to die of thirst,\" answered\nAlischar; \"but I shall be back again in a moment, my dear Smaragdine.\"\nWith this he ran downstairs, and was surprised to find the Infidel,\nwhom he had left without on the street, seated within the porch.\n\n\"Dog of a Giaour!\" says he, \"what do you here?\"\n\n\"Pardon me, good sir,\" replies the Giaour; \"I was so wearied that my\nlegs refused to support me any longer, and it was a matter of mere\nnecessity that I should sit down somewhere.\"\n\nAlischar gave him a cup of water, and waited to see him arise and take\nhis departure; but, behold, nothing was less in the man's mind.\n\n\"Out with you,\" at last cries Alischar; \"out this moment, I say.\"\n\n\"Blessed,\" says the Giaour, \"be they that refuse not a drink of water\nto him who standeth athirst before the door, and who grudge not a bit\nof bread to him that is a-hungered. Now my thirst is quenched, but my\nhunger is even greater than that was. Give me a bit of bread and a\ncouple of onions, and for more I will not trouble you.\"\n\n\"Pack off!\" said Alischar; \"there is nothing in the house.\"\n\n\"With your leave, sir,\" says the other, producing his purse, \"here are\none hundred ducats: have the kindness to seek some bread and onions\nhere in your neighbourhood, and I shall feel myself eternally obliged\nby your condescension.\"\n\n\"The man is mad,\" thinks Alischar to himself; \"but that is no reason\nwhy I should suffer a hundred ducats to go a-begging for quarters.\"\n\n\"Haste, sir, haste!\" continued the Giaour. \"I am near to death, so\ngreat is my hunger, and no one knows what sort of a misery that is\nuntil he has experienced it himself. If it be but a crust, a crumb--a\nmorsel of dry meal even; but something I must have, else I want\nstrength to move myself from this seat.\"\n\n\"Wait a moment, then,\" said Alischar. And with that he went out,\ntaking care to lock the door behind him. He soon returned with roast\nmeat, pastry, honey, a water-melon, and some bread, upon a tray.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried the Giaour, when he saw him returning so, \"this is too\nmuch. Ten men might dine on this, and here am I alone before it all,\nunless you would do me the honour to sit with me.\"\n\n\"Eat alone,\" said Alischar harshly.\n\nBut by-and-bye the guest takes the water-melon, and divides it very\nneatly into two parts, contriving by dexterous management of the knife\nto besmear the one of these with a strong tincture of _nepenthe_ of\nCrete and opium, enough to have put an elephant to sleep.\n\n\"Pray,\" said the Infidel, holding the medicated half towards Alischar,\n\"accept this beautiful slice of melon at the hands of your servant.\"\n\nAlischar could not be so rude as to refuse this: he ate the fruit, and\nin a moment the fatal effects of it were apparent, for he sank into\nutter oblivion, losing all his senses at once.\n\nThe Giaour rises softly the moment he perceives this, locks the door,\nand putting the key of the house in his pocket, runs with all speed to\ninform his brother of the success of his treachery. This was the old\nBeschadeddin, our acquaintance, who, though he pretended to be a\nMussulman, had always remained an Infidel. It was he who had excited\nhis brother to all this knavery, in order that he himself might if\npossible gain possession of Smaragdine. He now took his people with\nhim, provided himself with gold, mounted his mule, and repaired\ndirectly to Alischar's habitation. His slaves seized Smaragdine by\nforce, threatening her with instant death if she dared to utter a\nsingle cry, and so conveyed her in safety to the house of their\nmaster.\n\n\"Ah, wretch!\" says the old reprobate, \"have I got you at last into my\nhands? I swear to you, that if you do not consent to renounce Mahomet\nI will make minced meat of you forthwith.\"\n\n\"Hack me and hew me into a thousand shreds, if such be your pleasure,\"\nanswers she; \"but know, wretch of wretches! that a Moslem I am, and a\nMoslem I will die. Allah chastises those He best loves with\ndifficulties and dangers, and upon Him alone I set all my trust.\"\n\nUpon this the wretched ancient gave orders to his female slaves to\nprick Smaragdine's flesh with pins, and then to tie her up in the\ncorner of the kitchen, but on no account to give her a morsel to eat.\nBut even this last blow had no effect on Smaragdine, who merely\nexclaimed as she had been doing before,\n\n\"God is God, and Mahomet is His Prophet!\"\n\nWhen poor Alischar, on his part, awoke from his sleep, and found\nhimself alone in his bed, fear unutterable came into his mind, and he\nbegan to cry out for his Smaragdine like one possessed. But his cries\nwere as useless as his searches: he could find his love nowhere, and\nconcluded that the vile Giaour had deceived him for the sake of\nabstracting her. At first he sat in a corner shedding hot tears, hour\nafter hour, by himself; but perceiving that his tears were of no\navail, he tore his garments, took a stone in each hand, and walked\nthrough the town beating his breast alternately with these stones, and\ncrying out all the time in a loud voice of distress, \"O Smaragdine!\nSmaragdine!\"\n\nThe children collected about him, and first one and then another of\nthem entreated him to tell his story. He did so, and whoever heard him\npitied him. After he had in this way gone through the whole town, he\nhappened to see an old woman of his acquaintance sitting at her door,\nand saluted her respectfully. The old lady, being knowing in such\nmatters, perceived at once the symptoms of a desolate lover, and asked\nhim the reason of his distress. He told her all, and she said to him,\n\n\"I am very much grieved for your case, my son; but take courage. I\ncertainly think my assistance will be of much advantage to you. Go\nhence immediately, buy one of the bread-baskets in which the hawkers\ncarry their loaves about, and put a few articles of female attire in\nit. I undertake to go about with the wares, and I flatter myself you\nwill ere long hear some tidings of Smaragdine.\"\n\nAlischar was out of himself with joy even at this small glimpse of\nhope; he covered the hand of the old dame with tears and kisses, and\nforthwith fetched her what she had asked for. She made herself ready\nwithout delay to commence her operations, and in the course of her\nwanderings came, after no long space of time, to the very house of\nBeschadeddin.\n\nShe happened to enter at a moment when the female slaves of the house\nwere misusing poor Smaragdine.\n\n\"And what,\" says she, \"has the poor child done to you that you should\ntreat her so roughly?\"\n\n\"In truth,\" they answered, \"we do what we do against our own\ninclination, but we must obey our master's orders.\"\n\n\"Not when he is from home, surely,\" says the old woman again; \"do have\na little pity. Oblige me so far as to unbind this unfortunate, and\nrefresh her a little with some food.\"\n\nThe slave-girls, whose hearts were by no means destitute of\nsensibility, loosed her bands, and left her for a moment alone with\nthe old woman. She made good use of the happy occasion, told her in\nwhose name she had come, and said that if she would take care to be at\nthe window exactly at midnight, Alischar would be there at that\nmoment, when she might easily drop upon his shoulders and regain her\nfreedom. With this she hies away to Alischar to make him acquainted\nwith her success. She assured him that Beschadeddin being from home,\nthe slaves had promised to leave Smaragdine unbound for that one\nnight, and he needed not many words to make him undertake the\nadventure.\n\nHe was at the appointed spot the moment darkness closed, determined to\nstand there and wait patiently for the time when his love should\nappear. But alas! his sorrow had cost him many slumberless nights, and\nnow that he thought himself secure of his happiness again, long-absent\nsleep came, and overpowered him suddenly where he stood on the street.\n\nIt happened that just about this time a thief was passing down the\nsame street. Perceiving that Alischar was fast asleep, this fellow\neased him of his turban, and setting that on his head, was about to\nproceed on his way. Smaragdine, at this moment standing in the window,\nsaw the gleam of her lover's turban, and never doubting that it was\nworn by Alischar himself, opened the lattice, and said to the thief in\nan audible whisper,\n\n\"Come, come, love, I am ready to come down.\"\n\n\"Here is a fine adventure,\" quoth the thief to himself; \"let us make\nthe best of it.\"\n\nWith this he placed himself below Smaragdine's window, received her on\nhis shoulders, and darted off with her like lightning.\n\n\"Oh,\" says she to him, \"you are so strong, you trot as nimbly as if\nyou were a horse under me; and the good old woman had persuaded me\nthat grief had weakened you so that you could scarcely drag your own\nlimbs along.\"\n\nThe gentleman, on his part, made no answer to these observations, and\nSmaragdine at last began to feel his face, which being very rough and\nhalf covered with hair, her error was apparent, and she began to cry\nout with all her might,\n\n\"Who art thou? who art thou?\"\n\n\"Silence!\" answered the thief: \"I am Hirvan the Kurd, and I belong to\nthe band of Ahmed-ed-deyf. We are forty of us, all jolly brothers of\nthe trade, and a happy life shall you lead with us.\"\n\nSmaragdine perceived into what horrors her error had plunged her: she\ncommitted her soul to God and her body to the Prophet, and allowed\nHirvan to proceed with her in silence.\n\nHe conveyed her straight to a cavern without the city, which was the\nhiding-place of the band. At that moment there was no one in it but\nthe mother of the captain, who had been left to arrange the plunder of\nthe preceding night, and in particular the wardrobe of a young\ncavalier whom they had murdered, and whose horse and portmanteau were\nobserved just within the entrance of the cavern. The young robber\nhanded over Smaragdine to the old lady's protection, and went out\nagain in quest of more adventures; and no sooner were they alone than\nthe old one began to praise Smaragdine's beauty, and to felicitate her\nupon the prospect of being bride to her own son, the captain, whose\nmanifold accomplishments she most vigorously extolled. Smaragdine,\nafter a little while, began to dry her tears, and by degrees affected\nto be quite comforted. She even went so far as to say that she\nregretted one thing more than all the rest, and this was that she\ncould not take a bath, and be ready to give the captain a reception\nmore worthy of his rank and character.\n\n\"Ah, the bath! the bath!\" cries the old woman, \"you are quite in the\nright; there is no comfort in this world like the bath; but it is a\nluxury I never enjoy, for I have nobody about me to shampoo me.\"\n\n\"Here am I,\" says Smaragdine; \"allow me to attend on you the first,\nand then you will do the like good office to me.\"\n\nThe bargain was soon struck. The bath was got into order, and the old\nwoman, the first time for many years, entered it. Smaragdine kept the\nwater very hot, and rubbed and scrubbed the old dame so, that she was\nquite in transports, and at length fell fast asleep under the pleasing\ninfluence. While she slept Smaragdine took possession of the clothes\nand arms of the murdered cavalier, mounted his horse, and galloped\nfrom the cavern, without having the least notion whither.\n\nWhen morning broke she found herself in an uncultivated country,\ndestitute of any marks of human habitation. She ate some roots and\nfruits, allowed her horse to graze under the trees, and so proceeded\nall the day.\n\nOn the eleventh morning she descried, in the valley before her, a\nnoble and beautifully situated town; and behold, as she drew nearer to\nthe gates, there came from thence a multitude of horsemen, who\nsurrounded her upon the highway, threw themselves on the ground before\nthe hoofs of her horse, kissed her garment, and hailed her as the\nSultan sent to them by the especial care of Heaven. Each man clapped\nhis hands, and exclaimed, _Allah jausur es Sultaun_![18] that is to\nsay, God give victory to the Sultan, King of the world--blessed be thy\ncoming!\n\n[Footnote 18: This is a cry which still survives in Egypt--the very\ncry with which the inhabitants of that country welcomed successively,\nin 1800-1, the Generals of the French, the Turkish, and the English\narmies.]\n\nWhat may all this mean? thinks the bewildered girl to herself. She\nasked the question aloud, and the Lord High Chamberlain hastened to\nanswer it. \"Know, sire,\" said he, \"that when the Sovereign of this\ncity dies without children, all the inhabitants are, according to the\nconstitution, assembled together in the great street, there ready to\ncome out and salute as their Prince the first traveller who happens to\nemerge from the wilderness; and in this manner it is impossible for us\nnot to acknowledge the finger of Providence, who gives the crown to\nthe person He judges most fit to wear it. Heaven be praised for having\nsent us, on this occasion, a King such as you seem to be; for had it\nbeen never such a ragamuffin, or even scoundrel, it must have been\nequally our duty to welcome him as our lord.\"\n\n\"Believe not,\" answered Smaragdine, recollecting herself, \"believe not\nthat in me you hail any low-born Prince. No, my lords, I am the son of\na noble house, who happened to take into my head the fancy of riding\nthrough the world in quest of adventures; and here, as you perceive,\ngentlemen, here is one that appears to be by no means of a despicable\ndescription to begin with.\"\n\nWithout delay Smaragdine held her triumphant entry into the city,\nopened the treasury chambers of the dead King, and distributed a large\nproportion of the gold that was found there to propitiate the goodwill\nof the inhabitants, above all of the army. In this way all hearts were\nwon, and every class of the people remained full of affection and\ndevotion to the sovereign authority. The Sultan alone was unhappy. Her\nthoughts rested afar off upon her Alischar. In the harem she\nconstrained herself so far as to appear well pleased with the songs,\ndances, and banquets prepared for her; but when night approached, she\nretired to a solitary chamber, and spent the silent hours in fasting\nand praying and melancholy reflection.\n\nAfter a full twelve months had been passed in this manner, without any\ntidings of the lost Alischar, she assembled on the feast of the New\nYear the Viziers and lords of the chamber, and gave command that a\nvast amphitheatre should be erected in the centre of the city. In the\nmidst a lofty dome was placed, below which seats were arranged for the\nnobles of the realm. Here, when all was finished, Smaragdine\nentertained them with a stately feast; and her heralds made\nproclamation, that henceforth, on the first day of every new moon, a\nseason naturally devoted to festivities, the Sultan would give a\nbanquet to all his subjects in the amphitheatre: on that day, under\npain of death, no shop should be opened, nor merchandise cared for. On\nthe day of the first new moon, accordingly, the whole of the people\nwere assembled in the presence of their Prince. Each ate, drank, and\nenjoyed himself as much as he could, well satisfied that in so doing\nhe fulfilled the decree of his Sovereign.\n\nGlad at heart was Smaragdine, for she flattered herself that this\nassembling of the people might one day or other furnish the means of\ngetting some intelligence concerning her dear Alischar. Just while\nthis thought passed through her mind, behold, a man rose up, and\nstretching out his hand, drew to himself from some distance a dish of\nmilk, in which rice, sugar, and cinnamon were mingled, and there arose\na cry of \"Shame! shame! shame on the glutton, who is unsatisfied with\nthat which the King's bounty had placed before his own seat.\"\n\n\"The reason,\" said the man, \"is only this, that they have placed a\nfricassee before me, and I eat no fricassees.\"\n\n\"I am convinced,\" cries another, \"that this is some dog of an Infidel,\nand that this happens to be one of their fast-days.\"\n\nSmaragdine, whom this disturbance had not escaped, gave orders\nforthwith that the man should be brought before her throne. The people\nceased from eating and drinking, and every eye and ear were fixed upon\nthe footstool of the Sultan.\n\n\"What is your name?\" said Smaragdine, \"and for what purpose have you\ncome into my states?\"\n\nThe wretch, who had clothed himself in a white turban, which of right\nbelongs only to the Moslems, made answer, \"My name is Ali; I am a\nweaver by trade, and I have come hither in the hope to gain my bread\nhonestly by the labour of my hands.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" says Smaragdine, \"bring quickly hither my necromantic\ntablet _Romla_, and the steel pen that belongs to it, and soon shall\nthe truth be made manifest.\"\n\nWith that she began, apparently, her calculation, cast her eyes\nupwards, and after a pause of some moments, said, \"Dog, thou liest!\nThou art a Giaour, and thou hast come hither with some wicked\nintention. Confess the truth, or thy head flies from thy shoulders\nupon the spot!\"\n\n\"Pardon! pardon!\" cried the stranger, altogether astonished; for he\nnever doubted that the secret virtue of the _Romla_ had detected him:\n\"pardon, great King! It is true I am a Giaour.\"\n\nSmaragdine gave orders that he should instantly be hung, his carcass\nthrown into the court of offal, and his head fixed before the gate of\nthe palace. The people witnessed the execution, and applauded equally\nthe astrological skill and the stern justice of their Sovereign.\n\nOn the first day of the second month the same festival was repeated.\nIt was again proclaimed that every one should eat, drink, and rejoice,\nbut that none should on any account touch anything but what happened\nto be set before himself. The nobles assembled; the troops stood in\norder of parade; the people had taken their places in the\namphitheatre. The King was on his throne, and surveyed the scene\naround with attentive eyes. At this moment a foreigner came, all\nhastily and dusty from his journey, to the door of the amphitheatre,\nand his loud inquiries as to the meaning of the splendid scene before\nhim were heard distinctly even where the King sat. An old woman, near\nthe entrance, explained to him the meaning of the feast, but forgot to\ninform him of the regulations as to meddling with dishes at a distance\nfrom one's own place. The man took his place, and shortly afterwards\nstretched out his hand to seize something a little way off. \"Hold!\"\ncried at once a thousand voices; \"hold, or you will be hanged.\"\n\nThe man, who had no very pure conscience to sustain his nerves, took\nit for granted his fate was sealed; and, without a moment's delay,\nbegan leaping over the benches, in the hopes to make his escape. The\nKing nodded; he was arrested and placed before the throne. \"Who art\nthou?\" said Smaragdine, \"and wherefore hast thou come into our\nstates?\".\n\n\"My name,\" answered he, \"is Osman. I am by profession a gardener, and\nhave come hither to seek for certain rare trees and flowers.\"\n\n\"Holla, there!\" cries the King, \"bring hither quickly my tablet\n_Romla_ and the steel pen, and speedily will the truth see daylight.\"\n\nWith this, Smaragdine began to study the tablet attentively: she kept\nher eyes for some moments fixed upon the sky, and then said, \"Hateful\nchurl, thou liest! Thy name is Hirvan the Kurd, and by profession thou\nart a thief. Confess the truth, wretch!\"\n\nThe man's colour changed; his tongue refused its office; at length he\nconfessed the truth. The King ordered him to be hung immediately, his\ncarcass and head to be treated as had been done with those of the\nGiaour. The people returned with quickened appetites to their dinner,\nand admired more than ever the wisdom and rectitude of their Prince.\n\nThe first day of the third moon brought with it the usual\nproclamation, the usual feast, and the usual consequences. A stranger\nappears, who, not knowing the law of the festival, transgresses it\ngrossly, is accused, and finally conducted into the immediate presence\nof Smaragdine, who puts to him the usual questions.\n\n\"My name,\" replies the stranger, \"is Resim, and I am a poor dervish.\"\n\n\"Bring my _Romla_ tablet and my steel pen,\" cries the King.\n\nThey do as they are bid: Smaragdine casts her eyes upwards, preserves\nfor a moment the usual silence, and exclaims, \"Thou liest, dog! thy\nname is Beschadeddin; outwardly thou art a Moslem, but in heart an\nunbeliever: confess the verity, or thou diest.\"\n\nIt was no one but Beschadeddin. Like the robber, he had, after the\nloss of the beautiful slave, set out upon his travels in the hope of\nfinding her again, and his ill fortune had conducted him to the same\ncity. Full of dismay, he was constrained to confess the truth, and his\nhead figured forthwith beside those of his brother adventurers. The\nfeast proceeded with redoubled jollity, and louder than ever were the\nsagacity and justice of the Sultan extolled. Smaragdine alone took no\npart in the general merriment.\n\nIt was the first morning of the fourth moon, as the people were\ncongregated together for the usual festival, when there appeared, at\none of the doors of the amphitheatre, a young man, beautiful as the\nday, but having the lustre of his complexion dimmed by the cloud of\nlong afflictions. It was Alischar, and Smaragdine had nigh swooned\naway with the joy of beholding him.\n\nAfter he awoke in the street without his turban, and learnt from the\nold woman what had happened, and that his dear Smaragdine had indeed\nvanished, though not in his company, his spirit was yielded up as a\nprey to the bitterest anguish. A sore illness fell upon him, and for a\nwhole year he had lain helpless, nursed carefully by the good old\nwoman. But as soon as he began to recover a little strength, he set\nout a-wandering though the world, if perchance he might yet once again\nfind his wife. It happened that he came on the morning of this\nfeast-day to the city where she was King, and, being unacquainted with\nthe regulations of the amphitheatre, he fell into a mistake similar to\nthat which had already proved fatal to so many travellers. He was,\nlike them, accused and summoned to the Prince's footstool. He knelt\ndown reverently, and kissed the dust before her; and being asked what\nwas his name and his business, made answer, without hesitation,\n\n\"My name is Alischar, and I am come hither, wandering over the whole\nearth, in quest of the fountain of my life, my dear Smaragdine, whom I\nhave lost.\"\n\nThe King sent for the tablet _Romla_ and the steel pen. \"You have said\nthe truth,\" says the King; \"and I perceive that Heaven designs ere\nlong to restore to you your lost love.\"\n\nWith this she commanded them to lead Alischar to the bath, to clothe\nhim in a robe of honour, and treat him in her palace with all respect\nand consideration.\n\nSmaragdine could scarcely wait until night came, so great was her\nimpatience. When it was dark, she commanded that Alischar should be\nbrought before her, and invited him to partake of the royal supper.\nThe young man, who was naturally modest, was confounded with this\ncondescension, but constrained himself, and acquitted himself as well\nas he could. It appeared that his behaviour gave no displeasure to the\nKing; for, supper being ended, the chief of the black eunuchs came\ninto the apartment, and Alischar heard him receive his Sovereign's\norders to place him in one of the palace sleeping-chambers.\n\nPresently a whisper was heard close to his pillow, and ere he could\nmake any answer, his visitant revealed herself.\n\nIt was Smaragdine: she was out of herself with joy; she burst out into\nloud laughter, such as could proceed from no lips but hers, and made\nherself known to the enraptured Alischar.\n\nNext morning the King called together the nobles of the city, and\nrequested them to choose some one to act as Viceroy for a season,\nannouncing the necessity of undertaking a journey to his own country\nin company with the stranger.\n\nThey immediately complied with this request, and escorted the Prince\nfrom their gates with all the splendour of royal attendance. But\nSmaragdine had no intention ever to reclaim their homage: she had\nfound her Alischar, and preferred a life of love and peace in her\nnative place, to a disagreeable disguise and the troublesome\nmagnificence of sovereign estate.\n\nFINIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *","title":"Eastern Tales by Many Story Tellers","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":198230}