{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36301/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36301","id":"gutenberg_36301","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36301","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Tales -- Arab countries","Tales -- Iran"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Thousand and One Days;\n\nA COMPANION TO THE\n\n\"_Arabian Nights._\"\n\nWITH INTRODUCTION BY MISS PARDOE.\n\n[Illustration: P. 113.]\n\nLONDON:\nWILLIAM LAY, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND.\n1857.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nThe Compiler of the graceful little volume which I have the pleasure\nof introducing to the public, has conferred an undeniable benefit upon\nthe youth of England by presenting to them a collection of Oriental\nTales, which, rich in the elements of interest and entertainment, are\nnevertheless entirely free from the licentiousness which renders so\nmany of the fictions of the East, beautiful and brilliant as they are,\nmost objectionable for young and ardent minds. There is indeed no lack\nof the wonderful in the pages before us, any more than in the Arabian\nand Persian Tales already so well known: but it will be seen that the\nsupernatural agency in the narratives is used as a means to work out\ntotally different results. There is, in truth, scarcely one of these\nTales which does not inculcate a valuable moral lesson; as may be seen\nby reference to \"The Powder of Longevity,\" \"The Old Camel,\" and \"The\nStory of the Dervise Abounadar\" among several, others.\n\nThe present collection of Eastern Stories has been principally derived\nfrom the works of different Oriental Scholars on the Continent, and\nlittle doubt can be entertained of the genuineness of their origin;\nwhile they have been carefully selected, and do honour to the good\ntaste of their Compiler. An acknowledgment is also due to him for his\nadherence to the good old orthography to which we have all been\naccustomed from our childhood, in the case of such titles as \"Caliph,\"\n\"Vizier,\" \"Houri,\" \"Genii,\" &c.; as, however critically correct and\nlearned the spelling of Mr. Lane may be in his magnificent version of\nthe \"Thousand and One Nights,\" and however appropriate to a work of so\nmuch research and value to Oriental students, it would have been alike\nfatiguing and out of character to have embarrassed a volume, simply\nintended for the amusement of youthful readers, by a number of hard\nand unfamiliar words, difficult of pronunciation to all save the\ninitiated; and for the pleasure of the young requiring translation\nfully as much as the narrative itself.\n\nIn one of the Tales there will be at once detected a portion of the\nfavourite old story of Aladdin's Lamp, in the subterranean gem-garden\ndiscovered by the handsome youth; while in another, mention is made\nof the already-familiar legend of the hidden city of Ad, so popular\namong the ancient Arabs[1]; but these repetitions will cease to create\nany surprise when it is remembered that the professional story-tellers\nof the East are a wandering race, who travel from city to city,\nexhibiting their talent during seasons of festivity, in the palaces of\nthe wealthy and the public coffee-houses. Those admitted to the\nwomen's apartments are universally aged crones, whose volubility is\nsomething marvellous; and they are always welcome guests to the\nindolent beauties, who listen to them for hours together without a\nsymptom of weariness, as they pour forth their narratives in a\nmonotonous voice strangely displeasing to European ears. The men,\nwhile reciting their tales, indulge in violent gesticulations and\ncontortions of the body, which appear to produce great delight in\ntheir audience. Since they generally travel two or three in company;\nand, save in rare cases of improvisation, their stock of narrative is\ncommon to all, it is their ambition so individually to embellish,\nheighten, and amplify their subject-matter, as to outshine their\ncompetitors; and it is consequently to this cause that the numerous\nvariations of the same Tale which have reached Europe must be\nattributed.\n\nTaken altogether, there can be no doubt that the \"Thousand and One\nDays\" merit the warm welcome which I trust awaits them.\n\nJ. P.\n\nLONDON, FEB. 1857.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nI.\n                                                             PAGE\nHASSAN ABDALLAH, OR THE ENCHANTED KEYS                          1\n  Story of Hassan                                               7\n  Story of the Basket-Maker                                    11\n  Story of the Dervise Abounadar                               21\n  Conclusion of the Story of Hassan                            29\n\n\nII.\n\nSOLIMAN BEY AND THE THREE STORY TELLERS                        46\n  First Story Teller                                           47\n  Second Story Teller                                          49\n  Third Story Teller                                           55\n\n\nIII.\n\nPRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA                        58\n  Story of Prince Al Abbas                                     67\n  Continuation of Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China      99\n  Story of Lin-in                                             106\n  Story of Prince Khalaf concluded                            126\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE WISE DEY                                                  178\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE TUNISIAN SAGE                                             190\n\n\nVI.\n\nTHE NOSE FOR GOLD                                             203\n\n\nVII.\n\nTHE TREASURES OF BASRA                                        215\n  History of Aboulcassem                                      223\n  Conclusion of the Treasures of Basra                        230\n\n\nVIII.\n\nTHE OLD CAMEL                                                250\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE STORY OF MEDJEDDIN                                       263\n\n\nX.\n\nKING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR                             299\n  Story of the Old Slippers                                   300\n  Story of Atalmulc the Sorrowful                             305\n  Continuation of King Bedreddin-Lolo and his Vizir           338\n  Story of Malek and the Princess Schirine                    340\n  Conclusion                                                  358\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE \"THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS;\"\n\nOR,\n\nARABIAN TALES.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH; OR, THE ENCHANTED KEYS.\n\n\nTheilon, caliph of Egypt, died, after having bequeathed his power to\nhis son, Mohammed, who, like a wise and good prince, proceeded to root\nout abuses, and finally caused peace and justice to flourish\nthroughout his dominions. Instead of oppressing his people by new\ntaxes, he employed the treasures, which his father had amassed by\nviolence, in supporting learned men, rewarding the brave, and\nassisting the unfortunate. Every thing succeeded under his happy sway;\nthe risings of the Nile were regular and abundant; every year the soil\nproduced rich harvests; and commerce, honoured and protected, caused\nthe gold of foreign nations to flow abundantly into the ports of\nEgypt.\n\nMohammed determined, one day, to take the census of the officers of\nhis army, and of all the persons in public situations whose salaries\nwere paid out of the treasury. The vizirs, to the number of forty,\nfirst made their appearance and knelt in succession before the\nsovereign. They were, for the most part, men venerable from their age,\nand some of them had long beards of snowy whiteness. They all wore on\ntheir heads tiaras of gold, enriched with precious stones, and carried\nin their hands long staves as badges of their power. One enumerated\nthe battles in which he had been engaged, and the honourable wounds he\nhad received; another recounted the long and laborious studies he had\npursued, in order to render himself master of the various sciences,\nand to qualify himself to serve the state by his wisdom and knowledge.\n\nAfter the vizirs, came the governors of provinces, the generals, and\nthe great officers of the army; and next to them the civil\nmagistrates, and all who were entrusted with the preservation of the\npeace and the awarding of justice. Behind these walked the public\nexecutioner, who, although stout and well-fed, like a man who had\nnothing to do, went along as if depressed with grief, and instead of\ncarrying his sword naked on his shoulder, he kept it in its scabbard.\nWhen he came into the presence of the prince, he threw himself at his\nfeet, and exclaimed, \"O mighty prince, the day of justice and of\nmunificence is at last about to dawn on me! Since the death of the\nterrible Theilon, under whose reign my life was happy and my condition\nprosperous, I have seen my occupation and its emoluments diminish\ndaily. If Egypt continue thus to live in peace and plenty, I shall run\ngreat danger of perishing with hunger, and my family will be brought\nto misery and ruin.\"\n\nMohammed listened in silence to the complaints of the headsman, and\nacknowledged that there was some foundation for them, for his salary\nwas small, and the chief part of his profits arose from what he\nobtained from criminals, either by way of gift, or as a rightful fee.\nIn times of trouble, quarrelling, and violence, he had lived, in\nfact, in a state of ease and affluence, while now, under the present\nprosperous reign, he had nothing better than the prospect of beggary\nbefore him.\n\n\"Is it then true,\" exclaimed the caliph, \"that the happiness of all is\na dream? that what is joy to one, may be the cause of grief to\nanother? O executioner, fear not as to your fate! May it, indeed,\nplease God that, under my reign, your sword,--which is almost as often\nan instrument of vengeance as of justice,--may remain useless and\ncovered with rust. But, in order to enable you to provide for the\nwants of yourself and your family, without the unhappy necessity of\nexercising your fatal office, you shall receive every year the sum of\ntwo hundred dinars.\"\n\nIn this way all the officers and servants of the palace passed before\nthe notice of the prince; he interrogated each on the nature of his\noccupation and his past services, on his means of existence, and on\nthe salary which he received. When he found that any one held a\nsituation of a painful and difficult nature, for which he was\ninadequately remunerated, the caliph diminished his duties and\nincreased his pay; and, on the other hand, when he found the contrary\nto be the case, he lessened the salary and increased the duties of the\noffice. After having, in this way, performed many acts of wisdom and\njustice, the caliph observed, among the officers of the civil service,\na sheik, whose wrinkled countenance and stooping figure indicated his\ngreat age. The caliph called him up, in order to inquire what was his\nemployment in the palace, and the sum which it yielded him.\n\n\"Prince,\" the old man replied, \"my only employment is to take care of\na chest that was committed to my charge by your father, the late\ncaliph, and for attending to which he allowed me ten pieces of gold a\nmonth.\"\n\n\"It seems to me,\" replied Mohammed, \"that the reward is great for so\nslight a service. Pray what are the contents of this chest?\"\n\n\"I received it,\" replied the sheik, \"in charge forty years ago, and I\nsolemnly swear to you that I know not what it contains.\"\n\nThe caliph commanded the chest to be brought to him, which was of pure\ngold, and most richly adorned. The old man opened it. It contained a\nmanuscript written in brilliant characters on the skin of a gazelle,\npainted purple and sprinkled with a red dust. Neither the prince,\nhowever, nor his ministers, nor the ulemas who were present, could\ndecipher the writing. By the caliph's order, the wise men of Egypt\nwere summoned, as well as others from Syria, Persia, and India, but to\nno purpose; not one was able to interpret the mysterious characters.\nThe book remained open for a long time, exposed to the gaze of all,\nand a great reward was offered to any one who could bring forward a\nperson of sufficient learning to read it.\n\nSome time after this, a savant who had left Egypt in the reign of\nTheilon, and had now returned after a long absence, chanced to hear of\nthe mysterious book, and said that he knew what it was, and could\nexplain its history. The caliph immediately admitted him to an\naudience, and the old man addressed him as follows:\n\n\"O sovereign ruler, may the Almighty prolong your days! Only one man\ncan read this book, its rightful master, the sheik Hassan Abdallah,\nson of El-Achaar. This man had travelled through many lands, and\npenetrated into the mysterious city of Aram, built on columns, from\nwhich he brought this book, which no one but himself could read. He\nmade use of it in his experiments in alchemy, and by its aid he could\ntransmute the most worthless metals into gold. The caliph Theilon,\nyour father, having learned this, commanded the sage to be brought\nbefore him, with a view of compelling him to reveal the secret of his\nknowledge. Hassan Abdallah refused to do so, for fear of putting into\nthe hands of the unjust an instrument of such terrible power; and the\nprince, in a rage, laid hold of the chest, and ordered the sage to be\nthrown into prison, where he still remains, unless he has died since\nthat time, which is forty years ago.\"\n\nOn hearing this, Mohammed immediately despatched his officers to visit\nthe prisons, and, on their return, learned with pleasure that Hassan\nwas still alive. The caliph ordered him to be brought forth and\narrayed in a dress of honour; and, on his appearing in the audience\nchamber, the prince made him sit down beside him, and begged him to\nforgive the unjust treatment which his father had caused him to\nundergo. He then told him how he had accidentally discovered that he\nwas still alive; and at last, placing the mysterious book before him,\nsaid,\n\n\"Old man, if this book could make me the owner of all the treasures of\nthe world, I would not consent to possess it, since it only belongs to\nme by injustice and violence.\"\n\nOn hearing these words, Hassan burst into tears.\n\n\"O God,\" he exclaimed, \"all wisdom proceeds from Thee! Thou causest to\narise from the same soil the poisonous and the wholesome plant. Every\nwhere good is placed by the side of evil. This prince, the support of\nthe feeble, the defender of the oppressed, who has conferred on me the\nhappiness of spending my remaining years in the light of day, is the\nson of the tyrant who plunged Egypt in mourning, and who kept me for\nforty years in a loathsome dungeon. Prince,\" added the old man,\naddressing Mohammed, \"what I refused to the wrath of your father, I\nwillingly grant to your virtues: this book contains the precepts of\nthe true science, and I bless Heaven that I have lived long enough to\nteach it to you. I have often risked my life to become the master of\nthis wonderful book, which was the only article of value that I\nbrought from Aram, that city into which no man can enter who is not\nassisted by Heaven.\"\n\nThe caliph embraced the old man, and, calling him his father, begged\nhim to relate what he had seen in the city of Aram.\n\n\"Prince,\" replied Hassan, \"it is a long story, as long, nearly, as my\nwhole life.\"\n\nHe then proceeded as follows.\n\n[Illustration: Story of the Enchanted Keys, p. 7.]\n\n\nTHE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH.\n\nI am the only son of one of the richest inhabitants of Egypt. My\nfather, who was a man of extensive knowledge, employed my youth in the\nstudy of science; and at twenty years of age I was already honourably\nmentioned among the ulemas, when my father bestowed a young maiden on\nme as my wife, with eyes brilliant as the stars, and with a form\nelegant and light as that of the gazelle. My nuptials were\nmagnificent, and my days flowed on in peace and happiness. I lived\nthus for ten years, when at last this beautiful dream vanished. It\npleased Heaven to afflict me with every kind of misfortune: the plague\ndeprived me of my father; war destroyed my dear brothers; my house\nfell a prey to the flames; my richly-laden ships were buried beneath\nthe waves. Reduced to misery and want, my only resource was in the\nmercy of God and the compassion of the faithful whom I met while I\nfrequented the mosques. My sufferings, from my own wretched state of\npoverty, and that of my wife and children, were cruel indeed. One day\nwhen I had not received any charitable donations, my wife, weeping,\ntook some of my clothes, and gave them to me in order to sell them at\nthe bazaar. On the way thither I met an Arab of the desert, mounted on\na red camel. He greeted me, and said,\n\n\"Peace be with you, my brother! Can you tell me where the sheik Hassan\nAbdallah, the son of El-Achaar, resides in the city?\"\n\nBeing ashamed of my poverty, and thinking I was not known, I replied,\n\n\"There is no man at Cairo of that name.\"\n\n\"God is great!\" exclaimed the Arab; \"are you not Hassan Abdallah, and\ncan you send away your guest by concealing your name?\"\n\nGreatly confused, I then begged him to forgive me, and laid hold of\nhis hands to kiss them, which he would not permit me to do, and I then\naccompanied him to my house. On the way there I was tormented by the\nreflection that I had nothing to set before him; and when I reached\nhome I informed my wife of the meeting I had just had.\n\n\"The stranger is sent by God,\" said she; \"and even the children's\nbread shall be his. Go, sell the clothes which I gave you; buy some\nfood for our guest with the money, and if any thing should remain\nover, we will partake of it ourselves.\"\n\nIn going out it was necessary that I should pass through the apartment\nwhere the Arab was. As I concealed the clothes, he said to me, \"My\nbrother, what have you got there hid under your cloak?\"\n\nI replied that it was my wife's dress, which I was carrying to the\ntailor.\n\n\"Show it to me,\" he said. I showed it to him, blushing.\n\n\"O merciful God,\" he exclaimed, \"you are going to sell it in order to\nget money to enable you to be hospitable towards me! Stop, Hassan!\nhere are ten pieces of gold; spend them in buying what is needful for\nour own wants and for those of your family.\"\n\nI obeyed, and plenty and happiness seemed to revisit my abode. Every\nday the Arab gave me the same sum, which, according to his orders, I\nspent in the same way; and this continued for fifteen days. On the\nsixteenth day my guest, after chatting on indifferent matters, said to\nme, \"Hassan, would you like to sell yourself to me?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" I replied, \"I am already yours by gratitude.\"\n\n\"No,\" he replied, \"that is not what I mean; I wish to make you my\nproperty, and you shall fix the price yourself.\"\n\nThinking he was joking, I replied, \"The price of a freeman is one\nthousand dinars if he is killed at a single blow; but if many wounds\nare inflicted upon him, or if he should be cut in many pieces, the\nprice is then one thousand five hundred dinars.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered my guest, \"I will pay you this last-mentioned\nsum if you will consent to the bargain.\"\n\nWhen I saw that he was speaking seriously, I asked for time in order\nto consult my family.\n\n\"Do so,\" he replied, and then went out to look after some affairs in\nthe city.\n\nWhen I related the strange proposal of my guest, my mother said, \"What\ncan this man want to do with you?\" The children all clung to me, and\nwept. My wife, who was a wise and prudent woman, remarked,\n\n\"This detestable stranger wants, perhaps, to get back what he has\nspent here. You have nothing but this wretched house, sell it, and\ngive him the money, but don't sell yourself.\"\n\nI passed the rest of the day and the following night in reflection,\nand was in a state of great uncertainty. With the sum offered by the\nstranger I could at least secure bread for my family. But why wish to\npurchase me? What could he intend to do? Before next morning, however,\nI had come to a decision. I went to the Arab and said, \"I am yours.\"\nUntying his sash, he took out one thousand five hundred gold pieces,\nand giving them to me, said, \"Fear not, my brother, I have no designs\nagainst either your life or your liberty; I only wish to secure a\nfaithful companion during a long journey which I am about to\nundertake.\"\n\nOverwhelmed with joy, I ran with the money to my wife and mother; but\nthey, without listening to my explanations, began weeping and crying\nas if they were lamenting for the dead.\n\n\"It is the price of flesh and blood,\" they exclaimed; \"neither we nor\nour children will eat bread procured at such a cost!\"\n\nBy dint of argument, however, I succeeded at length in subduing their\ngrief; and having embraced them, together with my children, I set out\nto meet my new master.\n\nBy order of the Arab I purchased a camel renowned for its speed, at\nthe price of a hundred drachms; I filled our sacks with food\nsufficient for a long period; and then, mounting our camels, we\nproceeded on our journey.\n\nWe soon reached the desert. Here no traces of travellers were to be\nseen, for the wind effaced them continually from the surface of the\nmoving sand. The Arab was guided in his course by indications known\nonly to himself. We travelled thus together for five days under a\nburning sun; each day seemed longer to me than a night of suffering or\nof fear. My master, who was of a lively disposition, kept up my\ncourage by tales which I remember even now with pleasure after forty\nyears of anguish; and you will forgive an old man for not being able\nto resist the pleasure of relating some of them to you. The following\nstory, he said, had been recounted to him by the basket-maker himself,\na poor man whom he had found in prison, and whom he had charitably\nfound means to release.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE BASKET-MAKER.\n\nI was born of poor and honest parents; and my father, who was a\nbasket-maker by trade, taught me to plait all kinds of baskets. So\nlong as I had only myself to care for, I lived tolerably well on the\nproduce of my labour; but when I reached twenty years of age, and took\na wife, who in a few years presented me with several children, my\ngains proved insufficient to maintain my family. A basket-maker earns\nbut little; one day he gets a drachm, the next he may get two, or\nperhaps only half a drachm. In this state of things I and my children\nhad often to endure the pangs of hunger.\n\nOne day it happened that I had just finished a large basket; it was\nwell and strongly made, and I hoped to obtain at least three drachms\nfor it. I took it to the bazaar and through all the streets, but no\npurchaser appeared. Night came on and I went home. When my wife and\nchildren saw me return without any food, they began to cry and to ask\nfor bread, but as I had none to give them, I could only weep with\nthem: the night was long and sorrowful. At daybreak my wife awoke me,\nsaying, \"Go, and sell the basket at any price you can get for it, were\nit only half a drachm.\" I set out, and perambulated the streets and\nsquares, but night came on again without my finding a purchaser. My\nwife burst out into a great rage. \"What!\" she said, \"do you still\nbring back this basket? Do you wish to see us die with hunger?\"\n\nI assured her that I had tried every means, but in vain, to sell the\nbasket. She then took some articles of her own, and told me to go and\nsell them, and procure some bread for the children. I did as she said,\nand my famished family partook of a miserable repast, which my\ndepressed state of mind prevented me from sharing with them. I slept\nlittle that night; and as soon as it was day I performed my devotions,\nand prayed to God to come to my assistance. I then went out again with\nmy unsaleable basket, with which I made many weary and fruitless\nrounds through the whole city. At noon, overwhelmed with fatigue and\nfamished with hunger, I sat down at the door of a mosque, where the\nvoice of the muezzim was calling the faithful to prayer. I entered to\nimplore of God's goodness that I might be able, by his assistance, to\nsell the basket. Prayer being ended, the faithful left the mosque, and\nI found myself alone with a venerable Persian, named Saadi, who seemed\nlost in contemplation. Rising to go away, he passed near me, and\nnoticing how pale I was, he said, \"Friend, you are too much addicted\nto wine, and your health suffers from it.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" I replied, \"do not believe it; I have never tasted wine; my\nweakness and paleness arise from my not having had any food for the\nlast two days.\"\n\nI then related to him my life, my occupation, and my wretched state.\nWhilst listening to me the stranger shed tears; and when I had\nfinished speaking, he said, \"God be praised, my brother! for I can put\nan end to your troubles: take this,\" putting a purse of gold into my\nhands; \"run to the market, and buy meat, bread, and fruits for the\nrefreshment of yourself and family. What I have given you will last\nyou for a year to come; and in exchange, I only ask you to meet me\nhere, at the same day and hour, every year.\" So saying, he departed.\n\nI could scarcely think but that I had been dreaming; the purse,\nhowever, proved that I was indeed awake. I opened it, and found in it\na hundred pieces of gold! Overjoyed, I ran to the bazaar, and, in\npursuance of the orders of the benevolent donor, I purchased enough,\nnot only to satisfy the calls of hunger, but also food of such a\nnourishing nature, as had never entered my house before. The whole I\nput into my basket, and hastened to return home. Having reached the\ndoor, I listened, being curious to know what was going on. My children\nwere uttering lamentations, and their mother was endeavouring to quiet\nthem by repeating, for the hundredth time, her advice, to be quiet,\nand not to weep, for that their father would be sure to return with\nsomething to eat. I then entered the room, exclaiming, that God had\nheard them, and had sent them a plentiful supply for a long time to\ncome. But when I showed them the purse and its contents, my wife\nshouted out, \"What! have you then killed and robbed some one? Are we\nto become the object of the inquiries and suspicions of the police?\"\n\nI then related my fortunate meeting with the old man, and while\nembracing me with tears of joy, and a conscience at ease, my family\npartook, with me, of a plentiful repast, at the same time invoking\nblessings on our unknown benefactor.\n\nFor a whole year I lived happily in this manner. The day fixed upon by\nthe stranger having arrived, I went to the mosque, after having\nattired myself in a becoming manner. The Persian came and seated\nhimself beside me. When prayers were ended, and all the worshippers\nhad departed, he turned towards me and said, with a smiling look,\n\n\"O my brother! how has the time passed with you since our last\ninterview?\"\n\n\"Thanks to your generosity, my lord,\" I replied, \"my life has been\nspent in a tranquil and happy manner.\"\n\nThe stranger then questioned me as to my courage, address, and love\nof travelling; and to all his questions I replied in a satisfactory\nmanner, and, in my turn, asked him if I could be of any service to\nhim.\n\n\"Noureddin,\" he replied, \"I intend setting out on a journey, and I\nwish you to accompany me as my servant. I shall employ you in a\nrespectable and becoming manner; and if you show yourself obedient and\ndevoted to my interests, you will have no reason to repent it. The\njourney will last two months; look, here are thirty dinars; buy\nprovisions, that your family may want for nothing during your absence.\nIn eight days you must bid adieu to your wife and children, and come\nto meet me here, bringing a supply of rice and dates, and arming\nyourself with a yatagan, to defend yourself in case of our being\nattacked.\"\n\nI then went to my wife, and told her what the stranger required of me.\n\"He is our benefactor,\" she replied; \"it is your duty to obey him.\" I\nspent the eight days in laying in a store of food for my family and\nfor the journey, and on the appointed day, after embracing my wife and\nchildren, I went to the mosque, where I found the Persian. The muezzim\nhaving proclaimed the hour of prayer, we joined in it; and afterwards\nI followed him to a desert place, where were two fine horses well\nharnessed and yoked, which we unloosed and mounted, and then set out\non our journey.\n\nAfter having traversed deserts and mountains during a whole month, we\narrived at a fertile plain, watered by a fine river, whose peaceful\nand limpid waters winding about a thick forest, formed it into\npeninsula: a pavilion, with a golden cupola, seemed to rise out of\nthis mass of verdure, and shone in the sun's rays as if it had been on\nfire.\n\n[Illustration: The Pavilion with the golden cupola, p. 14]\n\nThe Persian now said to me, \"Noureddin, enter this forest, and give me\nan account of what you see.\" I obeyed, but I had scarcely walked an\nhour, when I saw two huge lions with manes erect. Seized with alarm, I\ndrew back, and running away reached my master out of breath, who only\nlaughed at my fears, and assured me that I was needlessly afraid of\nthe monsters. He wanted me to return, but I refused, and he was\nobliged to come back along with me. Having approached the lions, the\nPersian charmed them by some magical words, on which they became as\nsubmissive as lambs, remained motionless, and permitted us to pass. We\njourneyed on for many hours in the recesses of the forest, meeting, to\nmy great dread, with what appeared to be troops of horsemen, sword in\nhand, and giants, armed with clubs, ready to strike us. All these\nfantastic beings disappeared at the sight of my master, and we reached\nat last the pavilion which crowned the forest.\n\nMy master then said to me, \"Go, Noureddin, to this pavilion; remove\nthe belt of iron chains which fastens the gates, while I go and pray\nto the great Solomon to be propitious to our enterprise.\" I did as he\ncommanded me; but when I let the chains fall, a frightful noise was\nheard, which made the earth shake under my feet. More dead than alive,\nI returned to the Persian, who, having finished his prayer, entered\nthe pavilion. At the end of an hour he came out, bringing a book with\nhim written in the sacred language. He began to read it; and when he\nhad finished, with his countenance radiant with delight he exclaimed,\n\"O thrice fortunate Saadi! thou possessest at last this holy\nbook,--the sum of wisdom, the mirror of the good and the terror of the\nwicked! May the perusal of this garden of roses lead the children of\nAdam back to that original innocence from which they have so fatally\ndeparted! Hearken to these maxims and sentences, worthy to be the\nguides of mankind from the shepherd to the king:--\n\n     'He who learns the rules of wisdom without conforming his\n     life to them, is like the man who tills his field but never\n     sows any seed therein.\n\n     'Virtue does not consist in acquiring the riches of this\n     world, but in attaching all hearts by benefits and good\n     offices.\n\n     'If you are insensible to the sufferings of the unfortunate,\n     you do not deserve the name of a man.\n\n     'It is better to be loaded with chains for having told the\n     truth, than to be freed from them by means of a lie.\n\n     'A wicked person that accuses you of licentiousness should\n     be made to blush, in his turn, by your virtues and your\n     innocence.\n\n     'Man should remember that he is born of the earth, and that\n     his pride will one day come to an end in it.\n\n     'Crystal is found every where; but nothing is more rare than\n     the diamond, and hence the difference in their value.\n\n     'Instruction only bears fruit in so far as it is assisted by\n     your own endeavours.\n\n     'The discipline of the master is of greater benefit to the\n     child than the indulgence of the father.\n\n     'So long as the tree is young it is easy to fashion it as\n     you please; but when it has been permitted to grow, nothing\n     but fire can straighten it.\n\n     'Woe to the man of might, who devours the substance of the\n     people! At last some dire calamity will, of a surety,\n     overtake him.\n\n     'The most awful spectacle at the day of judgment will be,\n     says the prophet, to see pious slaves in paradise, and hard\n     and merciless masters in hell.\n\n     'Do you ask whether the ant beneath your feet has a right to\n     complain? Yes; just as much right as you would have if\n     crushed to atoms by an elephant.\n\n     'Encouragement towards the wicked is a wrong done to the\n     good; and the severest attack on virtue is to be indulgent\n     to crime.\n\n     'The perpetrator of an unjust action dies, but his memory is\n     held in everlasting abhorrence. The just man dies, and his\n     good actions bear fruit unto eternity.\n\n     'Be assured that thou wilt be rewarded if thine actions are\n     good, whether thou wearest the dress of the dervise or the\n     crown of the king.\n\n     'Would a king have nothing to fear from his enemies, let him\n     live in peace with his subjects.\n\n     'O my brother! the world forsakes us all. Fix thy heart on\n     the Creator of the universe, and all will be well with thee.\n\n     'What signifies it, whether we die in a stable or on a\n     throne?\n\n     'At your morning and evening prayer be able to say, Almighty\n     God, be pleased to remember Thy servant, who has never\n     forgotten Thee!'\n\n\"My ambition is satisfied,\" resumed the Persian, \"by the possession of\nthis book; but a fortune of that description would be no fortune to\nyou, Noureddin. You stand in need of a material treasure; and this\nsacred volume tells me where we ought to look for it. Quick! Mount\nyour steed, and let us proceed so long as Solomon favours us.\" Leaping\ninto our saddles, therefore, we set off at full gallop, and entering\nthe desert, journeyed thus for two days and a night.\n\nOn the evening of the second day we arrived at a city situated on a\nhigh mountain, and surrounded with white walls which shone like\nsilver. We passed the night under the trees of an adjoining wood; and\nnext day, having offered up our prayers, looked about for some way of\nentering the city, the gates of which were shut, and within which\nthere reigned a perfect stillness. My master went round the walls, and\nin his examination of them he discovered a stone slab, in which was\nfastened an iron ring. We endeavoured to move the slab, but could not.\nThe Persian then ordered me to take the horses and to fasten them to\nthe ring with our sashes; and by this means we succeeded in removing\nthe stone, which discovered the entrance to a subterraneous passage.\nMy master said to me, \"Noureddin, follow me; by this passage we shall\nget into the city.\" On leaving the subterraneous passage we heard a\nnoise like that which might be produced by the loud puffing of the\nbellows of a forge, and we supposed for a moment that the city was\ninhabited. This strange noise was nothing else than the hissing of two\nwinged serpents, which advanced towards us at a frightful pace. With\nthe sacred book in his hand the Persian advanced to meet them, and\nwith one touch of this talisman laid them prostrate on the ground.\n\nThis obstacle being overcome, we traversed the whole city, admiring\nits squares, houses, mosques, and palaces. But what had become of the\ninhabitants? By what scourge had they been cut off, or what reason had\ninduced them to quit so beautiful a city? How long ago was it\ninhabited? My mind was lost in conjectures about what seemed so far\nbeyond my comprehension, and my master made no reply to the questions\nwhich I addressed to him. At length we stopped at the open railing of\nsome gardens surrounding an enormous palace, which surpassed all that\nthe imagination could conceive. Bushy thickets; orchards covered with\nflowers and fruits; enamelled meads, watered by murmuring streams;\nparterres planted with the rarest and most variegated flowers, every\nwhere met the eye. The Persian sat down under the shadow of a tree,\nopened the book, and commenced reading, and when he had finished\nordered me to enter the palace. I reached it by a staircase that could\nonly have been constructed by the hands of genii; it was formed of the\nmost rare and costly marble, as were also the statues which were\nplaced at the sides. After having walked through many spacious and\nmagnificent apartments richly adorned, I entered a subterranean hall,\nstill larger and more splendid. A hundred crystal lustres, brilliant\nwith gold and precious stones, and lit up with thousands of\nwax-lights, shed a refulgence more dazzling than the day. Its walls\nwere covered with paintings, in which the spirit of evil strove in\nvain for the mastery over the spirit of good, and a long series of the\nstatues of justly-renowned dead princes were ranged all around. Vacant\npedestals, waiting to receive monarchs still living, whose names were\ninscribed on them, were also to be seen. In the centre of this\nsubterranean apartment, a throne of gold arose, incrusted with pearls\nand rubies. On this throne an old man was reposing, with a countenance\npale as death, but whose open eyes shone with a supernatural\nbrilliancy. I saluted him respectfully, but he made no gesture. I\nspoke to him, and he made no reply. Seized with astonishment and fear,\nI returned to my master and told him what I had seen.\n\n\"God be praised!\" he said, \"we are now near the end of our\nenterprise. Return, Noureddin, to the old man; go up to him\nfearlessly, and bring to me the chest on which his head rests.\"\n\nI obeyed, and on my return to the subterranean hall I drew near to the\nthrone, to which three silver steps led up. When I placed my foot on\nthe first step the old man stood up; in spite of my surprise I\nascended the second step, when, seizing a bow, he placed a\nkeen-pointed arrow in it, and aimed it at me. Without any\nconsideration of my benefactor's orders, I jumped backwards and took\nto flight anew. When the Arab saw me, he said, \"Is this what you\npromised me? cowardly man, come with me, and you will find inestimable\nriches!\" I then conducted him to the place where the old man was to be\nfound. When my master was near the throne, he ascended the first step,\nand the old man arose; at the second step he took his bow and arrow;\nand at the third he shot it at my master, who received it on the\nsacred book, from which it rebounded as from a steel cuirass, and fell\nbroken on the ground. The old man fell back motionless on the throne,\nand his eyes ceased to shine. My master then laid hold of the\nmysterious chest of which he had spoken to me, and took from it the\nmagic key which opened subterranean recesses where heaps of pearls,\ndiamonds, and rubies were deposited. The Persian allowed me to take as\nmuch as I pleased. I filled my trousers and the folds of my robe and\nturban with the finest pearls, the largest diamonds, and many other\nkinds of precious stones. As Saadi the Wise passed by all these\ntreasures without looking at them, I said to him, \"O my lord, why do\nyou leave here all this wealth, and take away with you, as the reward\nof so many fatigues, an article of so little value? The book of wisdom\nis now useless; what man is there who does not think himself wise?\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied the old man, \"I am near the end of my career, and my\nlife has been spent in the search after true wisdom. If I have done\nnothing to improve mankind, God, when I appear before Him, will\nreckon with me not only for the evil I shall have done, but also for\nthe good I may have neglected to do. As for you, who have a wife and\nchildren, I approve of your wishing to provide for their future\ncondition.\"\n\nWe left the enchanted city and its treasures, which I greatly\nregretted not being able to carry away. When we reached the open\ncountry, I looked back to gaze upon the palace and city, but they had\ndisappeared, at which I expressed my astonishment to my master, who\nreplied, \"Noureddin, do not seek to fathom the mysteries of knowledge,\nbut be contented to rejoice with me at the success of our journey.\" We\nthen directed our faces towards Bagdad, and at the end of a short time\narrived there, without meeting with any thing else worth relating. My\nfamily were rejoiced at my return and at the good fortune I had so\nunexpectedly met with. The old man abode with us for some time, which\nhe employed in reading the Gulistan and in giving me useful counsels\nas to my future conduct.\n\n\"Noureddin,\" he said, \"you are the possessor of great wealth; know how\nto make a good use of it; always remember the wretched condition in\nwhich I found you in the mosque; beware of bad company and pretended\nfriends and flatterers; avoid covetousness, and be charitable toward\nthe poor; remember the uncertainty of riches, and how Providence often\npunishes those who give way to ingratitude and pride.\" Besides his\ngood advice, he would often relate to me instructive histories by way\nof example, and I shall not tire you too much if I repeat one of them\nto you.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE DERVISE ABOUNADAR.\n\nA dervise, venerable from his age, fell ill at the house of a woman\nwho was a widow, and who lived in a state of great poverty in the\noutskirts of Balsora. He was so affected by the care and zeal with\nwhich she had nursed him, that at the time of his departure he said to\nher, \"I have noticed that your means are sufficient for yourself\nalone, and are not adequate for the additional support of your only\nson, the young Mujahid; but if you will entrust him to my care, I will\ndo my utmost to repay through him the obligations which I am under to\nyour care.\"\n\nThe good woman received the proposal with pleasure, and the dervise\ntook his departure with the young man, stating, at the same time, that\nthey were to be absent two years on a journey. While travelling in\nvarious countries the widow's son lived in opulence with his\nprotector, who gave him excellent instructions, attended to him in a\ndangerous illness which he had, and, in short, treated him in every\nrespect as if he had been his only son. Mujahid often said how\ngrateful he was for such kindness, and the old man's constant reply\nwas, \"My son, gratitude is shown by actions, not words; at the proper\ntime and place we shall see how you estimate my conduct towards you.\"\n\nOne day, in their journeyings, they reached a place out of the beaten\nroad, and the dervise said to Abdallah, \"We are now at the end of our\ntravels; I am about to cause the earth to open and allow you to enter\na place where you will find one of the greatest treasures in the bosom\nof the globe; have you courage sufficient to descend into this\nsubterranean recess?\" Mujahid declared that he might be depended upon\nfor his obedience and zeal. The dervise then lighted a small fire,\ninto which he threw some perfumes, and when he had pronounced some\nprayers the earth opened, and the dervise said to the young man, \"You\ncan now enter; remember that it is in your power to render me a great\nservice, and that the present occasion is perhaps the only one when\nyou can prove to me that you are not ungrateful. Do not allow yourself\nto be dazzled by all the wealth which you will find, but think only of\ngetting possession of an iron chandelier with twelve branches which\nyou will see near a door; lose no time in bringing it to me.\" The\nyouth promised to attend to all that was required of him, and plunged\ninto the subterraneous recess full of confidence in himself.\nForgetting, however, what had been so expressly enjoined upon him,\nwhile he was busy filling his pockets with the gold and diamonds\nspread around in prodigious quantities, the entrance by which he had\ndescended was closed. He had, however, the presence of mind to lay\nhold of the iron chandelier which the dervise had urged him to bring\naway; and although he was now, by the closing of the entrance, placed\nin circumstances which were enough to appal a stouter heart, he did\nnot abandon himself to despair. While trying to discover some way of\nescape from a place which was likely otherwise to be his grave, he saw\nbut too plainly that the opening had been closed upon him on account\nof his not having strictly followed the dervise's orders; and\nreflecting on the kindness and care with which he had been treated, he\nbitterly reproached himself for his ingratitude. At length, after a\nbusy search and much anxiety, he was fortunate enough to discover a\nnarrow passage that led out of this dark cavern. The opening was\ncovered over with briers and thorns, through which he managed to\nstruggle, and thus recovered the light of day. He looked around him\nevery where for the dervise in order to deliver the chandelier to him,\nbut in vain; he was not to be seen.\n\nUnable to recognize any of the places where he had been, he walked at\nrandom, and was very much astonished to find himself, after a short\ntime, at his mother's door, from which he had thought himself at a\ngreat distance. In reply to her inquiries respecting the dervise, he\nfrankly told her all that had happened, and the danger he had\nencountered in order to gratify the fancy of the dervise; and then he\nshowed her the riches with which he was loaded. His mother concluded,\non seeing all this wealth, that the dervise only wanted to try his\ncourage and obedience, and that he ought to take advantage of his good\nluck, adding, that such was no doubt the intention of the holy man.\n\nWhile they gazed on these treasures with avidity, and framed a\nthousand dazzling projects for spending them, the whole vanished\nsuddenly from their eyes. Mujahid then reproached himself again for\nhis ingratitude and disobedience; and looking at the iron chandelier\nwhich alone remained of all his treasure, said, \"What has happened is\njust. I have lost what I had no wish to render back; and the\nchandelier, which I desired to give to the dervise, remains with\nme,--a proof that it belongs to him, and that the rest was improperly\nobtained.\" So saying, he placed the chandelier in the middle of his\nmother's small house.\n\nWhen night came on, Mujahid thought he would put a light in the\nchandelier, by way of turning it to some use. No sooner had he done\nthis, than a dervise immediately appeared, who, after turning round,\nvanished, and threw a small coin behind him. Mujahid, whose thoughts\nwere occupied all next day with what he had seen the evening before,\nwished to see what would be the event if he placed a light in each of\nthe twelve branches. He did so, and twelve dervises immediately\nappeared, who, after wheeling round, also became invisible, each of\nthem at the same time throwing down a small coin. Every day Mujahid\nrepeated the same ceremony with the same success; but he could only\nmake it occur once in twenty-four hours. The moderate sum with which\nthe dervises supplied him daily was sufficient for the subsistence of\nhimself and his mother, and for a long time this was all that he\ndesired. By and by, however, his imagination began to feast itself\nwith the idea of the riches of the cavern, the sight of those which he\nhad once thought to be safe in his possession, and the schemes which\nhe had formed as to the use to be made of his wealth; all these things\nhad left so deep an impression on his mind, that he found it\nimpossible to rest. He resolved, therefore, if possible, to find out\nthe dervise, and to take him the chandelier, in the hope of obtaining\nthe treasure by bringing to the holy man an article for which he had\nshown so strong a desire.\n\nFortunately Mujahid recollected the dervise's name, and the name of\nthe city, Magnebi, where he dwelt. He set out on his journey as soon\nas possible, bidding farewell to his mother, and taking the chandelier\nwith him, which supplied him every evening, after being lit, with the\nmeans of supporting himself, without having occasion to resort for\nassistance to the compassion of the faithful. When he reached Magnebi,\nhis first inquiry was after the house where Abounadar lodged. He was\nso well known, that the first person he met could tell him his\nresidence. On arriving at the house, or rather palace, he found fifty\nporters keeping watch at the door, each of them bearing a wand with a\ngolden apple for its handle. The courts of the palace were crowded\nwith slaves and domestics; indeed, no prince's residence ever\ndisplayed greater splendour. Mujahid, struck with astonishment and\nadmiration, was reluctant to proceed further. \"Either,\" said he to\nhimself, \"I have described the person whom I wanted imperfectly, or\nthose to whom I spoke must have wished to make a mock of me,\nobserving that I was a stranger. This is not the residence of a\ndervise, but of a king.\"\n\nMujahid was in this state of embarrassment when a man came up to him\nand said, \"You are welcome, Mujahid; my master, Abounadar, has been\nlong expecting you;\" and so saying, he conducted him into a\nmagnificent garden, where the dervise was seated. Mujahid, struck with\nthe riches which he saw every where around him, would have thrown\nhimself at his feet, but Abounadar would not permit him, and\ninterrupted him when he was about to make a merit of bringing back the\nchandelier which he presented to him, by saying, \"You are an\nungrateful wretch. Do you think to impose upon me? I know all your\nthoughts; and if you had known the worth of this chandelier, you would\nnever have brought it to me. I shall now make you acquainted with its\ntrue use.\" In each of the branches of the chandelier he now placed a\nlight; and when the dervises had turned round, Abounadar gave each of\nthem a blow with a stick, and immediately they were converted into\ntwelve heaps of sequins, diamonds, and other precious stones. \"Look,\"\nhe said, \"at the use to be made of this wonderful chandelier. My only\nreason, however, for wishing to place it in my cabinet, was on account\nof its being a talisman composed by a sage whom I revered; and I shall\nbe always happy to show it to persons who visit me. To prove to you,\"\nhe continued, \"that curiosity is the only reason which induced me to\nprocure the lamp, take the keys of my cellars, open them, and judge\nfor yourself of the extent of my opulence, and say if I should not be\nthe most insatiably avaricious of all men, not to be contented with\nwhat I have.\" Mujahid took the keys, and made a survey of twelve\nmagazines so filled with every description of precious stones, that he\nwas unable to tell which of them most deserved his admiration. Regret\nat having restored the chandelier, and at not having discovered its\nuses, now wrung his heart intensely. Abounadar seemed not to perceive\nthis, but on the contrary loaded Mujahid with caresses, kept him for\nsome days in his palace, and desired his servants to treat him as they\nwould himself. On the evening before the day fixed for his departure,\nAbounadar said to him, \"Mujahid, my son, I think, from what has\noccurred, that you are now cured of the frightful sin of ingratitude;\nhowever, I owe you something for having undertaken so long a journey\nfor the purpose of bringing to me an article which I wished to\npossess. You may now depart; I will detain you no longer. To-morrow\nyou will find at the gate of my palace one of my horses to carry you\nhome. I will make you a present of it, together with a slave who will\nbring you two camels loaded with gold and precious stones, which you\ncan select for yourself from among my treasures.\"\n\nDuring the night Mujahid was restless and uneasy, and unable to think\nof any thing except the chandelier and its wonderful qualities. For a\nlong time he said to himself, \"It was in my power; Abounadar would\nnever have obtained it but for me. What risks did I not encounter in\nthe subterranean cave in order to secure it! Why is it that he is now\nthe fortunate owner of this treasure of treasures? Is it not owing to\nmy fidelity, or rather folly, in bringing it to him, that he now\nprofits by the trouble and danger I underwent in the long journey I\nhad to make? And what does he give me in return? only two miserable\ncamels loaded with gold and precious stones, when in a moment the\nchandelier could supply me with ten times as much! It is Abounadar who\nis ungrateful, and not I who am so. What injury shall I do him by\ntaking the chandelier? Not any; for he is rich, and wants nothing\nmore.\"\n\nThese ideas determined him, at last, to do all in his power to get\npossession of the chandelier; and it was not difficult to do so. He\nknew where to find it, and having taken it, he placed it at the\nbottom of one of his sacks which he had filled with the treasure given\nto him, and put the sack, along with the others, on the back of one of\nthe camels. His only desire now was to get away, and after having\nhurriedly bid farewell to the generous Abounadar, he took his\ndeparture, with his slave and camels.\n\nWhen now at some considerable distance from Balsora, he sold his\nslave, not wishing to retain him as a witness of his former poverty,\nor of the source of his wealth. He purchased another, and went\nstraight to his mother's house, whom he scarcely noticed, so absorbed\nwas he with his treasures. His first care was to place the camels'\nluggage in a secure place; and, in his impatience to feast his eyes\nwith solid riches, he placed lights in the chandelier without delay.\nThe twelve dervises made their appearance, and he bestowed on each of\nthem a blow with all his might, being afraid of not complying\nsufficiently with the laws of the talisman; but he had not noticed\nthat Abounadar, when striking them, held his stick in his left hand.\nMujahid naturally held his in his right hand, and the dervises,\ninstead of being changed into heaps of treasure, drew from beneath\ntheir robes formidable bludgeons, with which they all belaboured him\nso long and so severely, that they left him nearly dead, after which\nthey disappeared, carrying with them the camels and all their burdens,\nthe horse, the slave, and the chandelier.\n\nThus, for not being contented with a large fortune honestly acquired,\nMujahid fell into a state of misery from which he never recovered--a\nsuitable punishment for his ingratitude and avarice.\n\nThe old man at last took his leave of us, and returned to Schiraz, his\nnative place, bearing with him the blessings of all my family.\n\nAfter Saadi's departure, I unhappily neglected to follow his good\nadvice. I purchased a new and splendid residence, where I lived in\ngreat splendour and luxury. Instead of being grateful to Heaven for\nits bounty, I became proud and insolent. I entertained and feasted all\nthe gay companions I could meet with, while I refused to give alms,\nand drove the needy from my door; in short, I spent my money rapidly,\nand made the worst possible use of what I had so mysteriously\nacquired. My treasure soon began to run low; still I lived in the same\nprofuse extravagance, until at last all was spent, and I found that,\nfor some time, I had been living upon credit. The truth could no\nlonger be concealed, and, being unable to meet the demands upon me, I\nhad to sell off the whole of my property. A small sum would have\nsufficed to release me, so that I might again return to my trade, and,\nfor this purpose, I appealed for assistance to my former friends and\ncompanions. Not one of these, however, would come forward in my\nbehalf. The produce of the sale of my house and effects was\ninsufficient to pay my debts, and I was consequently thrown into\nprison, where I have remained for three years, my family, in the mean\ntime, living upon the casual alms of the faithful. The aid you have\nrendered me will suffice to set me free, and I am now resolved to\nlabour with diligence, in order to repair, as far as possible, my past\nfolly.\n\n[Illustration: Shooting at the Enchanted Keys, p. 29]\n\n\nCONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH.\n\nIn this manner our journey was beguiled, and on the sixth day, in the\nmorning, we entered on an immense plain, whose glittering soil seemed\ncomposed of silver dust. In the middle of the plain arose a lofty\npillar of granite, surmounted by a statue of copper, representing a\nyoung man, whose right hand was stretched out open, and to each of\nwhose fingers was suspended a key; the first was of iron, the second\nof lead, the third of bronze, the fourth of copper, and the fifth of\ngold.\n\nThis statue was the workmanship of an enchanter, and each key was a\ntalisman; whoever was led by accident or his own free will into this\ndesert, and became possessed of these keys, inherited the destiny\nattached to them. The first was the key of calamities, the second of\nphysical sufferings, the third of death, the fourth of glory, and the\nlast of knowledge and wealth.\n\nI was ignorant of all these matters; but my master had become\nacquainted with them from a learned Indian, who had also informed him\nthat the keys could only be obtained by shooting them down with\narrows. The Arab planted his foot near to the column, and then fixing\nan arrow in his bow, which was of a foreign make, he shot it towards\nthe statue, but, whether from want of skill or intentionally, the\narrow did not reach halfway. He then said to me, \"Hassan, you have\nnow an opportunity of discharging your debt to me, and of purchasing\nyour liberty. You are both strong and skilful; take this bow and\narrows, and bring me down those keys.\" I took the bow, and perceived\nthat it was of Persian workmanship, and made by a skilful hand. In my\nyouth, I had accustomed myself to this exercise, and had acquired\ngreat reputation in it. Desirous of displaying my attainments, I bent\nthe bow with all my strength, and with the first arrow I brought down\nthe first key. Overjoyed, I took it up, and presented it to my master.\n\"Keep it,\" he said; \"it is the reward of your skill.\" With a second\narrow, I brought down the leaden one. The Arab would not touch it, and\nI took it, and put it in my belt, along with the other. With two other\narrows, I brought down two more keys--the copper key and the golden\nkey. My companion took them up, uttering exclamations of delight.\n\n\"O Hassan,\" he said, \"God be praised! blessed be he who trained your\narm and practised your eye to such accuracy. I am proceeding happily\ntowards the accomplishment of my object.\"\n\nI was about to aim at the last key--that of death, and had raised my\nbow for that purpose, but he forbade me, and struck my arm to prevent\nmy shooting. In doing this, he caused the arrow to fall and pierce my\nfoot, producing a painful wound. Having dressed it as well as he\ncould, he assisted me to mount my camel, and we thereupon continued\nour journey. After three days and nights of laborious travelling, we\narrived in the neighbourhood of a small wood, where we stopped to\nspend the night. I set about looking for water, and some refreshing\nfruits, and particularly some with whose good qualities I was\nacquainted, but I could find nothing eatable. At last I discovered in\nthe crevice of a rock a small spring, which invited me, by its clear\nand limpid waters, to refresh myself; but stooping down to drink, I\nheard the voice of my companion shouting to me not to taste the\nwater, for that it was poisoned. \"What matters it,\" I said, \"whether I\ndie of thirst or of poison?\"\n\n\"This water,\" he said, \"comes from the infernal regions, and passes\nthrough the mass of sulphur, bitumen, and metals that feed the fires\nin the centre of the earth; and if you drink, you will in all\nprobability fall a victim to your imprudence.\"\n\nAlthough bitter, the water was so clear and fresh, that without\nheeding what he said, I drank some of it, and feeling refreshed for\nthe time, I agreed to proceed on our journey, but I had scarcely gone\non a hundred paces, when I was attacked by the most racking pains, and\nwith many exclamations and cries to Heaven for help, I endeavoured to\nmoderate the speed of my camel, who was following his companion at a\nbrisk pace. My tortures became so great, that I called aloud to the\nArab, and begged him to stop; he consented, when I dismounted and\nwalked for some time, which partly relieved me. The Arab chid me for\nmy disobedience to his commands, and taking out a small phial from his\npocket, gave me a few drops of a cordial, which in a short time\ncompletely cured me.\n\nTowards evening we came near a high mountain, where we stopped to take\na little rest. The Arab said, \"God be praised, to-day will not be a\nfast day with us! by experience I have learned to collect a healthy\nand refreshing nourishment from a quarter where you would only find\npoison.\" He then went to a bush with leaves of a very thick and\nprickly nature, and having cut off some of them with his sabre, and\nstript them, of their skins, he extracted from them a yellow and\nsugary substance, similar in taste to figs, and I partook of the food\nuntil I was quite satisfied and refreshed. I was beginning to forget\nmy sufferings, and hoped to pass the night in peaceful slumber, but\nwhen the moon arose my master said to me, \"I expect you to perform a\nsignal service for me; you have to ascend this mountain, and when at\nthe summit, you must wait for sunrise; then, standing up and turning\ntowards the East, you must offer up your devotions and descend; but\ntake care, and do not allow yourself to be overtaken by sleep, for the\nemanations which arise from the ground in this place are extremely\nnoxious, and you may suffer severely from them.\"\n\nAlthough overwhelmed with fatigue and pain, I obeyed the Arab's\norders, remembering that he had given bread to my children; and that,\nperhaps, should I refuse, he would abandon me in this savage\nwilderness. I ascended the mountain and reached the summit about\nmidnight. The soil was bare and stony; not a shrub, not a blade of\ngrass was to be found upon it. The extreme cold, together with\nfatigue, threw me into such a state of torpor that I could not resist\nlying down on the earth and falling asleep. I awoke at the rising of\nthe sun to fulfil my instructions. I stood up with difficulty; my\naching limbs refused to support my body; my head hung down as if made\nof lead, and I was unable to lift up my paralyzed arms. Making a\npainful effort, and holding myself up towards the East, I invoked the\nname of God. I then endeavoured to descend the mountain, but it was so\nsteep, and my weakness was so great, that at the first step my limbs\ntottered under me, and I fell, and rolled down the mountain with\nfrightful rapidity; stones and thorns were the only obstacles to my\ndescent, and they tore my dress and my skin, causing me to bleed at\nevery pore. At length I reached the bottom of the hill, near to where\nmy master was stretched on the ground, tracing lines on it with such\nattention, that he did not observe in what a state I was. \"God be\nthanked and praised,\" he said, without noticing me; \"we were born\nunder a happy planet; every thing succeeds with us! Thanks to you,\nHassan, I have just discovered what I wanted, by measuring the shadow\nprojected by your head from the summit of the mountain. Assist me to\ndig where I have stuck my lance.\" He raised his head, and seeing me\nextended on the earth, motionless, came up to me, and exclaimed,\n\"What! in disobedience to my orders you have slept on the mountain,\nand imbibed its unwholesome vapours into your blood! Do not despair,\nhowever, I will cure you;\" and he took from his pocket a lancet, with\nwhich, before I could offer any resistance, he made small incisions in\ndifferent parts of my body, from which I bled profusely. He then\ndressed my wounds and bruises carefully, and I felt a little better.\nSeeing that I was too weak to assist him, he began to dig in the earth\nhimself at the place which he had marked. He soon exposed to view a\ntomb of white marble, which he opened; it contained some human bones,\nand a book written in letters of gold on the skin of the gazelle.\n\nMy master began reading it with attention: at length his pale brow\nbecame lit up with pleasure, and his eyes sparkled with delight.\n\n\"Hassan Abdallah,\" he said to me, \"this book teaches me the way to the\nmysterious city; we shall soon enter into Aram, built on columns,\nwhere no mortal has ever as yet penetrated; it is there that we shall\nfind the principle of earthly riches, the germ of the metallic mines\nwhich God has placed in the centre of the earth.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" I replied, \"I share with you in your joy; but this treasure\nis of little or no advantage to me; I would rather, I assure you, be\npoor and in good health at Cairo, than rich and in wretchedness here.\"\n\n\"Ungrateful man!\" he exclaimed; \"I am labouring for your advantage as\nwell as for my own, intending to share with you the fruit of our\njourney, as I have done until now.\"\n\n\"True,\" I said, \"but, alas! all the ill fortunes and calamities fall\nto me.\" However, after some further assurances on the part of the\nArab, I became pacified, and the same day, after having laid in a\nstock of fruits, we reascended our camels, and continued our journey\ntowards the East.\n\nWe journeyed thus for three days and nights. The fourth day in the\nmorning we perceived in the horizon the appearance of a large mirror,\nwhich reflected the sunbeams. On drawing near we saw that it was a\nriver of quicksilver; it was crossed by a bridge of crystal, without\nbalustrades, but so narrow and slippery that no man in his senses\nwould think of attempting to pass it. My master told me to unsaddle\nthe camels, to let them feed at liberty, and to prepare woollen\nslippers with thick and soft soles for both of us; and having ordered\nme to walk behind him without looking to the right hand or to the\nleft, he crossed the bridge with a firm step, and I followed him\ntrembling.\n\nAfter we had crossed the river and proceeded for some hours, we found\nourselves at the entrance of a gloomy valley. It was surrounded on all\nsides with black rocks, hard as iron, and here and there on the ground\nwere spread human bones, bleached by time. Through the dark foliage of\nthe shrubs which grew there might be seen the undulating and scaly\nforms of serpents gliding along. I retreated hastily from this den of\nhorror, but could not discover the spot at which I had entered, the\nrocks seeming every where to rise up like the walls of a great cavern.\n\nI began to weep, and said to my companion, \"You have led me on to\ndeath by the path of suffering and misery; I shall never see my wife\nand children again. Why have you torn me away from my poor but\npeaceful home?\"\n\n\"Hassan,\" he said to me, \"be a man! Have patience; we shall soon get\nout of this horrible place. Wait a few moments, and I will show you\nhow we may escape.\" So saying, he sat down on the ground, and, opening\nthe mysterious book, began turning over the pages and reading in it\nas calmly as if he had been sitting in his own house. After a short\ntime he called to me, and said, \"My friend, call up your courage, your\ntask is easy; you are a skilful marksman; take this bow and arrows;\nexamine the valley until you meet with a huge serpent with a black\nhead, kill him and bring his head and heart to me.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" I said, weeping, \"is this indeed a thing so easy for me? Why\nwill you not do it yourself? We are too fortunate not to be molested\nby these monsters; why should we go in search of them?\" Upon this he\nstarted up with a fierce aspect, and, drawing his sword, swore that he\nwould kill me that instant if I did not obey him.\n\n\"Do you see all these bones?\" he said. \"They are the bones of men who\ndisobeyed me, and who died in consequence by my hand.\" Trembling, I\ntook the bow and arrows, and went among the rocks where the serpents\nwere to be found. Selecting one which appeared to me to answer the\ndescription given me, I took aim at its head, and, invoking the\nassistance of Heaven, discharged my arrow. The serpent, mortally\nwounded, sprung up, and twisting and contorting itself in a frightful\nmanner, fell dead on the ground. When I was certain that he was dead,\nI took my knife, cut off his head, and took out his heart. With these\nbloody trophies I returned to my master, who received me with a\nsmiling countenance. \"Forgive me,\" he said, \"for employing threats\ntowards you; in reality I was anxious to save you from a miserable\nfate. The men to whom these bones belonged died here of hunger by\ntheir own fault; they proved deficient in courage, and I was\ncompelled, in spite of myself, to abandon them to their fate.\"\n\n\"Now,\" he continued, \"come and assist me to make a fire.\"\n\nI collected dry leaves and small branches of trees, of which he made a\nsmall heap; then turning an enchanted diamond towards the sun, which\nwas then in its meridian, a ray of light issued from the precious\nstone which set the materials in a blaze. He next drew from under his\nrobe a small iron vase and three phials; the first, of ruby, contained\nthe elements of winds; the second, of emerald, contained a ray of\nmoonlight; and the third, which was of gold, contained the blood of a\nphoenix. All these substances he placed in the vase, and added the\nheart and brain of the serpent. He then opened the book and put the\nvase on the fire, pronouncing at the same time some words which to me\nwere unintelligible. When he had finished, he uncovered his shoulders,\nas the pilgrims do at their departure, and dipping a portion of his\ngarment in the mixture, handed it to me, desiring me to rub his back\nand shoulders with it. As I did so I observed the skin swell out and\nwings spring forth, which, visibly increasing in size, soon reached\nthe ground. The Arab spread them and began to rise in the air. Fear of\nremaining in this doleful place lent me courage, and laying hold with\nall my might of the end of his girdle, I was borne up along with him,\nand in a few moments we bade farewell to the black rocks of this fatal\nvalley. Presently, as we pursued this aerial tour, we found ourselves\nsoaring above an immense plain, surrounded by a precipice of crystal,\ntinged with azure and purple. The earth seemed formed of golden dust,\nand the pebbles upon it looked like precious stones. Before us were\nthe lofty walls of a city crowded with magnificent palaces and\ndelicious gardens. Lost in admiration of this glorious scene, the Arab\nforgot to keep his wings moving, and we descended rapidly towards the\nground, which I of course reached first, he falling upon me. I then\nperceived his wings gradually diminish, and by degrees wholly\ndisappear. When I noticed this to him, he replied, that,\nunfortunately, science was limited in its powers; it enabled him to\nconstruct wings of great power, but could not avail for their\npreservation beyond a certain time. \"To become the possessor,\" said\nhe, \"of the ingredients which you saw me employ in forming these\nwings, I have spent thirty years of my life, the lives of many men,\nand money sufficient for a king's ransom. The wings helped me but for\na few moments, long enough, however, for my purpose; they have borne\nme to glory and fortune. Rejoice, Hassan Abdallah; behold Aram, the\ncity built on columns, the mysterious city!\"\n\n[Illustration: The Escape of Hassan Abdallah and the Arab from the\nEnchanted Valley, p. 36.]\n\nWe then approached the walls; they were built of alternate layers of\nbricks of gold and silver. The battlements were of marble, cut and\nsculptured by the hands of genii. There were eight gates in the\nwalls,--the number of the gates of paradise; the first was of silver,\nthe second of gold, the third of agate, the fourth of coral, the fifth\nof pearl, the sixth of topaz, the seventh of emerald, and the eighth\nof ruby.\n\nThe Arab informed me that this city had been built by the famous\nenchanter Tchedad, the son of Aad, who had exhausted upon it all the\ntreasures of earth, sea, and sky. He wanted in his pride to rival the\nglory of the Almighty by this piece of workmanship; but God, to punish\nhim, struck him and his family with lightning at the very instant he\nand they were solemnly taking possession of the palace. An\nimpenetrable veil hangs over the city ever since, and no one has been\nable to discover it.\n\nWe went forward, invoking the name of God; the streets were lined with\npalaces adorned with columns of marble, agate, and all kinds of costly\nmaterials; streams of odoriferous waters embalmed and refreshed the\natmosphere; trees of a wondrous form furnished a delicious shelter\nfrom the rays of the sun, and in their branches birds of song produced\nconcerts of ravishing sweetness. The very air that one breathed seemed\nto fascinate the mind, and to lift it up to heaven.\n\nThe Arab, taking me by the hand, conducted me towards the palace of\nTchedad; its construction, in point of art and splendour of adornment,\nwas unspeakably magnificent. Terraces, formed of coloured crystal,\nwere supported on a thousand columns of gold. In the midst of the\npalace was an enchanted garden, where the earth, breathing of musk,\nbore fruits and flowers of marvellous richness and beauty. Three\nrivers surrounded the garden, flowing with wine, rose-water, and\nhoney. In the centre of the garden there was a pavilion, whose dome,\nformed of a single emerald, overshadowed a throne of gold covered with\npearls and rubies. On the throne there was a small chest of gold; the\nArab opened it, and found in it a red powder. \"Throw away this dust,\"\nI said, \"and fill the casket with precious stones.\"\n\n\"Poor fool that you are,\" he replied; \"this dust is the source of all\nthe riches of the world; it is red sulphur. A small portion of it is\nsufficient to change into gold the basest metals. With it I can build\npalaces, found cities, purchase the life of men and the admiration of\nbeautiful women. I can even, if I please, cause myself to become\nprince and king; but I cannot by it prolong my life a single day, or\nefface an hour from my by-past existence. God alone is great! God\nalone is eternal!\"\n\nWhilst he thus spoke, I employed myself in collecting precious stones\nand pearls, filling with them my girdle, pockets, and turban.\n\n\"Unhappy man!\" he cried, \"what are you doing? You will bring down upon\nus the vengeance of Heaven. We are only permitted to touch this\ncasket; and if we should attempt to carry out of the valley a leaf\nfrom one of these trees, or a stone from off the ground, instantaneous\ndeath would be our lot.\"\n\nI immediately emptied my pockets, much to my regret, and followed my\nmaster, not however without often turning my head aside to look at the\nincalculable riches spread around me. Fearing that I should fall a\nprey to the seductions of wealth, my master took me by the hand and\nled me out of the city. We quitted it by the path by which we came,\nbut more slowly than we approached. When we arrived at the crystal\nprecipice it opened before us, and we passed through it; when we had\ndone so, we looked about in vain for the wonderful plain and the\ncity,--they could no longer be seen. We found ourselves on the brink\nof the river of quicksilver, and crossed the bridge. Our camels were\nfeeding on the flowery herbage, and I ran to mine with delight, as to\nan old friend. After refastening our girths, we mounted and set out on\nthe road to Egypt. We were three months in reaching Cairo. During all\nthis time I suffered many privations; my health was destroyed, and I\nendured every kind of evil. From some fatality, the cause of which was\nunknown to me at the time, I alone was exposed to all the accidents of\nthe journey, while my companion continued in health and comfort,\npassing safely through every danger. I discovered afterwards that all\nmy misfortunes arose from my having in my possession the enchanted\nkeys. This was one day towards the close of our journey, when the Arab\nconfessed to me that he was aware of this fatal quality of theirs, and\nthat it was in order to free himself from it that he purchased me.\nWhen I wanted to throw away the accursed keys, he withheld me.\n\"Patience and resignation,\" said he, \"and these virtues only, can\nexhaust their evil influence, and for your own sake I would advise you\nto keep them to the end. All will turn out eventually for your good.\"\n\nA few days after receiving this communication we arrived at Cairo, and\nI immediately ran to my home, the door of which was open and broken,\nand the interior occupied by crowds of famished and prowling dogs, who\nhad taken up their abode there. A neighbour, who heard me calling out\nin an agony of despair, opened her door, and said to me, \"Hassan\nAbdallah, is that you? Well may you be astounded! Know that some time\nafter your departure,--that is, about five months ago,--some thieves,\nknowing that you were absent, and that there was no male slave left to\ntake care of your house, broke into your house during the night,\ninsulted the women, and went off with all the property that you had\nleft. Your mother died a few days after, in consequence. Your wife, in\nher destitution, resolved to go to Alexandria, to her brother. The\ncaravan which she accompanied was attacked by the Arabs of the desert,\nwho, being enraged at the resistance they met with, put all to the\nsword without mercy.\"\n\nOn hearing these sad tidings, I shed many tears, and returning to the\nArab, accused him with being the cause of all my misfortunes. \"God is\nthe author and end of all things,\" he said to me, and then, taking me\nby the hand, led me along with him. It appeared that on the same day\nhe had hired a magnificent palace, to this he now compelled me to\nrepair and reside with him; and for my consolation, he told me that he\nwould share with me the treasures of science, and teach me to read in\nthe book of alchemy.\n\nHere we resided a long time: whenever his costly fancies caused him to\nbe in want of money, he used to have several hundred-weight of lead\nconveyed secretly to him, and when it was melted he threw some small\nportions of red sulphur into it, and in a moment the vile metal was\nchanged into the purest gold. In the midst of all this luxury, I\ncontinued ill and unhappy; my feeble body was unable to support the\nweight, or to endure the contact of the rich clothes and the precious\nstuffs with which I was covered. The most delicate food was served up\nto me in vain, and the most delicious wines; I only felt disgusted and\ndisinclined towards them all. I had superb apartments, beds formed of\nsweet smelling and costly woods, and divans of purple; but sleep, in\nspite of all, was a stranger to my eyes.\n\nI called on death, but he refused to come to me. The Arab, on the\nother hand, passed his time in pleasure and feasting.\n\nThe palace gardens extended to the banks of the Nile; they were\nplanted with the rarest trees, brought at a great expense from India,\nPersia, China, and the isles. Machines, constructed with great skill,\nraised the water of the Nile, and caused it to fall in fresh and\nbrilliant jets into marble reservoirs,\n\n     \"'Mid orange groves and myrtle bowers, that breathed a gale\n     of fragrance round,\"\n\nmingled with the perfume of jasmines and roses; there were silken\npavilions, embroidered with gold, and supported on pillars of gold and\nsilver; brilliant lamps, enclosed in globes of crystal, shed over all\na light soft and effulgent as that of the moon.\n\nThere, on each returning night, the Arab received his companions, and\ntreated them with the utmost magnificence. His liberality made every\none who approached him his friend, and they styled him the Great, the\nMagnificent.\n\nHe would sometimes come to see me at the pavilion, where my illness\ncompelled me to remain, a solitary prisoner. On one such occasion, he\npaid me his visit after a night of pleasure, early in the morning. He\nwas heated with wine, his face red, and his eyes shining with a\nstrange lustre. He sat down beside me, and taking hold of my hand,\nbegan singing, and when he had concluded, shut his eyes, leaned his\nhead on his breast, and appeared to fall asleep. Alarmed at length at\nhis unnatural stillness, I leaned over to him; his breathing had\nceased, he had expired.\n\nPerceiving that all help was useless, I began to rummage his pockets,\nhis girdle, and his turban, in the hope of finding the keys of\nhappiness and of wisdom, but could not discover them. I thereupon, in\nspite of my bad state of health, and without losing a moment, laid\nhold of the casket containing the book of alchemy and the red sulphur;\nand considering that I might lawfully regard myself as the legitimate\nproprietor, I carried it secretly to my former house, which I had\npreviously caused to be rebuilt and provided with new furniture.\n\nReturning to the palace just as I had left it, I began to cry aloud,\nand to ask for help; the slaves and servants ran immediately to know\nwhat was the matter, and I then sent them to bring the best physician,\neven the caliph's, if he could be found. When the medical men came\nthey declared that the stranger had died by the will of God. I then\ngave orders for the funeral.\n\nHis body, attired in the richest vestments, was placed, exposed to\nview, in a coffin of aloe-wood, lined with gold. A cloth of a\nmarvellously fine tissue, which had been manufactured for a Persian\nprince, served for a coverlet. Fifty servants, all dressed in mourning\nattire, bore, in turns, the coffin on their shoulders; and every good\nmussulman who passed by, hastened to lend his assistance, if it were\nonly by a helping hand.\n\nA considerable number of women, hired for the purpose, followed the\nbier, uttering plaintive cries.\n\nThe keepers of the mosque sung sacred verses, and the crowd repeated,\n\"God is God! There is no God but God! He alone is eternal.\" In this\norder, accompanied by numerous friends whom the Arab had made by his\ngenerosity, we proceeded to the cemetery, southward of the city, and\nnear to the gate of Bab-el-Masr (the gate of victory). I gave a purse\nof gold to a skilful architect, with orders to raise a tomb to the\nmemory of my master.\n\nReturning to the palace, it fell to my lot, of course, to preside at\nthe funeral repast. This painful duty was scarcely over, when I saw\nsome officers from the caliph arrive, who were commanded by his order\nto take possession of the wealth contained in the palace, and which\nbelonged to him, as a stranger's heir. I was driven away, and left the\npalace, taking with me, in appearance, nothing but the dress which I\nwore, but, in reality, the owner of an inestimable treasure.\n\nBetaking myself to my house, I resolved to live there an unknown and\npeaceful life, passing the time in the study of the sciences, and only\nusing the red sulphur to impart benefit to others in secret.\n\nA curious and jealous neighbour having ascended the terrace of my\nhouse one evening, and seen me at work, effecting the transmutation of\nthe lead into gold, told my secret to his wife, who repeated it at the\nbath, and next morning all Cairo was acquainted with it.\n\nThe report reached the ears of the caliph, Theilon, who sent for me,\nand told me that he knew I possessed the great secret of knowledge,\nand that if I would share it with him, he would overwhelm me with\nhonours, and associate me with him in rank. I refused to the impious\nman the distinguished favour which God had denied to him. Transported\nwith rage, he caused me to be loaded with chains, and thrown into a\ngloomy dungeon; and being baffled in his attempts to penetrate my\nsecret, he placed the casket and the book under the care of a person\non whose fidelity he could depend, hoping to force the secret from me\nby the sufferings which he made me endure. In this state I have lived\nfor forty years. By my persecutor's orders, I have been made to\nundergo all kinds of privations and tortures, and only knew of his\ndeath by my being relieved from punishment.\n\nThis morning, when kneeling on the ground at my devotions, I put my\nhand on a strange and hard substance. Looking at it, I perceived that\nit was the fatal keys which I had years ago buried under the floor of\nmy dungeon. They were so worn by rust and damp, that they crumbled\ninto powder in my hand, and I then thought that God intended to have\npity upon me, and that my afflictions were about to end, either by\ndeath or the alleviation of my sufferings. A few moments after, your\nofficers came and set me at liberty.\n\n\"Now, O king!\" continued the old man, \"I have lived long enough, since\nI have been permitted to approach the greatest and most upright of\nmonarchs.\"\n\nMohammed, overjoyed at performing an act of justice, thanked Heaven\nfor having sent him such a treasure, and being desirous to prove its\nreality, he caused one thousand hundred-weight of lead to be melted in\nimmense caldrons; and having mixed some of the red powder in the fiery\nmass, and pronounced over it the magical words dictated to him by the\nold man, the base metal was instantly changed into pure gold.\n\nThe caliph, in order to propitiate the favour of Heaven, resolved to\nemploy this treasure in the building of a mosque which should\ntranscend by its magnificence every other in the world. He collected\narchitects from all the neighbouring countries, laid before them the\nplan of a vast edifice, unfettered by the difficulties or expense of\nits execution.\n\nThe architects traced out an immense quadrangle, the sides of which\nfaced the four cardinal points of the heavens. At each corner a tower\nof prodigious height was placed, of admirable proportions; the top of\nthe structure was surrounded with a gallery and crowned with a dome of\ngilt copper. On each side of the edifice one thousand pillars were\nraised, supporting arches of an elegant curve and solid construction,\nand on the arches terraces were laid out with balustrades of gold of\nexquisite workmanship. In the centre of the edifice an immense\npavilion was erected, whose construction was of so light and elegant a\nnature, that one would have thought it reached from earth to heaven.\nThe vault was inlaid with azure-coloured enamel and studded with\ngolden stars. Marbles of the rarest kinds formed the pavement, and the\nwalls consisted of a mosaic formed of jasper, porphyry, agate,\nmother-of-pearl, sapphires, rubies, and other precious stones. The\npillars and arches were covered with arabesques and verses from the\nKoran, carved in relief, and painted. No wood was employed in the\nbuilding of this wonderful edifice, which was therefore fire-proof.\nMohammed spent seven years in erecting this celebrated mosque, and\nexpended on it a sum of two millions of dinars.\n\nAlthough so old, Hassan Abdallah recovered his health and strength,\nand lived to be a hundred years of age, honoured with the esteem and\nthe friendship of the caliph.\n\nThe mosque built by the caliph Mohammed is still to be seen at Cairo,\nand is the largest and the finest of all the mosques of that great\ncity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne day, very shortly after the completion of the mosque, the caliph\nand Hassan Abdallah were absent for three days on a journey. Mohammed\ncommunicated to no one but his first vizir his intention; but on his\nreturn he assembled his whole court, and informed them that the object\nof the expedition had been to bury the casket, with the book and the\npowder, where it was impossible they could ever be discovered. \"I have\ndone,\" added Mohammed, \"what I could to consecrate this wonderful\ntreasure, but I would not trust even myself any longer with so\ndangerous a temptation.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Most of our readers will also recognize in the Story of the\nPrincess Schirine the groundwork of one of Hans Andersen's beautiful\nDanish Tales, \"The Flying Trunk.\"\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nSOLIMAN BEY AND THE THREE STORY-TELLERS.\n\n\nSoliman Bey, passing one day along a street in Cairo, saw three\ncommon-looking men seated at the door of a coffee-house and sipping\ntheir cup of mocha. From their dull and meaningless looks he\nconjectured that they were under the influence of haschich[2]. After\nlooking at them attentively, the bey saluted them, and was pursuing\nhis way, when he suddenly found himself obliged to stop, as a long\ntrain of camels, heavily laden, blocked up the street and prevented\nhim from passing on. The bey, having nothing better to do, amused\nhimself by scrutinizing attentively the eaters of haschich, who were\nold men. A warm discussion seemed to be going on among them; they\nraised their arms, vied with each other who should cry the loudest,\nand made the strangest possible grimaces; but owing to the distance at\nwhich he stood, he was unable to hear what they said. On his return\nhome, being curious to know the subject of their dispute, he sent his\nofficer to beg these three originals to wait upon him.\n\nWhen they arrived, he said to them, \"What were you disputing about, my\nfriends, when I passed you?\"\n\n\"May Allah prolong your days!\" replied one of them; \"we were\ndisputing about which of us it was to whom the salutation belonged\nthat your highness addressed to us, for each of us took that honour to\nhimself.\"\n\nThe bey burst out laughing. \"I greeted,\" he said, after a moment's\nreflection, \"him among you who did the greatest number of foolish\nthings while intoxicated by the haschich.\"\n\n\"It was I, my lord,\" they all at once exclaimed.\n\n\"Stop,\" replied the bey; \"let each of you tell me one of the tricks\nplayed him by the haschich, and the honour of my greeting shall be his\nwho shall have committed the greatest act of folly; and do you begin,\"\nadded the bey, pointing to one of the men.\n\n\nTHE FIRST STORY-TELLER.\n\n\"Be it known to you, my lord,\" said the first story-teller, \"that a\nshort time ago I had in my purse a thousand piastres, which were\nenough for my expenses, and I was contented with my lot. One day,\nhowever, I had been taking a walk, and on my return I sat down to rest\nand chewed a bit of haschich, took my coffee, and lit my pipe; in two\nor three hours my head began to buzz. I went out again and walked\nabout the streets. In front of a coffee-house I noticed some men\ncollected round an _improvisatore_, who was singing and accompanying\nhimself on the timbrel. I sat down in the circle and asked for coffee.\nI lighted my pipe and commenced listening. The improvisatore depicted\na young girl. Oh, how beautiful she was! it was impossible not to love\nher. Compared with her Iyleika[3] was but as a star in the presence of\nthe sun, and Ablia[3] but as the dirt of the street. I was so\ncaptivated by his description of the beautiful girl, that when he\nceased I gave him all the money I had about me.\n\n\"Next day, at the same hour, while the haschich was boiling in my\nbrain, I ran to the coffee-house, where the improvisatore was\ncommencing the continuation of his yesterday's story. He now told how\npaladins and padishahs disputed for the possession of my adorable\nHaridee, and how she disdained their love and refused their offers. I\nbecame more distracted this time than before, and the improvisatore\ngot from me twice as much as he did the day before. I gave him all\nthat I had, even to the last farthing.\n\n\"Next day I never left my little seat at the _cafe_. The improvisatore\nstruck his tambourine this time with more vehemence while singing the\ncharms of the beautiful Haridee. He then began to relate how Haridee\nwas in love with a certain worthless fellow. At this it was impossible\nto tell what I felt; the hydra of jealousy devoured my heart and\npoured a maddening poison through my veins. I became as one deprived\nof all sense and feeling. But stop; the parents have separated the\nlovers and plunged them in an ocean of tears. I again breathed more\nfreely, and emptied my pockets to fill the purse of the improvisatore.\n\n\"Thus were passed many days in succession. The flame of love and the\nstings of jealousy tormented me without ceasing. The haschich did its\npart unremittingly, and threw me at one moment into fire, and at\nanother into ice and snow, hurling me from the height of bliss into\nthe depths of misery. My fortunes fell with me, and I soon became\ntotally destitute. But my thoughts were otherwise taken up than with\neating or drinking; my love for Haridee had become the only source to\nme of life and action. In this way, with empty stomach and purse, I\nwent one day to the _cafe_ after having paid a few paras for a little\nhaschich. I listened--the voice of the improvisatore trembled; in\ntruth he wept, and grief was depicted on his features.\n\n\"'What has happened?' I asked, drawing near to him.\n\n\"'Poor Haridee!' he replied.\n\n\"'What is the matter? What has taken place?' I exclaimed.\n\n\"'She is dead!' he muttered.\n\n\"I wept, I tore my clothes, and fled I scarce knew where. When the\nfirst transports of my despair had subsided, I saw pass before my\neyes, still under the influence of the haschich, the funeral of\nHaridee. The mournful cry of 'There is no God but God, and Mahomet is\nhis prophet,' echoed in my ears, amidst the outcries and the\nlamentations of the women. I ran like a madman from street to street,\nwhile the crowd followed on my path with the coffin of Haridee, and\nthe frightful groans and cries burst forth louder and louder on my\nears. At length, worn out, and sore all over, I fell down in a state\nof complete unconsciousness, and when I came to myself, I perceived\nthat I was at the threshold of my own home. I arose, and endeavoured\nto recal past events, which as they woke up in my memory caused me to\nfeel the utmost surprise. My purse was empty, my heart broken, and the\nblood was flowing down my face, for in my fall I had cut open my head.\nAfter remaining a whole day in the house, I took a small piece of\nhaschich and went to a coffee-house near at hand, where my friend the\nlandlord poured me out a cup of mocha, and gave me a pipe. It was\nthere that I met my two friends, and received from you, my gracious\nlord, a look, and a nod.\"\n\n\"This story is not a bad one,\" replied Soliman Bey, \"but do not too\nhastily take to yourself the honour of my greeting; let me hear first\nwhat the others have to say.\"\n\n\nTHE SECOND STORY-TELLER.\n\n\"Know, my lord,\" replied the second, \"that I was formerly a rich and\nrespected merchant, with a beautiful wife and fine children. My life\nwas like a morning of spring-time--clear, peaceful, and balmy. But\nhaschich has ruined the structure of my happiness, and destroyed it\nfrom the roof to the foundations. One day when I had imbibed a little\nof this fatal poison, I was reclining, after the labours of the day,\non my sofa, sipping from time to time a mouthful of coffee, and\ninhaling a whiff of perfumed _latakia_. My wife was occupied at my\nside in embroidery, and my children were at play in the room, which\nthey made ring again with their shrill voices. At length, my brain\nbecoming overpowered by the vapours of the haschich, the thickening\nfancies began to chase each other in quick succession, and my\nimagination at length became morbidly excited. The cries of my\nchildren seemed insupportable to me. I ordered them several times to\nbe quiet, but the brats, wild with their games and noise, paid no\nattention to me. At last I lost patience, laid hold of my stick, and\nrapped angrily on the floor, ordering them sternly to be quiet. In the\nmidst of this fit of anger, I stopped short, all of a sudden. The\nfloor of my apartment emitted a hollow sound, as if there were a vault\nbeneath it. The haschich suggested to me that there might be hidden\ntreasure down below. 'Oh, oh,' I said to myself, 'I must not be in a\nhurry. If I should discover the treasure in my wife's presence, she\nwill foolishly run and trumpet it about to all our neighbours. What\ngood would that do? Let me consider, then, what I shall do to get her\naway.' Intoxicated as I was, there was no need to deliberate long. I\ndarted from my seat, exclaiming, 'Woman! thou art separated from me by\na triple divorce!'[4]\n\n\"My wife became pale as death. She threw aside her embroidery, and\nrose up.\n\n\"'What is the matter, my dear husband? What has happened? Of what have\nI been guilty?'\n\n\"'Don't say a word! And hasten this moment to leave the house, with\nyour children.'\n\n\"'But pray inform me, my lord and master, when and how I have given\nyou any cause of complaint? We have now lived together twelve years in\nperfect peace and harmony, and never been but on the most affectionate\nterms; tell me.'\n\n\"'No more explanations,' I replied; 'here are a thousand\n_grouches_[5]. Go to your room, and take of the furniture as much as\nyou require, and return to your father's house.'\n\n\"Sadly and sorrowfully she thereupon proceeded to collect her wearing\napparel, uttering mournful cries and lamentations, and taking her\nchildren with her, left the house.\n\n\"'Now!' I exclaimed, with satisfaction, 'now, I am quite alone.'\n\n\"'Silence, Abou-Kalif,' whispered the haschich to me; 'don't be in\nsuch haste. Suppose you find this treasure, who knows but that at the\nfirst meeting of haschich-eaters, you will disclose your discovery to\nall the world. Put yourself to the proof beforehand, by some effectual\nmeans, and thus find out if your tongue have sufficient self-command\nto keep still, and not say one word too much.'\n\n\"Faithful to the voice of my inward monitor, I arose, and taking from\nmy chest the sum of five hundred grouches, went to pay a visit to the\nvali[6].\n\n\"'Here,' said I to him, 'take this money, and give me on the soles of\nmy feet five hundred blows with a leathern thong, and, while laying\nthem on, ask me if I have seen, found, or discovered any thing?'\n\n\"The man was extremely surprised at my request, and refused to comply\nwith it; but the people about him said that my body was my own, and\nthat I was at liberty to dispose of it as I thought proper. 'Take his\nmoney,' they said to him, 'and give him a hearty flogging.'\n\n\"The vali, shrugging his shoulders, gave the signal; I was laid on the\nground, my feet were tied together, and the lash whistled and sung on\nmy bare feet. At each blow, the question I had suggested was asked,\nand I replied in the negative. This system of question and answer went\non till the last blow. Fairly exhausted with the pain, I fell down the\nmoment I attempted to stand up. I therefore crawled along on my knees,\nand reached my ass, on whose back I managed, somehow or other, to\nraise myself, and thus reached my home.\n\n\"A few days' rest having restored me in some measure, I resolved to\nprosecute my search for the hidden treasure. But the haschich, to\nwhich I had not forgotten on that day to pay my usual respects,\nstopped me in my intention. 'O Abou-Kalif,' it muttered in my ear,\n'you have not yet put yourself sufficiently to the proof. Are you now\nin a fit state to resist all attempts to make you disclose your\nsecret? Submit to another trial, my good fellow!' This suggestion was\nall-powerful, and I submitted forthwith. I drew from my strong-box one\nthousand grouches, and went to the aga of the Janissaries. 'Take this\nmoney,' I said to him, 'and give me in exchange for it a thousand\nstripes with a thong on the bare back; asking me between the blows,\nHave you seen any thing? have you found any thing? have you discovered\nany thing?' The aga did not keep me waiting long for a reply,--and\nhaving pocketed the money, bestowed upon me most faithfully the full\ncomplement of the lashes desired.\n\n\"At the conclusion of the whipping my soul seemed hovering on my lips,\nas if about to leave my mutilated body, which was quite prostrated by\nthe infliction. I was obliged to be carried to my ass, and it was many\ndays before I could set my feet to the ground. When I had recovered a\nlittle, I recollected all the details of the strange adventure which\nhad brought upon me the acute anguish that I felt in every part of my\nbody; and the more I reflected on the matter, the more vividly I saw\nthe fatal consequences that would follow from too much confidence in\nthe suggestions inspired by the haschich. I cursed the hateful ideas\nproduced by the vapours of this drug, and promised myself that I would\namend my ways, and repair, as far as possible, my injustice to my\nwife. But at the very moment when this praiseworthy resolution arose\nin my brain and diffused its odours there, like a fresh-opening\nflower, my hand, from the strength of habit, sought for the tin box\nthat lay under my pillow, and drew from it a white particle, which I\nplaced in my mouth, as if to mock all the weak efforts of my will. In\nfact, while my mind was occupied in planning a final rupture with the\nperfidious hempen-seed, my enemy stole in on me like a midnight robber\nby night, imposed his yoke, and overthrew completely all my good\nintentions. Unwittingly I found myself again in the power of the\nenemy. 'Well, Abou-Kalif,' he said, 'arise. The precautions you have\ntaken are sufficiently severe; it is time to set to work, and not\nallow the favourable moment to escape, otherwise you may repent it.'\nIn this manner spake the delusive poison working within me, and I was\nwholly in its power, incapable of resistance. I rose from my bed with\na frightful pain in my back and sides, dragged myself along towards\nthe mysterious flag-stone, and with my heart beating violently, and my\nbrain cloudy and obscured, I set to work to raise the stone, which\nspeedily yielded to my efforts. In a state of the highest excitement,\nI sat down on the edge of the cavern with my legs hanging down into\nit, and my hands leaning on its sides; I scarcely dared to look\ndownwards. The haschich, however, pushed me forwards, and seemed to\npress on my shoulders. My hands at last yielded, and I fell down. O my\nsovereign and master, do not ask where I found myself; enough that I\nfelt myself stifled. The noisome matter into which I had fallen up to\nthe chin, being disturbed and agitated, had emitted exhalations which\nfairly suffocated me. I strove to cry out, but in vain. I fainted, and\nlost all consciousness.\n\n\"Meanwhile, whilst I, pursued by the fatal influence of the haschich,\nhad fallen over the edge of the precipice, where I was now struggling,\nmy disconsolate wife had begged her father to allow her to make\ninquiry respecting me. 'I know,' she said, weeping, 'that a sudden\nattack of madness has seized him, and that the real cause of his\nsending me away, as well as of all the evil that has just befallen us,\nis the haschich. Let no curse fall upon him. No doubt my husband will\nchange his conduct with regard to me, as I cannot reproach myself with\nany thing; I will therefore go and see what has happened to him.'\n'Well, my child, you may go,' replied her father; 'I shall not seek to\nhinder you.' She went, and knocked at the door, but no one replied.\nShe then inquired of the neighbours if Abou-Kalif was at home; they\nsaid they had not seen him leave the house for the last week. On being\ntold this, she had the door burst open, and, followed by a crowd of\nneighbours of both sexes, searched for me for a long time in vain. At\nlast, however, I was discovered, half dead and stifled. They pulled me\nout, cleansed and sweetened me, and attired me in a fresh suit of\nclothes; after which I left the house to breathe the fresh air and\nrecover myself. It was not long, however, before the haschich regained\nits old dominion over me, and led me to the coffee-house, where you\nsaw me, and condescended to honour me with your greeting.\"\n\n\"Not quite so soon,\" exclaimed the bey, holding his sides with\nlaughter; \"your story is also a very good one, but before I award to\nyou the honour of my salutation, I must hear what your other companion\nhas got to say.\"\n\n\nTHE THIRD STORY-TELLER.\n\n\"Sovereign and master,\" commenced the third eater of haschich, \"no\nlonger ago than a week I was so happy and satisfied with my lot, that\nin truth I would not have exchanged it even for your own. I had a\nhouse filled with every comfort, plenty of money, and a wife who was a\nmiracle of beauty. One day this charming better half of myself, after\nhaving passed all the day in the bath, returned from it looking so\nclean, fresh, and rosy, that my head, where the haschich which I had\nbeen taking for the last hour and a half was breeding disorder, became\non fire and was lost. My eyes grew intoxicated with my wife, as if I\nhad then beheld her beauty for the first time, and my heart bounded\nlike the holy waves of the Nile during a storm.\n\n\"'Dear cousin,' I cried, for she was my cousin as well as my wife,\n'how captivating you are to-day! I am over head and ears in love with\nyou again!'\n\n\"At this instant the haschich suggested to me to divorce her\nimmediately in order to contract a new marriage and taste again the\nbliss of a first union. No sooner said than done; I pronounced the\nprescribed phrase, and the next day I celebrated a new marriage with\nher[7]. When the festivities were over, I conducted my relations and\nguests to the door, which, from absence of mind, I had forgotten to\nshut.\n\n\"'Dear cousin,' said my wife to me when we were alone, 'go and shut\nthe street door.'\n\n\"'It would be strange indeed if I did,' I replied. 'Am I just made a\nbridegroom, clothed in silk, wearing a shawl and a dagger set with\ndiamonds, and am I to go and shut the door? Why, my dear, you are\ncrazy; go and shut it yourself!'\n\n\"'Oh indeed!' she exclaimed; 'am I, young, robed in a satin dress,\nwith lace and precious stones, am I to go and shut the court-yard\ndoor? No, indeed, it is you who have become crazy, and not I. Come,\nlet us make a bargain,' she continued; 'and let the first who speaks\nget up and bar the door.'\n\n\"'Agreed,' I replied, and straightway I became mute, and she too was\nsilent, while we both sat down, dressed as we were in our nuptial\nattire, looking at each other, and seated on opposite sofas. We\nremained thus for one--two--hours. During this time thieves happening\nto pass by, and seeing the door open, entered and laid hold of\nwhatever came to their hand. We heard footsteps in the house, but\nopened not our mouths; the robbers came even into our room, and saw us\nseated, motionless and indifferent to all that took place. They\ncontinued therefore their pillage, collecting together every thing\nvaluable, and even dragging away the carpets from beneath us; they\nthen laid hands on our own persons, which they despoiled of every\narticle worth taking, while we, in the fear of losing our wager, said\nnot a word.\n\n\"Having thus cleared the house, the thieves departed quietly, but we\nremained on our seats, saying not a syllable. Towards morning a police\nofficer came round on his tour of inspection, and, seeing our door\nopened, walked in. Having searched all the rooms and found no one, he\nentered the apartment where we were seated, and inquired the meaning\nof what he saw. Neither my wife nor I would condescend to reply. The\nofficer became angry, and ordered our heads to be cut off. The\nexecutioner's sword was just about to perform its office, when my wife\ncried out, 'Sir, he is my husband, spare him!'\n\n\"'Oh, oh!' I exclaimed, overjoyed and clapping my hands, 'you have\nlost the wager; go, shut the door.'\n\n\"I then explained the whole affair to the police officer, who shrugged\nhis shoulders and went away, leaving us in a truly dismal plight.\nImmediately after I went to a coffee-house, where you deigned to\nhonour me with a salutation.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt the conclusion of this story the bey, who was ready to die with\nlaughter, exclaimed, \"This time it is you who are in the right; you\nare truly entitled to my respects.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[2] An intoxicating drug, like opium.\n\n[3] Personages who figure in Arabian legends.\n\n[4] This is the legal form of pronouncing a divorce among the\nMahometans.\n\n[5] A small coin, in circulation in Turkey, about the value of\neighteenpence of our money. It is probably from the same root as the\nGerman _groschen_.\n\n[6] The public executioner.\n\n[7] The Mahometans may immediately take back the woman whom they had\ndivorced, but a fresh marriage ceremony must take place.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.\n\n\nPrince Khalaf was the son of an aged khan of the Nagaei-Tartars. The\nhistory of his time makes honourable mention of his name. It relates\nthat he surpassed all the princes of the age in beauty, in wisdom, and\nin valour; that he was as learned as the greatest doctors of his age;\nthat he could fathom the deepest mysteries of the commentaries on the\nKoran; and that he knew by heart the sayings of the prophet: it speaks\nof him, in short, as the hero of Asia and the wonder of the East.\n\nThis prince was the soul of the councils of his father Timurtasch.\nWhen he gave advice, the most accomplished statesmen approved it, and\ncould not sufficiently admire his prudence and wisdom. If, moreover,\nit were necessary to take up arms, he was immediately seen at the head\nof the troops of the state, seeking out the enemy, engaging them and\nvanquishing them. He had already won several victories, and the Nagaeis\nhad rendered themselves so formidable by their repeated successes,\nthat the neighbouring nations did not venture to quarrel with them.\n\nSuch was the prosperous state of affairs in the khan's dominions, when\nan ambassador from the sultan of Carisma arrived at the court of\nTimurtasch, and demanded in the name of his master that the Nagaeis\nshould henceforth pay him a yearly tribute; he added that in default\nhe would come in person, with an overwhelming force, and compel them\nto submit, at the same time depriving their sovereign of his crown as\na punishment for his refusal. On hearing this arrogant message, the\nkhan immediately assembled his council in order to decide whether to\npay the tribute rather than risk a war with so powerful an enemy, or\nwhether to treat his menaces with contempt and prepare to repel the\ninvaders. Khalaf, with the majority of the council, were of the latter\nopinion, and the ambassador being dismissed with a refusal, took his\ndeparture for Carisma.\n\nThe khan lost no time in sending deputies to the neighbouring nations,\nin order to represent to them that it was to their interest to unite\nwith him against the sultan of Carisma, whose ambition now exceeded\nall bounds, and who would undoubtedly exact the same tribute from them\nif he should succeed in conquering the Nagaeis. The deputies succeeded\nin these negotiations; the neighbouring nations and tribes, and\namongst them the Circassians, engaged to join in the proposed\nconfederation, and to furnish among them a quota of fifty thousand\nmen. On this promise, the khan proceeded to raise fresh troops, in\naddition to the army which he already had on foot.\n\nWhile the Nagaeis were making these preparations, the sultan of Carisma\nassembled an army of two hundred thousand men, and crossed the\nJaxartes at Cogende. He marched through the countries of Ilac and\nSaganac, where he found abundance of provisions; and had advanced as\nfar as Jund, before the army of the khan, commanded by prince Khalaf,\nwas able to take the field, in consequence of the Circassians and the\nother auxiliary troops not having been able sooner to join him. As\nsoon as these succours arrived, Khalaf marched direct towards Jund,\nbut he had scarcely passed Jenge Kemt, when his scouts informed him\nthat the enemy was close at hand, and was advancing to attack him. The\nyoung prince immediately ordered his troops to halt, and proceeded to\narrange them in order of battle.\n\nThe two armies were nearly equal in numbers, and the men who composed\nthem equally courageous. The battle which ensued was bloody and\nobstinate. The sultan did all that a warrior skilled in the conduct of\narmies could do; and the prince Khalaf, on his side, more than could\nbe expected from so young a general. At one time the Nagaei-Tartars had\nthe advantage, at another they were obliged to yield to the\nCarismians; at last both parties, alternately victors and vanquished,\nwere obliged by the approach of night to sound a retreat. The combat\nwas to have recommenced in the morning; but, in the mean time, the\nleader of the Circassians went secretly to the sultan, and offered to\nabandon the cause of the Nagaeis, provided the sultan would pledge\nhimself, on oath, never to exact tribute from the Circassians upon any\npretence whatever. The sultan having consented, the treaty was\nconfirmed, and the Circassian leader, instead of occupying his place\nnext day in the army of the khan, detached his troops from the Nagaeis,\nand took the road back to his own country.\n\nThis treachery was a terrible blow to prince Khalaf, who, seeing\nhimself now much weakened in numbers, would have withdrawn for the\ntime from the conflict; but there was no possibility of retreat. The\nCarismians advanced furiously to the charge, and taking advantage of\nthe ground which allowed them to extend their lines, they surrounded\nthe Nagaeis on all sides. The latter, notwithstanding that they had\nbeen deserted by their best auxiliaries, did not lose their courage.\nAnimated by the example of their prince, they closed their ranks, and\nfor a long time firmly sustained the terrible onset of their enemies.\nAt last, however, resistance became hopeless, and Khalaf, seeing all\nhope at an end, thought of nothing but his escape, which he\nfortunately succeeded in effecting. The moment the sultan was apprised\nof his flight, he sent six thousand horsemen to endeavour to capture\nhim, but he eluded their pursuit, by taking roads that were unknown to\nthem; and after a few days' hard riding through unfrequented and\nunknown tracts, arrived at his father's court, where he spread sorrow\nand consternation, by the disastrous tidings he brought.\n\nIf this piece of news deeply afflicted Timurtasch, the intelligence he\nnext received drove him to despair. An officer who had escaped from\nthe battle, brought word that the sultan of Carisma had put to the\nsword nearly all the Nagaeis, and that he was advancing with all\npossible speed, fully resolved to put the whole family of the khan to\ndeath, and to absorb the nation into his own kingdom. The khan then\nrepented of having refused to pay the tribute, but he fully recognized\nthe force of the Arab proverb, \"When the city is in ruins, what is the\nuse of repentance?\" As time pressed, and it was necessary to fly, for\nfear of falling into the hands of the sultan, the khan, the princess\nElmaze (diamond), his wife, and Khalaf, made a selection of all their\nmost precious treasures, and departed from the capital, Astracan,\naccompanied by several officers of the palace, who refused to abandon\nthem in their need, as well as by such of the troops as had cut their\nway through the ranks of their enemies with the young prince.\n\nThey directed their march towards Bulgaria; their object being to beg\nan asylum at the court of some sovereign prince. They had now been\nseveral days on their journey, and had gained the Caucasus, when a\nswarm of some four thousand suddenly poured down upon them from that\nrange. Although Khalaf had scarcely a hundred men with him, he\nsteadily received the furious attack of the robbers, of whom numbers\nfell; his troops, however, were by degrees overpowered and\nslaughtered, and he himself remained in the power of the bandits, some\nof whom fell upon the spoil, whilst others butchered the followers of\nthe khan. They only spared the lives of that prince, his wife, and\nhis son, leaving them, however, almost naked in the midst of the\nmountains.\n\nIt is impossible to describe the grief of Timurtasch when he saw\nhimself reduced to this extremity. He envied the fate of those whom he\nhad seen slain before his eyes, and giving way to despair, sought to\ndestroy himself. The princess burst into tears, and made the air\nresound with her lamentations and groans. Khalaf alone had strength to\nsupport the weight of their misfortunes; he was possessed of an\nindomitable courage. The bitter lamentations which the khan and his\nwife uttered were his greatest trouble. \"Oh, my father! Oh, my\nmother!\" said he, \"do not succumb to your misfortunes. Remember that\nit is God who wills that you should be thus wretched. Let us submit\nourselves without a murmur to his absolute decrees. Are we the first\nprinces whom the rod of justice has struck? How many rulers before us\nhave been driven from their kingdoms, and after wandering about for\nyears in foreign lands, sharing the lot of the most abject of mortals,\nhave been in the end restored to their thrones! If God has the power\nto pluck off crowns, has He not also the power to restore them? Let us\nhope that He will commiserate our misery, and that He will in time\nchange into prosperity the deplorable condition in which we now are.\"\n\n[Illustration: Prince Khalaf holding back his father, p. 63.]\n\nWith such arguments he endeavoured to console his father and mother,\nand to some extent succeeded; they experienced a secret consolation,\nand at last allowed themselves to take comfort. \"So be it, my son,\"\nsaid the khan, \"let us bow to Providence; and since these evils which\nencompass us are written in the book of fate, let us endure them\nwithout repining.\" At these words the royal party made up their minds\nto be firm under their misfortunes, and proceeded to continue their\njourney on foot, the robbers having taken their horses. They wandered\non for a long time, living upon the fruits they found in the valleys;\nbut at length they entered upon a desert, where the earth yielded\nnothing upon which they could subsist, and now their courage deserted\nthem. The khan, far advanced in years, began to feel his strength fail\nhim; and the princess, worn out with the fatigue of the journey she\nhad made, could scarcely hold out any longer. In this predicament,\nKhalaf, although wofully tired himself, had no resource but to carry\nthem by turns on his shoulders. At last all three, overwhelmed by\nhunger, thirst, and weariness, arrived at a spot abounding with\nfrightful precipices. It was a hill, very steep, and intersected with\ndeep chasms, forming what appeared to be dangerous passes. Through\nthese, however, seemed to be the only way by which to enter upon the\nvast plain which stretched out beyond; for both sides of the hill were\nso encumbered with brambles and thorns, that it was impossible to\nforce a way through. When the princess perceived the chasms, she\nuttered a piercing cry, and the khan at length lost his patience. He\nrushed furiously forward. \"I can bear this no longer,\" said he to his\nson; \"I yield to my hard destiny; I succumb to so much suffering. I\nwill throw myself headlong into one of these deep gulfs, which,\ndoubtless, Heaven has reserved for my tomb. I will escape the tyranny\nof wickedness. I prefer death to such a miserable existence.\"\n\nThe khan, yielding himself up to the frenzy which had taken possession\nof him, was on the point of throwing himself down one of the\nprecipices, when prince Khalaf seized him in his arms and held him\nback. \"Oh, my father!\" said he, \"what are you doing? Why give way to\nthis transport of fury? Is it thus that you show the submission you\nowe to the decrees of Heaven? Calm yourself. Instead of displaying a\nrebellious impatience of its will, let us endeavour to deserve by our\nconstancy its compassion and favour. I confess that we are in a\ndeplorable state, and that we can scarcely take a step without danger\namidst these abysses; but there may be another road by which we can\nenter the plain: let me go and see if I can find one. In the mean\ntime, my lord, calm the violence of your transports, and remain near\nthe princess; I will return immediately.\"\n\n\"Go, then, my son,\" replied the khan, \"we will await you here; do not\nfear that I will any longer give way to despair.\"\n\nThe young prince traversed the whole hill without being able to\ndiscover any path. He was oppressed with the deepest grief; he threw\nhimself on the ground, sighed, and implored the help of Heaven. He\nrose up, and again searched for some track that would conduct them to\nthe plain. At length he found one. He followed it, returning thanks to\nHeaven for the discovery, and advanced to the foot of a tree which\nstood at the entrance of the plain, and which covered with its shade a\nfountain of pure transparent water. He also perceived other trees\nladen with fruit of an extraordinary size. Delighted with this\ndiscovery, he ran to inform his father and mother, who received the\nnews with the greater joy, since they now began to hope that Heaven\nhad begun to compassionate their misery.\n\nKhalaf conducted them to the fountain, where all three bathed their\nfaces and their hands and quenched the burning thirst which consumed\nthem. They then ate of the fruits which the young prince gathered for\nthem, and which, in their state of exhaustion from want of food,\nappeared to them delicious. \"My lord,\" said Khalaf to his father, \"you\nsee the injustice of your complaints. You imagined that Heaven had\nforsaken us; I implored its succour, and it has succoured us. It is\nnot deaf to the voice of the unfortunate who put their whole trust in\nits mercy.\"\n\nThey remained near the fountain two or three days to repose and\nrecruit their wasted strength. After that they collected as much of\nthe fruit as they could carry, and advanced into the plain, hoping to\nfind their way to some inhabited place. They were not deceived in\ntheir expectations; they soon perceived before them a town which\nappeared large and splendidly built. They made their way to it, and\nhaving arrived at the gates, resolved to remain there and wait for\nnight, not wishing to enter the town during the day, covered with dust\nand perspiration, and with what little clothing the robbers had left\nthem, travel-worn and rent with brambles. They selected a tree which\ncast a delicious shade, and stretched themselves upon the grass at its\nfoot. They had reposed there some time, when an old man came out of\nthe town and directed his steps to the same place, to enjoy the cool\nshade. He sat down near them after making them a profound obeisance.\nThey in turn saluted him, and then inquired what was the name of the\ntown. \"It is called Jaic,\" replied the old man. \"The king,\nIleuge-Khan, makes it his residence. It is the capital of the country,\nand derives its name from the river which flows through it. You must\nbe strangers since you ask me that question.\" \"Yes,\" replied the khan,\n\"we come from a country very far from here. We were born in the\nkingdom of Chrisnia, and we dwell upon the banks of the Caspian Sea;\nwe are merchants. We were travelling with a number of other merchants\nin Captchak; a large band of robbers attacked our caravan and pillaged\nus; they spared our lives, but have left us in the situation in which\nyou see us. We have traversed mount Caucasus, and found our way here\nwithout knowing where we were directing our steps.\"\n\nThe old man, who had a compassionate heart for the distress of his\nneighbour, expressed his sympathy for their misfortunes, and, to\nassure them of his sincerity, offered them shelter in his house. He\nmade the offer with such cordiality, that, even if they had not needed\nit, they would have felt some difficulty in refusing.\n\nAs soon as night set in he conducted them to his home. It was a small\nhouse, very plainly furnished; but every thing was neat, and wore the\nappearance rather of simplicity than of poverty. As the old man\nentered he gave some orders in an undertone to one of his slaves, who\nreturned in a short time followed by two boys, one of whom carried a\nlarge bundle of men's and women's clothes ready made, the other was\nladen with all sorts of veils, turbans, and girdles. Prince Khalaf and\nhis father each took a caftan of cloth and a brocaded dress with a\nturban of Indian muslin, and the princess a complete suit. After this\ntheir host gave the boys the price of the clothes, sent them away, and\nordered supper. Two slaves brought the table and placed upon it a tray\ncovered with dishes of china, sandal, and aloe-wood, and several cups\nof coral perfumed with ambergris. They then served up a repast,\ndelicate, yet without profusion. The old man endeavoured to raise the\nspirits of his guests; but perceiving that his endeavours were vain,\n\"I see clearly,\" said he, \"that the remembrance of your misfortunes is\never present to your minds. You must learn how to console yourselves\nfor the loss of the goods of which the robbers have plundered you.\nTravellers and merchants often experience similar mishaps. I was\nmyself once robbed on the road from Moussul to Bagdad. I nearly lost\nmy life on that occasion, and I was reduced to the miserable condition\nin which I found you. If you please I will relate my history; the\nrecital of my misfortunes may encourage you to support yours.\" Saying\nthis, the good old man ordered his slaves to retire, and spoke as\nfollows.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF PRINCE AL ABBAS.\n\nI am the son of the king of Moussul, the great Ben-Ortoc. As soon as I\nhad reached my twentieth year, my father permitted me to make a\njourney to Bagdad; and, to support the rank of a king's son in that\ngreat city, he ordered a splendid suite to attend me. He opened his\ntreasures and took out for me four camel-loads of gold; he appointed\nofficers of his own household to wait upon me, and a hundred soldiers\nof his guard to form my escort.\n\nI took my departure from Moussul with this numerous retinue in order\nto travel to Bagdad. Nothing happened the first few days; but one\nnight, whilst we were quietly reposing in a meadow where we had\nencamped, we were suddenly attacked so furiously by an overwhelming\nbody of Bedouin Arabs, that the greater part of my people were\nmassacred almost before I was aware of the danger. After the first\nconfusion I put myself at the head of such of the guards and officers\nof my father's household as had escaped the first onslaught, and\ncharged the Bedouins. Such was the vigour of our attack, that more\nthan three hundred fell under our blows. As the day dawned, the\nrobbers, who were still sufficiently numerous to surround us on all\nsides, seeing our insignificant numbers, and ashamed and irritated by\nthe obstinate resistance of such a handful of men, redoubled their\nefforts. It was in vain that we fought with the fury of desperation;\nthey overpowered us; and at length we were forced to yield to\nnumbers.\n\nThey seized our arms and stripped off our clothes, and then, instead\nof reserving us for slaves, or letting us depart, as people already\nsufficiently wretched, in the state to which we were reduced, they\nresolved to revenge the deaths of their comrades; and were cowards and\nbarbarians enough to slaughter the whole of their defenceless\nprisoners. All my people perished; and the same fate was on the point\nof being inflicted on me, when making myself known to the robbers,\n\"Stay, rash men,\" I exclaimed, \"respect the blood of kings. I am\nprince Al Abbas, only son of Ben-Ortoc, king of Moussul, and heir to\nhis throne.\" \"I am glad to learn who thou art,\" replied the chief of\nthe Bedouins. \"We have hated thy father mortally these many years; he\nhas hanged several of our comrades who fell into his hands; thou shalt\nbe treated after the same manner.\"\n\nThereupon they bound me; and the villains, after first sharing among\nthem all my baggage, carried me along with them to the foot of a\nmountain between two forests, where a great number of small grey tents\nwere pitched. Here was their well-concealed camping ground. They\nplaced me under the chief's tent, which was both loftier and larger\nthan the rest. Here I was kept a whole day, after which they led me\nforth and bound me to a tree, where, awaiting the lingering death that\nwas to put an end to my existence, I had to endure the mortification\nof finding myself surrounded by the whole gang, insulted with bitter\ntaunts, and every feeling miserably outraged.\n\nI had been tied to the tree for some considerable time, and the last\nmoments of my life appeared fast approaching, when a scout came\ngalloping in to inform the chief of the Bedouins that a splendid\nchance offered itself seven leagues from thence; that a large caravan\nwas to encamp the next evening in a certain spot, which he named. The\nchief instantly ordered his companions to prepare for the expedition;\nthis was accomplished in a very short time. They all mounted their\nhorses, and left me in their camp, not doubting but at their return\nthey would find me a corpse. But Heaven, which renders useless all the\nresolves of men which do not agree with its eternal decrees, would not\nsuffer me to perish so young. The wife of the robber chief had, it\nseems, taken pity on me; she managed to creep stealthily, during the\nnight, to the tree where I was bound, and said to me, \"Young man, I am\ntouched by thy misfortune, and I would willingly release thee from the\ndangers that surround thee; but, if I were to unbind thee, dost thou\nthink that thou hast strength enough left to escape.\" I replied, \"The\nsame good God who has inspired thee with these charitable feelings\nwill give me strength to walk.\" The woman loosed my cords, gave me an\nold caftan of her husband's, and showing me the road, \"Take that\ndirection,\" said she, \"and thou wilt speedily arrive at an inhabited\nplace.\" I thanked my kind benefactress, and walked all that night\nwithout deviating from the road she had pointed out.\n\nThe next day, I perceived a man on foot, who was driving before him a\nhorse, laden with two large packages. I joined him, and, after telling\nhim that I was an unfortunate stranger, who did not know the country,\nand had missed my way, I inquired of him where he was going. \"I am\ngoing,\" replied he, \"to sell my merchandise at Bagdad, and I hope to\narrive there in two days.\" I accompanied this man, and only left him\nwhen I entered that great city; he went about his business, and I\nretired to a mosque, where I remained two days and two nights. I had\nno desire to go forth into the streets; I was afraid of meeting\npersons from Moussul, who might recognize me. So great was my shame at\nfinding myself in this plight, that far from thinking of making my\ncondition known, I wished to conceal it, even from myself. Hunger at\nlength overcame my shame, or rather I was obliged to yield to that\nnecessity which brooks no refusal. I resolved to beg my bread, until\nsome better prospect presented itself. I stood before the lower\nwindow of a large house, and solicited alms with a loud voice. An old\nfemale slave appeared almost immediately, with a loaf in her hand,\nwhich she held out to me. As I advanced to take it, the wind by chance\nraised the curtain of the window, and allowed me to catch a glimpse of\nthe interior of the chamber; there I saw a young lady of surpassing\nbeauty; her loveliness burst upon my vision like a flash of lightning.\nI was completely dazzled. I received the bread without thinking what I\nwas about, and stood motionless before the old slave, instead of\nthanking her, as I ought to have done.\n\nI was so surprised, so confused, and so violently enamoured, that\ndoubtless she took me for a madman; she disappeared, leaving me in the\nstreet, gazing intently, though fruitlessly, at the window, for the\nwind did not again raise the curtain. I passed the whole day awaiting\na second favourable breeze. Not until I perceived night coming on,\ncould I make up my mind to think of retiring; but before quitting the\nhouse, I asked an old man, who was passing, if he knew to whom it\nbelonged. \"It is,\" replied he, \"the house of Mouaffac, the son of\nAdbane; he is a man of rank, and, moreover, a rich man and a man of\nhonour. It is not long since he was the governor of the city, but he\nquarrelled with the cadi, who found means of ruining him in the\nestimation of the caliph, and thereby caused him to lose his\nappointment.\"\n\nWith my thoughts fully taken up by this adventure, I slowly wandered\nout of the city, and entering the great cemetery determined to pass\nthe night there. I ate my bread without appetite, although my long\nfast ought to have given me a good one, and then lay down near a tomb,\nwith my head resting on a pile of bricks. It was with difficulty that\nI composed myself to sleep: the daughter of Mouaffac had made too deep\nan impression upon me; the remembrance of her loveliness excited my\nimagination too vividly, and the little food I had eaten was not\nenough to cause the usual tendency to a refreshing sleep. At length,\nhowever, I dozed off, in spite of the ideas that filled my\nimagination; but my sleep was not destined to be of long duration; a\nloud noise within the tomb soon awoke me.\n\nAlarmed at the disturbance, the cause of which I did not stay to\nascertain, I started up, with the intention of flying from the\ncemetery, when two men, who were standing at the entrance of the tomb,\nperceiving me, stopped me, and demanded who I was, and what I was\ndoing there. \"I am,\" I replied, \"an unfortunate stranger, whom\nmisfortune has reduced to live upon the bounty of the charitable, and\nI came here to pass the night, as I have no place to go to in the\ntown.\" \"Since thou art a beggar,\" said one of them, \"thank Heaven that\nthou hast met with us; we will furnish thee with an excellent supper.\"\nSo saying, they dragged me into the tomb, where four of their comrades\nwere eating large radishes and dates, and washing them down with\ncopious draughts of raki.\n\nThey made me sit near them, at a long stone that served as a table,\nand I was obliged to eat and drink, for politeness' sake. I suspected\nthem to be what they really were, that is to say, thieves, and they\nsoon confirmed my suspicions by their discourse. They began to speak\nof a considerable theft they had just committed, and thought that it\nwould afford me infinite pleasure to become one of their gang; they\nmade me the offer, which threw me into great perplexity. You may\nimagine that I had no desire to associate myself with such fellows,\nbut I was fearful of irritating them by a refusal. I was embarrassed,\nand at a loss for a reply, when a sudden event freed me from my\ntrouble. The lieutenant of the cadi, followed by twenty or thirty\n_asas_ (archers) well armed, entered the tomb, seized the robbers and\nme, and took us all off to prison, where we passed the remainder of\nthe night. The following day, the cadi came and interrogated the\nprisoners. The thieves confessed their crime, as they saw there was no\nuse in denying it; for myself, I related to the judge how I had met\nwith them, and, as they corroborated my statement, I was put on one\nside. The cadi wished to speak to me in private, before he set me\nfree. Accordingly, he presently came over to me, and asked what took\nme into the cemetery where I was caught, and how I spent my time in\nBagdad. In fact, he asked me a thousand questions, all of which I\nanswered with great candour, only concealing the royalty of my birth.\nI recounted to him all that had happened to me, and I even told him of\nmy having stopped before the window of Mouaffac's house to beg, and of\nmy having seen, by chance, a young lady who had charmed me.\n\nAt the name of Mouaffac I noticed the eyes of the cadi sparkle, with a\ncurious expression. He remained a few moments immersed in thought;\nthen, assuming a joyous countenance, he said, \"Young man, it depends\nonly on thyself to possess the lady thou sawest yesterday. It was\ndoubtless Mouaffac's daughter; for I have been informed that he has a\ndaughter of exquisite beauty. Though thou wert the most abject of\nbeings, I would find means for thee to possess the object of thine\nardent wishes. Thou hast but to leave it to me, and I will make thy\nfortune.\"\n\nI thanked him, without being able to penetrate his designs, and then\nby his orders followed the aga of his black eunuchs, who released me\nfrom the prison, and took me to the bath.\n\nWhilst I was there, the judge sent two of his _tchaous_ (guards) to\nMouaffac's house, with a message that the cadi wished to speak to him\nupon business of the greatest importance. Mouaffac accompanied the\nguards back. As soon as the cadi saw him coming he went forward to\nmeet him, saluted him, and kissed him several times. Mouaffac was in\namazement at this reception.\n\n\"Ho! ho!\" said he to himself, \"how is this, that the cadi, my greatest\nenemy, is become so civil to me to-day? There is something at the\nbottom of all this.\"\n\n\"Friend Mouaffac,\" said the judge, \"Heaven will not suffer us to be\nenemies any longer. It has furnished us with an opportunity of\nextinguishing that hatred which has separated our families for so many\nyears. The prince of Bozrah arrived here last night. He left Bozrah\nwithout taking leave of his father the king. He has heard of your\ndaughter; and from the description of her beauty which he has\nreceived, he has become so enamoured of her, that he is resolved to\nask her in marriage. He wishes me to arrange the marriage,--a task\nwhich is the more agreeable to me, as it will be the means of\nreconciling us.\"\n\n\"I am astounded,\" replied Mouaffac, \"that the prince of Bozrah should\nhave condescended to confer upon me the honour of marrying my\ndaughter; and that you of all men should be the chosen means of\ncommunicating this happiness to me, as you have always shown yourself\nso anxious to injure me.\"\n\n\"Let us not speak of the past, friend Mouaffac,\" returned the cadi;\n\"pray let all recollection of what we have done to annoy each other be\nobliterated in our happiness at the splendid connexion which is to\nunite your daughter with the prince of Bozrah; let us pass the\nremainder of our days in good fellowship.\"\n\nMouaffac was naturally as good and confiding as the cadi was crafty\nand bad: he allowed himself to be deceived by the false expressions of\nfriendship that his enemy displayed. He stifled his hatred in a\nmoment, and received without distrust the perfidious caresses of the\ncadi. They were in the act of embracing each other, and pledging an\ninviolable friendship, when I entered the room, conducted by the aga.\nThis officer, on my coming out of the bath, had clothed me with a\nbeautiful dress, which he had ready, and a turban of Indian muslin,\nwith a gold fringe that hung down to my ear, and altogether my\nappearance was such as fully to bear out the statements of the cadi.\n\n\"Great prince,\" said the cadi as soon as he perceived me, \"blessed be\nyour feet, and your arrival in Bagdad, since it has pleased you to\ntake up your abode with me. What tongue can express to you the\ngratitude I feel for so great an honour? Here is Mouaffac, whom I have\ninformed of the object of your visit to this city. He consents to give\nyou in marriage his daughter, who is as beautiful as a star.\"\n\nMouaffac then made me a profound obeisance, saying, \"O son of the\nmighty, I am overwhelmed with the honour you are willing to confer\nupon my daughter; she would esteem herself sufficiently honoured in\nbeing made a slave to one of the princesses of your harem.\"\n\nJudge of the astonishment that this discourse caused me. I knew not\nwhat to answer. I saluted Mouaffac without speaking; but the cadi,\nperceiving my embarrassment, and fearing lest I should make some reply\nwhich would destroy his plot, instantly took up the conversation.\n\n\"I venture to submit,\" said he, \"that the sooner the marriage contract\nis made in presence of the proper witnesses the better.\" So saying, he\nordered his aga to go for the witnesses, and in the mean time drew up\nthe contract himself.\n\nWhen the aga arrived with the witnesses, the contract was read before\nthem. I signed it, then Mouaffac, and then the cadi, who attached his\nsignature the last. The judge then dismissed the witnesses, and\nturning to Mouaffac said, \"You know that with great people these\naffairs are not managed as with persons of humble rank. Besides, in\nthis case you readily perceive that silence and despatch are\nnecessary. Conduct this prince, then, to your house, for he is now\nyour son-in-law; give speedy orders for the consummation of the\nmarriage, and take care that every thing is arranged as becomes his\nexalted rank.\"\n\nI left the cadi's house with Mouaffac. We found two mules richly\ncaparisoned awaiting us at the door; the judge insisted upon our\nmounting them with great ceremony. Mouaffac conducted me to his house;\nand when we were in the court-yard dismounted first, and with a\nrespectful air presented himself to hold my stirrup,--a ceremony to\nwhich of course I was obliged to submit. He then took me by the hand\nand conducted me to his daughter, with whom he left me alone, after\ninforming her of what had passed at the cadi's.\n\nZemroude, persuaded that her father had espoused her to a prince of\nBozrah, received me as a husband who would one day place her upon the\nthrone,--and I, the happiest of men, passed the day at her feet,\nstriving by tender and conciliating manners to inspire her with love\nfor me. I soon perceived that my pains were not bestowed in vain, and\nthat my youth and ardent affection produced a favourable impression\nupon her. With what rapture did this discovery fill me! I redoubled my\nefforts, and I had the gratification of remarking that each moment I\nmade advances in her esteem.\n\nIn the mean time Mouaffac had prepared a splendid repast to celebrate\nhis daughter's nuptials, at which several members of his family were\npresent. The bride appeared there more brilliant and more beautiful\nthan the houris. The sentiments with which I had already inspired her,\nseemed to add new lustre to her beauty.\n\nThe next morning I heard a knock at my chamber-door; I got up and\nopened it. There stood the black aga of the cadi carrying a large\nbundle of clothes. I thought that perhaps the cadi had sent robes of\nhonour to my wife and myself, but I was deceived.\n\n\"Sir adventurer,\" said the negro in a bantering tone, \"the cadi sends\nhis salutations, and begs you to return the dress he lent you\nyesterday to play the part of the prince of Bozrah in. I have brought\nyou back your own old garment, and the rest of the tatters, which are\nmore suited to your station than the other.\"\n\nI was astounded at the application; my eyes were opened, and I saw\nthrough the whole malicious scheme of the cadi. However, making a\nvirtue of necessity, I gravely restored to the aga the robe and turban\nof his master, and retook my own old caftan, which was a mass of rags.\nZemroude had heard part of the conversation; and seeing me covered\nwith rags, \"O heavens!\" she exclaimed, \"what is the meaning of this\nchange, and what has that man been saying to you?\"\n\n\"My princess,\" I replied, \"the cadi is a great rascal, but he is the\ndupe of his own malice. He thinks he has given you a beggar for a\nhusband, a man born in the lowest grade, but you are, indeed, the wife\nof a prince, and my rank is in no way inferior to that of the husband,\nwhose hand you fancy you have received. I am to the full the equal of\nthe prince of Bozrah, for I am the only son of the king of Moussul,\nand am heir to the kingdom of the great Ben-Ortoc; my name is Al\nAbbas.\" I then related my history to her, without suppressing the\nleast circumstance. When I had finished the recital,\n\n\"My prince,\" said she, \"even were you not the son of a great king, I\nshould love you none the less; and, believe me, that if I am overjoyed\nto learn the circumstance of your exalted birth, it is but out of\nregard to my father, who is more dazzled by the honours of the world\nthan I; my only ambition is to possess a husband who will love me\nalone, and not grieve me by giving me rivals.\"\n\nI did not fail to protest that I would love her, and her alone, all my\nlife, with which assurance she appeared delighted. She then summoned\none of her women, and ordered her to proceed with all speed and\nsecrecy to a merchant's, and buy a dress, ready made, of the richest\nmaterials that could be procured. The slave who was charged with this\ncommission acquitted herself in the most satisfactory manner. She\nreturned speedily, bringing a magnificent dress and robe, and a turban\nof Indian muslin as handsome, even handsomer, than what I had worn the\nprevious day, so that I found myself even more gorgeously dressed than\non the occasion of my first interview with my father-in-law. \"Well, my\nlord,\" said Zemroude, \"do you think the cadi has much reason to be\nsatisfied with his work? He thought to heap reproaches on my family,\nand he has bestowed upon it an imperishable honour. He thinks that we\nare now overwhelmed with shame. What will be his grief when he knows\nthat he has conferred such a benefit upon his enemy? But before he is\nmade aware of your birth, we must invent some means of punishing him\nfor his wicked designs against us. I will take that task upon me.\nThere is in this city a dyer, who has a daughter most frightfully\nugly. I will not tell you further,\" she continued, checking herself.\n\"I will not deprive you of the pleasure of the surprise. I shall only\nlet you know that I have conceived a project which will drive the cadi\nnearly mad, and make him the laughingstock of the court and the city.\"\n\nShe then dressed herself in plain clothes, and covering her face with\na thick veil, asked my permission to go out, which I granted her. She\nwent alone, repaired to the cadi's house, and placed herself in one\ncorner of the hall, where the judge gave audience.\n\nHe no sooner cast his eyes upon her, than he was struck with her\nmajestic figure; he sent an officer to ask who she was, and what she\ndesired. She answered that she was the daughter of an artisan in the\ntown, and that she wished to speak to the cadi on important private\nbusiness. The officer having borne her answer to the cadi, the judge\nmade a sign to Zemroude to approach, and enter his private apartment,\nwhich was on one side of the court; she complied, making a low\nobeisance. When she entered the cadi's private apartment, she took her\nseat upon the sofa, and raised her veil. The cadi had followed her,\nand as he seated himself near her, was astonished at her beauty.\n\n\"Well! my dear child,\" said he, patronizingly, \"of what service can I\nbe to you?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" she replied, \"you, who have the power to make the laws\nobeyed, who dispense justice to rich and poor alike, listen, I pray\nyou, to my complaint, and pity the unfortunate situation in which I am\nplaced.\"\n\n\"Explain yourself,\" replied the judge, already moved, \"and I swear by\nmy head and my eyes that I will do every thing that is possible, ay,\nand impossible, to serve you.\"\n\n\"Know then, my lord,\" replied Zemroude, \"that, notwithstanding the\nattractions which Heaven has bestowed upon me, I live in solitude and\nobscurity in a house, forbidden not only to men, but even to women, so\nthat even the conversation of my own sex is denied me. Not that\nadvantageous proposals were at one time wanting for my hand; I should\nhave been married long ago, if my father had not had the cruelty to\nrefuse me to all who have asked me in marriage. To one he says, I am\nas withered as a dead tree; to another, that I am bloated with\nunnatural fat; to this one, that I am lame, and have lost the use of\nmy hands; to that one, that I have lost my senses, that I have a\ncancer on my back, that I am dropsical; in fact, he wishes to make me\nout a creature not worthy the society of human beings, and has so\ndecried me, that he has at length succeeded in making me the reproach\nof the human race; nobody inquires about me now, and I am condemned to\nperpetual celibacy.\"\n\nWhen she ceased speaking she pretended to weep, and played her part so\nwell that the judge allowed himself to be deceived.\n\n\"What can be the reason, my angel,\" said he, \"that your father\nprevents your marrying? What can his motive be?\"\n\n\"I know not, my lord,\" replied Zemroude; \"I cannot conceive what his\nintentions can be; but I confess my patience is exhausted. I can no\nlonger live in this state. I have found means to leave home, and I\nhave escaped to throw myself into your arms, and to implore your help;\ntake pity on me, I implore you, and interpose your authority, that\njustice may be done to me, otherwise I will not answer for my life.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" replied he, \"you shall not die, neither shall you waste your\nyouth in tears and sighs. It only remains with yourself to quit the\ndarkness in which your perfections are buried, and to become this very\nday the wife of the cadi of Bagdad. Yes, lovely creature, more fair\nthan the houris, I am ready to marry you, if you will consent.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the lady, \"even were not your station one of the\nmost dignified and honourable in the city, I could have no objection\nto give you my hand, for you appear to be one of the most amiable of\nmen; but I fear that you will not be able to obtain the consent of my\nfather, notwithstanding the honour of the alliance.\"\n\n\"Don't trouble yourself upon that point,\" replied the judge, \"I will\npledge myself as to the issue; only tell me in what street your father\nlives, what his name is, and what his profession.\"\n\n\"His name is Ousta Omar,\" replied Zemroude; \"he is a dyer, he lives\nupon the eastern quay of the Tigris, and in front of his door is a\npalm-tree laden with dates.\"\n\n\"That is enough,\" said the cadi; \"you can return home now; you shall\nsoon hear from me, depend upon my word.\"\n\nThe lady, after bestowing a gracious smile upon him, covered her face\nagain with her veil, left the private chamber, and returned to me.\n\n\"We shall be revenged,\" she said, laughing gaily; \"our enemy, who\nthought to make us the sport of the people, will himself become so.\"\n\nThe judge had scarcely lost sight of Zemroude, ere he sent an officer\nto Ousta Omar, who was at home. \"You are to come to the cadi,\" said\nthe man, \"he desires to speak with you, and he commanded me to bring\nyou before him.\" The dyer grew pale at these words, he thought that\nsome one had lodged a complaint against him before the judge, and that\nit was on that account the officer had come to fetch him. He rose,\nhowever, and followed in silence, but in great uneasiness.\n\nAs soon as he appeared before the cadi, the judge ordered him into the\nsame chamber where he had had the interview with Zemroude, and made\nhim sit upon the same sofa. The artisan was so astonished at the\nhonour paid him, that he changed colour several times.\n\n\"Master Omar,\" said the cadi, \"I am glad to see you; I have heard you\nspoken very well of this long time past. I am informed that you are a\nman of good character, that you regularly say your prayers five times\na day, and that you never fail to attend the great mosque on Friday;\nbesides, I know that you never eat pork, and never drink wine nor\ndate-spirits; in fact, that whilst you are at work one of your\napprentices reads the Koran.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" replied the dyer; \"I know above four thousand _hadits_\n(sayings of Mahomet), and I am making preparations for a pilgrimage to\nMecca.\"\n\n\"I assure you,\" replied the cadi, \"that all this gives me the greatest\npleasure, for I passionately love all good mussulmen. I am also\ninformed that you keep concealed at home a daughter of an age to\nmarry; is that true?\"\n\n\"Great judge,\" answered Ousta Omar, \"whose palace serves as a haven\nand refuge for the unfortunate who are tossed about by the storms of\nthe world, they have told you true. I have a daughter who is old\nenough, in all conscience, to be married, for she is more than thirty\nyears old; but the poor creature is not fit to be presented to a man,\nmuch less to so great a man as the cadi of Bagdad; she is ugly, or\nrather frightful, lame, covered with blotches, an idiot; in a word,\nshe is a monster whom I cannot take too much pains to hide from the\nworld.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said the cadi, \"that is what I expected, master Omar. I was\ncertain that you would thus praise your daughter; but know, my friend,\nthat this blotchy, idiotic, lame, frightful person, in short, this\nmonster, with all her defects, is loved to distraction by a man who\ndesires her for his wife, and that man is myself.\"\n\nAt this speech the dyer seemed to doubt whether he were awake; he\npinched himself, rubbed his eyes, and then looking the cadi full in\nthe face, said,\n\n\"If my lord, the cadi, wishes to be merry, he is master; he may make a\njest of my child as much as he pleases.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" replied the cadi, \"I am not joking, I am in love with your\ndaughter, and I ask her in marriage.\"\n\nThe artisan at these words burst into a fit of laughter. \"By the\nprophet,\" cried he, \"somebody wants to give you something to take care\nof. I give you fair warning, my lord, that my daughter has lost the\nuse of her hands, is lame, dropsical.\"\n\n\"I know all about that,\" replied the judge, \"I recognize her by her\nportrait. I have a peculiar liking for that sort of girls, they are my\ntaste.\"\n\n\"I tell you,\" insisted the dyer, \"she is not a fit match for you. Her\nname is Cayfacattaddhari (the monster of the age), and I must confess\nthat her name is well chosen.\"\n\n\"Come, come!\" replied the cadi, in an impatient and imperious tone,\n\"this is enough, I am sick of all these objections. Master Omar, I ask\nyou to give me this Cayfacattaddhari just as she is, so not another\nword.\"\n\nThe dyer, seeing him determined to espouse his daughter, and more than\never persuaded that some person had made him fall in love with her\nupon false representations for fun, said to himself, \"I must ask him a\nheavy _scherbeha_ (dowry): the amount may disgust him, and he will\nthink no more of her.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"I am prepared to obey you; but I will not part\nwith Cayfacattaddhari unless you give me a dowry of a thousand golden\nsequins beforehand.\"\n\n\"That is rather a large sum,\" said the cadi, \"still I will pay it\nyou.\" He immediately ordered a large bagful of sequins to be brought,\na thousand were counted out, which the dyer took after weighing them,\nand the judge then ordered the marriage contract to be drawn out.\nWhen, moreover, it was ready for signature, the artisan protested that\nhe would not sign it except in the presence of a hundred lawyers at\nleast.\n\n\"You are very distrustful,\" said the cadi; \"but never mind, I will\nsatisfy your wishes, for I don't intend to let your daughter slip\nthrough my fingers.\" He thereupon sent immediately for all the\nneighbouring doctors, alfayins, mollahs, persons connected with the\nmosques and courts of law, of whom far more crowded in than the dyer\nrequired.\n\nWhen all the witnesses had arrived at the cadi's, Ousta Omar spoke\nthus,\n\n\"My lord cadi, I give you my daughter in marriage, since you\nabsolutely require me to do so; but I declare before all these\ngentlemen that it is on condition, that if you are not satisfied with\nher when you see her, and you wish afterwards to repudiate her, you\nwill give her a thousand gold sequins, such as I have received from\nyou.\"\n\n\"Well! so be it,\" replied the cadi, \"I promise it before all this\nassembly. Art thou content?\" The dyer replied in the affirmative, and\ndeparted, saying that he would send the bride.\n\nHe had scarcely left the house before the enamoured judge gave orders\nto have an apartment furnished in the most splendid manner to receive\nhis new bride. Velvet carpets were laid down, new draperies hung up,\nand sofas of silver brocade placed round the walls, whilst several\nbraziers perfumed the chamber with delicious scents. All was at length\nin readiness, and the cadi impatiently awaited the arrival of\nCayfacattaddhari. The fair bride, however, not making her appearance\nso speedily as his eagerness expected, he called his faithful aga, and\nsaid, \"The lovely object of my affections ought to be here by this\ntime, I think. What can detain her so long at her father's? How slow\nthe moments appear which retard my happiness!\" At length his\nimpatience could brook no longer delay, and he was on the point of\nsending the aga to Ousta Omar's, when a porter arrived carrying a deal\ncase covered with green taffeta.\n\n\"What hast thou got there, my friend,\" inquired the judge.\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the porter, placing the box on the ground, \"it is\nyour bride; you have only to take off the covering and you will see\nwhat she is like.\"\n\nThe cadi removed the cloth and saw a girl three feet and a half high:\nshe had a lank visage covered with blotches, eyes sunk deep in their\nsockets and as red as fire, not the least vestige of a nose, but above\nher mouth two horrid wide nostrils like those of a crocodile. He could\nnot look at this object without horror; he hastily replaced the cover,\nand, turning to the porter, cried,\n\n\"What am I to do with this miserable creature?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the porter, \"it is the daughter of master Omar, the\ndyer, who told me you had married her from choice.\"\n\n\"Merciful heavens!\" exclaimed the cadi, \"is it possible to marry such\na monster as that?\"\n\nAt that moment the dyer, who had foreseen the surprise of the judge,\narrived.\n\n\"Wretch,\" said the cadi, \"what dost thou take me for? Thou certainly\nhast an amazing amount of impudence to dare to play me such a trick as\nthis. Dost thou dare thus to treat me who have it in my power to\nrevenge myself on my enemies; me who, when I please, can put the like\nof thee in fetters? Dread my wrath, wretch! Instead of the hideous\nmonster which thou hast sent me, give me instantly thy other daughter,\nwhose beauty is unparalleled, or thou shalt experience what an angry\ncadi can do!\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Omar, \"spare your threats, I beg, and don't be\nangry with me. I swear by the Creator of the light that I have no\nother daughter but this. I told you a thousand times that she would\nnot suit you; you would not believe--whose fault is it?\"\n\nThe cadi at these words felt his soul sink within him, and said to the\ndyer,\n\n\"Master Omar, a damsel of the most exquisite loveliness came here this\nmorning and told me that you were her father, and that you represented\nher to the world as a perfect monster, indeed so much so, that no one\nwould ask her in marriage.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" returned the dyer, \"that girl must have been playing you a\ntrick; you must have some enemy.\"\n\nThe cadi bent his head on his bosom, and remained some time in deep\nthought.\n\n\"It is a misfortune that was destined to befal me; let us say no more\nabout it; have your daughter taken back home; keep the thousand\nsequins you have got, but don't ask for any more, if you wish us to be\nfriends.\"\n\nAlthough the judge had sworn before witnesses that he would give a\nthousand sequins more if Omar's daughter did not please him, the\nartisan did not dare to endeavour to compel him to keep his word, for\nhe knew him to be a most vindictive man, and one who would easily find\nan opportunity of revenging himself upon any one he disliked, and was,\nof course, afraid to offend him. He thought it better to be content\nwith what he had received.\n\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"I will obey you, and relieve you of my daughter,\nbut you must, if you please, divorce her first.\"\n\n\"Oh! true,\" said the cadi; \"I have not the least objection; be assured\nthat shall soon be done.\"\n\nAccordingly, he instantly sent for his naib, and the divorce was made\nout in due form, after which master Omar took leave of the judge, and\nordered the porter to bear the wretched Cayfacattaddhari back home.\n\nThis adventure was speedily noised all over the city. Every body\nlaughed at it, and warmly applauded the trick which had been played\nupon the cadi, who could not escape the ridicule in which the whole\ncity indulged at his expense. We carried our revenge still further. By\nMouaffac's advice, I presented myself before the prince of the\nfaithful, to whom I told my name and related my story. I did not\nsuppress, as you may imagine, the circumstances which put the malice\nof the cadi in so strong a light. The caliph, after listening to me\nwith the greatest attention, received me very graciously. \"Prince,\"\nsaid he, \"why did you not come at once to me? Doubtless you were\nashamed of your condition, but you might, without a blush, have\npresented yourself before my face, even in your wretched state. Does\nit depend upon men themselves to be happy or unhappy? Is it not Allah\nthat spins the thread of our destiny? Ought you to have feared an\nungracious reception? No! You know that I love and esteem king\nBen-Ortoc, your father; my court was a safe asylum for you.\"\n\nThe caliph embraced me, and conferred on me a _gulute_ (robe of\nhonour) and a beautiful diamond which he wore on his finger. He\nregaled me with excellent sherbet, and when I returned to my\nfather-in-law's house, I found six large bales of Persian brocade,\ngold and silver, two pieces of damask, and a beautiful Persian horse\nrichly caparisoned. In addition, he reinstated Mouaffac in the\ngovernment of Bagdad; and as to the cadi, by way of punishment for his\nmalicious attempt to deceive Zemroude and her father, he deposed him,\nand condemned him to perpetual imprisonment, and, to crown his misery,\nordered him as a companion in his confinement the daughter of Ousta\nOmar.\n\nA few days after my marriage, I sent a courier to Moussul, to inform\nmy father of all that had happened to me since my departure from his\ncourt, and to assure him that I would return shortly, with the lady\nwhom I had married. I waited most impatiently for the return of the\ncourier; but, alas! he brought me back news which deeply afflicted me.\nHe informed me that Ben-Ortoc having heard that four thousand Bedouin\nArabs had attacked me, and that my escort had been cut to pieces,\npersuaded that I no longer lived, took my supposed death so much to\nheart that he died; that prince Amadeddin Zingui, my cousin-german,\noccupied the throne; that he reigned with equity; and that,\nnevertheless, although he was generally beloved, the people no sooner\nlearned that I was still alive, than they gave themselves up to the\ngreatest joy. Prince Amadeddin himself, in a letter which the courier\nplaced in my hands, assured me of his fidelity, and expressed his\nimpatience for my return, in order that he might restore the crown to\nme, and become the first subject in my dominions.\n\nThis news decided me to hasten my return to Moussul. I took my leave\nof the prince of the faithful, who ordered a detachment of three\nthousand cavalry of his own guard to escort me to my kingdom, and,\nafter embracing Mouaffac and his wife, I departed from Bagdad with my\nbeloved Zemroude, who would almost have died of grief at the\nseparation from her parents, if her love for me had not somewhat\nmoderated the violence of her sorrow. About halfway between Bagdad and\nMoussul, the vanguard of my escort discovered a body of troops\nmarching towards us. Concluding at once that it was a body of Bedouin\nArabs, I immediately drew up my men, and was fully prepared for the\nattack, when my scouts brought me word, that those whom we had taken\nfor robbers and enemies were, in fact, troops from Moussul, who had\nset out to meet me, with Amadeddin at their head.\n\nThis prince, on his part, having learned who we were, left his little\narmy to meet me, accompanied by the principal nobles of Moussul. When\nhe reached the spot where I was awaiting him, he addressed me in the\nsame tone in which his letter had been couched, submissively and\nrespectfully, whilst all the nobles who accompanied him assured me of\ntheir zeal and fidelity. I thought it my duty to show my entire\nconfidence in them, by dismissing the soldiers of the caliph's guard.\nI had no reason to repent of this step; far from being capable of\nforming any treacherous design, prince Amadeddin did all in his power\nto give me proofs of his attachment.\n\nWhen we came to Moussul, our safe and auspicious arrival was\ncelebrated by gifts to the mosques, abundant alms to the poor, fetes,\nand an illumination of the palace gardens with lamps of a thousand\ndifferent colours. The people in general testified the delight they\nfelt at my return by acclamations, and for a space of three days gave\nthemselves up entirely to great rejoicings. The booths of the\nitinerant merchants, and the bazaars, were hung within and without\nwith draperies, and at night they were lit up by lamps, which formed\nthe letters of a verse of the Koran, so that every shop having its\nparticular verse, this holy book was to be read entire in the city;\nand it appeared as though the angel Gabriel had brought it a second\ntime in letters of light to our great prophet.\n\nIn addition to this pious illumination, before each shop were placed\nlarge dishes, plates of pillau, of all sorts of colours, in the form\nof pyramids, and huge bowls of sherbet and pomegranate juice, for the\npassers-by to eat and drink at pleasure. In all the cross streets were\nto be seen dancers, displaying their graceful evolutions to the sounds\nof drums, lutes, and tambourines.\n\nThe different trades formed a procession, consisting of cars decorated\nwith tinsel and many-coloured flags, and with the tools used in their\ntrades; and after traversing the principal streets, defiled to the\nmusic of pipes, cymbals, and trumpets, before my balcony, where\nZemroude was sitting by my side, and after saluting us, shouted at the\ntop of their voices, \"Blessing and health to thee, Apostle of God, God\ngive the king victory.\"\n\nIt was not enough for me to share these honours with the daughter of\nMouaffac, my study was to find out every thing that would afford her\nany pleasure. I caused her apartments to be adorned with every thing\nmost rare and pleasing to the sight. Her suite was composed of\ntwenty-five young Circassian ladies, slaves in my father's harem; some\nsang and played the lute exquisitely, others excelled on the harp, and\nthe rest danced with the greatest grace and lightness. I also gave her\na black aga, with twelve eunuchs, who all possessed some talent which\nmight contribute to her amusement.\n\nI reigned over faithful and devoted subjects; every day I loved\nZemroude more and more, and she as ardently reciprocated my\nattachment.\n\nMy days passed thus in perfect happiness, till one day a young\ndervise appeared at my court. He introduced himself to the principal\nnobles, and gained their friendship by his pleasing and agreeable\nmanners, as well as by his wit and his happy and brilliant repartees.\nHe accompanied them to the chase, he entered into all their gaieties,\nand was a constant guest at their parties of pleasure. Every day some\nof my courtiers spoke to me of him as a man of charming manners, so\nthat at last they excited in me a desire to see and converse with the\nagreeable stranger. Far from finding his portrait overdrawn, he\nappeared to me even more accomplished than they had represented him.\nHis conversation charmed me, and I was disabused of an error into\nwhich many persons of quality fall, namely, that men of wit and high\nsentiment are only to be met with at court. I experienced so much\npleasure in the company of the dervise, and he seemed so well suited\nto manage affairs of the greatest importance, that I wished to appoint\nhim my minister, but he thanked me, and told me he had made a vow\nnever to accept any employment, that he preferred a free and\nindependent life, that he despised honours and riches, and was content\nwith what God, who cares for the lowest animals, should provide for\nhim; in a word, he was content with his condition.\n\nI admired a man so much raised above worldly considerations, and\nconceived the greatest esteem for him; I received him with pleasure\neach time he presented himself at court; if he was among the crowd of\ncourtiers my eyes sought him out, and to him I most frequently\naddressed myself; I insensibly became so attached to him, that I made\nhim my exclusive favourite.\n\nOne day during a hunt, I had strayed from the main body of my\nfollowers, and the dervise was alone with me. He began by relating his\ntravels, for although young he had travelled extensively. He spoke of\nseveral curious things he had seen in India, and, amongst others, of\nan old Bramin whom he knew. \"This great man,\" said he, \"knew an\ninfinity of secrets, each more extraordinary than the former. Nature\nhad no mystery but what he could fathom. He died in my arms,\" said the\ndervise, \"but as he loved me, before he expired he said, 'My son, I\nwish to teach you a secret by which you may remember me, but it is on\ncondition that you reveal it to no one.' I promised to keep it\ninviolate, and on the faith of my promise he taught me the secret.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" said I, \"what is the nature of the secret? Is it the secret\nof making gold?\"\n\n\"No, sire,\" replied he, \"it is a greater and much more precious secret\nthan that. It is the power of reanimating a dead body. Not that I can\nrestore the same soul to the body it has left, Heaven alone can\nperform that miracle; but I can cause my soul to enter into a body\ndeprived of life, and I will prove it to your highness whenever you\nshall please.\"\n\n\"Most willingly!\" said I, \"now, if you please.\"\n\nAt that moment there passed by us most opportunely a doe; I let fly an\narrow, which struck her, and she fell dead. \"Now let me see,\" said I,\n\"if you can reanimate this creature.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the dervise, \"your curiosity shall soon be gratified;\nwatch well what I am about to do.\"\n\nHe had scarcely uttered these words, when I beheld with amazement his\nbody fall suddenly without animation, and at the same moment I saw the\ndoe rise with great nimbleness. I will leave you to judge of my\nsurprise. Although there was no room left to doubt what I beheld, I\ncould hardly believe the evidence of my senses. The creature, however,\ncame to me, fondled me, and after making several bounds, fell dead\nagain, and immediately the body of the dervise, which lay stretched at\nmy feet, became reanimated.\n\nI was delighted at so wonderful a secret, and entreated the dervise to\nimpart it to me.\n\n[Illustration: The Dervise and the Prince, p. 91.]\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"I deeply regret that I cannot comply with your\ndesire; for I promised the dying Bramin not to disclose it to any one,\nand I am a slave to my word.\"\n\nThe more the dervise excused himself from satisfying my wishes, the\nmore did I feel my curiosity excited.\n\n\"In the name of Allah,\" said I, \"do not refuse to comply with my\nentreaties. I promise thee never to divulge the secret, and I swear by\nHim who created us both never to employ it to a bad purpose.\"\n\nThe dervise considered a moment, then turning to me said,\n\n\"I cannot resist the wishes of a king whom I love more than my life; I\nwill yield to your desire. It is true,\" added he, \"that I only gave a\nsimple promise to the Bramin. I did not bind myself by an inviolable\noath. I will impart my secret to your highness. It consists only in\nremembering two words; it is sufficient to repeat them mentally to be\nable to reanimate a dead body.\"\n\nHe then taught me the two magic words. I no sooner knew them, than I\nburned to test their power. I pronounced them, with the intention to\nmake my soul pass into the body of the doe, and in a moment I found\nmyself metamorphosed into the animal. But the delight I experienced at\nthe success of the trial was soon converted into consternation; for no\nsooner had my spirit entered into the body of the doe, than the\ndervise caused his to pass into mine, and then suddenly drawing my\nbow, the traitor was on the point of shooting me with one of my own\narrows, when, perceiving his intention, I took to flight, and by my\nspeed just escaped the fatal shaft. Nevertheless, he let fly the arrow\nat me with so true an aim, that it just grazed my shoulder.\n\nI now beheld myself reduced to live with the beasts of the forests and\nmountains. Happier for me would it have been if I had resembled them\nmore perfectly, and if in losing my human form, I had at the same\ntime lost my power of reason. I should not then have been the prey to\na thousand miserable reflections.\n\nWhilst I was deploring my misery in the forests, the dervise was\noccupying the throne of Moussul; and fearing that, as I possessed the\nsecret as well as himself, I might find means to introduce myself into\nthe palace, and take my revenge upon him, on the very day he usurped\nmy place he ordered all the deer in the kingdom to be destroyed,\nwishing, as he said, to exterminate the whole species, which he\nmortally hated. Nay, so eager was he for my destruction, that the\nmoment he returned from the hunting expedition, he again set out at\nthe head of a large body of followers, intent upon the indiscriminate\nslaughter of all the deer they might meet.\n\nThe people of Moussul, animated by the hope of gain, spread themselves\nall over the country with their bows and arrows; they scoured the\nforests, over-ran the mountains, and shot every stag and deer they met\nwith. Happily, by this time I had nothing to fear from them; for,\nhaving seen a dead nightingale lying at the foot of a tree, I\nreanimated it, and under my new shape flew towards the palace of my\nenemy, and concealed myself among the thick foliage of a tree in the\ngarden. This tree was not far from the apartments of the queen. There,\nthinking upon my misfortune, I poured forth in tender strains the\nmelancholy that consumed me. It was one morning, as the sun rose, and\nalready several birds, delighted to see its returning beams, expressed\ntheir joy by their minstrelsy. For my part, taken up with my griefs, I\npaid no attention to the brightness of the newborn day; but with my\neyes sadly turned towards Zemroude's apartment, I poured forth so\nplaintive a song, that I attracted the attention of the princess, who\ncame to the window. I continued my mournful notes in her presence, and\nI tried all the means in my power to render them more and more\ntouching, as though I could make her comprehend the subject of my\ngrief. But, alas! although she took pleasure in listening to me, I had\nthe mortification to see, that instead of being moved by my piteous\naccents, she only laughed with one of her slaves, who had come to the\nwindow to listen to me.\n\nI did not leave the garden that day, nor for several following, and I\ntook care to sing every morning at the same spot. Zemroude did not\nfail to come to the window; and at length, by the blessing of\nProvidence, took a fancy to have me. One morning she said to her\nfemale attendants, \"I wish that nightingale to be caught; let\nbirdcatchers be sent for. I love that bird; I doat upon it; let them\ntry every means to catch it, and bring it to me.\" The queen's orders\nwere obeyed; expert birdcatchers were found, who laid traps for me,\nand, as I had no desire to escape, because I saw that their only\nobject in depriving me of my liberty was to make me a slave to my\nprincess, I allowed myself to be taken. The moment I was brought to\nher she took me in her hand, with every symptom of delight. \"My\ndarling,\" said she, caressing me, \"my charming bul-bul, I will be thy\nrose; I already feel the greatest tenderness for thee.\" At these words\nshe kissed me. I raised my beak softly to her lips. \"Ah! the little\nrogue,\" cried she laughing, \"he appears to know what I say.\" At last,\nafter fondling me, she placed me in a gold filigree cage, which an\neunuch had been sent into the city to buy for me.\n\nEvery day as soon as she woke I began my song; and whenever she came\nto my cage to caress me or feed me, far from appearing wild, I spread\nout my wings, and stretched my beak towards her, to express my joy.\nShe was surprised to see me so tame in so short a time. Sometimes she\nwould take me out of the cage, and allow me to fly about her chamber.\nI always went to her to receive her caresses, and to lavish mine upon\nher; and if any of her slaves wished to take hold of me, I pecked at\nthem with all my might. By these little insinuating ways I endeared\nmyself so much to Zemroude, that she often said if by any mishap I\nwere to die, she should be inconsolable, so strong was her attachment\nto me.\n\nZemroude also had a little dog in her chamber, of which she was very\nfond. One day, when the dog and I were alone, it died. Its death\nsuggested to me the idea of making a third experiment of the secret.\n\"I will pass into the body of the dog,\" thought I, \"for I wish to see\nwhat effect the death of her nightingale will produce upon the\nprincess.\" I cannot tell what suggested the fancy, for I did not\nforesee what this new metamorphosis would lead to; but the thought\nappeared to me a suggestion of Heaven, and I followed it at all risks.\n\nWhen Zemroude returned to the room, her first care was to come to my\ncage. As soon as she perceived that the nightingale was dead, she\nuttered a shriek that brought all her slaves about her. \"What ails\nyou, madam?\" said they in terrified accents. \"Has any misfortune\nhappened to you?\"\n\n\"I am in despair,\" replied the princess, weeping bitterly; \"my\nnightingale is dead. My dear bird, my little husband, why art thou\ntaken from, me so soon? I shall no more hear your sweet notes! I shall\nnever see you again! What have I done to deserve such punishment from\nHeaven?\"\n\nAll the efforts of her women to console her were in vain. The dervise\nhad just returned from his murderous expedition, and one of them ran\nto acquaint him with the state in which they had found the queen. He\nquickly came and told her that the death of a bird ought not to cause\nher so much grief; that the loss was not irreparable; that if she was\nso fond of nightingales, and wanted another, it was easy to get one.\nBut all his reasoning was to no purpose, he could make no impression\nupon her.\n\n\"Cease your endeavours,\" she exclaimed, \"to combat my grief, you will\nnever overcome it. I know it is a great weakness to mourn so for a\nbird, I am as fully persuaded of it as you can be, still I cannot bear\nup against the force of the blow that has overwhelmed me. I loved the\nlittle creature; he appeared sensible of the caresses I bestowed on\nhim, and he returned them in a way that delighted me. If my women\napproached him, he exhibited ferocity, or rather disdain; whereas he\nalways came eagerly on to my hand when I held it out to him. It\nappeared as though he felt affection for me, he looked at me in so\ntender and languishing a manner, that it almost seemed as though he\nwas mortified that he had not the power of speech to express his\nfeelings towards me. I could read it in his eyes. Ah! I shall never\nthink of him without despair.\" As she finished speaking her tears\ngushed out afresh, and she seemed as if nothing could ever console\nher.\n\nI drew a favourable omen from the violence of her grief. I had laid\nmyself down in a corner of the room, where I heard all that was said\nand observed all that passed without their noticing me. I had a\npresentiment that the dervise, in order to console the queen, would\navail himself of the secret, and I was not disappointed.\n\nFinding the queen inaccessible to reason, and being deeply enamoured\nof her, he was moved by her tears, and instead of persevering in\nfruitless arguments, he ordered the queen's slaves to quit the room\nand leave him alone with her. \"Madam,\" said he, thinking that no one\noverheard him, \"since the death of your nightingale causes you so much\nsorrow, he must be brought to life. Do not grieve, you shall see him\nalive again; I pledge myself to restore him to you; to-morrow morning,\nwhen you wake, you shall hear him sing again, and you shall have the\nsatisfaction of caressing him.\"\n\n\"I understand you, my lord,\" said Zemroude; \"you look upon me as\ncrazed, and think that you must humour my sorrow; you would persuade\nme that I shall see my nightingale alive to-morrow; to-morrow you\nwill postpone your miracle till the following day, and so on from one\nday to another; by this means you reckon on making me gradually forget\nmy bird; or, perhaps,\" pursued she, \"you intend to get another put in\nhis place to deceive me.\"\n\n\"No, my queen,\" replied the dervise, \"no; it is that very bird which\nyou see stretched out in his cage without life; this very nightingale,\nthe enviable object of such poignant grief; it is that very bird\nhimself that shall sing. I will give him new life, and you can again\nlavish your caresses upon him. He will better appreciate that delight,\nand you shall behold him still more anxious to please you, for it will\nbe I myself who will be the object of your endearments; every morning\nI will myself be his fresh life in order to divert you. I can perform\nthis miracle,\" continued he; \"it is a secret I possess; if you have\nany doubts upon it, or if you are impatient to behold your favourite\nreanimated, I will cause him to revive now immediately.\"\n\nAs the princess did not reply, he imagined from her silence that she\nwas not fully persuaded he could accomplish what he professed; he\nseated himself on the sofa, and by virtue of the two cabalistic words\nleft his body, or rather mine, and entered into that of the\nnightingale. The bird began to sing in its cage to the great amazement\nof Zemroude. But his song was not destined to continue long; for no\nsooner did he begin to warble than I quitted the body of the dog and\nhastened to retake my own. At the same time running to the cage, I\ndragged the bird out and wrung his neck. \"What have you done, my\nlord?\" cried the princess. \"Why have you treated my nightingale thus?\nIf you did not wish him to live, why did you restore him to life?\"\n\n\"I thank Heaven!\" cried I, without paying any regard to what she said,\nso much were my thoughts taken up with the feeling of vengeance which\npossessed me at the treacherous conduct of the dervise, \"I am\nsatisfied. I have at length avenged myself on the villain whose\nexecrable treason deserved a still greater punishment.\"\n\nIf Zemroude was surprised to see her nightingale restored to life, she\nwas not the less so to hear me utter these words with such fierce\nemotion.\n\n\"My lord,\" said she, \"whence this violent transport which agitates\nyou, and what do those words mean which you have just spoken?\"\n\nI related to her all that had happened to me, and she could not doubt\nthat I was truly Al Abbas, because she had heard that the body of the\ndervise had been found in the forest, and she was also of course well\nacquainted with the order which he had given for destroying all the\ndeer.\n\nBut my poor princess could not recover the shock her sensitive love\nhad sustained. A few days after she fell ill, and died in my arms,\nliterally frightened to death by the imminence of the danger from\nwhich she had just been so happily rescued.\n\nAfter I had bewailed her, and erected a splendid tomb to her memory, I\nsummoned the prince Amadeddin.\n\n\"My cousin,\" said I, \"I have no children, I resign the crown of\nMoussul in your favour. I give the kingdom up into your hands. I\nrenounce the regal dignity, and wish to pass the rest of my days in\nrepose and privacy.\" Amadeddin, who really loved me, spared no\narguments to deter me from taking the step I proposed, but I assured\nhim that nothing could shake my resolution.\n\n\"Prince,\" said I, \"my determination is fixed, I resign my rank to you.\nFill the throne of Al Abbas, and may you be more happy than he. Reign\nover a people who know your merit, and have already experienced the\nblessings of your rule. Disgusted with pomp, I shall retire to distant\nclimes, and live in privacy; there freed from the cares of state, I\nshall mourn over the memory of Zemroude, and recall the happy days we\npassed together.\"\n\nI left Amadeddin upon the throne of Moussul, and, accompanied only by\na few slaves, and carrying an ample supply of riches and jewels, took\nthe road to Bagdad, where I arrived safely. I immediately repaired to\nMouaffac's house. His wife and he were not a little surprised to see\nme, and they were deeply affected when I informed them of the death of\ntheir daughter, whom they had tenderly loved. The recital unlocked the\nfountains of my own grief, and I mingled my tears with theirs. I did\nnot stay long in Bagdad, I joined a caravan of pilgrims going to\nMecca, and after paying my devotions, found, by chance, another\ncompany of pilgrims from Tartary, whom I accompanied to their native\ncountry. We arrived in this city; I found the place agreeable, and\ntook up my abode here, where I have resided for nearly forty years. I\nam thought to be a stranger who was formerly concerned in trade, and\nwhose time is now passed in study and contemplation. I lead a retired\nlife, and rarely see strangers. Zemroude is ever present to my\nthoughts, and my only consolation consists in dwelling fondly upon her\nmemory and her virtues.\n\n\nCONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.\n\nAl Abbas, having finished the recital of his adventures, thus\naddressed his guests:\n\n\"Such is my history. You perceive by my misfortunes and your own, that\nhuman life is but as a reed, ever liable to be bent to the earth by\nthe bleak blasts of misfortune. I will, however, confess to you that I\nhave led a happy and quiet life ever since I have been in Jaic; and\nthat I by no means repent having abdicated the throne of Moussul; for\nin the obscurity in which I now live, I have discovered peaceful and\ntranquil joys which I never experienced before.\"\n\nTimurtasch, Elmaze, and Khalaf bestowed a thousand flattering\nencomiums upon the son of Ben-Ortoc; the khan admired the resolution\nwhich had caused him to deprive himself of his kingdom, in order to\nlive in privacy in a country of strangers, where the station which he\nhad filled in the world was unknown. Elmaze praised the fidelity he\ndisplayed towards Zemroude, and the grief he experienced at her death.\nAnd Khalaf remarked, \"My lord, it were to be wished that all men could\ndisplay the same constancy in adversity which you have done, under\nyour misfortunes.\"\n\nThey continued their conversation till it was time to retire. Al Abbas\nthen summoned his slaves, who brought wax-lights in candlesticks made\nof aloe-wood, and conducted the khan, the princess, and her son to a\nsuite of apartments, where the same simplicity reigned that\ncharacterized the rest of the house. Elmaze and Timurtasch retired to\nsleep in a chamber appropriated to themselves, and Khalaf to another.\nThe following morning their host entered the chamber of his guests as\nsoon as they were up, and said,\n\n\"You are not the only unfortunate persons in the world; I have just\nbeen informed that an ambassador from the sultan of Carisma arrived in\nthe city last evening; that his master has sent him to Ileuge-Khan, to\nbeg of him not only to refuse an asylum to the khan of the Nagaeis, his\nenemy, but if the khan should endeavour to pass through his dominions,\nto arrest him. Indeed, it is reported,\" pursued Al Abbas, \"that the\nunfortunate khan, for fear of falling into the hands of the sultan of\nCarisma, has left his capital and fled with his family.\" At this news,\nTimurtasch and Khalaf changed colour, and the princess fainted.\n\nThe swoon of Elmaze, as well as the evident trouble of the father and\nson, instantly caused Al Abbas to suspect that his guests were not\nmerchants.\n\n\"I see,\" said he, as soon as the princess had recovered her senses,\n\"that you take a deep interest in the misfortunes of the khan of the\nNagaeis; indeed, if I may be permitted to tell you what I think, I\nbelieve you are yourselves the objects of the sultan of Carisma's\nhatred.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" replied Timurtasch, \"we are, indeed, the victims for\nwhose immolation he is thirsty. I am the khan of the Nagaeis, you\nbehold my wife and my son; we should, indeed, be ungrateful, if we did\nnot discover our position to you, after your generous reception, and\nthe confidence you have reposed in us. I am encouraged even to hope,\nthat by your counsels you will aid us to escape from the danger which\nthreatens us.\"\n\n\"Your situation is most critical,\" replied the aged king of Moussul;\n\"I know Ileuge-Khan well, and, as he fears the sultan of Carisma, I\ncannot doubt that, to please him, he will search for you every where.\nYou will not be safe, either in my house or in any other in this city;\nthe only resource left you, is to leave the country of Jaic as\nspeedily as possible, cross the river Irtisch, and gain, with the\nutmost diligence, the frontiers of the tribe of the Berlas.\"\n\nThis advice pleased Timurtasch, his wife, and son. Al Abbas had three\nhorses instantly got ready, together with provisions for the journey,\nand giving them a purse filled with gold; \"Start immediately,\" said\nhe, \"you have no time to lose, by to-morrow, no doubt, Ileuge-Khan\nwill cause search to be made for you every where.\"\n\nThey returned their heartfelt thanks to the aged monarch, and then\nquitted Jaic, crossed the Irtisch, and joining company with a\ncamel-driver, who was travelling that way, arrived after several days'\njourney in the territories of the tribe of Berlas. They took up their\nquarters with the first horde they met, sold their horses, and lived\nquietly enough as long as their money lasted; but, as soon as it came\nto an end, the misery of the khan recommenced. \"Why am I still in the\nworld?\" he began to exclaim. \"Would it not have been better to have\nawaited my blood-thirsty foe in my own kingdom, and have died\ndefending my capital, than to drag on a life which is only one\ncontinued scene of misery? It is in vain that we endure our\nmisfortunes with patience; for, in spite of our submission to its\ndecrees, Heaven will never restore us to happiness, but leaves us\nstill the sport of misery.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Khalaf, \"do not despair of our miseries coming to\nan end. Heaven, which decrees these events, is preparing for us, I\ndoubt not, some relief which we cannot foresee. Let us proceed at\nonce,\" added he, \"to the principal horde of this tribe. I have a\npresentiment, that our fortunes will now assume a more favourable\naspect.\"\n\nThey all three proceeded accordingly to the horde with whom the khan\nof Berlas resided. They entered a large tent which served as a refuge\nfor poor strangers. Here they laid themselves down, worn out with\ntheir journey, and at a loss at last to know how to obtain even the\nnecessaries of life. Khalaf, however, quietly slipt out of the tent,\nleaving his father and mother there, and went through the horde,\nasking charity of the passers-by. By the evening he had collected a\nsmall sum of money, with which he bought some provisions, and carried\nthem to his parents. When they learned that their son had actually\nsolicited charity, they could not refrain from tears. Khalaf himself\nwas moved by their grief, but cheerfully remarked, nevertheless, \"I\nconfess that nothing we have yet endured has appeared to me more\nmortifying than to be reduced to solicit alms; still, as at present I\ncannot procure you subsistence by any other means, is it not my duty\nto do it, in spite of the mortification it costs me? But,\" he added,\nas though struck with a sudden thought, \"there is still another\nresource--sell me for a slave, and the money you will receive will\nlast you a long time.\"\n\n\"What do you say, my son?\" cried Timurtasch, when he heard these\nwords. \"Can you propose to us that we should live at the expense of\nyour liberty? Ah! rather let us endure for ever our present misery.\nBut if it should come to this, that one of us must be sold, let it be\nmyself; I do not refuse to bear the yoke of servitude for you both.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Khalaf, \"another thought strikes me; to-morrow morning\nI will take my station among the porters; some one may chance to\nemploy me, and we may thus earn a living by my labour.\" They agreed to\nthis, and the following day the prince stationed himself among the\nporters of the horde, and waited till some one should employ him; but\nunfortunately no one wanted him, so that half the day passed and he\nhad not had a single job. This grieved him deeply. \"If I am not more\nsuccessful than this,\" thought he, \"how am I to support my father and\nmother?\"\n\nHe grew tired of waiting among the porters on the chance of some\nperson wanting his services. He went out of the encampment and\nstrolled into the country, in order to turn over in his mind\nundisturbedly the best means of earning a livelihood. He sat down\nunder a tree, where, after praying Heaven to have pity on his\nperplexity, he fell asleep. When he woke he saw near him a falcon of\nsingular beauty: its head was adorned with a tuft of gaudy feathers,\nand from its neck hung a chain of gold filigree-work set with\ndiamonds, topazes, and rubies. Khalaf, who understood falconry, held\nout his fist, and the bird alighted on it. The prince of the Nagaeis\nwas delighted at the circumstance. \"Let us see,\" said he, \"what this\nwill lead to. This bird, from all appearance, belongs to the sovereign\nof the tribe.\" Nor was he wrong. It was the favourite falcon of\nAlmguer, khan of Berlas, who had lost it the previous day. His\nprincipal huntsmen were engaged at that moment in searching every\nwhere for it with the greatest diligence and uneasiness, for their\nmaster had threatened them with the severest punishments if they\nreturned without his bird, which he loved passionately.\n\nPrince Khalaf returned to the encampment with the falcon. As soon as\nthe people of the horde saw it, they began to cry out, \"Ha! here is\nthe khan's falcon recovered. Blessings on the youth who will make our\nprince rejoice by restoring him his bird.\" And so it turned out, for\nwhen Khalaf arrived at the royal tent, and appeared with the falcon,\nthe khan, transported with joy, ran to his bird and kissed it a\nthousand times. Then addressing the prince of the Nagaeis, he asked him\nwhere he found it. Khalaf related how he had recovered the falcon. The\nkhan then said to him, \"Thou appearest to be a stranger amongst us;\nwhere wast thou born, and what is thy profession?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Khalaf, prostrating himself at the khan's feet, \"I\nam the son of a merchant of Bulgaria, who was possessed of great\nwealth. I was travelling with my father and mother in the country of\nJaic, when we were attacked by robbers, who stripped us of every thing\nbut our lives, and we have found our way to this encampment actually\nreduced to beg our bread.\"\n\n\"Young man,\" replied the khan, \"I am glad that it is thou who hast\nfound my falcon; for I swore to grant to whomsoever should bring me my\nbird, whatever two things he might ask; so thou hast but to speak.\nTell me what thou desirest me to grant thee, and doubt not that thou\nshalt obtain it.\" \"Since I have permission to ask two things,\"\nreturned Khalaf, \"I request in the first place that my father and\nmother, who are in the strangers' tent, may have a tent to themselves\nin the quarter where your highness resides, and that they may be\nsupported during the rest of their days at your highness's expense,\nand waited on by officers of your highness's household; secondly, I\ndesire to have one of the best horses in your highness's stables and a\npurse full of gold, to enable me to make a journey which I have in\ncontemplation.\" \"Thy wishes shall be gratified,\" said Almguer; \"thou\nshalt bring thy father and mother to me, and from this day forth I\nwill begin to entertain them as thou desirest; and to-morrow, dressed\nin rich attire, and mounted on the best horse in my stables, thou\nshalt be at liberty to go wherever it shall please thee. Thy modesty,\nthe filial love which is imprinted upon thy features, thy youth, thy\nnoble air, please me; be my guest, come and join my festivities, and\nthou shalt listen to an Arabian story-teller, whose knowledge and\nimaginative powers instruct and amuse my tribes.\"\n\nThe khan and the son of Timurtasch presently seated themselves at a\ntable loaded with viands, confectionary, fruit, and flowers; gazelle\nvenison, red-legged partridges, pheasants, and black cock were\ndisplayed as trophies of the skill of the hunter king. The Arab\nstationed near the khan awaited his orders. \"Moustapha,\" said the khan\nat length, turning to the Arab, \"I have been extolling thy knowledge\nand wit to my guest; surpass thyself, and let him see that I have not\nexaggerated. He shall give thee a subject; treat it in such a manner\nas to deserve his praise.\"\n\n\"I am curious,\" said the prince, \"to hear of China; I ask thee to\ninstruct me concerning the government of that important kingdom, and\nto give me an insight into the manners and customs of its people.\"\n\nThe Arab reflected a moment, and then, prefacing his recital with a\nfew general remarks, proceeded to depict in glowing colours this\ncelestial empire, whose civilization dates back to the remotest ages\nof the world. He described its extent as equal to one-half of the\nhabitable globe; its population as so numerous that it might be\ncounted by hundreds of millions; he spoke of cities, each of which\nalone brought a revenue to their crown, which surpassed that of entire\nkingdoms; of those gigantic works, the canals, whose extent equalled\nthe course of the largest rivers, which traversed the vast empire. And\nhe foretold that a time would come when Tartar warriors should scale\nthat very wall which the terror of their arms had caused to be built,\nand should again reconquer the whole of that wealthy tract. He then\nbegan his story as follows.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF LIN-IN.\n\nA CHINESE TALE.\n\nAt Wou-si, a town dependent upon the city of Tchang-tcheou, in the\nprovince of Kiang-nan, there resided a family in the middle sphere of\nlife. Three brothers composed the family; the name of the eldest was\nLin-in (the jasper); the second Lin-pao (the precious); the youngest\nLin-tchin (the pearl); this last was not yet old enough to marry; the\nother two had taken wives to themselves. The wife of the first was\nnamed Wang; the wife of the second Yang; and both possessed every\ngrace which can constitute the charm of woman.\n\nLin-pao's engrossing passions were gambling and wine; he evinced no\ninclination to good. His wife was of a similar disposition, and\ndepraved in her conduct; she was very different from her sister-in-law\nWang, who was a pattern of modesty and propriety. So although these\ntwo women lived together on neighbourly terms, there was but little\nreal sympathy between them.\n\nWang had a son named Hi-eul, that is to say, \"the son of rejoicing.\"\nHe was a child of six years old. One day having stopped in the street\nwith some other children, to look at a great procession in the\nneighbourhood, he was lost in the crowd, and in the evening did not\nreturn to the house.\n\nThis loss caused the deepest sorrow to his parents. They had handbills\nposted up, and there was not a street in which they did not make\ninquiries, but all to no purpose; they could gain no intelligence\nrespecting their darling child. Lin-in was inconsolable; and giving\nway to the grief that overwhelmed him, he sought to fly from his home,\nwhere every thing brought back the remembrance of his dear Hi-eul. He\nborrowed a sum of money from one of his friends to enable him to carry\non a small trade in the neighbourhood of the city and the adjacent\nvillages, hoping that in one of these short excursions he might be\nable to recover the treasure he had lost.\n\nAs his whole thoughts were taken up with his child, he took little\npleasure in the circumstance that his trade flourished. He\nnevertheless continued to pursue it during five years, without making\nlong journeys from home, whither he returned every year to spend the\nautumn. At length, being utterly unsuccessful in discovering the least\ntrace of his son after so many years, and concluding that he was lost\nto him for ever, and finding moreover that his wife Wang bore him no\nmore children, as he had now amassed a good sum of money, he\ndetermined to divert his thoughts from painful recollections by\ntrading in another province.\n\nHe joined the company of a rich merchant travelling the road he had\nfixed upon; and the merchant, having observed his aptitude for\nbusiness, made him a very advantageous offer. The desire of becoming\nwealthy now took possession of him, and diverted his thoughts from\ntheir accustomed channel.\n\nWithin a very short time after their arrival in the province of\nChan-si every thing had succeeded to their utmost wishes. They found a\nquick sale for their merchandise, and the profits arising from it was\nconsiderable. The payments, however, were delayed for two years in\nconsequence of a drought and famine which afflicted the country, as\nwell as by a tedious illness by which Lin-in was attacked. They were\ndetained altogether three years in the province; after which, having\nrecovered his money and his health, he took his departure to return to\nhis own country.\n\nHe halted one day during his journey near a place named Tchin-lieou\nto recruit his strength, and strolling round the neighbourhood\naccidentally came upon a girdle of blue cloth, in the form of a long,\nnarrow bag, such as is worn round the body, under the dress, and in\nwhich money is usually kept; as he took it up, he found the weight\nconsiderable. He retired to a quiet spot, opened the girdle, and found\nit contained about two hundred taeels.\n\nAt sight of this treasure he fell into the following train of\nreflection: \"My good fortune has placed this sum in my hands; I might\nkeep it and employ it for my own use without fearing any unpleasant\nconsequences. Still the person who has dropt it, the moment he\ndiscovers his loss, will be in great distress, and will return in\nhaste to look for it. Do they not say that our forefathers dared\nscarcely touch money found in this way; and if they picked it up, only\ndid so with a view of restoring it to its owner? This appears to me a\nvery praiseworthy custom, and I will imitate it, the more so as I am\ngrowing old and have no heir. Of what benefit would money got by such\nmeans be to me?\"\n\nWhilst thus reasoning, he had wandered to some distance from the spot\nwhere he had found the money; he now, however, retraced his steps to\nthe place, and waited there the whole day, to be ready in case the\nowner should return. Nobody came, however, and the next day he\ncontinued his journey.\n\nAfter five days' travelling, he arrived in the evening at\nNan-sou-tcheou, and took up his quarters at an inn where several other\nmerchants were staying. The conversation having turned upon the\nadvantages of commerce, one of the company said, \"Five days ago, on\nleaving Tchin-lieou, I lost two hundred taeels, which I had in an\ninside girdle. I had taken it off, and placed it near me whilst I lay\ndown to sleep, when a mandarin and his cortege chanced to pass by. I\nhastened to get out of the way for fear of insult, and in my hurry\nforgot to take up my money. It was only at night, as I was undressing\nto go to bed, that I discovered my loss. I felt sure that as the place\nwhere I lost my money was by the side of a well-frequented road, it\nwould be useless to delay my journey for several days in order to look\nfor what I should never find.\"\n\nEvery one condoled with him on his loss. Lin-in asked him his name and\nplace of abode. \"Your servant,\" replied the merchant, \"is named Tchin,\nand lives at Yang-tcheou, where he has a shop and a large warehouse.\nMay I be so bold in return to inquire to whom I have the honour of\nspeaking?\" Lin-in told him his name, and said that he was an\ninhabitant of the town of Wou-si. \"My shortest road there,\" added he,\n\"lies through Yang-tcheou; and, if agreeable to you, I shall have much\npleasure in your company so far.\"\n\nTchin acknowledged this politeness in a becoming manner. \"Most\nwillingly,\" said he; \"we will continue our journey together, and I\nesteem myself very fortunate in meeting with such an agreeable\ncompanion.\" The journey was not long, and they soon arrived at\nYang-tcheou.\n\nAfter the usual civilities, Tchin invited his fellow-traveller to his\nhouse, and on their arrival there immediately ordered refreshments to\nbe brought. Whilst they were discussing their meal, Lin-in managed to\nturn the conversation on the subject of the lost money.\n\n\"What,\" he asked, \"was the colour of the girdle which contained your\nmoney, and of what material was it made?\"\n\n\"It was of blue cloth,\" replied Tchin; \"and what would enable me to\nidentify it is, that at one end the letter Tchin, which is my name, is\nembroidered upon it in white silk.\"\n\nThis description left no doubt as to the owner. Lin-in, therefore,\nrejoined in a cheerful tone, \"If I have asked you all these\nquestions, it was merely because passing through Tchin-lieou, I found\na belt such as you describe.\" At the same time producing it, he added,\n\"Look if this is yours.\" \"The very same,\" said Tchin. Whereupon Lin-in\npolitely restored it to its owner.\n\nTchin, overwhelmed with gratitude, pressed him to accept the half of\nthe sum which it contained; but his entreaties were in vain, Lin-in\nwould receive nothing. \"What obligations am I not under to you?\"\nresumed Tchin; \"where else should I find such honesty and generosity?\"\nHe then ordered a splendid repast to be brought, over which they\npledged each other with great demonstrations of friendship.\n\nTchin thought to himself, \"Where should I find a man of such probity\nas Lin-in? Men of his character are very scarce in these days. What!\nshall I receive from him such an act of kindness, and not be able to\nrepay him? I have a daughter twelve years old; I must form an alliance\nwith such an honest man. But has he got a son? On this point I am\nentirely ignorant.\"\n\n\"My dear friend,\" said he, \"how old is your son?\"\n\nThis question brought tears into the eyes of Lin-in. \"Alas!\" replied\nhe, \"I had but one, who was most dear to me. It is now eight years ago\nsince my child, having run out of the house to see a procession pass\nby, disappeared; and from that day to this I have never been able to\nlearn any thing of him; and, to crown my misfortune, my wife has not\nborne me any more children.\"\n\nUpon hearing this, Tchin appeared to think for a moment, then,\ncontinuing the conversation, said, \"My brother and benefactor, of what\nage was the child when you lost him?\" \"About six years old,\" replied\nLin-in. \"What was his name?\" \"We called him Hi-eul,\" returned Lin-in.\n\"He had escaped all the dangers of the small-pox which had left no\ntraces upon his countenance; his complexion was clear and florid.\"\n\nThis description gave the greatest pleasure to Tchin, and he could not\nprevent his satisfaction from displaying itself in his looks and\nmanner. He immediately called one of his servants, to whom he\nwhispered a few words. The servant, having made a gesture of\nobedience, retired into the interior of the house.\n\nLin-in, struck by the questions, and the joy which lit up the\ncountenance of his host, was forming all sorts of conjectures, when he\nsaw a youth of about fourteen years of age enter the room. He was\ndressed in a long gown, with a plain though neat jacket. His graceful\nform, his air and carriage, his face with its regular features, and\nhis quick and piercing eyes, and finely arched black eyebrows, at once\nengaged the admiration and riveted the attention of Lin-in.\n\nAs soon as the youth saw the stranger seated at table, he turned\ntowards him, made a low bow, and uttered some respectful words; then\napproaching Tchin, and standing modestly before him, he said in a\nsweet and pleasing tone, \"My father, you have called Hi-eul; what are\nyou pleased to command?\" \"I will tell you presently,\" replied Tchin,\n\"in the mean time stand beside me.\"\n\nThe name of Hi-eul, by which the youth called himself, excited fresh\nsuspicions in the breast of Lin-in. A secret sympathy suddenly forced\nitself upon him; and by one of those wonderful instincts of nature\nwhich are so unerring, recalled to his recollection the image of his\nlost child, his form, his face, his air, and manners; he beheld them\nall in the youth before him. There was but one circumstance that made\nhim doubt the truth of his conjectures, and that was his addressing\nTchin by the name of 'father.' He felt it would be rude to ask Tchin\nif the youth really were his son; perhaps he might truly be so, for it\nwas not impossible that there might be two children bearing the same\nname, and in many respects resembling each other.\n\nLin-in, absorbed in these reflections, paid little attention to the\ngood cheer placed before him. Tchin could read on the countenance of\nLin-in the perplexing thoughts that filled his mind. An indescribable\ncharm seemed to attract him irresistibly towards the youth. He kept\nhis eyes constantly fixed upon him, he could not turn them away.\nHi-eul, on his part, despite his bashfulness and the timidity natural\nto his age, could not help gazing intently upon Lin-in; it seemed as\nthough nature was revealing his father to him.\n\nAt length Lin-in, no longer master of his feelings, suddenly broke the\nsilence, and asked Tchin if the youth really was his son.\n\n\"I am not,\" replied Tchin, \"really his father, although I look upon\nhim as my own child. Eight years ago, a man passing through this city,\nleading this child in his hand, addressed me by chance, and begged me\nto assist him in his great need. 'My wife,' said he, 'is dead, and has\nleft me with this child. The impoverished state of my affairs has\ncompelled me to leave my native place, and go to Hoaingan to my\nrelations, from whom I hope to receive a sum of money, to enable me to\nset up in business again. I have not wherewith to continue my journey\nto that town, will you be so charitable as to lend me three taeels? I\nwill faithfully restore them on my return, and I will leave as a\npledge all that I hold most dear in the world, my only son; I shall no\nsooner reach Hoaingan, than I will return and redeem my dear child.'\n\n\"I felt gratified by this mark of confidence, and I gave him the sum\nhe asked. As he left me he burst into tears, and gave every evidence\nof the grief he felt in leaving his child. I was, however, surprised\nthat the child did not exhibit the least emotion at the separation;\nas, however, time wore on, and the pretended father did not return,\nsuspicions began to rise, which I was anxious to set at rest. I called\nthe child, and by various questions I put to him, learned that he was\nborn in Wou-si, that having one day run out to see a procession pass\nby, he had strayed too far from home, and lost his way, and that he\nhad been trepanned and carried off by a stranger. He also told me the\nname of his father and mother; indeed, it is that of your own family.\nI thus discovered that the fellow, so far from being the father of the\npoor child, was the identical rascal who had carried him off. Not only\nwas my compassion excited, but the boy's pleasing manners had entirely\nwon my heart; I treated him from that time as one of my own children,\nand I sent him to college with my own son, to study with him. I have\noften entertained the plan of going to Wou-si, to inquire after his\nfamily. But business of some kind always prevented me from undertaking\nthe journey, of which, however, I had never fully relinquished the\nidea; when, happily, a few moments ago, you chanced in the course of\nconversation to mention your son, my suspicions were aroused, and upon\nthe extraordinary coincidence of your tale, and the circumstances of\nwhich I was acquainted, I sent for your child to see if you would\nrecognize him.\"\n\nAt these words Hi-eul wept for joy, and his tears caused those of\nLin-in to flow copiously. \"A peculiar mark,\" said he, \"will prove his\nidentity; a little above the left knee you will find a small black\nspot, which has been there from his birth.\" Hi-eul pulled up the leg\nof his trouser, and showed the spot in question. Lin-in, on seeing it,\nthrew himself upon the neck of the child, covered him with kisses, and\nfolded him in his arms. \"My child,\" cried he, \"my dear child, what\nhappiness for your father to find you after so many years' absence.\"\n\nIt is not difficult to conceive to what transports of joy the father\nand son delivered themselves up, during these first moments of\npleasure. After a thousand tender embraces, Lin-in at length tore\nhimself from the arms of his son, and made a profound obeisance to\nTchin. \"What gratitude do I not owe you,\" said he, \"for having\nreceived my son into your house, and brought up this dear portion of\nmyself with so much care. But for you we should never have been\nunited.\"\n\n\"My kind benefactor,\" replied Tchin, rising, \"it was the act of\ndisinterested generosity you practised towards me, in restoring the\ntwo hundred taeels, which moved the compassion of Heaven. It is Heaven\nthat conducted you to my house, where you have found him whom you\nsought in vain for so many years. Now that I know that good youth is\nyour son, I regret that I have not treated him with greater\nconsideration.\"\n\n\"Kneel, my son,\" said Lin-in, \"and thank your generous benefactor.\"\n\nTchin was about to return these salutations, when Lin-in himself\nprevented him, overcome with this excess of respect. This interchange\nof civilities being over they resumed their seats, and Tchin placed\nlittle Hi-eul on a seat by his father's side.\n\nThen Tchin resuming the conversation, said, \"My brother (for\nhenceforth that is the title by which I shall address you), I have a\ndaughter twelve years of age, and it is my intention to give her in\nmarriage to your son, in order that the union may cement our\nfriendship more closely.\" This proposition was made in so sincere and\nardent a manner, that Lin-in did not feel it right to make the usual\nexcuses that good breeding prescribed. He therefore waived all\nceremony, and gave his consent at once.\n\nAs it was growing late, they separated for the night. Hi-eul slept in\nthe same chamber with his father. You may imagine all the tender and\naffectionate conversation that passed between them during the night.\nThe next day Lin-in prepared to take leave of his host, but he could\nnot resist his pressing invitation to remain. Tchin had prepared a\nsecond day's festivity, in which he spared no expense to regale the\nfuture father-in-law of his daughter, and his new son-in-law, and\nthereby to console himself for their departure. They drank and sang,\nand gave themselves up fully to the hilarity of the occasion.\n\nWhen the repast was ended, Tchin drew out a packet of twenty taeels,\nand looking towards Lin-in, said, \"During the time my dear son-in-law\nhas been with me, it is possible he may have suffered many things\nagainst my wish, and unknown to me; here is a little present I wish to\nmake him, until I can give him more substantial proofs of my\naffection. I will not hear of a refusal.\"\n\n\"What!\" replied Lin-in, \"at a time when I am contracting an alliance\nso honourable to me, and when I ought, according to custom, to make\nmarriage presents for my son, presents which I am prevented from doing\nat this moment, only because I am travelling, do you load me with\ngifts? I cannot accept them; the thought covers me with confusion.\"\n\n\"Well!\" replied Tchin, \"I am not dreaming of offering _you_ such a\ntrifle. It is for my son-in-law, not the father-in-law of my daughter,\nthat I intend this present. Indeed, if you persist in the refusal, I\nshall consider it as a sign that the alliance is not agreeable to\nyou.\"\n\nLin-in saw that he must yield, and that resistance would be useless.\nHe humbly accepted the present, and making his son rise from table,\nordered him to make a profound reverence to Tchin. \"What I have given\nyou,\" said Tchin, raising him up, \"is but a trifle, and deserves no\nthanks.\" Hi-eul then went into the house to pay his respects to his\nmother-in-law. The whole day passed in feasting and diversions; it was\nonly at night that they separated.\n\nWhen Lin-in retired to his chamber, he gave himself up entirely to the\nreflections to which these events gave rise. \"It must be confessed,\"\ncried he, \"that by restoring the two hundred taeels, I have done an\naction pleasing to Heaven, and now I am rewarded by the happiness of\nfinding my child, and contracting so honourable an alliance. This is,\nindeed, joy upon joy; it is like putting gold flowers upon a beautiful\npiece of silk. How can I be sufficiently grateful for so many favours?\nHere are the twenty taeels that my friend Tchin has given me; can I do\nbetter than employ them towards the maintenance of some virtuous\nbonzes? It will be sowing them in a soil of blessings.\"\n\nThe next day, after breakfast, the father and son got ready their\nluggage, and took leave of their host; they proceeded to the quay,\nhired a boat, and commenced their journey. They had scarcely gone half\na league, ere they came in sight of a scene of terrible excitement;\nthe river was full of struggling people, whose cries rent the air. A\nbark, full of passengers, had just sunk, and the cries of the\nunfortunate creatures for help were heart-rending! The people on the\nshore called loudly to several small boats which were near to come to\nthe rescue. But the hard-hearted and selfish boatmen demanded that a\ngood sum should be guaranteed them, before they would bestir\nthemselves. At this critical moment Lin-in's boat came up. The moment\nhe perceived what was going on, he said to himself: \"It is a much more\nmeritorious action to save the life of a man, than to adorn the\ntemples and support bonzes. Let us consecrate the twenty taeels to this\ngood work; let us succour these poor drowning souls.\" He instantly\nproclaimed that he would give the twenty taeels amongst those who would\ntake the drowning men into their boats.\n\nAt this offer all the boatmen crowded towards the scene of the\ndisaster, and the river was, in a moment, covered with their boats; at\nthe same time, some of the spectators on shore, who knew how to swim,\nthrew themselves into the water, and, in a few moments, all were\nsaved, without exception. Lin-in then distributed amongst the boatmen\nthe promised reward.\n\nThe poor creatures, snatched from a watery grave, came in a body to\nreturn thanks to their preserver. One amongst them, having looked\nattentively at Lin-in, suddenly cried out, \"What! is that you, my\neldest brother? By what good luck do I find you here?\"\n\nLin-in, turning towards him, recognized his youngest brother,\nLin-tchin. Then, transported with joy, he exclaimed, clasping his\nhands, \"O wonderful circumstance! Heaven has led me hither to save my\nbrother's life.\" He instantly reached out his hand to him, and made\nhim come into his boat, helped him off with his wet clothes, and gave\nhim others.\n\nAs soon as Lin-tchin had sufficiently recovered, he paid the respects\ndue to an elder brother which good breeding demands from a younger,\nand Lin-in, having acknowledged his politeness, called Hi-eul, who was\nin the cabin, to come and salute his uncle; he then recounted all his\nadventures, which threw Lin-tchin into a state of amazement, from\nwhich he was a long time in recovering. \"But tell me,\" said Lin-in, at\nlength, \"your motive in coming to this country.\"\n\n\"It is not possible,\" replied Lin-tchin, \"to tell you in a few words\nthe reason of my travels. In the course of the three years which have\nelapsed since your departure from home, the melancholy news of your\ndeath from illness reached us. My second brother made every inquiry,\nand assured himself that the report was true. It was a thunderbolt for\nmy sister-in-law; she was inconsolable, and put on the deepest\nmourning. For my part, I could not give credit to the report. After a\nfew days had elapsed, my second brother tried all in his power to\ninduce my sister-in-law to contract a fresh marriage. She, however,\nsteadily rejected the proposal; at length she prevailed upon me to\nmake a journey to Chan-si, to ascertain upon the spot what had become\nof you; and, when I least expected it, at the point of perishing in\nthe water, the very person I was in search of, my well-beloved\nbrother, has saved my life. Is not this unexpected good fortune, a\nblessing from Heaven? But believe me, my brother, there is no time to\nbe lost; make all possible haste to return home, and to put an end to\nmy sister-in-law's grief. The least delay may cause an irreparable\nmisfortune.\"\n\nLin-in, overwhelmed at this news, sent for the captain of the boat,\nand, although it was late, ordered him to set sail, and continue the\nvoyage during the night.\n\nWhilst all these events were happening to Lin-in, Wang, his wife, was\na prey to the most poignant grief. A thousand circumstances led her to\nsuspect that her husband was not dead; but Lin-pao, who by that\nreported death became the head of the family, so positively assured\nher that it was true, that, at last, she had allowed herself to be\npersuaded into that belief, and had assumed the widow's weeds.\n\nLin-pao possessed a bad heart, and was capable of the most unworthy\nacts. \"I have no doubt,\" said he, \"of my elder brother's death. My\nsister-in-law is young and handsome; she has, besides, no one to\nsupport her; I must force her to marry again, and I shall make money\nby this means.\"\n\nHe thereupon communicated his plan to Yang, his wife, and ordered her\nto employ some clever matchmaker. But Wang resolutely rejected the\nproposal; she vowed that she would remain a widow, and honour the\nmemory of her husband by her widowhood. Her brother-in-law, Lin-tchin,\nsupported her in her resolution. Thus all the artifices which Lin-pao\nand his wife employed were useless; and, as every time they urged her\non the subject it occurred to her that they had no positive proof of\nhis death, \"I am determined,\" said she, at length, \"to know the truth;\nthese reports are often false; it is only on the very spot that\ncertain information can be obtained. True, the distance is nearly a\nhundred leagues. Still, I know that Lin-tchin is a good-hearted man;\nhe will travel to the province of Chan-si to relieve my anxiety, and\nlearn positively if I am so unfortunate as to have lost my husband;\nand, if I have, he will, at least, bring me his precious remains.\"\n\nLin-tchin was asked to undertake the journey, and, without a moment's\nhesitation, departed. His absence, however, only rendered Lin-pao more\neager in the pursuit of his project. To crown the whole, he had\ngambled very deeply, and, having been a heavy loser, was at his wit's\nend to know where to obtain money. In this state of embarrassment, he\nmet with a merchant of Kiang-si, who had just lost his wife, and was\nlooking for another. Lin-pao seized upon the opportunity, and proposed\nhis sister-in-law to him. The merchant accepted the offer, taking\ncare, however, to make secret inquiries whether the lady who was\nproposed to him was young and good-looking. As soon as he was\nsatisfied on these points, he lost no time, and paid down thirty taeels\nto clinch the bargain.\n\nLin-pao, having taken the money, said to the merchant, \"I ought to\nwarn you, that my sister-in-law is proud and haughty. She will raise\nmany objections to leaving the house, and you will have a great deal\nof trouble to force her to do it. Now this will be your best plan for\nmanaging it. This evening, as soon as it gets dark, have a palanquin\nand good strong bearers in readiness; come with as little noise as\npossible, and present yourself at the door of the house. The young\nwoman who will come to the door, attired in the head-dress of\nmourners, is my sister-in-law; don't say a word to her, and don't\nlisten to what she may say, but seize her at once, thrust her into\nyour palanquin, carry her to your boat, and set sail at once.\" This\nplan met with the approbation of the merchant, and its execution\nappeared easy enough of accomplishment.\n\nIn the mean time, Lin-pao returned home, and, in order to prevent his\nsister-in-law from suspecting any thing of the project he had planned,\nhe assumed an air of the most perfect indifference, but as soon as she\nleft the room, he communicated his plans to his wife, and, alluding to\nhis sister-in-law, in a contemptuous manner, said, \"That two-legged\npiece of goods must leave this house to-night. However, not to be a\nwitness of her tears and sighs, I shall go out beforehand, and, as it\ngets dark, a merchant of Kiang-si will come, and take her away in a\npalanquin to his boat.\"\n\nHe would have continued the conversation, when he heard the footsteps\nof some person outside the window, and went hurriedly away. In his\nhaste he forgot to mention the circumstance of the mourning dress. It\nwas doubtless an interposition of Providence that this circumstance\nwas omitted. The lady Wang easily perceived that the noise she made\noutside the window had caused Lin-pao to break off the conversation\nsuddenly. The tone of his voice plainly showed that he had something\nmore to say; but she had heard enough; for having remarked by his\nmanner that he had some secret to tell his wife when he entered the\nhouse, she had pretended to go away, but listening at the window had\nheard these words distinctly, \"They will take her away and put her\ninto a palanquin.\"\n\nThese words strongly fortified her suspicions. Her resolution was\ntaken at once. She entered the room, and approaching Yang, gave\nutterance to her anxiety. \"My sister-in-law,\" said she, \"you behold an\nunfortunate widow, who is bound to you by the strongest ties of a\nfriendship which has been always sincere. By this long-standing\nfriendship I conjure you to tell me candidly whether my brother-in-law\nstill persists in his design of forcing me into a marriage that would\ncover me with disgrace.\"\n\nAt these words Yang at first appeared confused, and changed colour;\nthen, assuming a more confident expression, \"What are you thinking\nof?\" she asked, \"and what fancies have you got into your head? If\nthere were any intention of making you marry again, do you think there\nwould be any difficulty? What is the good of throwing oneself into the\nwater before the ship is really going to pieces?\"\n\nThe moment the lady Wang heard this allusion to the ship, she\nunderstood more clearly the meaning of the secret conference of her\nbrother-in-law with his wife. She now suspected the worst, and gave\nvent to her lamentations and sighs; and yielding to the current of her\ngrief, she shut herself up in her room, where she wept, groaned, and\nbewailed her hard lot. \"Unfortunate wretch that I am,\" cried she, \"I\ndo not know what has become of my husband. Lin-tchin, my\nbrother-in-law and friend, upon whom alone I can rely, is gone on a\njourney. My father, mother, and relations live far from hence. If this\nbusiness is hurried on, how shall I be able to inform them of it? I\ncan hope for no assistance from our neighbours. Lin-pao has made\nhimself the terror of the whole district, and every body knows him to\nbe capable of the greatest villany. Miserable creature that I am! how\ncan I escape his snares? If I do not fall into them to-day, it may be\nto-morrow, or at any rate in a very short time.\"\n\nShe fell to the ground half dead; her fall, and the violence of her\ngrief, made a great noise. The lady Yang, hearing the disturbance,\nhastened to her room, and finding the door firmly fastened, concluded\nthat it was a plan of her distracted sister-in-law to evade the scheme\nof the night; she therefore seized a bar which stood by and broke the\ndoor open. As she entered the room, the night being very dark, she\ncaught her feet in the clothes of the lady Wang, and fell tumbling\nover her. In her fall she lost her head-dress, which flew to some\ndistance, and the fright and fall brought on a faint, in which she\nremained for some time. When she recovered she got up, went for a\nlight, and returned to the room, where she found the lady Wang\nstretched on the floor, without motion and almost without breath.\n\nAt the moment she was going to procure other assistance, she heard a\ngentle knock at the door. She knew it must be the merchant of Kiang-si\ncome to fetch the wife he had bought. She quickly ran to receive him\nand bring him into the room, that he might himself be witness of what\nhad occurred; but remembering that she had no head-dress, and that she\nwas unfit to present herself in that state, she hastily caught up the\none she found at her feet, which was the lady Wang's head-dress of\nmourning, and ran to the door.\n\nIt was indeed the merchant of Kiang-si, who had come to fetch away his\npromised bride. He had a bridal palanquin, ornamented with silk flags,\nfestoons, flowers, and several gay lanterns; it was surrounded by\nservants bearing lighted torches, and by a troop of flute and\nhautboy-players. The whole cortege was stationed in the street in\nperfect silence. The merchant, having knocked gently and finding the\ndoor open, entered the house with some of those who bore torches to\nlight him.\n\nUpon the lady Yang's appearance, the merchant, who spied at a glance\nthe mourning head-dress, which was the mark by which he was to\ndistinguish his bride, flew upon her like a hungry kite upon a\nsparrow. His followers rushed in, carried off the lady, and shut her\ninto the palanquin, which was all ready to receive her. It was in vain\nshe endeavoured to make herself heard, crying out, \"You are mistaken;\nit is not me you want.\" The music struck up as she was forced into the\npalanquin, and drowned her voice, whilst the bearers flew rather than\nwalked, and bore her to the boat.\n\n[Illustration: The lady Yang carried off in the Palanquin, p. 122.]\n\nWhilst all this was taking place, the lady Wang had gradually revived\nand come to her senses. The great hubbub she heard at the door of the\nhouse renewed her fears, and occasioned her the most painful anxiety;\nbut as she found that the noise of music, and the tumult of voices,\nwhich had arisen so suddenly died gradually away in the distance, she\nregained her courage, and after a few minutes summoned up strength to\ngo and inquire what was the matter.\n\nAfter calling her sister-in-law two or three times without effect, the\ntruth began to dawn on her; and after considering the matter\ncarefully, she could only come to the conclusion that the merchant had\nmade a mistake, and had carried off the wrong lady. But now a fresh\ncause of uneasiness arose; she dreaded the consequences when Lin-pao\nshould return and be informed of the mistake. She shut herself up in\nher room, and after picking up the head-pins, the earrings, and the\nhead-dress, which were lying on the floor, threw herself, quite worn\nout with fatigue and anxiety, on her couch, and endeavoured to get a\nlittle sleep, but she was not able to close her eyes all night.\n\nAt daybreak she rose and bathed her face, and proceeded to complete\nher toilet. As, however, she was searching about for her mourning\nhead-dress, some one began making a great noise at the room-door,\nknocking loudly and crying out, \"Open the door instantly!\" It was, in\nfact, Lin-pao himself. She recognized the voice at once. She made up\nher mind at once what to do; she let him go on knocking without\nanswering him. He swore, stormed and bawled, till he was hoarse. At\nlength the lady Wang went to the door, and standing behind it without\nopening it, asked, \"Who is knocking there, and making such a\ndisturbance?\" Lin-pao, who recognized the voice of his sister-in-law,\nbegan to shout still louder: but seeing that his storming had no\neffect, he had recourse to an expedient which proved successful.\n\"Sister-in-law,\" said he, \"I have brought you good news! Lin-tchin, my\nyoungest brother, has come back, and our eldest brother is in\nexcellent health; open the door at once!\"\n\nOverjoyed at this intelligence, the lady Wang ran to complete her\ntoilet, and in her haste put on the black[8] head-dress that her\nsister-in-law had left behind, and eagerly opened the door; but, alas!\nin vain did she look for her friend Lin-tchin; no one was there but\nLin-pao. He entered her room hurriedly and looked round, but not\nseeing his wife, and perceiving a black head-dress on the head of his\nsister-in-law, his suspicions began to be excited in a strange manner.\n\n\"Well! where is your sister-in-law?\" he asked roughly.\n\n\"You ought to know better than I,\" replied the lady Wang, \"since you\nhad the whole management of this admirable plot.\"\n\n\"But tell me,\" returned Lin-pao, \"why don't you still wear a white\nhead-dress? have you left off mourning?\" The lady Wang forthwith\nproceeded to relate to him all that had happened during his absence.\n\nJust at this moment he caught sight through the window of four or five\npersons hurrying towards his house. To his utter astonishment he\nperceived that they were his eldest brother Lin-in, his youngest\nbrother Lin-tchin, his nephew Hi-eul, and two servants carrying their\nluggage. Lin-pao, thunderstruck at this sight, and not having\nimpudence enough to face them, ran off by the back-door, and\ndisappeared like a flash of lightning.\n\nThe lady Wang was transported with joy at her husband's return. But\nwho shall describe her ecstasies of joy when her son was presented to\nher? She could scarcely recognize him, so tall and handsome had he\ngrown. \"Oh!\" cried she, \"by what good fortune did you recover our dear\nchild, whom I thought we had lost for ever?\"\n\nLin-in gave her in detail an account of his adventures; and the lady\nWang related at length all the indignities she had endured at the\nhands of Lin-pao, and the extremities to which she had been reduced by\nhis scandalous treatment.\n\nLin-in lavished on his wife encomiums which indeed her fidelity\ndeserved; after which, reflecting on the whole chain of events by\nwhich the present meeting had been brought about, he seemed deeply\nmoved, and remarked, \"If a blind passion for wealth had caused me to\nkeep the two hundred taeels I found by accident, how should I have ever\nmet with our dear child? If avarice had prevented me from employing\nthe twenty taeels in saving those drowning people, my dear brother\nwould have perished in the waves, and I should never have seen him; if\nby an unlooked-for chance I had not met my kind-hearted brother, how\nshould I have discovered the trouble and confusion that reigned in\nthis house in time to prevent its disastrous consequences? But for all\nthis, my beloved wife, we should never have seen each other again. I\nrecognize the special interposition of Providence in bringing about\nall these things. As to my other brother, that unnatural brother, who\nhas unconsciously sold his own wife, he has drawn upon himself his own\nterrible punishment. Heaven rewards men according to their deserts;\nlet them not think to escape its judgments.\n\n\"Let us learn from this how profitable in the end, as well as good, it\nis to practise virtue; it is that alone which bestows lasting\nprosperity upon a house.\"\n\nIn due course of time Hi-eul brought home his bride, the daughter of\nTchin. The marriage was celebrated with great rejoicings, and proved a\nhappy one. They had several children, and lived to see a crowd of\ngrandchildren, several of whom became men of learning, and acquired\nimportant positions in the state.\n\n\nCONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.\n\nThe prince applauded the narrative of the story-teller; and, dinner\nbeing over, he prostrated himself a second time before the khan, and,\nafter thanking him for his goodness, returned to the tent, where\nElmaze and Timurtasch were anxiously expecting him. \"I bring you good\nnews,\" said he to them; \"our fortune has changed already.\" He then\nrelated to them all that had passed. This fortunate event caused them\nthe greatest pleasure; they regarded it as an infallible sign that the\nhardness of their destiny was beginning to soften. They willingly\nfollowed Khalaf, who conducted them to the royal tent and presented\nthem to the khan. This prince received them with courtesy, and renewed\nto them the promise he had given to their son; and he did not fail to\nkeep his word. He appointed them a private tent, caused them to be\nwaited on by the slaves and officers of his household, and ordered\nthem to be treated with the same respect as himself.\n\nThe next day Khalaf was arrayed in a rich dress; he received from the\nhand of Almguer himself a sabre with a diamond hilt and a purse full\nof gold sequins; they then brought him a beautiful Turcoman horse. He\nmounted before all the court; and to show that he understood the\nmanagement of a horse, he made him go through all his paces and\nevolutions in a manner that charmed the prince and all his courtiers.\n\nAfter having thanked the khan for all his benefits, he took his leave.\nHe then sought Elmaze and Timurtasch; and after some time spent in\ndesultory conversation, proceeded to unfold to them a scheme which for\nsome days past had been agitating his mind. \"I have a great desire,\"\nsaid he, \"to see the great kingdom of China; give me permission to\ngratify that wish. I have a presentiment that I shall signalize myself\nby some splendid action, and that I shall gain the friendship of the\nmonarch who holds that vast empire under his sway. Suffer me to leave\nyou in this asylum, where you are in perfect safety, and where you can\nwant for nothing. I am following an impulse which inspires me, or\nrather, I am yielding myself to the guidance of Heaven.\"\n\n\"Go, my son,\" replied Timurtasch; \"yield to the noble impulse which\nanimates you; hasten to the fortune that awaits you. Accelerate by\nyour valour the arrival of that tardy prosperity which must one day\nsucceed our misfortunes, or by a glorious death deserve an illustrious\nplace in the history of unfortunate princes.\"\n\nThe young prince of the Nagaeis, after having embraced his father and\nmother, mounted upon his beautiful charger, took a respectful leave of\nthe khan, received from the hand of the princess Elmaze, who came out\nof her tent for the purpose, the parting cup, and set out on his\njourney. Historians do not mention that he encountered any thing\nworthy notice on his route; they only say that, having arrived at the\ngreat city Canbalac, otherwise Pekin, he dismounted at a house near\nthe gate, where a worthy woman, a widow, lived. Khalaf reined up his\nhorse here, and on the widow presenting herself at the door, he\nsaluted her and said,\n\n\"My good mother, would you kindly receive a stranger? If you could\ngive me a lodging in your house, I can venture to say that you will\nhave no cause to regret it.\" The widow scrutinized him; and judging\nfrom his good looks, as well as from his dress, that he was no mean\nguest, she made him a low bow, and replied, \"Young stranger of noble\nbearing, my house is at your service, and all that it contains.\"\n\n\"Have you also a place where I can put my horse?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"I have,\" and called a young slave, who took the\nhorse by the bridle, and led him into a small stable behind the house.\nKhalaf, who felt very hungry, then asked her if she would kindly send\nand buy something for him in the market. The widow replied, that she\nhad a maiden who lived with her, and who would execute his orders. The\nprince then drew from his purse a sequin of gold and placed it in the\ngirl's hand, who went off to the market.\n\nIn the mean time, the widow had enough to do to answer the inquiries\nof Khalaf. He asked her a thousand questions; what were the customs of\nthe inhabitants of the city? how many families Pekin was said to\ncontain? and, at length, the conversation fell upon the king of China.\n\n\"Tell me, I pray you,\" said Khalaf, \"what is the character this prince\nbears. Is he generous, and do you think that he would pay any regard\nto a young stranger, who might offer to serve him against his enemies?\nIn a word, is he a man to whose interests I could worthily attach\nmyself?\"\n\n\"Doubtless,\" replied the widow; \"he is an excellent prince, who loves\nhis subjects as much as he is beloved by them, and I am surprised that\nyou have never heard of our good king, Altoun-Khan, for the fame of\nhis justice and liberality is spread far and wide.\"\n\n\"From the favourable picture you draw of him,\" replied the prince of\nthe Nagaeis, \"I should imagine that he ought to be the happiest and\nmost prosperous monarch in the world.\"\n\n\"He is not so, however,\" replied the widow; \"indeed, he may be said to\nbe the most wretched. In the first place, he has no prince to succeed\nhim on his throne; a male heir is denied him, notwithstanding all the\nprayers of himself and his subjects, and all the good deeds he\nperforms to that end. But I must tell you, the grief of having no son\nis not his greatest trouble; what principally disturbs the peace of\nhis life is the princess Tourandocte, his only daughter.\"\n\n\"How is it,\" replied Khalaf, \"that she is such a source of grief to\nhim?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" replied the widow; \"and, indeed, I can speak upon\nthe subject from the very best authority; for my daughter has often\ntold me the story and she has the honour of being among the attendants\non the princess.\"\n\n\"The princess Tourandocte,\" continued the hostess of the prince of the\nNagaeis, \"is in her nineteenth year; she is so beautiful, that the\nartists to whom she has sat for her portrait, although the most expert\nin the East, have all confessed that they were ashamed of their\nefforts; and that the most able painter in the world, and the best\nskilled in delineating the charms of a beautiful face, could not\nexpress those of the princess of China; nevertheless, the different\nportraits which have been taken of her, although infinitely inferior\nto the original, have produced the most disastrous consequences.\n\n\"She combines, with her ravishing beauty, a mind so cultivated, that\nshe not only understands all that is usual for persons in her station\nto know, but is mistress of sciences suited only for the other sex.\nShe can trace the various characters of several languages, she is\nacquainted with arithmetic, geography, philosophy, mathematics, law,\nand, above all, theology, she knows the laws and moral philosophy of\nour great legislator, Berginghuzin; in fact, is as learned as all the\nwise men put together. But her good qualities are effaced by a\nhardness of heart without parallel, and all her accomplishments are\ntarnished by detestable cruelty.\n\n\"It is now two years ago since the king of Thibet sent to ask her in\nmarriage for his son, who had fallen in love with her from a portrait\nhe had seen. Altoun-Khan, delighted with the prospect of this\nalliance, proposed it to Tourandocte. The haughty princess, to whom\nall men appeared despicable, so vain had her beauty rendered her,\nrejected the proposal with disdain. The king flew into a violent rage\nwith her, and declared that he would be obeyed; but instead of\nsubmitting dutifully to the wishes of her father, she burst into\nbitter lamentations, because he showed a disposition to force her to\ncomply; she grieved immoderately, as though it were intended to\ninflict a great injury upon her; in fact, she took it so much to heart\nthat she fell seriously ill. The physicians, who soon discovered the\nsecret of her complaint, told the king that all their remedies were\nuseless, and that the princess would certainly lose her life, if he\npersisted in his resolution to make her espouse the prince of Thibet.\n\n\"The king then, who loves his daughter to distraction, alarmed at the\ndanger she was in, went to see her, and assured her that he would send\nback the ambassador with a refusal. 'That is not enough, my lord,'\nreplied the princess; 'I am resolved to die, except you grant what I\nask you. If you wish me to live, you must bind yourself by an\ninviolable oath never to try to influence my wishes in this matter,\nand to publish a decree declaring that of all the princes who may seek\nmy hand, none shall be allowed to espouse me who shall not previously\nhave replied, without hesitation, to the questions which I shall put\nto him before all the learned men in this city; that if his answers\nprove satisfactory, I will consent to his becoming my husband, but if\nthe reverse, that he shall lose his head in the court-yard of your\npalace.'\n\n\"'By this edict,' added she, 'of which all the foreign princes who may\narrive at Pekin shall be informed, you will extinguish all desire of\nasking me in marriage; and that is exactly what I wish, for I hate\nmen, and do not wish to be married.'\n\n\"'But, my child,' said the king, 'if by chance some one should present\nhimself, and reply to your questions?'--\n\n\"'Ha! I do not fear that,' she said quickly, interrupting him; 'I can\nput questions which would puzzle the most learned doctors; I am\nwilling to run that risk.'\n\n\"Altoun-Khan pondered over what the princess demanded of him. 'I see\nclearly,' thought he, 'that my daughter does not wish to marry, and\nthe effect of this edict will be to frighten away all lovers. I run no\nrisk, therefore, in yielding to her fancies, no evil can come of it.\nWhat prince would be mad enough to face such danger?'\n\n\"At length the king, persuaded that this edict would not be followed\nby any bad results, and that the recovery of his daughter entirely\ndepended upon it, caused it to be published, and swore upon the laws\nof Berginghuzin to see that it was observed to the letter.\nTourandocte, reassured by this oath, which she knew her father dare\nnot violate, regained her strength, and was soon restored to perfect\nhealth.\n\n\"In spite of the decree, the fame of her beauty attracted several\nyoung princes to Pekin. It was in vain that they were informed of the\nnature of the edict; and as every body, but particularly a young\nprince, entertains a good opinion of himself, they had the hardihood\nto present themselves to reply to the questions of the princess; and\nnot being able to fathom her deep meaning, they perished miserably one\nafter another.\n\n\"The king, to do him justice, appears deeply afflicted with their sad\nfate. He repents of having made the oath which binds him; and however\ntenderly he may love his daughter, he would now almost rather he had\nlet her die than have saved her life at such a price. He does all in\nhis power to prevent these evils. When a lover whom the decree cannot\nrestrain comes to demand the hand of the princess, he strives to deter\nhim from his purpose; and he never consents, but with the deepest\nregret, to his exposing himself to the chance of losing his life. But\nit generally happens that he is unable to dissuade these rash young\nmen. They are infatuated with Tourandocte, and the hope of possessing\nher blinds them to the difficulty of obtaining her.\n\n\"But if the king shows so much grief at the ruin of the unfortunate\nprinces, it is not the case with his barbarous daughter. She takes a\npride in these spectacles of blood with which her beauty periodically\nfurnishes the Chinese. So great is her vanity, that she considers the\nmost accomplished prince not only unworthy of her, but most insolent\nin daring to raise his thoughts towards her, and she looks upon his\ndeath as a just chastisement for his temerity.\n\n\"But what is still more deplorable, Heaven is perpetually permitting\nprinces to come and sacrifice themselves to this inhuman princess.\nOnly the other day, a prince, who flattered himself that he had\nknowledge enough to reply to her questions, lost his life; and this\nvery night another is to die, who, unfortunately, came to the court of\nChina with the same hopes.\"\n\nKhalaf was deeply attentive to the widow's story.\n\n\"I cannot understand,\" said he, after she had ceased speaking, \"how\nany princes can be found sufficiently devoid of judgment to come and\nask the hand of the princess of China. What man would not be terrified\nat the condition without which he cannot hope to obtain her? Besides,\ndespite what the artists may say who have painted her portrait;\nalthough they may affirm that their productions are but an imperfect\nimage of her beauty, my firm belief is that they have added charms,\nand that their portraits exaggerate her beauty, since they have\nproduced such powerful effects; indeed, I cannot think that\nTourandocte is so beautiful as you say.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the widow, \"she is more lovely by far than I have\ndescribed her to you; and you may believe me, for I have seen her\nseveral times when I have gone to the harem to visit my daughter. Draw\nupon your fancy as you please, collect in your imagination all that\ncan possibly be brought together in order to constitute a perfect\nbeauty, and be assured that even then you would not have pictured to\nyourself an object which could approach the perfections of the\nprincess.\"\n\nThe prince of the Nagaeis could not credit the story of the widow, so\noverdrawn did he consider it; he felt, nevertheless, a secret pleasure\nfor which he could not account. \"But, my mother,\" said he, \"are the\nquestions which the king's daughter proposes so difficult of solution\nthat it is impossible to reply to them to the satisfaction of the\nlawyers who are judges? For my part, I cannot help thinking that the\nprinces who were not able to penetrate the meaning of her questions,\nmust have been persons of very little ingenuity, if not absolutely\nignorant.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" replied the widow. \"There is no enigma more obscure than the\nquestions of the princess, and it is almost impossible to reply to\nthem.\"\n\nWhilst they were conversing thus of Tourandocte and her lovers, the\ngirl arrived from the market loaded with provisions. Khalaf sat down\nto a table which the widow had prepared, and ate like a man famishing\nwith hunger. Whilst thus engaged the night drew on, and they heard\nshortly in the town the gong of justice. The prince asked what the\nnoise meant. \"It is to give notice to the people,\" replied the widow,\n\"that some person is going to be executed; and the unfortunate victim\nabout to be immolated is the prince of whom I told you, and who is to\nbe executed to-night for not being able to answer the princess's\nquestions. It is customary to punish the guilty during the day, but\nthis is an exceptional case. The king, who in his heart abhors the\npunishment which he causes to be inflicted upon the lovers of his\ndaughter, will not suffer the sun to be witness of such a cruel\naction.\"\n\nThe son of Timurtasch had a wish to see this execution, the cause of\nwhich appeared so singular to him. He went out of the house, and\nmeeting a crowd of Chinese in the street animated by the same\ncuriosity, he mixed with them, and went to the court-yard of the\npalace, where the tragic scene was to be enacted. He beheld in the\nmiddle of the yard a _schebt-cheraghe_, in other words a very high\nwooden tower, the outside of which, from the top to the bottom, was\ncovered with branches of cypress, amongst which a prodigious quantity\nof lamps, tastefully arranged, spread a brilliant light around, and\nilluminated the whole court-yard. Fifteen cubits from the tower a\nscaffold was raised, covered with white satin, and around the scaffold\nwere arranged several pavilions of taffetas of the same colour open\ntowards the scaffold. Behind these two thousand soldiers of the guard\nof Altoun-Khan were stationed, with drawn swords and axes in their\nhands, forming a double rank, which served as a barrier against the\npeople. Khalaf was looking with deep attention at all that presented\nitself to his view, when suddenly the mournful ceremony commenced. It\nwas ushered in by a confused noise of drums and bells, which proceeded\nfrom the town, and could be heard at a great distance. At the same\nmoment twenty mandarins and as many judges, all dressed in long robes\nof white woollen cloth, emerged from the palace, advanced towards the\nscaffold, and after walking three times around it, took their places\nunder the pavilions.\n\nNext came the victim, crowned with flowers interwoven with cypress\nleaves, and with a blue fillet round his head,--not a red one, such as\ncriminals condemned by justice wear. He was a young prince, who had\nscarcely reached his eighteenth year; he was accompanied by a mandarin\nleading him by the hand, and followed by the executioner. The three\nascended the scaffold; instantly the noise of the drums and bells\nceased. The mandarin then addressed the prince in a tone so loud that\nhe was heard by nearly the whole concourse of people. \"Prince,\" said\nhe, \"is it not true that you were apprised of the terms of the king's\nedict before you presented yourself to ask the princess in marriage?\nIs it not also true that the king himself used all his endeavours to\ndissuade you from your rash resolution?\" The prince, having replied in\nthe affirmative, \"Acknowledge, then,\" continued the mandarin, \"that it\nis by your own fault that you lose your life to-day, and that the king\nand princess are not guilty of your death.\"\n\n\"I pardon them,\" returned the prince; \"I impute my death to myself\nalone, and I pray Heaven not to require of them my blood which is\nabout to be shed.\"\n\nHe had scarcely finished these words, when the executioner swept off\nhis head with one stroke of the sword. The air instantly resounded\nwith the noise of the drums and the bells. Then twelve mandarins took\nup the body, laid it in a coffin of ivory and ebony, and placed it\nupon a litter, which six of them bore away upon their shoulders into\nthe gardens of Serail. Here they deposited it under a dome of white\nmarble, which the king had ordered to be erected purposely to be the\nresting-place of all those unfortunate princes who should share the\nsame fate. He often retired there to weep upon the tombs of those who\nwere buried within it, and tried, by honouring their ashes with his\ntears, in some measure to atone for the barbarity of his child. As\nsoon as the mandarins had carried away the body of the prince who had\njust suffered, the people and all the councillors retired to their\nhomes, blaming the king for having had the imprudence to sanction\nsuch barbarity by an oath that he could not break. Khalaf remained in\nthe court-yard of the palace in a state of bewilderment; he noticed a\nman near him weeping bitterly; he guessed that it was some person who\nwas deeply interested in the execution that had just taken place, and\nwishing to know more about it, addressed him in these words:\n\n\"I am deeply moved,\" said he, \"by the lively grief you exhibit, and I\nsympathize in your troubles, for I cannot doubt that you were\nintimately acquainted with the prince who has just suffered.\"\n\n\"Ah! sir,\" replied the mourner, with a fresh outburst of grief, \"I\nought indeed to know him, for I was his tutor. O unhappy king of\nSamarcand!\" added he, \"what will be thy grief when thou shalt be told\nof the extraordinary death of thy son? and who shall dare to carry\nthee the news?\"\n\nKhalaf asked by what means the prince of Samarcand had become\nenamoured of the princess of China. \"I will tell you,\" replied the\ntutor: \"and you will doubtless be astonished at the recital I am about\nto make. The prince of Samarcand,\" pursued he, \"lived happily at his\nfather's court. The court looked upon him as a prince who would one\nday be their sovereign, and they studied to please him as much as the\nking himself. He usually passed the day in hunting and playing at\nball, and at night he assembled secretly in his apartments the\ndistinguished youth of the court, with whom he drank all sorts of\nliquors. He sometimes amused himself by seeing the beautiful slaves\ndance, or by listening to music and singing. In a word, his life was\npassed in a constant round of pleasure.\n\n\"One day a famous painter arrived at Samarcand with several portraits\nof princesses which he had painted in the different courts through\nwhich he had passed. He showed them to my prince, who, looking at the\nfirst he presented, said, 'These are very beautiful pictures; I am\ncertain that the originals are under a deep obligation to you.'\n\n\"'My lord,' replied the artist, 'I confess that in these portraits I\nhave somewhat flattered the sitters; but I crave permission to tell\nyou that I have one far more beautiful than these, which does not\napproach the original.' Saying this, he drew from the case which\ncontained his portraits that of the princess of China.\n\n\"Scarcely had my master looked at it, when not conceiving that nature\nwas capable of producing so perfect a beauty, he exclaimed that there\nwas not in the world a woman of such exquisite loveliness, and that\nthe portrait of the princess of China was more flattering than the\nothers. The artist protested that it was not, and assured him that no\npencil could convey an idea of the grace and beauty which shone in the\ncountenance of the princess Tourandocte. Upon this assurance my master\nbought the portrait, which made so deep an impression on him, that,\nleaving the court of his father, he quitted Samarcand, accompanied by\nme alone, and without informing any one of his intentions, took the\nroad for China, and came to this city. He volunteered to serve\nAltoun-Khan against his enemies, and asked the hand of his daughter\nthe princess. We were apprized of the severe edict connected with the\nproposal, but alas! my prince, instead of being dismayed by the\nseverity of the conditions, conceived the liveliest joy. 'I will go,'\nsaid he, 'and present myself to answer the questions of Tourandocte; I\nam not deficient in talent or ready wit, and I shall obtain the hand\nof the princess.'\n\n\"It is needless to tell you the rest, sir,\" continued the tutor,\nsobbing; \"you may judge by the mournful spectacle you have beheld that\nthe unfortunate prince of Samarcand was unable to answer, as he hoped,\nthe fatal questions of this barbarous beauty, whose delight is to shed\nblood, and who has already been the means of sacrificing the lives of\nseveral kings' sons. A few moments before his death he gave me the\nportrait of this cruel princess. 'I entrust,' said he, 'this portrait\nto thee; guard carefully the precious deposit. Thou hast but to show\nit to my father when thou informest him of my sad fate, and I doubt\nnot that when he beholds so beautiful a face, he will pardon my\ntemerity.' But,\" added the old man, \"let any one else who pleases\ncarry the sad news to the king his father; for my part, borne down by\nthe weight of my affliction, I will go far from hence and Samarcand,\nand mourn for my beloved charge. This is what you wished to know; and\nhere is the dangerous portrait,\" pursued he, taking it from beneath\nhis cloak and throwing it on the ground in a paroxysm of rage; \"behold\nthe cause of the sad fate of my prince. O execrable portrait! why had\nmy master not my eyes when he took thee into his hands? O inhuman\nprincess! may all the princes of the earth entertain for thee the same\nsentiments as those with which thou hast inspired me! Instead of being\nthe object of their love, thou wouldest then be their aversion.\"\nSaying this, the tutor of the prince of Samarcand retired full of\nrage, regarding the palace with a furious eye and without speaking\nanother word to the son of Timurtasch. The latter quickly picked up\nthe portrait of Tourandocte, and turned to retrace his steps to the\nhouse of the widow; but he missed his way in the darkness, and\nwandered heedlessly out of the city. He impatiently awaited the\ndaylight to enable him to contemplate the beauty of the princess of\nChina. As soon as the approach of dawn furnished him with sufficient\nlight to satisfy his curiosity, he opened the case which contained the\nportrait.\n\nStill he hesitated before he looked at it. \"What am I about to do?\"\ncried he; \"ought I to disclose to my eyes so dangerous an object?\nThink, Khalaf, think of the direful effects it has caused; hast thou\nalready forgotten what the tutor of the prince of Samarcand has just\nnarrated to thee? Look not on this portrait; resist the impulse which\nurges thee, it is nothing more than a feeling of idle curiosity.\nWhilst thou retainest thy reason thou canst prevent thy destruction.\nBut what do I say? prevent,\" added he, checking himself; \"with what\nfalse reasoning does my timid prudence inspire me. If I am to love the\nprincess, is not my love already written in indelible characters in\nthe book of fate. Besides, I think that it is possible to look upon\nthe most beautiful portrait with impunity; one must be weak, indeed,\nto be influenced by the sight of a vain array of colours. Never fear;\nlet us scan these surpassing and murderous features without emotion. I\nwill even find defects, and taste the pleasure of criticizing the\ncharms of this too beautiful princess; and I could wish, in order to\nmortify her vanity, that she might learn that I have looked upon her\nportrait without emotion.\"\n\nThe son of Timurtasch had fully made up his mind to look upon the\nportrait of Tourandocte with an indifferent eye. He now casts his eyes\non it, he regards it attentively, examines it, admires the contour of\nthe countenance, the regularity of the features, the vivacity of the\neyes,--the mouth, the nose, all appear perfect; he is surprised at so\nrare a combination of perfect features, and although still on his\nguard, he allows himself to be charmed. An inconceivable uneasiness\ntakes possession of him in spite of himself; he can no longer\nunderstand his feelings. \"What fire,\" said he, \"has suddenly kindled\nitself in my bosom! What tumult has this portrait produced in my\nthoughts! Merciful Heaven, is it the lot of all those who look upon\nthis portrait to become enamoured of this inhuman princess? Alas! I\nfeel but too surely that she has made the same impression upon me, as\nshe did upon the unhappy prince of Samarcand; I yield to the charms\nthat wounded him, and far from being terrified by his melancholy fate,\nI could almost envy his very misfortune. What a change, gracious\nHeaven! I could not conceive a short time ago, how one could be mad\nenough to despise the severity of the edict, and now I see nothing\nthat frightens me, all the danger has vanished.\n\n\"No! incomparable princess,\" pursued he, devouring the portrait with\nan enamoured gaze, \"no obstacle can stop me, I love you spite of your\nbarbarity; and since it is permitted to me to aspire to your\npossession, from this day I will strive to win you; if I perish in the\nbold attempt, I shall only feel in dying the grief of not being able\nto possess you.\"\n\nKhalaf, having formed the resolve of demanding the hand of the\nprincess, returned to the widow's house, a journey which cost him no\nlittle trouble, for he had rambled to some considerable distance\nduring the night. \"Ah! my son,\" exclaimed his hostess, as soon as she\nbeheld him, \"I am so glad to see you, I was very uneasy about you, I\nfeared some accident had befallen you; why did you not return\nearlier?\"\n\n\"My good mother,\" replied he, \"I am sorry to have caused you any\nuneasiness, I missed my way in the darkness.\" He then related to her\nhow he had met the tutor of the prince whom they had put to death, and\ndid not fail to repeat to her all that he had told him. Then showing\nher the portrait of Tourandocte; \"Tell me,\" said he, \"if this portrait\nis only an imperfect likeness of the princess of China; for my part, I\ncannot conceive that it is not equal to the original.\"\n\n\"By the soul of the prophet Jacmouny,\" cried the widow, after she had\nexamined the portrait, \"the princess is a thousand times more\nbeautiful, and infinitely more charming than she is here represented.\nI wish you could see her, you would be of my opinion, that all the\nartists in the world who should undertake to paint her as she really\nis, could never succeed. I will not even make an exception in favour\nof the famous Many.\"\n\n\"You delight me above measure,\" replied the prince of the Nagaeis, \"by\nassuring me that the beauty of Tourandocte surpasses all the efforts\nof the artist's power. How flattering the assurance! It strengthens me\nin my determination, and incites me to attempt at once the brilliant\nadventure. Oh that I were before the princess! I burn with impatience\nto try whether I shall be more fortunate than the prince of\nSamarcand.\"\n\n\"What do you say, my son?\" eagerly asked the widow, \"what enterprise\nare you so rashly planning? And do you seriously think of carrying it\ninto effect?\"\n\n\"Yes, my good mother,\" returned Khalaf, \"I intend this very day to\npresent myself to answer the questions of the princess. I came to\nChina only with the intention of offering my services to the great\nking, Altoun-Khan, but it is better to be his son-in-law than an\nofficer in his army.\"\n\nAt these words the widow burst into tears. \"Ah! sir, in the name of\nHeaven do not persist in so rash a resolution; you will certainly\nperish if you are bold enough to aspire to the hand of the princess;\ninstead of allowing her beauty to charm you, let it be the object of\nyour detestation, since it has been the cause of so many frightful\ntragedies; picture to yourself what the grief of your parents will be\nwhen they hear of your death; let the thoughts of the mortal grief\ninto which you will plunge them deter you.\"\n\n\"For pity's sake, my mother,\" interrupted the son of Timurtasch,\n\"cease to present to my mind such affecting images. I cannot be\nignorant, that if it be my destiny to die this day, my sad end will be\na source of bitter and inexhaustible grief to my beloved parents; nay,\nI can conceive their misery being so excessive as to endanger their\nown lives, for well do I know their extreme affection for me;\nnotwithstanding all this, however, notwithstanding the gratitude with\nwhich their love ought to inspire, and indeed does inspire me, I must\nyield to the passion that consumes me. But, what! Is it not in hopes\nof making them more happy that I am about to expose my life? Yes,\ndoubtless, their interest is bound up with the desire that urges me\non, and I feel sure that if my father were here, far from opposing my\ndesign, he would rather excite me to its speedy execution. My\nresolution is taken; waste no more time in trying to dissuade me;\nnothing shall shake my determination.\"\n\nWhen the widow found that her young guest would not heed her advice,\nher grief increased. \"So it must be, then, sir,\" continued she; \"you\nwill not be restrained from rushing headlong on your destruction. Why\nwas it ordained that you should come to lodge in my house? why did I\nspeak of Tourandocte? You became enamoured of her from the description\nI gave of her; wretched woman that I am, it is I who have caused your\nruin; why must I reproach myself with your death?\"\n\n\"No, my good mother,\" said the prince of the Nagaeis, interrupting her\na second time, \"you are not the cause of my misfortune; do not blame\nyourself because I love the princess; I am to love her, and do but\nfulfil my destiny. Besides, how do you know that I shall not be able\nto reply to her questions? I am not without understanding, and I have\nstudied much; and Heaven may have reserved for me the honour of\ndelivering the king of China from the grief with which his frightful\noath overwhelms him. But,\" added he, drawing out the purse which the\nkhan of Berlas had given him, and which still contained a considerable\nquantity of gold pieces, \"as my success is after all uncertain, and I\nmay chance to die, I make you a present of this purse to console you\nfor my death. You may sell my horse and keep the money, for it will be\nof no more use to me, whether the daughter of Altoun-Khan become the\nreward of my boldness, or my death be the mournful forfeit of my\naudacity.\"\n\nThe widow took the purse from Khalaf, saying, \"O my son, you are much\nmistaken if you imagine that these pieces of gold will console me for\nyour loss. I will employ them in good works, I will distribute a\nportion among the poor in the hospitals, who bear their afflictions\nwith patience, and whose prayers are consequently acceptable to\nHeaven; the remainder I will give to the ministers of our religion,\nthat they all may pray together that Heaven may inspire you, and not\nsuffer you to perish. All the favour I ask you is, not to go to-day\nand present yourself to answer the questions of Tourandocte; wait till\nto-morrow, the time is not long; grant me that interval to enlist the\nhearts of the pious in your behalf, and propitiate our Prophet in your\nfavour, after that you can do as you think best. I pray you to grant\nme that favour; I am bold to say that you owe it to one who has\nconceived so great a friendship for you, that she would be\ninconsolable if you were to die.\"\n\nIndeed Khalaf's appearance had made a favourable impression upon her,\nfor, besides being one of the handsomest princes in the world, his\nmanners were so easy and pleasing that it was impossible to see him\nwithout loving him. He was moved by the grief and affection the good\nlady exhibited. \"Well, my mother,\" said he, \"I will do as you desire\nme; and I will not go to-day to ask the hand of the princess; but, to\nspeak my sentiments frankly, I don't believe that even your prophet\nJacmouny will be able to make me forego my determination.\"\n\nThe following morning, the prince appeared more determined than ever\nto demand Tourandocte. \"Adieu, my good mother,\" said he, to the widow.\n\"I am sorry that you have given yourself so much trouble on my\naccount; you might have spared it, for I assured you yesterday that I\nshould be of the same mind.\" With these words, he left the widow, who,\ngiving herself up to the deepest sorrow, covered her face with her\nveil, and sat with her head on her knees, overwhelmed with\nindescribable grief.\n\nThe young prince of the Nagaeis, perfumed with rare scents and more\nbeautiful than the moon, repaired to the palace. He found at the gate\nfive elephants, and, on each side, a line of two thousand soldiers,\nwith helmets on their heads, armed with shields, and covered with\nplate armour. One of the principal officers in command of the troops,\njudging from Khalaf's air that he was a stranger, stopped him, and\ndemanded his business at the palace.\n\n\"I am a foreign prince,\" replied the son of Timurtasch. \"I am come to\npresent myself to the king, and pray him to grant me permission to\nreply to the questions of the princess his daughter.\"\n\nThe officer, at these words, regarding him with astonishment, said to\nhim, \"Prince, do you know that you come to seek death? You would have\ndone more wisely to have remained in your own country, than form the\ndesign which brings you hither; retrace your steps, and do not flatter\nyourself with the deceitful hope that you will obtain the hand of the\ncruel Tourandocte. Although you may have studied until you have become\nmore learned in science than all the mandarins, you will never be able\nto fathom the meaning of her ambiguous questions.\"\n\n\"Accept my heartfelt thanks,\" replied Khalaf; \"but, believe me, I am\nnot come thus far to retreat.\"\n\n\"Go on to your certain death, then,\" returned the officer, in a tone\nof chagrin, \"since it is impossible to restrain you.\" At the same\nmoment, he allowed him to enter the palace, and then, turning towards\nsome other officers who had been listening to their conversation, he\nsaid, \"How handsome and well-grown this young prince is. It is a pity\nhe should die so early.\"\n\nKhalaf traversed several saloons, and, at length, found himself in the\nhall where the king was accustomed to give audience to his people. In\nit was placed the steel throne of Cathay, made in the form of a\ndragon, three cubits high; four lofty columns, of the same material,\nsupported above it a vast canopy of yellow satin, ornamented with\nprecious stones. Altoun-Khan, dressed in a caftan of gold brocade\nupon a crimson ground, was seated on his throne, with an air of\ngravity which was in admirable keeping with his long moustache and\nample beard. The monarch, after listening to some of his subjects,\ncast his eyes by chance to where the prince of the Nagaeis stood\namongst the crowd; he saw, at once, by his noble bearing and splendid\ndress, that he was not a man of common birth; he pointed out Khalaf to\none of his mandarins, and gave an order, in an undertone, to learn his\nrank, and the reason of his visit to his court.\n\nThe mandarin approached the son of Timurtasch, and told him that the\nking desired to know who he was, and whether he wished to make any\nrequest of the king. \"You may tell the king, your master,\" replied the\nprince, \"that I am the only son of a king, and that I am come to\nendeavour to merit the honour of becoming his son-in-law.\"\n\nAltoun-Khan no sooner learned the reply of the prince of the Nagaeis,\nthan he changed colour; his august countenance became pale as death,\nhe broke up the audience, and dismissed all the people; he then\ndescended from his throne, and, approaching Khalaf, \"Rash young man,\"\nsaid he, \"are you aware of the severity of my edict, and of the\nmiserable fate of those who have hitherto persisted in their desire to\nobtain the hand of the princess my daughter?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" replied the son of Timurtasch, \"I know all the danger\nI incur; my eyes have witnessed the just and severe punishment your\nmajesty inflicted upon the prince of Samarcand; but the deplorable end\nof the audacious youths who have flattered themselves with the sweet,\nthough vain, hope of possessing the princess Tourandocte, only\nstimulates the desire I have of deserving her.\"\n\n\"What madness!\" rejoined the king; \"scarcely has one prince lost his\nlife, than another presents himself to share the same fate; it appears\nas though they took a pleasure in sacrificing themselves. What\nblindness! Reconsider the step you are taking, and be less prodigal of\nyour blood; you inspire me with more pity than any who have hitherto\ncome to seek their destruction; I feel a growing inclination towards\nyou, and wish to do all in my power to hinder you from perishing.\nReturn to your father's kingdom, and do not inflict upon him the pain\nof learning from strangers' lips the sad intelligence that he will\nnever more behold his only son.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Khalaf, \"I am overjoyed to hear, from your\nmajesty's own lips, that I have the honour of pleasing you; I draw a\nhappy presage from it. It may be that Heaven, touched by the\nmisfortunes caused by the beauty of the princess, will use me as a\nmeans of putting an end to them, and securing you, at the same time,\ntranquillity for the remainder of your life, which the necessity of\nauthorizing these cruel deeds disturbs. Can you be sure that I shall\nnot be able to answer the questions that may be put to me? What\ncertainty have you that I shall perish? If others have been unable to\nfathom the depths of the obscure propositions of Tourandocte, is it to\nbe concluded that I cannot penetrate their meaning? No, my lord, their\nexample shall never make me renounce the brilliant honour of having\nyou for a father-in-law.\"\n\n\"Ah! unhappy prince,\" replied the king, melting into tears, \"you wish\nto die; all the princes who have presented themselves before you, to\nanswer the fatal questions put by my daughter, used the same language;\nthey all hoped that they could penetrate her meaning, and not one was\nable to do so. Alas! you will be the dupe of your own confidence. Once\nmore, my son, let me dissuade you. I love you, and wish to save you;\ndo not frustrate my good intentions by your obstinacy; whatever\nconfidence you may feel, distrust it. You deceive yourself, if you\nimagine that you will be able to answer upon the spot what the\nprincess may propose to you; you will, it is true, have seven minutes\nto answer in; that is the rule. But if in that time you do not give a\nsatisfactory reply, and one that shall be approved of by all the\ndoctors and wise men who are appointed the judges, that moment you\nwill be declared worthy of death, and on the following night will be\nconducted to execution. So, prince, retire; pass the rest of the day\nin considering what is your duty in reference to the step you propose\nto take; consult wise persons, reflect well, and to-morrow let me know\nyour determination.\" When the king had finished speaking, he dismissed\nKhalaf, who immediately quitted the palace, much mortified that he was\nobliged to wait till the next day, for he was no way daunted by what\nthe king had said. He returned to his hostess without exhibiting the\nleast concern about the danger to which he had determined to expose\nhimself. As soon as he presented himself to the widow, and had related\nall that had passed at the palace, she began to remonstrate with him\nafresh, and bring every argument she could think of into play to\ndissuade him from his enterprise; but her efforts were crowned with no\nbetter success, and she had the mortification of seeing that they only\ninflamed her young guest more, and strengthened him in his resolution.\nThe next day the prince returned to the palace, and was announced to\nthe king, who received him in his cabinet, not wishing any one to be\npresent at their interview.\n\n\"Well, prince,\" began Altoun-Khan, \"am I to rejoice or grieve at your\npresence here to-day? What is your determination?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Khalaf, \"I am in the same mind as yesterday. Before\nI had the honour of presenting myself then before your majesty, I had\nthoroughly reflected upon the matter; and I am still prepared to\nsuffer the same punishment as my rivals, if Heaven has not otherwise\nordained.\" At these words the king smote his breast, rent his\nclothes, and plucked the hairs from his beard.\n\n\"Wretched man that I am!\" cried he, \"that I should have conceived such\nfriendship for him. The death of the others has not caused me half the\npain which his will occasion me. Ah! my son,\" continued he, embracing\nthe prince of the Nagaeis with a tenderness that caused him deep\nemotion, \"yield to my grief, if my arguments are not able to shake\nthee. I feel that the blow which takes thy life will strike my heart\nwith deadly force. Renounce, I conjure thee, the hope of possessing my\ncruel daughter; thou wilt find in the world plenty of other princesses\nwhom thou mayst gain with more ease and as much honour. Why persevere\nin the pursuit of an inhuman creature whom thou wilt never be able to\nobtain? Remain, if thou wilt, in my court; thou shalt hold the first\nrank after me; thou shalt have beautiful slaves; pleasures shall\nfollow thee wherever thou goest; in a word, I will look on thee as my\nown son. Desist from thy pursuit of Tourandocte. Oh! let me at least\nhave the joy of rescuing one victim from the sanguinary princess.\"\n\nThe son of Timurtasch was deeply moved by the friendship which the\nking of China exhibited towards him; but he replied, \"My lord, let me\nfor pity's sake expose myself to the danger from which you seek to\ndeter me; the greater it is, the more do I feel myself tempted to\nencounter it. I must avow that even the cruelty of the princess\nstimulates my love. I feel an inward pleasure in the thought that I am\nthe happy mortal who is to triumph over this proud beauty. For\nHeaven's sake, your majesty,\" pursued he, \"cease to oppose a design\nwhich my glory, my repose, my life even render it necessary for me to\nprosecute; for, truly, I cannot live unless I obtain Tourandocte.\"\n\nAltoun-Khan, perceiving that Khalaf was not to be moved, was\noverwhelmed with affliction. \"Ah! rash youth,\" said he, \"thy\ndeath-warrant is sealed, since thou art still determined to persist in\ndemanding my daughter. Heaven is witness that I have done all in my\npower to inspire thee with rational thoughts. Thou rejectest my\ncounsel, and lovest rather to perish than follow it; let us say no\nmore; thou wilt receive the reward of thy mad constancy. I consent to\nthy undertaking to answer the questions of Tourandocte, but I must\nfirst pay thee the honour which I am accustomed to bestow upon princes\nwho seek my alliance.\"\n\nAt these words he called the chief of his first band of eunuchs; he\nordered him to conduct Khalaf into the princes' palace, and to assign\nhim two hundred eunuchs to wait upon him.\n\nThe prince of the Nagaeis had scarcely entered the palace to which the\neunuch conducted him, before the principal mandarins came to salute\nhim, which they did in the following manner: they placed themselves on\ntheir knees before him, bowed their heads to the ground, saying one\nafter the other, \"Prince, the perpetual servant of your illustrious\nrace comes to make his obeisance to you.\" They then all made him\npresents and retired.\n\nThe king, who felt the greatest friendship for the son of Timurtasch,\nand pitied him, sent for the most learned professor of the royal\ncollege, and said to him, \"There is a new prince, who has come to my\ncourt to demand the hand of my daughter. I have spared no pains to\ninduce him to renounce his intention, but without success. I wish thee\nto exert thine eloquence in endeavouring to make him listen to reason.\nIt is for this I have sent for thee.\" The professor obeyed. He went to\nKhalaf and entered into a long conversation with him; after which he\nreturned to Altoun-Khan, and said, \"My lord, it is impossible to\ndissuade this young prince; he will absolutely deserve the princess or\ndie. When I saw the futility of attempting to conquer his resolution,\nI had the curiosity to try and ascertain whether his obstinacy did\nnot proceed from some other cause than his love. I interrogated him\nupon several different subjects, and I found him so well informed that\nI was surprised at his learning. He is a Moslem, and appears to me\nperfectly instructed in all that concerns his religion; in fact, to\nconfess the truth to your majesty, I believe if any prince is capable\nof replying to the questions of the princess it is he.\"\n\n\"O wise man,\" cried the king, \"I am overjoyed at thy report. Heaven\ngrant that he may become my son-in-law. From the moment he appeared\nbefore me I felt an affection for him; may he be more fortunate than\nthe others who came to this city only to seek a grave.\"\n\nAfter prayers and sacrifices, the Chinese monarch sent his calao to\nthe prince of the Nagaeis with notice that he was to hold himself in\nreadiness to reply to the princess's questions on the next day, and to\ntell him that the proper officers would come at the right time to\nconduct him to the divan; and that the persons who were to compose the\nassembly had already received orders to attend.\n\nNotwithstanding his inflexible determination to persevere in this\nadventure, Khalaf did not pass a quiet night; if at one time he dared\nto trust to his genius, and promise himself success, at another,\nlosing confidence, he represented to himself the shame he should\nendure if his replies did not please the divan; at another time he\nthought of Elmaze and Timurtasch. \"Alas!\" said he, \"if I die, what\nwill become of my father and mother?\"\n\nDay surprised him occupied with these conflicting thoughts. Presently\nhe heard the ringing of bells and beating of drums. He concluded that\nthis was to call to the council all those who were ordered to attend.\nThen raising his thoughts to Mahomet, \"O great prophet,\" said he, \"you\nbehold my difficulties and know my doubts. Inspire me, and reveal to\nme whether I must go to the divan, or must confess to the king that\nthe danger terrifies me!\" He had scarcely pronounced these words,\nbefore he felt all his fears vanish and his confidence return. He rose\nand dressed himself in a caftan, and mantle of red silk worked with\ngold flowers, which Altoun-Khan had sent him, with stockings and\nslippers of blue silk.\n\nWhen he had finished dressing, six mandarins, booted and dressed in\nvery wide robes of crimson, entered his apartment, and after having\nsaluted him in the same manner as on the previous day, informed him\nthat they came from the king to lead him to the divan. He immediately\nrose and accompanied them; they traversed a court between a double\nfile of soldiers, and when they arrived in the first council-chamber\nfound more than a thousand singers and players upon instruments, who\nperforming in concert produced a wonderful noise. From thence they\nadvanced into the hall, where the council was sitting, and which\ncommunicated with the interior palace.\n\nAll the persons who were to assist at this assembly were already\nseated under canopies of different colours arranged round the hall.\nThe mandarins of the highest rank were on one side, the calao with the\nprofessors of the college on the other, and several doctors, renowned\nfor their erudition, occupied other seats. In the middle were placed\ntwo thrones of gold raised upon triangular pedestals.\n\nAs soon as the prince of the Nagaeis appeared, the noble and learned\nassembly saluted him with gestures of great respect, but without\nspeaking a word; for every body, being in expectation of the king's\narrival, preserved the strictest silence.\n\nThe sun was upon the point of rising. As soon as the first rays of\nthat brilliant luminary were perceived, two eunuchs drew aside the\ncurtains which hung before the door of the inner palace, and\nimmediately the king appeared, accompanied by the princess\nTourandocte, who wore a long robe of silk and gold tissue, whilst her\nface was concealed by a veil of the same material. When the king and\nprincess had taken their seats upon their thrones, which they ascended\nby five steps of silver, two young girls of perfect beauty approached\nand stationed themselves, one on the side of the king and the other\nnear the princess. They were slaves of the harem of Altoun-Khan; their\nfaces and necks were exposed; they wore large pearls in their ears;\nand they stood each with pen and paper, ready to transcribe what the\nking or the princess might desire. All this time the whole assembly,\nwho had risen upon the entrance of Altoun-Khan, stood up with great\ngravity and their eyes half closed. Khalaf alone looked about him, or\nrather looked only at the princess, whose majestic demeanour filled\nhim with admiration.\n\nWhen the powerful monarch of China had ordered the mandarins and\ndoctors to be seated, one of the six nobles who had conducted Khalaf,\nand who stood with him at fifteen cubits' distance from the two\nthrones, kneeled down and read a petition, which contained the demand\nof the stranger prince for the hand of the princess Tourandocte. He\nthen rose and told Khalaf to make three salutations to the king. The\nprince of the Nagaeis acquitted himself with so much grace, that\nAltoun-Khan could not refrain from smiling and expressing the pleasure\nhe experienced in seeing him.\n\nThe calao then rose from his place and read with a loud voice the\nfatal edict, which condemned to death all the rash lovers who should\nfail to reply satisfactorily to the questions of Tourandocte. Then\naddressing Khalaf, \"Prince,\" said he, \"you have just heard the\nconditions upon which alone the princess's hand is to be obtained. If\nthe sense of danger makes any impression upon you, there is still time\nto retire.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" said the prince; \"the prize to be carried off is too\nprecious to be lost by cowardice.\"\n\nThe king, seeing Khalaf ready to reply to the questions of\nTourandocte, turned towards the princess and said, \"My daughter, it\nis for you to speak; propose to this young prince the questions which\nyou have prepared; and may all the spirits to whom sacrifices were\noffered yesterday grant that he may penetrate the meaning of your\nwords.\"\n\nTourandocte thereupon said, \"I take the prophet Jacmouny to witness,\nthat I behold with sorrow the death of so many princes; but why do\nthey persist in desiring to wed me? why will they not leave me to live\nin peace without making attempts on my liberty? Know then, rash young\nman,\" added she, addressing Khalaf, \"that you cannot reproach me if\nyou suffer a cruel death; you have the examples of your rivals before\nyour eyes; you alone are the cause of your own destruction; I do not\noblige you to come and ask my hand.\"\n\n\"Lovely princess,\" replied the prince of the Nagaeis, \"I am fully alive\nto all that has been said upon this subject; propound, if you please,\nyour questions, and I will endeavour to unravel their meaning.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" said Tourandocte, \"tell me what creature is that which\nbelongs to every land, is a friend to the whole world, and will not\nbrook an equal?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Khalaf, \"it is the sun.\"\n\n\"He is right,\" exclaimed all the doctors, \"it is the sun.\"\n\n\"What is that mother,\" resumed the princess, \"who, after having\nbrought her children into the world, devours them when they are grown\nup?\"\n\n\"It is the sea,\" replied the prince of the Nagaeis; \"because the\nrivers, which draw their sources from the sea, discharge themselves\ninto it again.\"\n\nTourandocte, seeing that the prince gave correct replies to her\nquestions, was so vexed that she resolved to spare no effort to\ndestroy him. Exerting all her ingenuity, she next asked, \"What tree is\nthat whose leaves are white on one side and black on the other?\" She\nwas not satisfied with proposing the riddle alone; the malignant\nprincess, in order to dazzle and confuse him, raised her veil at the\nsame moment, and allowed the assembly to see all the beauty of her\ncountenance, the haughty charms of which were only enhanced by the\nviolence of her emotions. Her head was adorned with natural flowers\narranged with infinite art, and her eyes shone more brilliantly than\nthe stars. She was as lovely as the sun in all his splendour, when he\nemerges from a thick cloud. The son of Timurtasch, at the sight of\nthis incomparable princess, remained mute and motionless; so much so,\nthat all the divan, who were deeply interested in him, were seized\nwith terror; the king himself grew pale, and thought that the prince\nwas lost for ever.\n\nBut Khalaf, recovering from the surprise that the beauty of\nTourandocte had caused him, quickly reassured the assembly by\nresuming, \"Charming princess, I pray you pardon me if I remained for\nsome moments speechless; I could not behold so much loveliness without\nbeing disturbed. Have the goodness to repeat the question, for I no\nlonger remember it; your charms have made me forget every thing.\"\n\n\"I asked you,\" said Tourandocte, \"what tree is that whose leaves are\nwhite on one side and black on the other?\"\n\n\"That tree,\" replied Khalaf, \"is the year, which is composed of days\nand nights.\"\n\nThis reply was again applauded in the divan. The mandarins and the\ndoctors said that it was correct, and bestowed a thousand praises on\nthe young prince. Altoun-Khan said to Tourandocte, \"Come, my daughter,\nconfess thyself vanquished, and consent to espouse thy conqueror; the\nothers were not able to reply to even one of thy questions, and this\none, thou seest, has answered them all.\"\n\n\"He has _not_ gained the victory,\" angrily retorted the princess,\nreplacing her veil to conceal her confusion and the tears she was not\nable to repress; \"I have others to propose to him. But I will defer\nthem till to-morrow.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the king, \"I will certainly not permit you to propose\nquestions without end: all that I can allow you is to ask him one\nmore, and that immediately.\"\n\nThe princess objected, saying that she had only prepared those which\nhad just been answered, and entreated the king, her father, for\npermission to interrogate the prince on the following day.\n\n\"I will certainly not grant it,\" cried the monarch of China, in a\nrage; \"you are only endeavouring to perplex this young prince, while I\nam eagerly grasping at the prospect of escaping from the frightful\noath I had the imprudence to make. Ah! cruel one, you breathe nothing\nbut blood, and the death of your lovers is a pleasant sight to you.\nThe queen, your mother, touched by the first misfortunes your cruelty\ncaused, died of grief at having brought into the world so barbarous a\nchild; and I, you know well, am plunged into a state of profound\nmelancholy, which nothing can dissipate, whilst I behold the fatal\nresults of the love I entertained for you; but, thanks to the sun, and\nthe moon, and the spirits who preside in the heavens, and by whom my\nsacrifices have been regarded with a propitious eye, no more of those\nhorrible executions which have rendered my name execrable shall be\ncommitted in my palace. Since this prince has answered your questions\nsatisfactorily, I ask all this assembly if it is not right that you\nshould become his wife?\"\n\nThe mandarins and the doctors expressed their assent in murmurs, and\nthe calao took upon himself to speak. \"My lord,\" said he, addressing\nthe king, \"your majesty is no longer bound by the oath you made, to\nexecute your severe edict; it is for the princess to fulfil her\nengagement. She promised her hand to him who should answer her\nquestions correctly; a prince has answered them, to the satisfaction\nof the whole divan; she must keep her promise, or we cannot doubt that\nthe spirits who preside over the punishment of perjurers will quickly\ntake vengeance upon her.\"\n\nTourandocte kept silence during the delivery of this speech; she sat\nwith her head on her knees, and appeared buried in deep affliction.\nKhalaf, perceiving this, prostrated himself before Altoun-Khan, and\nsaid, \"Great king, whose justice and goodness have raised the vast\nempire of China to such prosperity, I beg of your majesty to grant me\na favour. I see that the princess is in despair at my having been so\nfortunate as to reply to her questions; doubtless she would rather it\nhad so happened that I should have deserved death. Since she exhibits\nso strong an aversion to me, that, in spite of her promise, she\nrefuses to become my wife, I will renounce my right to her, on\ncondition that she, on her part, replies correctly to a question which\nI shall propose.\"\n\nThe whole assembly was surprised at this speech. \"Is this young prince\nmad,\" they whispered one to another, \"to risk the loss of that for\nwhich he perilled his life? Does he imagine he can propose a question\nthat will be too difficult for Tourandocte to solve? He must have lost\nhis senses.\" Altoun-Khan was also amazed at the request which Khalaf\nhad the temerity to make. \"Prince,\" said he, \"have you reflected upon\nthe words which have just escaped your lips?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" replied the prince of the Nagaeis, \"and I implore you\nto grant me this favour.\"\n\n\"I grant it,\" returned the king; \"but, whatever be the result, I\ndeclare that I am no longer bound by the oath I made, and that,\nhenceforth, I will not cause another prince to be put to death.\"\n\n\"Divine Tourandocte,\" resumed the son of Timurtasch, addressing the\nprincess, \"you have heard what I said. Although the decision of this\nlearned assembly has awarded to me the prize of your hand, although\nyou are mine, I will give you back your liberty, I will yield up\npossession of you, I will despoil myself of a treasure precious to me\nabove all things, provided you reply at once to a question I shall\nask; but, on your part, swear that if you cannot, you will consent\nwillingly to complete my happiness and crown my love.\"\n\n\"Yes, prince,\" replied Tourandocte, \"I accept the conditions, and I\ntake this assembly as witnesses of my oath.\"\n\nAll the divan awaited, in breathless suspense, the question that\nKhalaf was to propose to the princess, and there was not one who did\nnot blame the young prince for exposing himself to the risk of losing\nthe daughter of Altoun-Khan; they were all amazed at his temerity.\n\"Lovely princess,\" said Khalaf, \"what is the name of that prince who,\nafter suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced even to beg\nhis bread, finds himself, at this moment, overwhelmed with glory and\njoy?\"\n\n\"It is impossible,\" said Tourandocte, \"for me to reply to that\nquestion on the spot, but I promise that to-morrow I will tell you the\nname of that prince.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" cried Khalaf, \"I asked no time for consideration, and it is\nnot right to grant you any; still, I will grant you your wish; I hope,\nafter that, you will look more favourably on me, and not oppose any\nfurther difficulty to your becoming my bride.\"\n\n\"She must make up her mind to that,\" said Altoun-Khan, \"if she cannot\nreply to the question proposed. Let her not think by falling ill, or\npretending to do so, that she will thereby escape. Even if my rash\noath should not bind me to grant him her hand, and she were not his\naccording to the tenor of the edict, I would rather let her die, than\nsend this young prince away. Where would it be possible for her to\nmeet with one more perfectly worthy of her?\" With these words, he rose\nand dismissed the assembly. He re-entered the inner palace with the\nprincess, who retired to her own apartments.\n\nAs soon as the king had left the divan, all the mandarins and doctors\ncomplimented Khalaf upon his wit and understanding. \"I admire,\" said\none, \"your ready and easy conception.\" \"No!\" said another, \"there is\nnot a bachelor licentiate, or doctor even, of greater penetration than\nyou. Not one of all the princes who has presented themselves hitherto,\nin the least degree approached your merit, and we feel the most\nheartfelt joy at your success.\" The prince of the Nagaeis had no light\ntask to perform in thanking all those who pressed round him to\ncongratulate him. At length, the six mandarins who had conducted him\nto the council-chamber, led him back to the same palace whence they\nhad brought him, whilst the others, together with the learned doctors\nretired, not without anxiety about the answer which the daughter of\nAltoun-Khan would return to the question.\n\nThe princess Tourandocte regained her palace, followed by the two\nyoung slaves who enjoyed her confidence. No sooner had she entered\ninto her apartment, than she tore off her veil, and throwing herself\nupon a couch, gave free vent to the grief and rage which agitated her;\nshame and sorrow were depicted on her countenance; her eyes already\nbedimmed with tears, overflowed afresh; she tore off the flowers that\nadorned her head, and allowed her hair to fall about her in confusion.\nHer two favourite slaves attempted to console her, but she only said\nbitterly, \"Leave me, both of you, cease your useless attentions. I\nwill listen to nothing but my despair; leave me alone to pour forth my\ntears and lamentations. Ah! how great will be my confusion to-morrow,\nwhen I shall be forced to acknowledge before the whole council, and\nthe wisest doctors of China, that I cannot solve the question. Is\nthat, they will say, the transcendent princess who prides herself\nupon knowing every thing, and to whom the solution of the most\ndifficult enigma presented no difficulty?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" continued she, \"they all take an interest in this young\nprince. I noticed them grow pale with anxiety when he appeared\nembarrassed. I saw their faces beaming with joy when he penetrated the\nmeaning of my questions. I shall have the bitter mortification of\nseeing them again rejoice at my confusion, when I shall have to\nconfess myself conquered. How great will be their delight when I make\nthe degrading avowal, and what agony must I endure in making it.\"\n\n\"My princess,\" said one of her slaves, \"instead of afflicting yourself\nbeforehand, instead of picturing to yourself the shame you fear to\nsuffer to-morrow, would it not be better to think of some means of\npreventing it? Is the question the prince has proposed so difficult,\nthat you cannot answer it? with the genius and penetration you\npossess, can you not accomplish it?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Tourandocte, \"it is impossible. He asks me to name the\nprince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced to\nbeg his bread, is, at this moment, overwhelmed with joy and glory? I\nfeel assured that he is himself that prince, but not knowing him, I\ncannot tell his name.\"\n\n\"Still, madam,\" rejoined the same slave, \"you have promised to name\nthat prince to-morrow; when you made that promise, you hoped,\ndoubtless, to be able to fulfil it.\"\n\n\"I had no hope,\" replied the princess, \"and I only demanded time to\ndie of grief, rather than be obliged to acknowledge my shame, and\nmarry the prince.\"\n\n\"The resolution is a violent one,\" said the other favourite slave. \"I\nknow well that no man is worthy of you, but you must allow that this\nprince possesses singular merits; his beauty, his noble bearing, and\nhis ready wit ought to plead in his favour.\"\n\n\"I grant it all,\" interrupted the princess. \"If there is any prince\nin the world who is worthy of my regards, it is he. Indeed, I will not\ndeny it, that I grieved for him, before I put my questions to him; I\nsighed when I beheld him, and--what has never happened till to-day--I\nalmost hoped he would reply to my questions correctly. It is true\nthat, at the same moment, I blushed at my weakness, but my pride got\nthe better of me, and the apt answers he made excited my abhorrence\ntowards him; all the commendations which the doctors bestowed on him\nso deeply mortified me, that I then felt, and still feel, the most\nbitter hatred against him. O unhappy Tourandocte, lay thee down and\ndie of vexation and grief, at having found a man, and he a youth, who\nhas been able to load thee with disgrace, and compel thee to become\nhis wife.\"\n\nAt these words she redoubled her tears, and in the transport of her\nrage spared neither her hair nor her clothes. She raised her hands\nmore than once towards her cheeks to tear them, and punish them as the\nprime authors of the disgrace she had endured; but her slaves, who\nwere watching her frenzy, prevented her. They tried, however, in vain\nto console her; they could not calm the fury of her agitation. Whilst\nshe was in this fearful state of excitement, the prince of the Nagaeis,\ncharmed with the result, and overwhelmed with joy, delivered himself\nup to the hope of bearing off his bride the next day.\n\nThe king, having returned from the council-chamber, sent for Khalaf to\ntalk over in private the events which had taken place at the divan.\nThe prince of the Nagaeis hastened to obey the orders of the monarch,\nwho, after embracing him with great tenderness, said, \"Ah! my son,\nrelease me from the anxiety I am suffering. I fear lest my daughter\nshould be able to answer the question you have proposed. Why have you\nrisked the danger of losing the object of your love?\"\n\n\"Let not your majesty be under the least apprehension,\" replied\nKhalaf; \"it is impossible that the princess can tell me who the prince\nis whose name I have asked, for I am that prince, and no one in your\ncourt knows me.\"\n\n\"This gives me fresh hope,\" cried the king in a transport of joy; \"I\nconfess I was most anxious about you. Tourandocte is very shrewd; the\nsubtlety of her wit made me tremble for you; but, thank Heaven, you\ndispel my doubts. However great her facility of penetrating the sense\nof enigmas, she cannot guess your name. I can no longer accuse you of\ntemerity; and I see what appeared to me a lack of prudence, is an\ningenious device you have formed to remove every pretext for my\ndaughter's refusal.\"\n\nAltoun-Khan, after laughing with Khalaf at the question proposed to\nthe princess, prepared to enjoy the diversion of the chase. He dressed\nhimself in a light and close-fitting caftan, and enclosed his beard in\na bag of black satin. He ordered the mandarins to hold themselves in\nreadiness to accompany him, and commanded a hunting-dress to be given\nto the prince of the Nagaeis. They partook of a slight repast, and then\nquitted the palace. The mandarins, in open palanquins of ivory inlaid\nwith gold, headed the procession, each carried by six men; two men\narmed with whips of cord marched before each palanquin, and two others\nfollowed with tablets of silver, upon which were written in large\ncharacters all the mandarin's titles. The king and Khalaf, in an open\nlitter of red sandalwood, carried by twenty military officers, on\nwhose dresses were embroidered in silver the monarch's monogram\nand badges,--the latter consisting of several figures of\nanimals,--appeared next. After the mandarins, two generals of\nAltoun-Khan's army marched on either side of the litter, carrying\nlarge fans or umbrellas to ward off the heat, and three thousand\neunuchs on foot completed the cortege.\n\nWhen they arrived at the place where the hunters awaited the king with\nthe falcons, the sport began by flying hawks at quails; this\ndiversion lasted till sunset, when the king and the prince, and the\npersons of their suites, returned to the palace in the same order in\nwhich they had left. They found in the court several pavilions of silk\nof different colours, a great number of small tables, beautifully\npolished and covered with all sorts of viands ready cut up. As soon as\nthe king had taken his seat, Khalaf and the mandarins sat down, each\nat a little separate table, near which stood another, which served as\na buffet. They all began by drinking several bumpers of rice wine\nbefore touching the viands; they then proceeded to eat without\ndrinking any more. The banquet ended, the king, Altoun-Khan, led the\nprince of the Nagaeis into a large hall, brilliantly illuminated, and\nfitted up with seats arranged for seeing some spectacle, and they were\nfollowed by all the mandarins. The king appointed each his place, and\nmade Khalaf sit near him, upon a large ebony throne, inlaid with gold\ntracery.\n\nAs soon as the company had taken their places, singers and musicians\nentered, who commenced an agreeable concert. Altoun-Khan was delighted\nwith it. Infatuated with the Chinese music, he asked the son of\nTimurtasch, from time to time, what he thought of it, and the young\nprince, out of politeness, gave it the highest rank of all the music\nin the world. The concert finished, the singers and musicians retired,\nto make room for an artificial elephant, which having advanced by\nsecret springs into the middle of the hall, vomited forth six\nvaulters, who began by making some perilous leaps. They were attired\nin very thin dresses; they had on only drawers of Indian cloth, caps\nof brocade, and light shoes. After they had exhibited their agility\nand suppleness by a thousand extraordinary performances, they\nre-entered the elephant, which went away as it came. Next, there\nappeared players, who performed, impromptu, a piece, the subject of\nwhich the king chose. When all these diversions were finished, and\nthe night was far advanced, Altoun-Khan and Khalaf rose, to retire to\ntheir apartments, and the mandarins followed their example.\n\nThe young prince of the Nagaeis, conducted by eunuchs bearing wax\ncandles in gold candelabra, was preparing to taste the sweets of\nrepose as well as his impatience to return to the divan would permit\nhim, when on entering his chamber, he found a young lady, dressed in a\nrobe of red brocade with silver flowers, and adorned with rubies and\nemeralds; she wore a head-dress of rose-coloured silk, ornamented with\npearls and bound by a very light silver border, which only covered the\ntop of her head, and allowed her beautiful hair to escape, which hung\ndown in ringlets, adorned with a few artificial flowers; as to her\nfigure and face it was impossible to see any more beautiful and\nperfect except that of the princess of China.\n\nThe son of Timurtasch was much surprised at meeting a lady alone, and\nso beautiful, at midnight in his room. He could not have looked upon\nher with indifference, had he not seen Tourandocte; but as the lover\nof that princess he had no eyes for any other.\n\nAs soon as the lady perceived Khalaf, she rose from the sofa where she\nwas seated, and upon which she had laid her veil, and after making a\nlow inclination of her head, \"Prince,\" said she, \"I doubt not that you\nare surprised to find a woman here; for you cannot be ignorant that it\nis rigorously forbidden for men and women who inhabit the harem, to\nhave any communication together; but the importance of the matter that\nI have to communicate to you, has made me disregard all danger. I have\nhad dexterity and good fortune enough to overcome all the obstacles\nwhich opposed my design. I have gained the eunuchs who wait upon you.\nIt now only remains for me to tell you what brought me here.\"\n\nKhalaf felt interested; he could not doubt but that the lady who had\ntaken so perilous a step, had something to communicate worthy his\nattention; he begged her to resume her seat on the sofa; they both sat\ndown; and the lady then continued in these terms:\n\n\"My lord, I believe I ought to begin by informing you that I am the\ndaughter of a khan, one of the tributaries of Altoun-Khan. Some years\nago, my father was bold enough to refuse to pay the usual tribute,\nand, relying too much upon his experience in the art of war, as well\nas upon the valour of his troops, prepared to defend himself in case\nhe were attacked. What he expected happened. The king of China\nirritated by his audacity, sent the most experienced of his generals\nwith a powerful army against him. My father, though considerably\nweaker in numbers, went out to meet him. After a sanguinary battle,\nwhich was fought on the banks of a river, the Chinese general remained\nvictorious. My father, pierced with a thousand wounds, died during the\nbattle, but before his death, he ordered all his wives and children to\nbe thrown into the river, to preserve them from slavery. Those who\nwere charged with the generous, though inhuman order, executed it;\nthey threw me, together with my mother, sisters, and two brothers,\nwhose tender age had kept them with us, into the river. The Chinese\ngeneral arrived at the spot at the very moment when they had cast us\nin, and when we were about to finish our miserable existence. This\nmournful and horrible sight excited his compassion; he promised a\nreward to any of the soldiers who should save any of the vanquished\nkhan's family. Several Chinese horsemen, in spite of the rapidity of\nthe stream, dashed in, and urged their horses wherever they saw our\ndying bodies floating. They recovered a few, but their assistance was\nonly of use to me. I still breathed when they brought me to shore. The\ngeneral took great pains for my recovery, as though the glory acquired\nby my captivity would bestow a fresh lustre on his victory; he brought\nme to this city, and presented me to the king, after giving an\naccount of his mission. Altoun-Khan placed me with his daughter the\nprincess, who is two or three years younger than I am.\n\n\"Although still a child, I could not help reflecting that I had become\na slave, and that I ought to have sentiments conformable to my\nsituation. I therefore studied the disposition of Tourandocte, and\nstrove to please her, and I succeeded so well by my compliance with\nher wishes and my attentions, that I gained her friendship. From that\ntime I have shared her confidence with a young person of illustrious\nbirth, whom the misfortunes of her family have reduced to slavery.\n\n\"Pardon, my lord,\" she continued, \"this narrative which does not bear\nany relation to the subject that has brought me here. I thought it but\nright to apprize you that I am of noble blood, that you might place\nmore reliance in me; for the important communication I have to make is\nsuch, that an ordinary slave might induce you to give but little\ncredence to what she had to say; and I know not, that even I, though\nthe daughter of a khan, shall be able to influence you: would a prince\nenamoured of Tourandocte give credit to what I am about to say of\nher?\"\n\n\"Princess,\" replied the son of Timurtasch, interrupting her, \"keep me\nno longer in suspense, tell me, I pray you, at once what you have to\nsay concerning the princess of China.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the lady, \"Tourandocte, the barbarous Tourandocte\nhas formed a plot to assassinate you!\"\n\nAt these words Khalaf, falling back on the sofa, lay for a moment in a\nstate of horror and amazement.\n\nThe slave-princess, who had foreseen the astonishment of the young\nprince, said,\n\n\"I am not surprised that you should thus receive this frightful\nannouncement, and I was right when I doubted that you would believe\nit.\"\n\n\"Merciful Heaven,\" cried Khalaf, when he recovered from his\nstupefaction, \"did I hear aright? Is it possible that the princess of\nChina could be guilty of such an atrocious attempt? How could she\nconceive so base a project?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the lady, \"I will explain to you how she came to\ntake this horrible resolution. When she left the divan this morning,\nwhere I had been stationed behind her throne, I saw that she was\nmortally enraged at what had taken place; she returned into her\napartments writhing under the most bitter feelings of mortification\nand fury; she pondered over the question you asked her for a long\ntime, and not being able to find a suitable answer, she abandoned\nherself to despair. While she was in the bath, I spared no means, in\nwhich I was seconded by the other favourite slave, to calm the\nviolence of her transports; we tried all in our power to inspire her\nwith sentiments favourable to you; we extolled your person and your\ntalents; we represented to her, that she ought to determine to bestow\nher hand upon you; we pointed out the unseemliness of such immoderate\ngrief; but she imposed silence upon us, with a torrent of injurious\nwords. The most agreeable and handsome make no more impression upon\nher than the ugliest and most deformed. 'They are all,' said she,\n'objects of my contempt, and for whom I shall always entertain the\ndeepest aversion. As regards him who has presented himself last, I\nentertain a greater hatred towards him than towards the others, and if\nI cannot rid myself of him by any other means I will have him\nassassinated.'\n\n\"I opposed this detestable design,\" continued the slave-princess, \"and\nlaid before her the terrible consequences of such a deed. I\nrepresented to her the injury she would inflict upon herself, the\ndespair she would occasion the king, and the just horror that future\nages would entertain for her memory.\n\n\"The other favourite slave supported with all her eloquence the\narguments I adduced, but all our persuasions were of no avail; we\ncould not turn her from her purpose. She has entrusted her faithful\neunuchs with orders to take your life to-morrow morning as you leave\nyour palace to repair to the divan.\"\n\n\"O inhuman princess, perfidious Tourandocte,\" cried the prince of the\nNagaeis, \"is it thus you prepare to crown the affection of the unhappy\nson of Timurtasch? Has Khalaf indeed appeared so hateful to you, that\nyou would rather rid yourself of him by a crime that will dishonour\nyou, than unite your destiny with his? Great Heaven! how chequered\nwith strange events is my life! At one moment I seem to enjoy\nhappiness that the greatest might envy, at another I am plunged into a\nwhirlpool of misery.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said the slave-princess, \"if Heaven ordains that you should\nsuffer misfortunes, it does not will that you should sink beneath\ntheir weight, since it warns you of the dangers that threaten you.\nYes, prince, it is Heaven that has doubtless inspired me with the\nthought of saving you, for I come not only to point out the snare laid\nfor your life, I come also to furnish you with means to escape. By the\nassistance of some eunuchs who are devoted to me, I have gained over\nthe soldiers of the guard, who will facilitate your flight from the\nserail. As they will not fail to make a searching investigation, when\nthey know of your departure, and discover that I am the author of it,\nI am resolved to fly with you, and escape from this court, where I\nhave more than one cause for discontent; my state of bondage makes me\nhate it, and you make it still more odious to me.\n\n\"Let us waste no time; come, and let to-morrow's sun, when he begins\nhis course, find us far, far from Pekin.\n\n\"In a certain spot in the town,\" continued she, \"horses await us; let\nus fly, and reach if possible the territory of the tribe of Berlas.\"\n\nKhalaf replied, \"Beautiful princess, I render you a thousand thanks\nfor your wish to save me from the danger with which I am encompassed.\nOh! that I could, to prove my gratitude, deliver you from your\nslavery, and conduct you in safety to the horde of the khan of Berlas\nyour relation. With what pleasure would I place you in his hands! I\nshould thereby repay some of the obligations I lie under to him. But I\nask you, princess, ought I thus to steal away from Altoun-Khan? What\nwould he think of me? He would believe that I came to his court for\nthe sole purpose of carrying you off, and at the very time when I\nshould be flying, only that I might save his daughter from\nperpetrating a fearful crime, he would be accusing me of violating the\nlaws of hospitality. Ah! must I confess it, cruel though the princess\nof China be, I could never find in my foolish heart to hate her?\nWhatever misfortune may be in store for me, I cannot consent to so\nignominious a flight. I acknowledge that charms like yours would amply\nrepay your liberator, and that my days with you might pass in the\ngreatest bliss, but I am not born to be happy, my destiny is to love\nTourandocte; despite the aversion she feels towards me, I should wear\nout my days in endless sorrow, were they spent away from her.\"\n\n\"Well then, ingrate, remain,\" cried the lady passionately,\ninterrupting him, \"and let the spot in which thy happiness is\nconcentrated be sprinkled with thy blood.\" Saying these words, she\nreplaced her veil, and quitted the apartment.\n\nThe young prince, after the lady had retired, remained upon the\nsofa in a state of bewilderment. \"Must I believe,\" said he, \"what I\nhave just heard? Can she carry her cruelty thus far? Alas! I dare\nnot doubt it, for the slave-princess's expressions of horror at\nTourandocte's plot were so natural--the risks she ran in coming\nherself to warn me of it so great, and the feelings she displayed\nso unquestionable,--that all are pledges of the truthfulness of her\nwords. Ah! cruel daughter of the best of kings, is it thus that you\nabuse the gifts with which Heaven has endowed you? O Heaven! how\ncouldst thou confer on this barbarous princess so much beauty, or\nwhy adorn so inhuman a soul with so many charms?\"\n\nInstead of seeking a few hours' sleep, he passed the night, distracted\nwith the most painful reflections. At length day appeared, the ringing\nof the bells and beating of drums was again heard, and shortly after\nsix mandarins arrived to conduct him to the council-chamber, as on the\npreceding day. He traversed the court where the soldiers were arranged\nin two files: he expected to meet his death at this spot, and that it\nwas here the persons who had been appointed to assassinate him were\nposted, in order to despatch him as he passed. Far from thinking of\ndefending himself or putting himself upon his guard, he walked on like\na man prepared to die; he even appeared to chide the delay of his\nassassins. He passed through the court, however, without any attack\nbeing made upon him, and reached the first hall of the divan. \"Ah!\ndoubtless it is here,\" thought he, \"that the sanguinary order of the\nprincess is to be put in execution.\" He looked around him on all\nsides, and thought he saw in every one he surveyed a murderer. He\nnevertheless advanced and entered the hall where the council was\nsitting, without receiving the deadly stroke which he thought awaited\nhim.\n\nAll the doctors and mandarins were already seated under their\ncanopies, and Altoun-Khan was momentarily expected. \"What can be the\ndesign of the princess?\" thought he. \"Can she wish to be an\neye-witness of my death, and does she desire to have me assassinated\nbefore the eyes of her father? Can the king be an accomplice in the\ndeed? What am I to think? Can he have changed his mind, and issued the\norder for my death?\"\n\nWhilst his thoughts were occupied with these doubts, the door of the\ninner palace opened, and the king, accompanied by Tourandocte, entered\nthe hall. They took their seats upon their thrones, and the prince of\nthe Nagaeis stood before them, at the same distance as on the day\nbefore.\n\nWhen the calao saw the king seated, he rose, and demanded of the young\nprince whether he remembered having promised to renounce the hand of\nthe princess if she answered the question which he had proposed.\nKhalaf replied that he did, and again declared that in that event, he\nwould renounce all claim to the honour of being the king's son-in-law.\nThe calao then addressed Tourandocte, and said, \"And you, great\nprincess, you are aware of the oath that binds you, and of the penalty\nto which you are subjected if you do not this day declare the name of\nthe prince, which you are required to give.\"\n\nThe king, persuaded that she could not reply to the question of\nKhalaf, said to her, \"My daughter, you have had ample time to consider\nthe question which was proposed to you; but if you had a whole year to\nthink of it, I believe that in spite of your sagacity you would be\nobliged, at the end of it, to acknowledge that it is something which\neven you could not reveal. So, as you cannot guess, yield with good\ngrace to the love of this young prince, and satisfy the wish I feel\nthat he should be your husband. He is worthy of being so, and of\nreigning with you, after my death, over the people of this mighty\nempire.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Tourandocte, \"why do you think that I shall not be\nable to reply to the question of this prince? It is not so difficult\nas you imagine. I suffered the shame of a defeat yesterday, but to-day\nI look forward to the honour of a victory. I will confound this rash\nyoung man who has entertained so mean an opinion of my talents. Let\nhim put the question, and I will answer it.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" thereupon said the prince of the Nagaeis, \"I ask, what is the\nname of that prince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and\nbeing reduced to beg his bread, finds himself at this moment covered\nwith glory, and overwhelmed with joy?\"\n\n\"This prince,\" replied Tourandocte, \"is named Khalaf, and he is the\nson of Timurtasch.\"\n\nWhen Khalaf heard his name he changed colour, a dark mist seemed to\ncover his eyes, and he fell senseless to the ground. The king and all\nthe mandarins, judging from this that Tourandocte had answered\ncorrectly, and had given the prince's real name, grew pale, and sat in\ngreat consternation.\n\nAfter Khalaf had recovered from his swoon, through the attentions of\nthe mandarins and the king himself, who had quitted his throne to come\nto his assistance, he thus addressed Tourandocte:\n\n\"Beautiful princess, you are mistaken if you think you have given a\nfitting answer to my question; the son of Timurtasch is not covered\nwith glory, and overwhelmed with joy; he is rather covered with shame,\nand overwhelmed with grief.\"\n\n\"I agree with you,\" replied the princess, \"that at this moment you are\nnot overwhelmed with glory and joy, but you were so when you proposed\nthis question; so, prince, instead of having recourse to vain\nquibbles, confess honestly that you have lost your right to\nTourandocte. I therefore can, if I choose, refuse you my hand, and\nabandon you to the regret of having lost your prize; nevertheless, I\nwill acknowledge to you, and declare here publicly, that I entertain\ndifferent feelings towards you to what I did. The friendship my father\nhas conceived for you, and your own merit, have determined me to take\nyou for my husband.\"\n\nAt these words all etiquette was for a moment forgotten; the\ncouncil-chamber resounded with shouts of joy. The mandarins and\ndoctors applauded the words of Tourandocte. The king approached her,\nand kissing her, said, \"My child, you could not have formed a decision\nmore agreeable to me; by this act you will efface the bad impression\nyou have made upon the minds of my people, and you confer upon your\nfather a joy to which he has long been a stranger, and which hitherto\nhe had hoped for in vain. Yes, that aversion you entertained for\nmarriage, that aversion so contrary to nature, robbed me of the sweet\nhope of seeing princes of my own blood spring from you. Happily, that\naversion has ceased, and what crowns my wishes is, that you have\nextinguished it in favour of a young hero who is dear to me. But tell\nus,\" added he, \"how you have been able to guess the name of a prince\nwho was unknown to you.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Tourandocte, \"it was not by enchantment that I\nlearned it; it was by perfectly natural means. One of my slaves sought\nthe prince Khalaf, and had subtlety enough to rob him of his secret,\nand I hope he will forgive me for taking advantage of this treachery,\nsince I have made no worse use of it.\"\n\n\"Ah! charming Tourandocte,\" hereupon cried the prince of the Nagaeis,\n\"is it possible that you entertain such favourable sentiments towards\nme? From what a frightful abyss do you draw me, to raise me to the\nheight of bliss! Alas, how unjust was I! whilst you were preparing\nsuch a glorious fate for me I thought you guilty of the blackest of\nall treachery. Deceived by a horrible fable which darkened my reason,\nI repaid your good intentions with injurious doubts. Oh! what\nimpatience do I feel to expiate my unjust suspicions at your feet.\"\n\nAltoun-Khan ordered the preparations for the marriage of Khalaf and\nTourandocte to be set on foot, and whilst they were engaged about them\nhe sent ambassadors to the tribe of Berlas, to inform the khan of the\nNagaeis of all that had taken place in China, and to beg him to come\nwith the princess his wife.\n\nThe preparations being concluded, the marriage was celebrated with all\nthe pomp and magnificence which belonged to the high birth of the\nhappy pair. Khalaf was raised to the rank of the highest subject, and\nthe king himself made a public declaration that, to mark his sense of\nthe esteem and consideration he entertained for his son-in-law, he\nshould allow him to dispense with the customary obeisances to his\nbride. During a whole month nothing was seen at the court but feasting\nand pageants, and in the city nothing but gaiety and rejoicings.\n\nThe possession of Tourandocte did not diminish the love Khalaf\nentertained for her, and the princess, who had hitherto regarded men\nwith so much contempt, could not but love so perfect a prince. Some\ntime after their marriage the ambassadors whom Altoun-Khan had sent to\nthe country of Berlas returned, bringing with them not only the father\nand mother of the king's son-in-law, but also prince Almguer, who, to\npay honour to Elmaze and Timurtasch, insisted on accompanying them,\nwith the most distinguished of his nobles, and conducting them to\nPekin.\n\nThe young prince of the Nagaeis, apprized of their arrival, immediately\nrode out to meet them. He found them nearly at the gate of the palace.\nThe joy he felt on seeing his father and mother, and their transports\non seeing him, can be scarcely conceived, much less described. They\nall three embraced each other over and over again, and the tears they\nshed drew forth corresponding signs of emotion from the Chinese and\nTartars who were present.\n\nAfter these tender embraces, Khalaf saluted the khan of Berlas; he\nexpressed to him how deeply he felt his kindness, and more especially\nhis condescension in himself accompanying his parents to the court of\nChina; the prince Almguer replied that, being ignorant of the rank of\nTimurtasch and Elmaze, he had not shown towards them the respect that\nwas due to them, and thus to atone for any neglect they might have\nexperienced, he thought it his duty to pay them this mark of honour;\nthe khan of the Nagaeis and his wife the princess, however, paid a high\ntribute to the attentive kindness of the khan of Berlas; they then all\nentered the palace of the king, to be presented to Altoun-Khan. They\nfound this monarch awaiting them in the first hall. He embraced them\nall, one after the other, and received them very graciously; he then\nconducted them into his cabinet, where, after expressing the pleasure\nhe felt at seeing Timurtasch, and his sympathy in his misfortunes, he\nassured him that he would employ all his power to avenge him on the\nsultan of Carisma. This was no empty offer, for that very day he\ndespatched orders to the governors of the provinces to march with all\nspeed with the soldiers who were in the towns within their\njurisdiction, and to take the route to lake Baljouta, which was chosen\nfor the rendezvous of the formidable army he proposed to assemble\nthere.\n\nFor his part, the khan of Berlas, who had foreseen this war, and who\nwished to assist in the re-establishment of Timurtasch in his\ndominions, had, previous to his departure from his tribe, ordered the\ngeneral of his army to be in readiness to take the field at the first\nsummons. He now commanded him also to repair to lake Baljouta with all\npossible speed.\n\nDuring the time the officers and soldiers who were to compose the army\nof Altoun-Khan, and who were dispersed throughout the kingdom, were\nmarching to assemble at the spot indicated, this king spared no pains\nto express his high consideration for his new guests; he appointed a\nseparate palace to each, with a great number of eunuchs, and a guard\nof two thousand men. Every day some new fete was contrived for their\nentertainment, and the king's whole attention seemed turned towards\naffording them pleasure. Khalaf, although he had now every day a\nthousand matters to occupy his attention, did not forget his kind\nhostess; he remembered with gratitude the solicitude she expressed for\nhim; he sent for her to the palace, and begged Tourandocte to receive\nher amongst her attendants.\n\nThe hope that Timurtasch and Elmaze entertained of reascending the\nthrone of the Nagaei-Tartars, by the assistance of the king of China,\ninsensibly made them forget their past troubles; and when Tourandocte\ngave birth to a beautiful prince, they were quite overwhelmed with\njoy. The birth of this child, who was named the prince of China, was\ncelebrated in all the cities of this vast empire by public rejoicings.\n\nWhilst these festivities were taking place, news was brought by\ncouriers, sent by the officers who had orders to collect the army,\nthat all the troops of the kingdom, and those of the khan of Berlas,\nhad assembled at lake Baljouta. Immediately Timurtasch, Khalaf, and\nAlmguer set out for the camp, where they found every thing in\nreadiness, and seven hundred thousand men ready to march; they\nimmediately took the read to Kotan, from whence they marched to\nRaschar, and at length entered the dominions of the sultan of Carisma.\n\nThis prince, informed of their numbers, and of the invasion of his\nterritories, by couriers whom the governors of the frontier towns had\ndespatched, far from being alarmed at the number of his enemies,\ncourageously prepared to meet them. Instead even of intrenching\nhimself, he had the boldness to take the field himself, at the head of\nfour hundred thousand men, whom he had hastily collected. The armies\nmet near Cogendi, where they drew up in battle array. On the side of\nthe Chinese, Timurtasch commanded the right wing, prince Almguer the\nleft, and Khalaf the centre. On the other side, the sultan confided\nthe command of his right wing to the ablest of his generals, opposed\nthe prince of Carisma to the prince of the Nagaeis, and reserved the\nleft to himself, where the elite of his cavalry were stationed. The\nkhan of Berlas began the attack with the soldiers of his tribe, who,\nfighting like men who knew the eyes of their master were on them, soon\nturned the right wing of their enemies; the officer who commanded it,\nhowever, succeeded in reforming it almost immediately. Meanwhile the\nright wing, commanded by Timurtasch, was not so fortunate; the sultan\nbroke them at the first onset, and the Chinese in disorder were on\nthe point of taking flight, in spite of every effort of the khan of\nthe Nagaeis, when Khalaf, informed of what had taken place, confided\nthe care of the centre to an experienced Chinese general, and rushed\nto the assistance of his father at the head of reinforcements. In a\nshort time things assumed a different aspect. The left wing of the\nCarismians was driven back, and in turn routed; the whole of the ranks\nfell into disorder and were easily broken--the entire wing was put to\nflight. The sultan determined to conquer or die, and made incredible\nefforts to rally his soldiers; but Timurtasch and Khalaf gave them no\ntime, and surrounded them on all sides, whilst prince Almguer having\ndefeated the right wing, victory declared in favour of the Chinese.\n\nThere remained but one chance of safety for the sultan of Carisma, and\nthat was to cut his way through the ranks of his enemies, and to take\nrefuge with some foreign prince; but he preferred not surviving his\ndefeat to exhibiting amongst the nations his brow despoiled of the\ndiadem; so rushing blindly into the thickest of the carnage, he fell\nbravely, fighting to the last, and pierced with a thousand mortal\nwounds, on a heap of slain. The prince of Carisma, his son, shared the\nsame fate; two hundred thousand of their troops were killed or made\nprisoners, the rest seeking safety in flight. The Chinese also lost a\ngreat number of men; but if the battle had been a bloody one, it was\ndecisive. Timurtasch, after thanking Heaven for this signal success,\ndespatched an officer to Pekin to give an account of the battle to the\nking of China; he then advanced into Zagatay, and seized upon the city\nof Carisma.\n\nHe made a proclamation in this capital that he would not touch the\nproperty, or interfere with the liberty of the Carismians; that Heaven\nhaving made him master of the throne of his enemy, he intended to take\npossession of it, and that henceforth, Zagatay, and the other\ncountries which had been under the sway of the sultan, should\nacknowledge for their sovereign his son Khalaf.\n\nThe Carismians, tired of the harsh rule of their late master, and\npersuaded that that of Khalaf would be milder, submitted readily, and\nproclaimed as sultan this young prince, with whose merits they were\nacquainted. Whilst the new sultan took all necessary measures to\nstrengthen his position, Timurtasch departed with a body of Chinese\ntroops with all possible speed to his own dominions. The Nagaei-Tartars\nreceived him like faithful subjects, and were overjoyed to see their\nlegitimate sovereign; but he was not content with regaining his\nthrone; he declared war against the Circassians, in order to punish\nthem for their treachery to prince Khalaf at Jund. Instead of trying\nto appease him by submission, these warlike people speedily collected\nan army to oppose him. He attacked them, and cut them nearly all to\npieces; after which he caused himself to be proclaimed king of\nCircassia, and then returned to Zagatay, where he found Elmaze and\nTourandocte, whom Altoun-Khan had sent to Carisma in great state.\n\nSuch was the end of the misfortunes of prince Khalaf, who gained by\nhis virtues the love and esteem of the Carismians. He reigned long and\npeacefully over them, and never abated in his love for Tourandocte; he\nhad a second son by her, who became afterwards the sultan of Carisma.\nAs for the prince of China, Altoun-Khan brought him up, and chose him\nfor his successor. Timurtasch and the princess Elmaze passed the rest\nof their days at Astrachan, and the khan of Berlas, after having\nreceived from them and their children all the tokens of gratitude\nwhich his generosity merited, retired to his tribe with the remainder\nof his troops.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[8] The Chinese mourning colour is white.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE WISE DEY.\n\n\nChaaban, Dey of Algiers, being dead, the Turkish janissaries bethought\nthemselves of electing a new dey; and their intention was to place in\nthis high station an inert, weak, and indolent man, who would allow\nthem to be their own masters, to act as they pleased either with or\nwithout justice, and who would never inflict any punishment upon them.\nPassing through the streets of Algiers, they beheld Hadgi-Achmet, a\nman of ripe age, seated peaceably at the door of his dwelling, and\ncarefully mending his old slippers, without taking any part either in\nthe outcries, the conversation, or the gossiping going on all around\nhim. Hadgi-Achmet seemed to them to be just the sort of apathetic man\nthey were in search of, a man who would never interfere with any one,\nwould allow them to do exactly as they pleased, and who, in short,\nwould be but the shadow of a dey. They therefore laid hold of\nHadgi-Achmet, tore him from his work, led him to the divan, and\nelected him dey in spite of himself.\n\nHadgi-Achmet, thus forced to assume the reins of government, wisely\nexamined into the duties of his new position, and set himself to\nfulfil them with as much assiduity and zeal as he had employed in the\nhumbler task of mending his old slippers. He watched over the\ninterests of the country, and over those of justice, and punished\nseverely all misdeeds which came under his observation; having a\nstern, strange habit of knitting his shaggy eyebrows and flashing his\nbrilliant eyes whenever any thing mean or wicked came under his\nnotice. All this was very displeasing to the Turkish janissaries, and\nto several members of the divan. Four of these latter formed a species\nof plot with the design of bringing Hadgi-Achmet into contempt in the\neyes of the public. Now as it was the pleasure of the dey to\nadminister justice himself, and to enquire into the smallest matter\nthat concerned the interests of the people, they thought to render him\nridiculous, by begging him one day to judge four distinct matters,\nunworthy, in their opinion, to occupy the attention of a great ruler.\n\n\"Hadgi-Achmet,\" said one of the members of the divan to the dey, \"my\nlord, here is a culprit who can only be judged by thee, O sun of\njustice! He is a Tunisian merchant, who has established himself a\nshort time since at Bab-a-Zoun street, not far from the mosque. At\nfirst he carried on his trade with tolerable honesty; but by degrees\nit has been shown that he is nothing better than a rogue, and has\ncheated a great number of his customers in the weight, the quality,\nand the value of his goods. Thou knowest well the law which condemns\nsuch offenders to lose an ear. This man was seized, carried before the\ncadi, and his rogueries being but too apparent, condemned by the cadi\nto lose his left ear, the right being reserved in the event of fresh\nmisdemeanors. But when the man's turban was removed, it was discovered\nthat his left ear was already gone. The cadi, being informed of the\nfact, ordered the right ear to be cut off. To execute this order, they\nhad to pull the hand of the culprit away from his right ear, and when\nthis had been done, it was discovered that the Tunisian's right ear\nwas missing as well as the left. The cadi therefore sent to inform me,\nand I, knowing the pleasure thou takest in resolving grave and\nimportant questions, have come to submit this one to thy consummate\nprudence, to thy glorious justice.\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet, having heard these words, knit his brows, his eyes\nflashed fire upon him who had just spoken, and upon all those who were\npresent at this audience; then, turning towards the man without ears,\nhe said,\n\n\"Since thou hast always been a rogue, and that nothing could reform\nthee, I condemn thee all thy life long to wear neither turban nor any\nhead-dress whatsoever to conceal the mutilation of thy ears.\nPurchasers, on beholding this mutilation, will shun thee if they are\nwise, for no one is ignorant that a merchant without ears is nothing\nelse than a rogue.\"\n\nThe earless Tunisian went sadly away. Being compelled to exhibit to\nevery one and at all times the mutilation he had undergone, was a far\nworse punishment than the loss of five hundred ears, if he had had\nthem.\n\nThis judgment pronounced, a second member of the divan addressed the\ndey,\n\n\"Hadgi-Achmet, our lord and master, here are two men who are\nquarrelling upon a question which thou only canst decide by thy\nprofound wisdom. One of these men is the father of a beautiful and\npromising boy. He had this son and two others. One day, about ten\nyears ago, Ibrahim, his neighbour, who was childless, said to him,\n'Chamyl, give me thy youngest son, I will adopt him; he shall live in\nmy house, inherit my wealth, and be happy. If thou desirest it, I will\ngive thee in exchange for thy son my country-house at Boudjareah; thou\nknowest that the north breeze is wafted there in the hottest days of\nsummer.'\n\n\"Chamyl consented to give his son, and took the house at Boudjareah in\nexchange. Ormed, the son of Chamyl, went to live with Ibrahim, who\nsoon loved him very tenderly, whilst Ormed, if only out of gratitude,\nsoon became much attached to him.\n\n\"Chamyl has now lost both his other sons, and having become rich,\ndesires to take back Ormed, saying, 'This child is henceforth the sole\nhope of my race, the joy of my heart, and I wish him to become my\nheir.'\n\n\"As for Ibrahim, he has lost nearly the half of his fortune, but he\nhas not lost the attachment which he bears to his adopted son. On the\ncontrary, his affection continues daily to strengthen for this child,\nwho is endowed with the finest qualities of mind, and with a grateful\nand affectionate heart.\n\n\"With whom dost thou decree that Ormed shall remain? with his adopted\nor with his real father?\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet, addressing himself to Chamyl, said, \"In what does thy\nfortune consist?\"\n\nChamyl enumerated his possessions: a house, a ship, several country\nhouses, and merchandise.\n\n\"Can these things be removed?\" asked Hadgi-Achmet.\n\n\"Some of them can,\" replied Chamyl.\n\n\"And the others,\" replied Hadgi-Achmet; \"couldst not thou, if\nnecessary, dispose of them, and buy others with the price?\"\n\n\"I could,\" replied Chamyl.\n\n\"And the affection which thou hadst for thy sons who are dead, couldst\nthou transfer it, and bestow it upon other children.\"\n\n\"Ah! that would be impossible,\" replied Chamyl, sorrowfully.\n\n\"Then affection cannot be transferred or exchanged,\" said\nHadgi-Achmet; \"and as it forms part of the heart of man, it is of far\nhigher consequence than material things, is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered Chamyl.\n\n\"So that,\" continued the dey, \"we may say to a man, Sell, or give\naway, thy possessions; but we cannot, without absurdity, say to any\none, Cease to love him whom thou lovest. For which reason, Chamyl, I\ncondemn thee to leave with Ibrahim the child whom he loves, and whom\nthou voluntarily gavest him when thou hadst affection for thy two sons\nwho are no more. As to thy possessions, thou canst bear them\nwhithersoever thou wilt, for riches are not the heart.\"\n\n\"But I love my son,\" cried Chamyl, \"and I will have him, and him only,\nfor my heir.\"\n\n\"Ah! thou lovest thy son,\" rejoined Hadgi-Achmet. \"It may be so, but\nthou gavest no proofs of it so long as thy two other children were\nalive. Moreover, thou hast taken a house in exchange for thy son; it\nis exactly the same as if thou hadst sold thy child.\"\n\n\"I was poor,\" murmured Chamyl.\n\n\"A lame excuse,\" said the dey, \"for there are many more poor men than\nrich men, yet we do not see poor men giving up their children for any\ngain whatsoever.\"\n\n\"No, no! I have not sold my son,\" cried Chamyl, \"and my son is mine.\"\n\n\"No, thy son is no longer thine,\" said the dey, \"for thou art not a\nfather after my heart, and for ten years thy son has been cared for by\nthe man to whom thou gavest him in exchange for a house. Ibrahim has\nnot deserved that the child whom he so tenderly loves should be taken\nfrom him, and I order him to be left with him. But since thou wilt\nhave none other than thy son for thine heir, I decree moreover that\nall thy property shall revert to him after thy death, which is nothing\nbut justice.\"\n\nIbrahim then interposed. \"My lord,\" said he to the dey, \"Ormed and I\nhave no need of the fortune of Chamyl. What Allah has left to us is\nsufficient for our wants. Permit Chamyl then to preserve the right of\nchoosing for himself an heir among orphans or poor children, of whom\nhe will now probably adopt one.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the dey, \"the man who has been able to calmly select one\nfrom among his own children and barter him for a house, can never\nattach himself to the orphan or the unfortunate. I see no reason to\nalter the judgment I have pronounced. Ormed will have for his\ninheritance the love of his adopted father and the wealth of his real\none.\"\n\nChamyl withdrew, greatly incensed at this judgment, which seemed to\nhim unjust, but which appeared highly equitable to the inhabitants of\nAldgezaire.\n\nA third member of the divan then addressed Hadgi-Achmet:\n\n\"All thy words bear the impress of the wisdom which illuminates thee.\nIt suffices to hear thee, in order to know and venerate thee. If we do\nnot abuse thy patience and thy goodness, it is because both are\ninexhaustible. Behold,\" added he, \"a woman veiled, according to the\nlaw. She accuses her husband of leaving her to perish with hunger,\nwhilst her husband here maintains that the woman tells an infamous\nuntruth, and that he supplies her with ample means for becoming fat\nand strong; he adds, that the famished locusts from the desert eat not\nmore voraciously than doth this woman, all the while remaining lean\nand feeble, as thou seest. The woman persists in asserting that her\nhusband scarcely gives her sufficient to languish on like a dying\ntree, and she claims thy pity and thy justice.\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet, having heard these words, knit his brows, his eyes\nflashed fire upon him who had just spoken, and upon those present at\nthis audience. Then he said, \"Mahmoud, dost thou declare that thou\naffordest sufficient nourishment to thy wife?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" replied Mahmoud.\n\n\"And thou, woman,\" said the dey, \"dost thou still maintain that thy\nhusband leaves thee in want of nourishment?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" replied the poor starving woman in a faint voice, and\nextending her transparent hands and long thin arms, in a supplicating\nmanner towards her master and her judge.\n\n\"Art thou poor?\" demanded Hadgi-Achmet of Mahmoud.\n\n\"No, my lord,\" replied Mahmoud, \"I could support several wives if I\nwished, but it pleases me to have only this one in my house.\"\n\n\"Ah! thou couldst support several wives,\" replied the dey; \"and why\nthen dost thou not give to this one all she desires, even supposing\nshe devoured as voraciously as the famished locusts of the desert?\"\n\n\"I never refuse her any thing,\" said Mahmoud.\n\nThe poor veiled woman sighed.\n\n\"Well,\" added Hadgi-Achmet, \"since thou art both rich and generous, I\nwill put thee in the position to repel an accusation so disgraceful to\nthee as that of leaving the woman whom thou hast espoused to perish of\nhunger. To which end I order that thy wife shall dwell in my palace in\nthe apartments of my women and receive from thee a pension which will\nenable her to purchase whatever food she may desire. If at the end of\na year of peace and plenty she should still possess that feeble voice\nand that excessive thinness which inspire my compassion, I shall\nregard her as inflicted with an incurable malady, and will leave her\nto go and die beneath thy roof; but if, on the contrary, she regains\nstrength and voice, thou shalt be hung, not only for having violated\nthe law which commands the husband to minister to the support of his\nwife, but still more for having lied before thy lord and thy judge,\nwho knows and ever will know how to punish those who offend him.\"\n\nHaving spoken thus, Hadgi-Achmet cast terrible looks upon all the men\npresent at this audience. Mahmoud withdrew only too sure of being hung\nnext year, and every one preserved a gloomy silence which lasted for\nseveral minutes.\n\nHadgi-Achmet meanwhile resumed: \"If there remains any other cause for\nme to judge, let it be declared.\"\n\nThen with less self-possession and confidence than his colleagues had\ndisplayed, a fourth member of the divan presented himself. \"Here, my\nlord,\" said he, \"is a strange affair which occupies us, and which thou\nalone canst judge.\n\n\"These two men here present are twin-brothers. They have always loved\neach other, and have never been separated. Their father is just dead.\nAfter having deplored his loss, they said to each other: 'The roof of\nour father's dwelling has sheltered us to this day, let it shelter us\nstill; and let us amicably share all that is left us by our father,\narms, vestments, or jewels.'\n\n\"But all at once an object presented itself which could not be\ndivided, and for the loss of which nothing else would compensate. The\narticle in question is a holy amulet, which it is said bestows wisdom\non him who wears it upon his breast beneath his tunic. Now the two\nbrothers equally desire wisdom, and both would fain possess the\nprecious talisman left them by their father.\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet having heard these words, knit his brows, again his eyes\nflashed fire, as he said to one of the twins:\n\n\"Mozza, canst thou not yield to thy brother, who so earnestly desires\nit, the amulet left you both by your father?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" replied Mozza, \"I could easily reconcile myself to my\nbrother's being richer than myself, but not to his being wiser!\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet turned to the other brother:\n\n\"Farzan, canst thou not yield to thy brother the amulet he wishes to\npossess?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" replied Farzan, \"for wisdom not alone bestows upon its\npossessor the things of the earth, but those also which belong to\nheaven, and I desire those above all.\"\n\nHadgi-Achmet then ordered Mozza to place upon his breast beneath his\ntunic the cherished amulet, which being done, he said to the young\nman:\n\n\"I am charmed to find that thou preferrest wisdom to fortune, for\nwisdom is above all. But dost thou not see that it is wise to be at\npeace with thy brother, and that to obtain this peace there is no\nsacrifice too great? To yield to thy brother is the beginning and the\nend of wisdom; he who yields is ever the best and the wisest. On this\nground thou wilt now, I am persuaded, yield cheerfully this amulet to\nthy brother.\"\n\n\"I repeat, my lord,\" answered Mozza, \"that I will yield every thing to\nmy brother, slaves, diamonds, house--my entire fortune; but I will\nnever willingly give up this sacred amulet: it is the only heritage I\ncovet.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Hadgi-Achmet, \"thou hast not changed thy mind then! well,\ngive me thy father's amulet.\"\n\nMozza reluctantly handed the precious talisman to the dey.\n\n\"Farzan,\" said the dey, \"place this amulet upon thy breast, and\nbeneath thy tunic.\"\n\nFarzan obeyed. He had no sooner placed the amulet upon his breast than\nhe felt so lively a joy that he would have embraced his brother had he\ndared, and his eyes glistened with pleasure.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Hadgi-Achmet, addressing himself to Farzan, \"I perceive\nthat this amulet has great power over thee. Thy heart is opened to\nwisdom, and thou wilt renounce foolish quarrels, wilt thou not, and\nyield to thy brother the talisman which he so much desires, and of\nwhich he has perhaps greater need than thou?\"\n\n\"I!\" cried Farzan, \"rather would I die than part with my father's\namulet! I feel myself capable of plunging my dagger into the bosom of\nany one rash enough to attempt to tear it from me, whoever he might\nbe.\"\n\n\"In truth,\" rejoined Hadgi-Achmet, \"I see that this amulet is far from\nbestowing all the wisdom of which you young men deem it capable. On\nthe contrary it only seems to me fit to sow dissensions between you,\nsince notwithstanding you have both worn it upon your breast, you\nhave nevertheless preserved your animosity and unjust pretensions in\nthe dispute in question. For which reason I ordain that this precious\ntalisman, of whose real power we are doubtless ignorant, shall remain\nin my palace and be restored in ten years' time to whichever of you\ntwo shall have given by his conduct the most incontestable proofs of\npiety and virtue.\"\n\nHaving heard this sentence, the two brothers sorrowfully withdrew. But\nthey had no sooner crossed the threshold of the palace, than they were\nreconciled to each other, avowing that the dey had acted with justice,\nand thenceforth they lived happy and united as before.\n\nIn the mean time, Hadgi-Achmet, having delivered these four judgments,\nknit his brows once more, and turning to the members of the divan,\naddressed them as follows:\n\n\"Joyfully have I just occupied myself with the smallest things which\nconcern the welfare and repose of my subjects, and I should not regret\nmy time had it been employed in affairs still more trifling. Every\nthing appears of importance to me which in any way relates to the\nwellbeing of one of those over whom Allah has made me sovereign. I\nnothing doubt that you applaud my conduct, and that you would gladly\nimitate my zeal in the service of the people. Your praises prove it;\nbut I know well that men such as you prefer proving their zeal by\nactions, rather than by words. I am about therefore to entrust you\nwith a task of great importance to me, since it is for the most\ninteresting class of my subjects, namely, the most unfortunate. I am\nabout to distribute before the Ramadan, four sacks of rice among poor\nold men and widows. An unskilful hand has contrived in filling these\nsacks with the rice, to spill amongst it a quantity of _oats_. Now as\nI do not wish these poor people to think themselves treated with\ncontempt by receiving rice mixed with oats, I wish that pious hands\nshould carefully sift the rice and extract from it these grains. It is\non you I rely for the performance of this duty, which awaits you in\none of the halls of my palace. I cannot at this moment be an\neye-witness of your zeal in obeying me, and serving the people; but\nbefore your task is finished, I will be with you.\"\n\nHaving spoken these words, the dey caused the members of the divan to\nbe respectfully conducted by his guards to a large hall, where they\nfound four sacks of rice and several baskets.\n\nThe members of the divan feeling persuaded that this was an affair\nwhich more nearly concerned their heads than the sacks of rice, set\nthemselves silently to this unexpected work, whilst the guards\nremained stationary at the entrance of the hall in which the labour\nwas being carried on.\n\nThe flight of a musquito might have been heard in this hall where the\nmembers of the divan were busily engaged sifting the rice for the\npoor, all the while vowing to be revenged upon Hadgi-Achmet, if they\never had the power.\n\nTowards the evening the members of the divan were joined by\nHadgi-Achmet, who perceiving that one of them had made less progress\nin his task than his three colleagues, said,\n\n\"I would not accuse thee of want of zeal: man knows not always what he\nwishes, nor knows what he can do; I will therefore aid thee in thy\ntask,\" and he began gravely to assist the four members of the divan in\nsifting the rice of the poor.\n\nThe tasks being accomplished, the four sacks of rice were carefully\nclosed. Hadgi-Achmet thanked his enemies, and caused them to be\nconducted with the greatest respect to the gates of his palace.\n\nThese men left to themselves, regarded each other with consternation\nand shame; they then said, \"We would fain have laughed at\nHadgi-Achmet, and it is he who has mocked us. Let us henceforth\nabstain from criticizing his scrupulous exactitude in rendering\njustice, but let us think only of avenging ourselves.\"\n\nBut they sought the opportunity in vain. Hadgi-Achmet, who had\ncommenced his career by so carefully mending his old slippers, held\nthe reins of power with a strong hand, and whilst other deys in those\ntimes almost always met a violent death by steel or poison, he died\npeacefully in his palace, after having lived many long years.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE TUNISIAN SAGE; OR, THE POWDER OF LONGEVITY.\n\n\nSelim-ben-Foubi had been twenty years engaged in commerce when he\ninherited a fortune which greatly surpassed his wants and even his\ndesires.\n\nAs he had lost all his children, his great wealth caused him but\nlittle joy, and he felt it even embarrassing to possess so much gold\nand so many precious things, of which he should never be able to make\nany use.\n\n\"I am now fifty,\" said he, \"and were I to live to a hundred, I should\nnot spend half of what I possess. I can only take one meal at a time,\ndress in a single suit, and sleep in but one bed. Hence if I can but\nrest in peace in a substantial and commodious house, eat as much as I\ndesire, and invite a friend to partake of my repast, that is all I\nneed wish for. I have therefore resolved to give away the half of my\nfortune during my lifetime, that I may enjoy the pleasure of beholding\nhappiness of my own creating.\"\n\nHaving formed this generous project, Selim nevertheless wished before\nputting it into execution to take counsel with two of his friends.\n\nQuitting therefore his country-house at Boudjareah, he repaired to\nAldgezaire, where in the garden of the grand mosque dwelt usually a\nsage mufti, a grave and reverend man. Seating himself by his side\nbeneath the shade of some flowering pomegranate trees, he thus\naccosted him:\n\n\"Mehemet, I have come to visit thee in order to open my whole heart\nto thee and take counsel of thy wisdom. I am suddenly become very\nrich, as thou knowest, and I have no son to inherit my wealth; is it\nnot too great for a single solitary man? speak, answer me.\"\n\n\"That which Allah gives should never be despised,\" replied the sage.\n\n\"I do not disdain my riches,\" replied Selim, \"but I am thinking of\nsharing them with others, and of keeping only what is necessary to my\nexistence for the remainder of my days.\"\n\n\"Thou knowest not what the number of thy days will be.\"\n\n\"I will suppose that I may enjoy the longest of lives, a hundred years\nfor example, thinkest thou I shall live yet longer?\"\n\n\"Allah alone knows.\"\n\n\"Let us say five hundred,\" continued Selim, \"surely that covers all\nchances; well then, during this long course of years, would it not be\nmore agreeable to me to know that my riches are useful, than to feel\nthat they were hidden in some coffer, where they might become an\nobject of envy to the poor, or tempt the cupidity of the ill-doer?\"\n\n\"May be so,\" said the mufti.\n\n\"My thought is a good one then?\"\n\n\"It may be; but will it be good in practice? I cannot say. Nothing is\nmore common than to think wisely; nothing more rare than to put wise\nthoughts into practice.\"\n\n\"Advise me,\" said Selim, \"and I shall then be sure of fulfilling the\nlaw, and of doing good. How ought I to distribute the half of my large\nfortune?\"\n\nThe mufti reflected profoundly, and then replied:\n\n\"I advise thee first to take at least one year to reflect upon thy\nproject. Time is the sun that ripens the thoughts of men. We never\nrepent of having reflected before acting; we often regret not having\ndone so. Reflect then, and afterwards come and consult with me.\"\n\nSelim quitted the mosque, and repaired to Bab-a-Zoun street, to the\nhouse of his other friend, a Moorish merchant, who laboured hard to\nsupport himself by his calling. He began thus:\n\n\"We have been friends and have known each other these ten years, for\nwhich reason I come to put to thee this question: 'In what way,\nthinkest thou, a man who is both rich and beneficent should employ his\nfortune, in order to be useful?'\"\n\nThe Moorish merchant replied: \"Thou makest a very singular demand of\nme. I cannot believe that a man can find any difficulty in giving, if\nhe really possess the desire. He may found a mosque, succour the aged,\nsupport the widow and the orphan, enrich his friends, if he have any,\nand the rich are seldom without friends.\"\n\n\"But thou,\" rejoined Selim, \"if thou hadst aught to give away, what\nwouldst thou do?\"\n\n\"I? I cannot fancy myself having any thing to give away, seeing that I\ncan scarcely pay the rent of my poor shop, and fill that shop with a\nfew sacks of rice and a little coffee. If I had money, it is very\ncertain that I should begin by buying a house and goods. It is of no\nuse to say to a poor man like me, 'To whom wouldst thou give thy\nmoney?' But I repeat to thee there is no lack of good actions to be\ndone. Happy he who has only to choose.\"\n\n\"Thou art right,\" said Selim to his friend; and quitting him, he\nreturned to his country-house at Boudjareah. One of his neighbours,\nAchmet the Arab, accosted him upon the road thither; and Selim, having\nstopped to converse with his friend, said to him: \"Thou art of a ripe\nage, and art not wanting in experience of the things of this life.\nTell me then if thou considerest that it would be well for a man who\nis rich and childless to give away, while still living, the half of\nhis fortune, reserving the other half, upon which to subsist\nhonourably the remainder of his days.\"\n\nAchmet replied, \"I cannot say whether it is better in the sight of\nAllah to give away or to retain the goods with which he has endowed\nthee. As for myself, I have nothing to give, for I have a very small\nfortune, and a great many children; but if I were rich and without\nheirs, I would bury my gold in some corner of my garden, sooner than\nbestow it to gratify men who are either wicked or ungrateful, and such\nthey almost all are. This gold would sooner or later be discovered by\nsome one whom Allah desired to enrich, and thus I should not be\nresponsible for the use that was made of it.\"\n\n\"Thy idea is not, perhaps, a bad one,\" said Selim, \"and I will\ncertainly reflect upon it.\"\n\nWhile Selim and his neighbour were talking together, a Tunisian of\nmiserable aspect approached the spot. This was no other than Hussein\nMuley, a physician of Tunis. He was already advanced in years, and\npassed for a man rich in science, but poor in money. Selim requested\nthis man to rest himself in his house, and his invitation being\naccepted, he saluted his neighbour Achmet, and conducted his guest\ninto one of the fresh and salubrious halls of his smiling abode.\nHussein Muley, fatigued by two hours' walk under a broiling sun, threw\nhimself upon a divan, whilst fruits and coffee were abundantly served\nto him. When he had somewhat reposed and refreshed himself, Selim said\nto him in a friendly manner, \"I am happy to receive thee at my house,\nbecause thou art a wise man, and of good renown in thy profession.\nThou hast travelled, read, and seen life; thou must of necessity be\nable to judge wisely of the things which relate to this life. I should\ntherefore be very glad to have thy opinion upon a project which I have\nformed. I have become very rich by inheritance; and having no\nchildren, I think of disposing, while yet living, of a great portion\nof my wealth. In what way dost thou consider it would be most\ndesirable to employ this wealth?\"\n\nHussein Muley regarded Selim with surprise.\n\n\"Thou wouldst give away a great portion of what thou hast,\" said he.\n\"This is, indeed, a marvellous thing. I have, as thou sayest,\ntravelled, read, and seen life, but never yet have I heard of any man\ngiving away, during his lifetime, the greater part of his fortune.\"\n\n\"Does that prove that it would be wrong to do so?\" demanded Selim.\n\n\"I know not,\" replied the Tunisian, falling into a fit of profound\nmeditation, and looking all the while at the tips of his old slippers,\ninstead of contemplating from afar the ever-changing sea and azure\nsky.\n\n\"On what dost thou muse?\" at length demanded Selim.\n\n\"I was thinking--I was thinking that if the duration of man's life\nwere longer, it would be better both for those who study science, and\nfor those who are the fortunate possessors of great wealth; it would\nbe equally good for the poor, since they might one day hope to enjoy\nthe fruit of their toils, if they took pains to become rich.\"\n\n\"What profits it to meditate so deeply upon a thing which all the\nreflections of man cannot change?\"\n\n\"I do not regard the prolongation of human existence as impossible.\nHitherto physicians have most frequently been instrumental in\nabridging it. My aim is to repair the wrongs they have involuntarily\ncommitted. I would have succeeding ages regard my memory with\ngratitude.\"\n\n\"What sayest thou?\" cried Selim. \"Thou wouldst change the order of\nthings, the whole course of nature?\"\n\n\"Nothing can convince me that we follow the course of nature by dying\nat sixty or eighty years of age, when men formerly lived hundreds of\nyears. On the contrary, I am certain that we were created to live\nlonger, much longer, and I consecrate all my days, my nights, and my\nstudies to the pursuit of a discovery which is destined to prolong the\nexistence of mankind, and renew the state of things as they were when\nmen married at a hundred years of age, and lived to see their sons'\nsons grow up and marry in their turn. Why, have I often asked myself,\nshould our lives be shorter than those of an oak of the forests, of a\nserpent, or even of a vulture?\"\n\n\"If we lived as long as an oak,\" replied Selim, \"the cedars and the\npalm trees would still live longer than we.\"\n\n\"Thou dost but jest, but thy jesting is ill-timed; nothing is more\nserious than the thought which occupies me. Thou thyself, confess now,\nwouldst thou not be enchanted to see suns succeed suns, and to\ncontemplate for ages to come the wonders of the heavens and the\nfecundity of the earth?\"\n\nSelim reflected a little, and replied, \"Man does not love death, it is\ntrue; nevertheless life is not so desirable as thou wouldst fain have\nus believe.\"\n\n\"Then thou desirest not to prolong thy days upon the earth? For\nmyself, I confess that I desire it greatly; so that besides my days\nand my nights, I consecrate all that I glean from learned researches\nto the accomplishment of this great end. I am already upon the track.\nBut unfortunately gold is wanting--this gold which thou despisest, or\nknowest not how to employ--this gold would in my hands contribute to\nthe happiness of future generations. With gold--with gold you can\npurchase books of precious value, measure the stars, dig the bowels of\nthe earth, rend metals from her bosom, decompose substances, in short,\npenetrate into every mystery. Yes, gold which heretofore has been\nunable to bestow a day, nay an hour upon its possessor, gold in my\nhands would accomplish a wondrous discovery. I should certainly not\nkeep the secret for myself alone, and I should share it first of all\nwith the man whose wealth had helped me to the means of obtaining it.\"\n\n\"But shouldst thou discover the means of prolonging my life for many\ncenturies, I should not then be rich enough to give away half of my\nfortune.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the physician of Tunis, \"is not life preferable to all\nthe riches in the world? and if at this moment it were said to thee,\n'thou shalt die, or give up the whole of thy possessions,' wouldst\nthou not readily yield them to avoid the thrust of a yataghan, or the\ndischarge of a gun in thy breast?\"\n\n\"Thou puzzlest me, but I think that in such a case I should give up my\nproperty to preserve my life.\"\n\n\"Thou seest then that life is dear, even to the poor. Why not\ntherefore endeavour to prolong thine own? Even if my profound science\ndid not succeed, thou wouldst still be rich enough to enjoy an\nexistence of the shorter duration.\"\n\nListening thus to the learned physician, Selim fell by degrees into a\nprofound reverie, and the Tunisian, instead of continuing his\ndiscourse, gave himself up to meditation also; so that both these two\nmen became absorbed in their own dreams in presence of each other, but\nwithout communicating their ideas, and Allah alone knows of what they\nwere thinking.\n\nAfter long and silent reflection, Selim said to Hussein Muley, \"Before\nseeing thee I had intended to bestow while yet alive one-half of my\nfortune in making others happy. It will, I think, be no change of\npurpose, if I aid thee in pursuing those learned researches which tend\nto prolong the life of man. For which reason, Hussein Muley, I propose\nat once to present thee with the gold of which thou hast need. Come\nwith me.\"\n\nThe Tunisian, appearing more astonished than rejoiced at these words,\ngravely arose, followed Selim into another apartment in the house, and\nreceived from him a little casket filled with pieces of gold.\n\n\"Employ this wisely,\" said Selim, \"and communicate to me the result of\nthy labour.\"\n\n\"I will not fail to do so,\" replied Hussein Muley. And clasping the\nprecious casket to his breast, he exclaimed, \"Here then is the means\nof satisfying my thirst for knowledge, of surmounting all obstacles,\nof snatching from the past the secret which shall add hundreds of\nyears to the existence of man, and prolong his days to the space of\nthose of his fathers. Selim,\" added he, \"thou dost a meritorious\naction in giving me this. I need not thank thee, because I am going to\nwork for thee as for myself; nevertheless I do thank thee, and with my\nwhole heart.\"\n\nHaving said these words the learned physician withdrew gravely, and\nwith an air of deep abstraction.\n\nSelim was not less preoccupied. Left to himself, he meditated long and\nprofoundly on long and short lives, and on the prodigies accomplished\nby science, and he ended by asking himself whether he should confide\nto the sage mufti, whom he was soon about to see again, what he had\ndone for Hussein Muley, and his hope of beholding the existence of the\nhuman species prolonged to an almost indefinite period. His final\nresolution was to admit no one to his confidence in the matter, but to\nawait in silence the marvellous discovery of his new friend Hussein\nMuley, the physician of Tunis.\n\nSeveral months passed by without the reappearance of the latter, but\nwhen at length he returned to Boudjareah he was yellower, leaner, and\nmore attenuated even than a man who had crossed on foot the mighty\ndesert of Sahara. His limbs, in fact, could scarcely support his\ntrembling frame.\n\n\"Well,\" said Selim, \"what has befallen thee? art thou sick, or dost\nthou return to me perishing of hunger?\"\n\n\"No, but I have travelled night and day beneath the pale light of the\nstars, and the burning rays of the sun, and have often forgotten to\ntake necessary sustenance, so deeply was I absorbed in my studies.\"\n\n\"Well, and the result?\"\n\n\"Alas! I have not yet succeeded as I could desire. Thus far have I\nattained only, that I have secured the power of prolonging our days\nfifty years.\"\n\nHaving uttered these words, Hussein Muley sorrowfully clasped his\nwithered hands upon his breast, and then added:\n\n\"I know that such a discovery would afford intense joy to any other\nbut myself, but it is far from satisfying me. To live fifty years\nlonger than usual, what is that?\"\n\n\"It is something, nevertheless,\" replied Selim, \"and wilt thou tell me\nwhat is necessary to be done, in order to add fifty years to one's\nexistence?\"\n\n\"Will I tell thee?\" cried the Tunisian; \"I am come expressly for that\npurpose, and to give thee this powder. It must be taken every morning\nfasting, for one year, three months, a week, and a day, without fail.\"\n\n\"I must write down these directions,\" said Selim.\n\nHe wrote them down at once, and then asked, \"Dost thou not think thou\nshouldst rest satisfied with thy discovery, and begin to live well,\nand sleep well, in order to enjoy the remaining years of thy life?\"\n\n\"I have no desire to repose yet from my labours. Of what account are\nfifty years added to sixty or eighty, soon to be over for me? No, no,\nI would live two centuries at the least, to enjoy the fruits of my\ntoil, and make the fortunes of my children, and my children's\nchildren. For thou dost not imagine we shall at first give to every\none for nothing this magnificent secret, which has cost us so much. It\nis this secret which will procure us the means of living in splendour\nto the end of our days. Thou canst, for heavy sums of money, dispose\nof the powder which I shall have composed to whomsoever thou pleasest,\nwhile I on my part equally will part with it for gold; and when at\nlength we die, surfeited with life, we will leave our secret to the\nmultitude that survives us.\"\n\n\"This arrangement seems to me just, and well conceived. Nevertheless,\nI desire not to sell the powder, but may I bestow it, and at once,\nupon one or two men whom I esteem highly?\"\n\n\"No, let us not yet draw attention to our happy fortune; let us wait\nuntil my discovery shall be completely perfected.\"\n\n\"Agreed; but I lament to see thee yellow, thin, and attenuated, as\nthou art.\"\n\n\"Oh! that is nothing,\" said the Tunisian, striking his forehead with\nhis hands; \"do not let my haggard appearance disturb thee. I would\nrather have nothing but skin upon my bones, and keep my secret to\nmyself. I shall soon regain my flesh and my complexion. No, my health\ncauses me no uneasiness. I merely suffer from anxiety, which arises\nfrom not having money sufficient for the prosecution of my studies.\"\n\n\"Dost thou require much?\" demanded Selim.\n\n\"Ah! yes, much,\" replied Hussein with a sigh; \"and if I fail in\nprocuring it, instead of living fifty years longer than the usual\ncourse of things, I will either starve myself to death, or drown\nmyself in the well of my house.\"\n\n\"Beware of acting thus,\" said Selim. \"I can still give thee something;\nmake use of that, and afterwards follow my advice, and sell to some\nrich man thy powder, in order to meet the expenses of thy lengthened\nresearches.\"\n\nHussein Muley appeared to meditate profoundly with his forehead buried\nin his hands, and seemed not to listen to Selim, but it is not\nimprobable that he heard him very well.\n\n\"Thou dost not listen to me,\" continued Selim. \"Hussein! Hussein! I\nwill give thee another little casket of gold; but after this casket I\nhave nothing more to give thee. There will only remain just\nsufficient for me, during the time that I hope to live, thanks to thy\npowder. If thou discoverest another still more marvellous, thou wilt\ngive it me, at least for my own use, wilt thou not?\"\n\nHussein Muley seemed suddenly to come to himself, and exclaimed:\n\n\"Oh! I have at length found that of which I was in search! Yes, one\nherb alone is now wanting; I will go in quest of it, were it at the\nother end of the earth, and I will resolve the great problem which has\noccupied me for more than thirty years. Selim! Selim! entrust to my\nkeeping what thou canst still consecrate to the happiness of mankind,\nand rest assured that thou wilt merit the admiration and the gratitude\nof ages to come.\"\n\n\"I desire neither the one nor the other,\" replied Selim; \"I only wish\nto do a little good, that is all. Shall I succeed in my purpose? I\nwill confess to thee, Hussein Muley, that I have more than once\nregretted devoting my fortune to a discovery which may prove more\nfatal than useful to the world; for the world is already peopled\nenough, and what would it be, if men lived for several centuries?\nWould they not kill each other for want of room?\"\n\n\"Do they not already kill each other by sea and by land?\" said Hussein\nMuley with a strange smile. \"Come,\" continued he, \"do not disquiet\nthyself about what will some day happen upon the earth; profit by what\nfate offers thee, and prolong thy days in peace.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, he took the second casket proffered him by Selim,\nput it under his arm, and said in a grave tone:\n\n\"I am about to undertake a journey into Asia. There, near the Indies,\nis a high mountain, Mount Himalaya--dost thou not know it?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Selim.\n\n\"Well, nor I either; but I go to cull from its summit, covered with\nperpetual snows, a plant, which will complete the discoveries I have\nalready made.\"\n\n\"I thought that no plant was ever to be found on those mountain tops\ncovered with perpetual snow and frost?\"\n\n\"There grows none, but that of which I have immediate need; I am going\nin quest of it, and will show it thee on my return.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" said Selim, and they separated.\n\nHussein Muley retreated with rapid strides.\n\nSelim carefully placed in a small box the powder which he was to take\nfasting, during one year, three months, a week, and a day, and he\nbegan from the very next day to administer to himself this drug, which\nhappily he did not find to be very nauseous to the taste.\n\nMeanwhile the Tunisian set out from Aldgezaire with his wife, his\nchildren, and several chests, containing no doubt his books, and the\npapers necessary for his studies; but Selim never saw him more. He\nawaited his return, three, five, ten years, and, as he judged that ten\nyears should suffice to go to Asia, and scale the highest mountain\nthere, he began to think that the yellow, thin, and learned Tunisian\nwas either dead, or else had taken advantage of his credulity and\nignorance.\n\nWhilst these thoughts occupied his mind, an epidemic broke out in\nAldgezaire; Selim was attacked by it.\n\nHe therefore begged the wise mufti, who was still alive, to come and\nvisit him; and then with that burst of confidence which seizes men in\nthe hour of danger, he opened his heart to him, and related how he had\ngiven two caskets full of gold to Hussein Muley, in the hope of\nprolonging the existence of mankind for many centuries.\n\nThe wise mufti stroked his venerable beard and exclaimed:\n\n\"Selim, Selim, thou hast been played upon by a swindler, to whom thou\nhast imprudently confided thy generous thoughts. This proves the truth\nof what I one day said to thee, 'With the best intentions we may\ncommit the most foolish actions.'\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Selim sorrowfully, \"my misfortune has been in not\nspontaneously following the first impulse of my heart, for I had\nreally the wish to do good, but in taking counsel of one and another I\nhave followed the worst I received.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the mufti, \"thou mightest perhaps have acted wisely in\nfollowing thy first idea; at the same time, if thou hadst, in\naccordance with my advice, reflected longer upon thy projects of\nbenevolence, it is certain that thou wouldst not have given thy gold\nto a cheat who has done nothing but laugh at thy credulity.\"\n\nSelim willingly consented to acknowledge his fault. He confessed that\nit is useless to take the opinion of the wise and learned, if we do\nnot mean to profit by it; then he prostrated himself devoutly before\nAllah, recovered his health by degrees, and caused a large sum of\nmoney to be distributed among the poor of the mosques, for he relied\nno longer on the hundreds of years of existence which were to come to\nhim from Mount Himalaya, any more than on the powder of longevity.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nTHE NOSE FOR GOLD.\n\n\nMohammed and Yousouf, young Moors, born in Aldgezaire, had loved each\nother from infancy, and increasing years only served to strengthen the\nbonds of their attachment. Besides the happiness they enjoyed in their\nmutual affection, their friendship tended also to elevate their\ncharacters, and make them remarkable, for every body knows that\nconstant friendships are never the lot of vulgar minds. These two\nyoung men, therefore, raised themselves above the level of the vulgar\nherd by the fidelity of their affection; they were cited as models in\ntheir native city; people smiled with pleasure on seeing them pass,\nalways together, ever in good humour; and although they were far from\nbeing rich, yet their fate was envied by every one.\n\nMohammed and Yousouf generally dressed alike, and they had recourse to\nthe same trade to gain their living. Their only trouble,--there must\nalways be some in this world,--arose from the shops in which they were\nengaged during the day being separated from each other; evening, it is\ntrue, reunited them in the same dwelling, but that was not enough for\nthem. When they married even, they contrived that it should be to each\nother's relatives. One family established itself on the first floor of\nthe house, the other immediately above, and the two friends continued\nto love as heretofore, and to rejoice in their common felicity.\n\nOver and over again, during their long conversations, they would\nrepeat with the reiteration usual to those to whom a subject is dear,\nsome such sentiments as these:\n\n\"The restless periods of youth, marriage, and commercial affairs have\ntried our friendship without altering it; it is henceforth secure from\nall changes; old age will only serve to render us dearer to each\nother, and we shall leave to our families the record and example of an\naffection which a future day will doubtless see renewed in our sons.\"\n\n\"It is probable,\" they would often say, \"that Allah, touched by our\nfriendship upon earth, will reunite us eternally in the paradise of\ntrue believers, beneath fresh shades, and by the side of bubbling\nfountains, surrounded by flowers of sweet perfume.\"\n\nAt this prospect of an eternal union, an eternal happiness, both would\nsmile in anticipation, and such expressions as these they were never\nweary of repeating to each other.\n\nThese two friends were about thirty years of age, when a lucky chance\ngave them the opportunity of accomplishing the dearest wish of their\nhearts, that of occupying together two small shops adjoining each\nother.\n\nAn old Israelite, without family and without children, had inhabited\nthem for twenty years. In one he slept and ate, not having any other\nhouse; in the other he displayed his merchandise; essences, amber,\npastilles, necklaces and bracelets for the rich Moors, small\nlooking-glasses, and beads of coral for the slaves; all of which he\nsold at the dearest possible price, as if he had a dozen children to\nsupport, and as many of his co-religionists.\n\nMohammed and Yousouf established themselves with lively satisfaction\nin these shops, the possession of which they had so long coveted,\nwithout at the same time desiring the death of the old Jew. They were\nincapable of a wicked action; but the Jew being dead, as they could\nnot restore him to life, they saw no harm in lawfully taking\npossession of his domicile. This event seemed to complete their\nhappiness.\n\nBut who can say or know what is really a good or an evil? who can\nforesee the consequences of things?\n\nMohammed one day, while knocking a nail into the partition wall\nbetween his shop and that of Yousouf, discovered that this wall was\nhollow, and that it contained some pieces of metal. His first impulse\nwas to call, \"Yousouf! Yousouf! there is gold or silver in our wall;\"\nbut the next moment he thought, \"I will first assure myself of what\nthis part of the wall contains, and if I really make a fortunate\ndiscovery, I shall give Yousouf such an agreeable surprise by calling\nhim to partake of it.\"\n\nAccordingly he waited until Yousouf should be out of the way for an\nhour or two to give him the opportunity of exploring further into his\nwall, but it so happened that Yousouf was never absent at all for\nseveral days following.\n\nMohammed then said to his friend:\n\n\"I fancy that something has been stolen from my shop during the night.\nI shall sleep there to-night, in order to surprise the thief, if he\nshould reappear.\"\n\n\"I shall not leave thee alone here all night,\" replied Yousouf, \"but\nshall sleep also in my shop by the side of thee.\"\n\nMohammed in vain strove to oppose the resolution of his friend; he\ncould not revisit his shop alone in the evening, and for several days\nfollowing, Yousouf seeing that he appeared pensive and uneasy, quitted\nhim less than ever, and said to him with the solicitude of true\nfriendship:\n\n\"Thou seemest sad! Thy wife and thy sons, are they ill? Regrettest\nthou what has been taken from thy shop? Compensate thyself for thy\nloss by selecting whatever thou wilt from that which I possess.\"\n\nMohammed thanked Yousouf, and replied with a smile:\n\n\"Rest satisfied, I have no grief.\" He dared not add, \"I have no\nsecret,\" for he had one.\n\nIn order however to put an end to the feeling of intense anxiety that\nfilled his mind, he came to his shop one night unknown to Yousouf, and\nhastily detaching from the partition wall first one stone, then two or\nthree more, he discovered a hundred Spanish doubloons, and eight\nfour-dollar pieces. This was a perfect treasure to Mohammed, who had\nnever in his life possessed more than the half of a small house, and\nthe few goods exposed for sale in his shop.\n\n\"We are rich,\" said he. \"Yousouf and I can now purchase a country\nhouse by the sea-side, as we have so often wished. Our wives and our\nchildren will disport themselves in our sight. My son Ali, that\nbeautiful child whom I so tenderly love, will be delighted to run\namong the trees and climb up into their topmost branches. Ah! how\nrejoiced I am, if only for his sake.\"\n\nThus thinking, Mohammed took his gold and his silver, replaced, as\nwell as he was able, the stones in his wall, and returned to his home,\nhis mind occupied with delightful visions, and already beholding\nhimself in imagination enjoying the pleasures of a delightful\nhabitation by the sea-shore, with his beautiful Ali, that dear child\nwhom he so tenderly loved. During two days he put off from hour to\nhour the disclosure which he had to make to Yousouf; and during those\ntwo days he revolved all sorts of ideas in his mind.\n\n\"If I made the fortune of my son, instead of that of my friend,\" said\nhe at length to himself, \"should I be guilty? Is not a son nearer and\ndearer than all the friends in the world? Yes; but then the gold and\nsilver which I have discovered belong by rights as much to Yousouf as\nto myself, for the wall whence I have taken them belongs as much to\nhis shop as to mine.\"\n\nUnable to resolve either to share his treasure with his friend or to\nkeep it for himself alone, he took the resolution of carefully\nconcealing it in the chamber in which he slept, and of waiting until\nthe agitation caused in his mind by so important an event should have\nsomewhat subsided, to which end he hastened to secure his newly\nacquired possession.\n\n\"Reflection is no crime,\" said he. Consequently he gave himself time\nto reflect, instead of following the first impulse of his heart and\nremaining faithful to that devotion of friendship which had hitherto\nconstituted his pride and glory, and which still bore the promise of\nso rich a harvest in the future.\n\nHe passed all his time then, extended during the heat of the day upon\na mat by the side of his merchandise, and with closed eyes feigning to\nsleep, while in reality he was thinking of nothing but his treasure,\nand of what he ought to do with it.\n\nYousouf meanwhile, impressed with the idea that his friend was\nsleeping, took every care to guard his slumbers from interruption,\nthinking as he gently fanned his fevered brow of nothing but Mohammed,\nand what he could possibly invent to divert him and render him happy.\n\nOne day as Yousouf and Mohammed were reposing after their labours, an\nold hump-backed Jew with a sallow complexion and an enormous nose\naccosted Yousouf, saying:\n\n\"Was it not here that Nathan Cohen, the son of David, lived about two\nyears since?\"\n\n\"Speak low,\" replied Yousouf to the Jew. \"My friend is asleep, and I\nwould not that his slumbers should be disturbed.\"\n\nThe Jew seated himself on the edge of Yousouf's little counter, and\nrepeated his inquiry, at the same time lowering the harsh and hollow\ntones of his voice.\n\n\"Yes, it was here that Nathan Cohen, the son of David, dwelt,\" replied\nthe young Moor.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the old Jew, working his large and flexible nostrils, \"I\nwas sure of it--that is why I scent gold hidden here.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" said Yousouf, regarding somewhat incredulously the\nextraordinary nose of his interlocutor. \"Thou dost well to talk of\nsmelling gold or silver either. Thy olfactory nerves are of the\nstrongest no doubt, nevertheless I fear me they are at fault in this\ndwelling, where gold and silver but seldom make their appearance.\"\n\n\"They are not often to be seen here,\" replied the Jew; \"I know that\nfull well; they are not heard here either, for the earth conceals them\nboth from sight and sound. But remove them from the envious ground\nthat covers them, and they will dazzle thine eyes and charm thine\nears.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" said Yousouf, laughing. \"Thou art the bearer of good news.\nHow much dost thou demand for thy reward?\"\n\n\"I would have thee share with me all that I shall cause to be\ndiscovered in thy house by means of the marvellous sense of smelling\nwith which I am endowed, and at which thou now jestest.\"\n\n\"Share with thee!\" exclaimed Yousouf. \"Oh no, indeed! If I were\nfortunate enough to discover a treasure, it is with my friend Mohammed\nthat I should hasten to share it.\"\n\n\"But thou wilt have nothing to share with him if I do not disclose to\nthee the spot where thy treasure lies concealed.\"\n\n\"Perhaps so. But if I put any confidence in thy nose, what prevents me\nfrom turning my whole shop topsy-turvy, digging up the floor, and\npulling down the walls and the shelves?\"\n\nThe Jew slowly regarded the ground, the walls, and the shelves, as\nthey were severally named by Yousouf; then he said in an ironical\nmanner:\n\n\"Thou wouldst not do much harm if thou wert to demolish all around\nthee; but to save thyself so much trouble and labour, thou hadst far\nbetter give me at least one-third of what I shall discover in thy\ndwelling. The other two-thirds can be for thyself and thy friend, if\nthou art fool enough not to wish to keep all for thyself.\"\n\n\"Ah, it may suit such a man as thou to call him who prefers friendship\nto money a fool! But in spite of all thy arguments I shall never\nchange, and I shall love Mohammed better than all the money in the\nworld.\"\n\n\"As you please. It remains to be seen if Mohammed would do the same\nfor you.\"\n\n\"I have not the slightest doubt of it,\" replied Yousouf.\n\nThe Jew uttered a suppressed laugh.\n\n\"And I have every doubt of it,\" said he. \"I doubt even _thy_ future\ndisinterestedness, notwithstanding the warmth of thy discourse.\nYousouf! Yousouf! thou hast not yet beheld the dazzling brilliancy of\ngold! It is the lustre of this metal which charms the eyes and wins\nthe heart of man. Once let him see gold before him, and know that he\nhas the power to possess himself of it, and adieu to every other\nthought. Gold! why it is the thing to be most desired in the world.\nPossessed of gold, what can we not enjoy? a fine house, smiling\npasturage, blooming gardens, rich stuffs, divans, perfumes, all, in\nshort, that renders life desirable!\"\n\n\"That is very true,\" replied Yousouf. \"We can procure many things with\ngold; but still gold cannot purchase youth, gaiety, friendship, or\neven a good appetite or sound sleep. Leave me then in peace with thy\ndiscoveries, and if thou art so skilled in the art of scenting gold,\nlearn also to scan the disposition of him to whom thou addressest\nthyself.\"\n\n\"Then thou wilt not consent to give me the third of what I know to be\nhere, hidden though it may be?\"\n\n\"Decidedly not,\" replied Yousouf. \"I have no faith in thy ridiculous\npretensions; moreover, I do not know thee, and have never seen thee\neither in the public walks, the streets, or elsewhere.\"\n\n\"I have just returned from a long journey,\" replied the old man; \"my\nname is Ephraim. When I quitted this city, thou wert but sixteen\nyears of age; my friend Nathan Cohen, son of David, was then very old:\nhe has been dead, they say, these two years.\"\n\n\"And so thou comest to exercise thy sense of smelling in thy\naccustomed haunt,\" said Yousouf gaily; \"and seest thou not then that\nthere is some power in friendship, since it is the memory of a friend\nthat brings thee hither?\"\n\n\"Ah! it is not the memory of the past, but hope for the future,\"\nreplied the old Jew. \"So long as our friends are alive they may be\nuseful, though that is a thing that very rarely happens; but when they\nare dead, what is the use of thinking any more of them?\"\n\nYousouf, wearied out with so much discussion, said at length to\nEphraim:\n\n\"Come, come, enough of this! Leave this place; thy voice will, I am\nsure, awaken my friend, and prevent him from sleeping, as he delights\nto do during the heat of the day.\"\n\n\"Do not let us awaken him,\" replied the Jew, \"but let us remove the\nground there beneath thy feet. I will hope that a feeling of gratitude\nmay induce thee to bestow upon me a portion of what I shall discover\nfor thee.\"\n\nSo saying, the Jew drew a long iron pickaxe from beneath his dirty\nbrown tunic, and began to break up the ground around the feet of\nYousouf. The latter regarded the old man--his prodigious nose inflated\nby the hope of gain--with a smile of derision. But in a short space of\ntime their eyes were dazzled by a sight of the precious metal. The Jew\nhad, indeed, succeeded in disinterring a veritable treasure.\n\n\"Let us now count this gold and silver,\" said he.\n\nThey took it, and counted it, and found that Yousouf had suddenly\nbecome the possessor of five hundred Spanish doubloons, and sixty\nfour-dollar pieces. He could scarcely believe his eyes.\n\n\"Well,\" said the Jew, \"what sayest thou? have I lied to thee, or\ndeceived myself? Come, let us see now what thou art going to give me\nin reward for my pains.\"\n\n\"I will awaken Mohammed,\" said Yousouf, \"and he and I will certainly\ngive thee something as a recompense.\"\n\n\"Yousouf!\" said the Jew, arresting the young Moor by the arm, \"reflect\na moment before awakening thy friend. Would it not be better to keep\nthis treasure for thyself and for thy sons? Hast thou not children,\nand are not children much dearer than a friend?\"\n\n\"If I have children,\" replied Yousouf, \"Mohammed has them also. We\nloved each other before they were born, and we know how to be good\nfathers without being faithless friends.\"\n\nAt this moment Mohammed, who had not awaked, for the very sufficient\nreason that he had not been asleep, started as if he had been stung by\na thousand mosquitoes at once, and rose with a sudden bound. The\nconcluding words of Yousouf had awakened a feeling of remorse within\nhis breast.\n\n\"Yousouf! Yousouf!\" said he to his friend, \"I have heard all. Yes,\nevery thing, and thy sincere friendship, tried by time and tried by\ngold, is now the sole treasure I desire.\"\n\n\"I know for how long a time thou hast thought thus,\" replied Yousouf.\n\"But since Allah has chosen to make us rich, let us not disdain the\nblessing which he sends. He it was who first inspired us with the wish\nfor these two little shops, and who has bestowed them upon us. It is\nhe who has conducted hither this Jew who has been the instrument of\nour discovering this treasure. Let us offer our thanks to Allah, and\nlet us give to Ephraim that which is meet and right.\"\n\n\"Be that as thou only wilt,\" said Mohammed with a preoccupied air.\n\"Thou art just and righteous, and thy thoughts are pure in the sight\nof Allah.\"\n\nYousouf paid no great heed to this friendly eulogium, but continued\ngaily:\n\n\"Since thou permittest me to be the sole arbiter in the affair, this\nis my decision.\"\n\nThen, turning towards Ephraim: \"Thou shalt be more or less\nrecompensed,\" said he, \"according to the candour with which thou\nrepliest to my question. Come, then, answer me truly, hast thou\nreally, thanks to the singular form of thy nose, so fine a sense of\nsmell as to be able to trace any metal whatever, either under ground\nor elsewhere?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Jew, \"I possess this rare faculty, thanks to my nose;\nand to give thee a farther proof of it, I declare that I can again\nscent in this spot in the wall a sum of gold and silver, the exact\namount of which I cannot enumerate.\"\n\nMohammed turned pale at these words. \"In this wall?\" said he.\n\n\"Yes. Suffer me to make a little hole with this gimlet here, and you\nwill see if I speak falsely.\"\n\n\"Dig where thou wilt,\" replied Yousouf; \"we have no right to prevent\nthee after the discovery thou hast just made here.\"\n\nThe Jew instantly set to work at the wall, but it was now his turn to\nbe astonished, for the wall, hollow it is true, was guiltless of gold\nor silver either.\n\nYousouf burst out laughing at the disconcerted and stupified look of\nthe old Jew.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said he, \"thy nose has deceived thee for once; but thou\nmust not let that discourage thee. Still, hadst thou frankly told me\nthat as a friend of old Nathan Cohen thou knewest where he had hidden\nhis treasure, in return for thy confidence I should have given thee a\nquarter of what thou hast found; but since thou hast persisted in\nassuring me that thy nose is gifted with supernatural powers, I shall\ngive thee much less. Besides, with such a nose as thine no one can\ndoubt but thy fortune is made.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" cried the Jew, clasping his withered and wrinkled hands,\n\"Yousouf! Yousouf! since thou art good and just, as Mohammed says,\ntake pity on my poverty; it impelled me to deal falsely with thee; I\nconfess it now; and spite of its singular form, my nose has nothing\nbut what is common to other noses. Accord then to my tardy sincerity\nthat which thou wouldst at first have given me.\"\n\nYousouf consulted Mohammed again, who replied thus:\n\n\"Thou art just and pious; act according to thy own desire.\"\n\nYousouf then counted out to the old Jew the fourth part of what he had\njust found, thus rendering him happy for the remainder of his days.\n\nThen, finding himself alone with his friend, he began to divide into\ntwo equal parts the gold and silver which remained.\n\n\"Give me none! give me none, Yousouf!\" exclaimed Mohammed, \"I am no\nlonger deserving of thy friendship.\"\n\n\"Thou!\" said Yousouf, \"art thou mad? what sayst thou?\"\n\n\"I speak the melancholy truth,\" cried Mohammed; \"I have not a noble\nheart like thine. Some time since I discovered in the wall the gold\nand silver which the Jew thought to find there; but instead of saying\nas thou hast done, 'I will share it with my friend,' I put off from\nday to day the fulfilment of this sacred duty. Ah, Yousouf, I am\nunworthy of thy friendship, and am very unhappy!\"\n\nYousouf remained silent for a few moments, but soon his brow grew\nclear, and a pleasing smile diffused itself over his features and\nilluminated his fine dark eyes.\n\n\"What man,\" said he, \"is entirely master over his own thoughts? Thou\ndidst hesitate, sayst thou, before confiding to me the discovery thou\nhadst made. That may be, but thou wouldst not have failed to do so at\nlast. Thou wouldst never have been able to behold thyself rich,\nknowing me to be poor, and to sit at a feast whilst I lived upon black\nbread. Thou didst not thoroughly understand the wants and feelings of\nthy heart: that is all. Thou didst not at once perceive wherein lies\ntrue happiness, for which reason thou hast caused thyself much\nuneasiness. It is over now; our friendship has been tried by gold;\nnothing remains for us but to enjoy the good fortune that has befallen\nus. Let us seek to do so like wise men, and never let us forget to set\napart for the poor a portion of that which Allah has bestowed upon\nus.\"\n\nThe two friends agreed therefore to give a hundred doubloons to the\npoor of the great mosque. Then with the rest of their treasure they\npurchased a beautiful country house not far from the sea, on the coast\nof Punta Pescada. There they lived happily for many long years, always\nadmired and esteemed for their mutual affection, and for the goodness\nof their hearts; for, strange to say, their sudden and unexpected\nchange of fortune never served to render them callous to the poor, nor\nindifferent to the wants and troubles of their fellow-creatures.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nTHE STORY OF THE TREASURES OF BASRA.\n\n\nAll historians agree that the caliph Haroun-al-Raschid would have been\nthe most perfect prince of his time, as he was also the most powerful,\nif he had not so often given way both to anger and to an insupportable\nvanity. He was always saying that no prince in the world was so\ngenerous as himself. Giafar, his chief vizir, being at last quite\ndisgusted with his boasting, took the liberty to say to him one day,\n\"Oh, my sovereign lord, monarch of the world, pardon your slave if he\ndares to represent to you that you ought not thus to praise yourself.\nLeave that to your subjects and the crowds of strangers who frequent\nyour court. Content yourself with the knowledge that the former thank\nheaven for being born in your dominions, and that the latter\ncongratulate themselves on having quitted their country to come and\nlive under your laws.\" Haroun was very angry at these words; he looked\nsternly at his vizir, and asked him if he knew any one who could be\ncompared to himself in generosity.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered Giafar, \"there is in the town of Basra a\nyoung man named Aboulcassem, who, though a private individual, lives\nin more magnificence than kings, and without excepting even your\nmajesty, no prince is more generous than this man.\"\n\nThe caliph reddened at these words, his eyes flashed with anger. \"Do\nyou know,\" he said, \"that a subject who has the audacity to lie to his\nmaster merits death?\"\n\n\"I have said nothing but the truth,\" replied the vizir. \"During my\nlast visit to Basra I saw this Aboulcassem; I stayed at his house; my\neyes, though accustomed to your treasures, were surprised at his\nriches, and I was charmed with the generosity of his manners.\"\n\nAt these words the impetuous Haroun could no longer contain his anger.\n\"You are most insolent,\" he cried, \"to place a private individual on\nan equality with myself! Your imprudence shall not remain unpunished.\"\n\nSo saying, he made a sign for the captain of his guards to approach,\nand commanded him to arrest the vizir Giafar. He then went to the\napartment of the princess Zobeide his wife, who grew pale with fear on\nseeing his irritated countenance.\n\n\"What is the matter, my lord?\" said she; \"what causes you to be thus\nagitated?\"\n\nHaroun told her all that had passed, and complained of his vizir in\nterms that soon made Zobeide comprehend how enraged he was with the\nminister. This wise princess advised him to suspend his resentment,\nand send some one to Basra to ascertain the truth of Giafar's\nassertion; if it was false, she argued, the vizir should be punished;\non the contrary, if it proved true, which she could not believe, it\nwas not just to treat him as a criminal. This discourse calmed the\nfury of the caliph.\n\n\"I approve of this counsel, madam,\" said he, \"and will acknowledge\nthat I owe this justice to such a minister as Giafar. I will do still\nmore; as any other person I charged with this office might, from an\naversion to my vizir, give me a false statement, I will myself go to\nBasra and judge of the truth of this report. I will make acquaintance\nwith this young man, whose generosity is thus extolled; if Giafar has\ntold me true, I will load him with benefits instead of punishing him\nfor his frankness; but I swear he shall forfeit his life if I find he\nhas told me a falsehood.\"\n\nAs soon as Haroun had formed this resolution he thought of nothing but\nhow to execute it. One night he secretly left the palace, mounted his\nhorse, and left the city, not wishing any one to follow him, though\nZobeide entreated him not to go alone. Arriving at Basra, he\ndismounted at the first caravansary he found on entering the city, the\nlandlord of which seemed a good old man.\n\n\"Father,\" said Haroun, \"is it true that there is in this city a young\nman called Aboulcassem, who surpasses even kings in magnificence and\ngenerosity?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered the landlord; \"and if I had a hundred mouths,\nand in each mouth a hundred tongues, I could not relate to you all his\ngenerous actions.\" As the caliph had now need of some repose, he\nretired to rest after partaking of a slight refreshment. He was up\nvery early in the morning, and walked about until sunrise. Then he\napproached a tailor's shop and asked for the dwelling of Aboulcassem.\n\"From what country do you come?\" said the tailor; \"most certainly you\nhave never been at Basra before, or you would have heard where the\nlord Aboulcassem lives; why, his house is better known than the palace\nof the king.\"\n\nThe caliph answered, \"I am a stranger; I know no one in this city, and\nI shall be obliged if you will conduct me to this lord's house.\"\n\nUpon that the tailor ordered one of his boys to show the caliph the\nway to the residence of Aboulcassem. It was a large house built of\nstone, with a doorway of marble and jasper. The prince entered the\ncourt, where there was a crowd of servants and liberated slaves who\nwere amusing themselves in different ways while they awaited the\norders of their master. He approached one of them and said, \"Friend, I\nwish you would take the trouble to go to the lord Aboulcassem and tell\nhim a stranger wishes to see him.\" The domestic judged from the\nappearance of Haroun that he was no common man. He ran to apprise his\nmaster, who coming into the court took the stranger by the hand and\nconducted him to a very beautiful saloon. The caliph then told the\nyoung man, that having heard him mentioned in terms of praise, he had\nbecome desirous of seeing him, and had travelled to Basra for that\npurpose. Aboulcassem modestly replied to this compliment, and seating\nhis guest on a sofa, asked of what country and profession he was, and\nwhere he lodged at Basra.\n\n\"I am a merchant of Bagdad,\" replied the caliph, \"and I have taken a\nlodging at the first caravansary I found on my arrival.\"\n\nAfter they had conversed for a short time there entered twelve pages\nbearing vases of agate and rock crystal, enriched with precious\nstones, and full of the most exquisite beverages. They were followed\nby twelve very beautiful female slaves, some carrying china bowls\nfilled with fruit and flowers, and others golden caskets containing\nconserves of an exquisite flavour. The pages presented their beverages\nto the caliph; the prince tasted them, and though accustomed to the\nmost delicious that could be obtained in the East, he acknowledged\nthat he had never tasted better. As it was now near the hour for\ndinner, Aboulcassem conducted his guest to another room, where they\nfound a table covered with the choicest delicacies served on dishes of\nmassive gold. The repast finished, the young man took the caliph by\nthe hand and led him to a third room more richly furnished than the\ntwo others. Here the slaves brought a prodigious quantity of gold\nvases, enriched with rubies, filled with all sorts of rare wines, and\nchina plates containing dried sweetmeats. While the host and his guest\nwere partaking of these delicious wines there entered singers and\nmusicians, who commenced a concert, with which Haroun was enchanted.\n\"I have,\" he said to himself, \"the most admirable voices in _my_\npalace, but I must confess they cannot bear comparison with these. I\ndo not understand how a private individual can live in such\nmagnificence.\"\n\nAmongst the voices there was one in particular the extraordinary\nsweetness of which attracted the attention of the prince, and whilst\nhe was absorbed in listening to it Aboulcassem left the room and\nreturned a moment after holding in one hand a wand, and in the other a\nlittle tree whose stem was of silver, the branches and leaves\nemeralds, and the fruit rubies. On the top of this tree was a golden\npeacock beautifully executed, the body of which was filled with amber,\nessence of aloes, and other perfumes. He placed this tree at the\ncaliph's feet; then striking the head of the peacock with his wand,\nthe bird extended its wings and tail, and moved itself quickly to the\nright and left, whilst at each movement of its body the most\nodoriferous perfumes filled the apartment. The caliph was so\nastonished and delighted that he could not take his eyes off the tree\nand the peacock, and he was just going to express his admiration when\nAboulcassem suddenly took them away. Haroun was offended at this, and\nsaid to himself, \"What does all this mean? It appears to me this young\nman does not merit so much praise. He takes away the tree and the\npeacock when he sees me occupied in looking at them more than he\nlikes. Is he afraid I want him to make me a present? I fear Giafar is\nmistaken in calling him a generous man.\" He was thus thinking when\nAboulcassem returned accompanied by a little page as beautiful as the\nsun. This lovely child was dressed in gold brocade covered with pearls\nand diamonds. He held in his hand a cup made of one single ruby, and\nfilled with wine of a purple colour. He approached the caliph, and\nprostrating himself to the ground, presented the cup. The prince\nextended his hand to receive it, but, wonderful to relate, he\nperceived on giving back the cup to the page, that though he had\nemptied the cup, it was still quite full. He put it again to his lips\nand emptied it to the very last drop. He then placed it again in the\nhands of the page, and at the same moment saw it filling without any\none approaching it. The surprise of Haroun was extreme at this\nwonderful circumstance, which made him forget the tree and the\npeacock. He asked how it was accomplished. \"My lord,\" said\nAboulcassem, \"it is the work of an ancient sage who was acquainted\nwith most of the secrets of nature;\" and then, taking the page by the\nhand, he precipitately left the apartment. The caliph was indignant at\nthis behaviour. \"I see how it is,\" said he, \"this young man has lost\nhis senses. He brings me all these curiosities of his own accord, he\npresents them to my view, and when he perceives my admiration, he\ninstantly removes his treasures. I never experienced treatment so\nridiculous or uncourteous. Ah, Giafar! I thought you a better judge of\nmen.\"\n\nIn this manner they continued amusing themselves till sunset. Then\nHaroun said to the young man, \"Oh, generous Aboulcassem, I am confused\nwith the reception you have given me; permit me now to retire and\nleave you to repose.\" The young lord of Basra not wishing to\ninconvenience his guest, politely saluted him, and conducted him to\nthe door of the house, apologizing for not having received him in a\nmore magnificent style. \"I quite acknowledge,\" said the caliph on\nreturning to his caravansary, \"that for magnificence Aboulcassem\nsurpasses kings, but for generosity, there my vizir was wrong in\nplacing him in comparison with myself; for what present has he made me\nduring my visit? I was lavish in my praises of the tree, the cup, and\nthe page, and I should have thought my admiration would have induced\nhim to offer me, at least, one of these things. No, this man is\nostentatious; he feels a pleasure in displaying his riches to the eyes\nof strangers. And why? Only to satisfy his pride and vanity. In\nreality he is a miser, and I ought not to pardon Giafar for thus\ndeceiving me.\" Whilst making these disagreeable reflections on his\nminister, he arrived at the caravansary. But what was his astonishment\non finding there silken carpets, magnificent tents, a great number of\nservants, slaves, horses, mules, camels, and besides all these, the\ntree and the peacock, and the page with his cup? The domestics\nprostrated themselves before him, and presented a roll of silk paper,\non which were written these words, \"Dear and amiable guest, I have\nnot, perhaps, shown you the respect which is your due; I pray you to\nforget any appearance of neglect in my manner of receiving you, and do\nnot distress me by refusing the little presents I have sent you. As to\nthe tree, the peacock, the page, and the cup, since they please you,\nthey are yours already, for any thing that delights my guests ceases\nto be mine from that instant.\" When the caliph had finished reading\nthis letter, he was astounded at the liberality of Aboulcassem, and\nremembered how wrongly he had judged the young man. \"A thousand\nblessings,\" cried he, \"on my vizir Giafar! He has caused me to be\nundeceived. Ah, Haroun, never again boast of being the most\nmagnificent and generous of men! one of your subjects surpasses you.\nBut how is a private individual able to make such presents? I ought to\nhave asked where he amassed such riches; I was wrong not to have\nquestioned him on this point: I must not return to Bagdad without\ninvestigating this affair. Besides, it concerns me to know why there\nis a man in my dominions who leads a more princely life than myself. I\nmust see him again, and try to discover by what means he has acquired\nsuch an immense fortune.\"\n\nImpatient to satisfy his curiosity, he left his new servants in the\ncaravansary, and returned immediately to the young man's residence.\nWhen he found himself in his presence he said, \"Oh, too amiable\nAboulcassem, the presents you have made me are so valuable, that I\nfear I cannot accept them without abusing your generosity. Permit me\nto send them back before I return to Bagdad, and publish to the world\nyour magnificence and generous hospitality.\" \"My lord,\" answered the\nyoung man with a mortified air, \"you certainly must have had reason to\ncomplain of the unhappy Aboulcassem; I fear some of his actions have\ndispleased you, since you reject his presents; you would not have done\nme this injury, if you were satisfied with me.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the prince, \"heaven is my witness that I am enchanted\nwith your politeness; but your presents are too costly; they surpass\nthose of kings, and if I dared tell you what I think, you would be\nless prodigal with your riches, and remember that they may soon be\nexhausted.\"\n\nAboulcassem smiled at these words and said to the caliph, \"My lord, I\nam very glad to learn that it is not to punish me for having committed\nany fault against yourself that you wished to refuse my presents; and\nnow to oblige you to accept them, I will tell you that every day I can\nmake the same and even more magnificent ones without inconveniencing\nmyself. I see,\" added he, \"that this astonishes you, but you will\ncease to be surprised when I have told you all the adventures which\nhave happened to me. It is necessary that I should thus confide in\nyou.\"\n\nUpon this he conducted Haroun to a room a thousand times richer and\nmore ornamented than any of the others. The most exquisite essences\nperfumed this apartment, in which was a throne of gold placed on the\nrichest carpets. Haroun could not believe he was in the house of a\nsubject; he imagined he must be in the abode of a prince infinitely\nmore powerful than himself. The young man made him mount the throne,\nand placing himself by his side, commenced the history of his life.\n\n\nHISTORY OF ABOULCASSEM.\n\nI am the son of a jeweller of Cairo, named Abdelaziz. He possessed\nsuch immense riches, that fearing to draw upon himself the envy or\navarice of the sultan of Egypt, he quitted his native country and\nestablished himself at Basra, where he married the only daughter of\nthe richest merchant in that city. I am the only child of that\nmarriage, so that inheriting the estates of both my parents I became\npossessed on their death of a very splendid fortune. But I was young,\nI liked extravagance, and having wherewith to exercise my liberal\npropensities, or rather my prodigality, I lived with so much\nprofusion, that in less than three years my fortune was dissipated.\nThen, like all who repent of their foolish conduct, I made the most\npromising resolutions for the future.\n\nAfter the life I had led at Basra, I thought it better to leave that\nplace, for it seemed to me my misery would be more supportable among\nstrangers. Accordingly I sold my house, and left the city before\ndaybreak. When it was light I perceived a caravan of merchants who had\nencamped on a spot of ground near me. I joined them, and as they were\non their road to Bagdad, where I also wished to go, I departed with\nthem; I arrived there without accident, but soon found myself in a\nvery miserable situation. I was without money, and of all my large\nfortune there remained but one gold sequin. In order to do something\nfor a living I changed my sequin into aspres, and purchased some\npreserved apples, sweetmeats, balms, and roses. With these I went\nevery day to the house of a merchant where many persons of rank and\nothers were accustomed to assemble and converse together. I presented\nto them in a basket what I had to sell. Each took what he liked, and\nnever failed to remunerate me, so that by this little commerce I\ncontrived to live very comfortably. One day as I was as usual selling\nflowers at the merchant's house, there was seated in a corner of the\nroom an old man, of whom I took no notice, and on perceiving that I\ndid not address him, he called me and said, \"My friend, how comes it\nthat you do not offer your merchandise to me as well as the others? Do\nyou take me for a dishonest man, or imagine that my purse is empty?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered I, \"I pray you pardon me. All that I have is at\nyour service, I ask nothing for it.\" At the same time I offered him my\nbasket; he took some perfume, and told me to sit down by him. I did\nso, and he asked me a number of questions, who I was, and what was my\nname.\n\n\"Excuse me satisfying your curiosity,\" said I, sighing; \"I cannot do\nso without reopening wounds which time is beginning to heal.\"\n\nThese words, or the tone in which I uttered them, prevented the old\nman from questioning me further. He changed the discourse, and after a\nlong conversation, on rising to depart he took out his purse and gave\nme ten gold sequins. I was greatly surprised at this liberality. The\nwealthiest lords to whom I had been accustomed to present my basket\nhad never given me even one sequin, and I could not tell what to make\nof this man.\n\nOn the morrow, when I returned to the merchants, I again found my old\nfriend; and for many days he continued to attract my attention. At\nlength, one day, as I was addressing him after he had taken a little\nbalm from my basket, he made me again sit by him, and pressed me so\nearnestly to relate my history, that I could not refuse him. I\ninformed him of all that had happened to me; after this confidence he\nsaid:\n\n\"Young man, I knew your father. I am a merchant of Basra; I have no\nchild, and have conceived a friendship for you; I will adopt you as my\nson, therefore console yourself for your past misfortunes. You have\nfound a father richer by far than Abdelaziz, and who will have as much\naffection for you.\" I thanked the venerable old man for the honour he\ndid me, and followed him as he left the house. He made me throw away\nmy basket of flowers, and conducted me to a large mansion that he had\nhired. There I was lodged in a spacious apartment with slaves to wait\non me, and by his order they brought me rich clothes. One would have\nthought my father Abdelaziz again lived, and it seemed as if I had\nnever known sorrow. When the merchant had finished the business that\ndetained him at Bagdad,--namely, when he had sold the merchandise he\nbrought with him,--we both took the road to Basra. My friends, who\nnever thought to see me again, were not a little surprised to hear I\nhad been adopted by a man who passed for the richest merchant in the\ncity. I did my best to please the old man. He was charmed with my\nbehaviour. \"Aboulcassem,\" he often said to me, \"I am enchanted that I\nmet you at Bagdad. You appear worthy of all I have done for you.\" I\nwas touched with the kindness he evinced for me, and far from abusing\nit, endeavoured to do all I could to please my kind benefactor.\nInstead of seeking companions of my own age, I always kept in his\ncompany, scarcely ever leaving him. At last this good old man fell\nsick, and the physicians despaired of his life. When he was at the\nlast extremity he made all but myself leave him, and then said, \"Now\nis the time, my son, to reveal to you a most important secret. If I\nhad only this house with all its riches to bequeath, I should leave\nyou but a moderate fortune; but all that I have amassed during the\ncourse of my life, though considerable for a merchant, is nothing in\ncomparison to the treasure that is concealed here, and which I am now\nabout to reveal to you. I shall not tell you how long ago, by whom, or\nin what manner it was found, for I am ignorant of that myself; all I\nknow is, that my grandfather, when dying, told the secret to my\nfather, who also made me acquainted with it a few days before his\ndeath. But,\" continued he, \"I have one advice to give you, and take\ncare you do not slight it. You are naturally generous. When you are at\nliberty to follow your own inclinations, you will no doubt be lavish\nof your riches. You will receive with magnificence any strangers who\nmay come to your house. You will load them with presents, and will do\ngood to all who implore your assistance. This conduct, which I much\napprove of if you can keep it within bounds, will at last be the cause\nof your ruin. The splendour of your establishment will excite the envy\nof the king of Basra, and the avarice of his ministers. They will\nsuspect you of having some hidden treasure. They will spare no means\nto discover it, and will imprison you. To prevent this misfortune, you\nhave only to follow my example. I have always, as well as my\ngrandfather and father, carried on my business and enjoyed this\ntreasure without ostentation; we have never indulged in any\nextravagance calculated to surprise the world.\"\n\nI faithfully promised the merchant I would imitate his prudence. He\ntold me where I should find the treasure, and assured me that whatever\nidea I might have formed of its splendour, I should find the reality\nfar exceed my expectations. At last, when the generous old man died,\nI, as his sole heir, performed for him the last offices, and, taking\npossession of his property, of which this house is a part, proceeded\nat once to see this treasure. I confess to you, my lord, that I was\nthunderstruck. I found it to be, if not inexhaustible, at least so\nvast that I could never expend it, even if heaven were to permit me to\nlive beyond the age of man. My resolution therefore was at once\nformed, and instead of keeping the promise I made to the old merchant,\nI spend my riches freely. It is my boast that there is no one in Basra\nwho has not benefited by my generosity. My house is open to all who\ndesire my aid, and they leave it perfectly contented. Do you call it\n_possessing_ a treasure if it must not be touched? And can I make a\nbetter use of it than by endeavouring to relieve the unhappy, to\nreceive strangers with liberality, and to lead a life of generosity\nand charity? Every one thought I should be ruined a second time.\n\n\"If Aboulcassem,\" said they, \"had all the treasures of the commander\nof the faithful, he would spend them.\"\n\nBut they were much astonished, when, instead of seeing my affairs in\ndisorder, they, on the contrary, appeared every day to become more\nflourishing. No one could imagine how my fortune increased, while I\nwas thus squandering it. As the old man predicted, a feeling of envy\nwas excited against me. A rumour prevailed that I had found a\ntreasure. This was sufficient to attract the attention of a number of\npersons greedy of gain. The lieutenant of police at Basra came to see\nme.\n\n\"I am,\" said he, \"the daroga, and am come to demand where the treasure\nis which enables you to live in such magnificence.\"\n\nI trembled at these words, and remained silent. He guessed from my\nconfused air that his suspicions were not without foundation; but\ninstead of compelling me to discover my treasure, \"My lord\nAboulcassem,\" continued he, \"I exercise my office as a man of sense.\nMake me some present worthy of my discretion in this affair, and I\nwill retire.\"\n\n\"How much do you ask?\" said I.\n\n\"I will content myself with ten gold sequins a day.\"\n\n\"That is not enough--I will give you a hundred. You have only to come\nhere every day or every month, and my treasurer will count them out\nto you.\"\n\nThe lieutenant of police was transported with joy at hearing these\nwords. \"My lord,\" said he, \"I wish that you could find a thousand\ntreasures. Enjoy your fortune in peace; I shall never dispute your\npossession of it.\" Then taking a large sum of money in advance he went\nhis way.\n\nA short time after the vizir Aboulfatah-Waschi sent for me, and,\ntaking me into his cabinet, said:\n\n\"Young man, I hear you have discovered a treasure. You know the fifth\npart belongs to God; you must give it to the king. Pay the fifth, and\nyou shall remain the quiet possessor of the other four parts.\"\n\nI answered him thus: \"My lord, I acknowledge that I _have_ found a\ntreasure, but I swear to you at the same time that I will confess\nnothing, though I should be torn in pieces. But I promise to give you\nevery day a thousand gold sequins, provided you leave me in peace.\"\n\nAboulfatah was as tractable as the lieutenant of police. He sent his\nconfidential servant, and my treasurer gave him thirty thousand\nsequins for the first month. This vizir, fearing no doubt that the\nking of Basra would hear of what had passed, thought it better to\ninform him himself of the circumstance. The prince listened very\nattentively, and thinking the affair required investigating, sent to\nsummon me. He received me with a smiling countenance, saying:\n\n\"Approach, young man, and answer me what I shall ask you. Why do you\nnot show me your treasure? Do you think me so unjust, that I shall\ntake it from you?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied I, \"may the life of your majesty be prolonged for\nages; but if you commanded my flesh to be torn with burning pincers I\nwould not discover my treasure; I consent every day to pay to your\nmajesty two thousand gold sequins. If you refuse to accept them, and\nthink proper that I should die, you have only to order it; but I am\nready to suffer all imaginable torments, sooner than satisfy your\ncuriosity.\"\n\nThe king looked at his vizir as I said this, and demanded his opinion.\n\n\"Sire,\" said the minister, \"the sum he offers you is considerable--it\nis of itself a real treasure. Send the young man back, only let him be\ncareful to keep his word with your majesty.\"\n\nThe king followed this advice; he loaded me with caresses, and from\nthat time, according to my agreement, I pay every year to the prince,\nthe vizir, and the lieutenant of police, more than one million sixty\nthousand gold sequins. This, my lord, is all I have to tell you. You\nwill now no longer be surprised at the presents I have made you, nor\nat what you have seen in my house.\n\n\nCONCLUSION OF THE STORY OF THE TREASURES OF BASRA.\n\nWhen Aboulcassem had finished the recital of his adventures, the\ncaliph, animated with a violent desire to see the treasure, said to\nhim, \"Is it possible that there is in the world a treasure that your\ngenerosity can never exhaust? No! I cannot believe it, and if it was\nnot exacting too much from you, my lord, I would ask to see what you\npossess, and I swear never to reveal what you may confide to me.\" The\nson of Abdelaziz appeared grieved at this speech of the caliph's. \"I\nam sorry, my lord,\" he said, \"that you have conceived this curiosity;\nI cannot satisfy it but upon very disagreeable conditions.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the prince, \"whatever the conditions, I submit\nwithout repugnance.\"\n\n\"It is necessary,\" said Aboulcassem, \"that I blindfold your eyes, and\nconduct you unarmed and bareheaded, with my drawn scimitar in my hand,\nready to cut you to pieces at any moment, if you violate the laws of\nhospitality. I know very well I am acting imprudently, and ought not\nto yield to your wishes; but I rely on your promised secrecy, and\nbesides that, I cannot bear to send away a guest dissatisfied.\"\n\n\"In pity then satisfy my curiosity,\" said the caliph.\n\n\"That cannot be just yet,\" replied the young man, \"but remain here\nthis night, and when my domestics are gone to rest I will come and\nconduct you from your apartment.\"\n\nHe then called his people, and by the light of a number of wax tapers,\ncarried by slaves in gold flambeaux, he led the prince to a\nmagnificent chamber, and then retired to his own. The slaves disrobed\nthe caliph, and left him to repose, after placing at the head and foot\nof his bed their lighted tapers, whose perfumed wax emitted an\nagreeable odour. Instead of taking any rest, Haroun-al-Raschid\nimpatiently awaited the appearance of Aboulcassem, who did not fail to\ncome for him towards the middle of the night. \"My lord,\" he said, \"all\nmy servants are asleep. A profound silence reigns in my house. I will\nnow show you my treasure upon the conditions I named to you.\"\n\n\"Let us go then,\" said the caliph. \"I am ready to follow you, and I\nagain swear that you will not repent thus satisfying my curiosity.\"\n\nThe son of Abdelaziz aided the prince to dress; then putting a bandage\nover his eyes, he said, \"I am sorry, my lord, to be obliged to treat\nyou thus; your appearance and your manners seem worthy of confidence,\nbut--\"\n\n\"I approve of these precautions,\" interrupted the caliph, \"and I do\nnot take them in ill part.\"\n\nAboulcassem then made him descend by a winding staircase into a garden\nof vast extent, and after many turnings they entered the place where\nthe treasure was concealed. It was a deep and spacious cavern closed\nat the entrance by a stone. Passing through this they entered a long\nalley, very dark and steep, at the end of which was a large saloon,\nbrilliantly lighted by carbuncles. When they arrived at this room the\nyoung man unbound the caliph's eyes, and the latter gazed with\nastonishment on the scene before him. A basin of white marble, fifty\nfeet in circumference and thirty feet deep, stood in the middle of the\napartment. It was full of large pieces of gold, and ranged round it\nwere twelve columns of the same metal, supporting as many statues\ncomposed of precious stones of admirable workmanship. Aboulcassem\nconducted the prince to the edge of the basin and said to him, \"This\nbasin is thirty feet deep. Look at that mass of gold pieces. They are\nscarcely diminished the depth of two fingers. Do you think I shall\nsoon spend all this?\"\n\nHaroun, after attentively looking at the basin, replied: \"Here are, I\nconfess, immense riches, but you still may exhaust them.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the young man, \"when this basin is empty I shall have\nrecourse to what I am now going to show you.\"\n\nHe then proceeded to another room, more brilliant still, where on a\nnumber of red brocaded sofas were immense quantities of pearls and\ndiamonds. Here was also another marble basin, not so large or so deep\nas that filled with gold pieces, but to make up for this, full of\nrubies, topazes, emeralds, and all sorts of precious stones. Never was\nsurprise equal to that of the caliph's. He could scarcely believe he\nwas awake, this new basin seemed like enchantment. His gaze was still\nfixed on it, when Aboulcassem made him observe two persons seated on a\nthrone of gold, who he said were the first masters of the treasure.\nThey were a prince and princess, having on their heads crowns of\ndiamonds. They appeared as if still alive, and were in a reclining\nposture, their heads leaning against each other. At their feet was a\ntable of ebony, on which were written these words in letters of gold:\n\"I have amassed all these riches during the course of a long life. I\nhave taken and pillaged towns and castles, have conquered kingdoms and\noverthrown my enemies. I have been the most powerful monarch in the\nworld, but all my power has yielded to that of death. Whoever sees me\nin this state ought to reflect upon it. Let him remember that once I\nwas living, and that he also must die. He need not fear diminishing\nthis treasure: it will never be exhausted. Let him endeavour so to use\nit as to make friends both for this world and the next. Let him lead a\nlife of generosity and charity, for in the end he must also die. His\nriches cannot save him from the fate common to all men.\"\n\n\"I will no longer disapprove of your conduct,\" said Haroun to the\nyoung man on reading these words; \"you are right in living as you now\ndo, and I condemn the advice given you by the old merchant. But I\nshould like to know the name of this prince. What king could have\npossessed such riches? I am sorry this inscription does not inform\nus.\"\n\nThe young man next took the caliph to see another room in which also\nthere were many rarities of even greater value than what he had seen,\namongst others several trees like the one he had given the prince.\nHaroun would willingly have passed the remainder of the night admiring\nall that was contained in this wonderful cavern, but the son of\nAbdelaziz, fearing to be observed by his servants, wished to return\nbefore daybreak in the same manner as they came, namely, the caliph\nblindfolded and bareheaded, and Aboulcassem with his scimitar in his\nhand, ready to cut off the prince's head if he made the least\nresistance. In this order they traversed the garden, and ascended by\nthe winding stairs to the room where the caliph had slept. Finding the\ntapers still burning, they conversed together till sunrise; the caliph\nthen, with many thanks for the reception he had received, returned to\nthe caravansary, from whence he took the road to Bagdad, with all the\ndomestics and presents he had accepted from Aboulcassem.\n\nTwo days after the prince's departure, the vizir Aboulfatah, hearing\nof the magnificent gifts that Aboulcassem made to strangers when they\ncame to see him, and above all astonished at the regularity of his\npayments to the king, the lieutenant, and himself, resolved to spare\nno means to discover the treasure from which he drew such\ninexhaustible supplies. This minister was one of those wicked men to\nwhom the greatest crimes are nothing, when they wish to gain their own\nends. He had a daughter eighteen years of age, and of surpassing\nbeauty. She was named Balkis, and possessed every good quality of\nheart and mind. Prince Aly, nephew of the king of Basra, passionately\nloved her; he had already demanded her of her father, and they were\nsoon to be married. Aboulfatah summoned Balkis one day to his presence\nand said: \"My daughter, I have great need of your assistance. I wish\nyou to array yourself in your richest robes, and go this evening to\nthe house of the young Aboulcassem. You must do every thing to charm\nhim, and oblige him to discover the treasure he has found.\"\n\nBalkis trembled at this speech; her countenance expressed the horror\nshe felt at this command. \"My lord,\" said she, \"what is it you propose\nto your daughter? Do you know the peril to which you may expose her?\nConsider the stain on your honour, and the outrage against the prince\nAly.\"\n\n\"I have considered all this,\" answered the vizir, \"but nothing will\nturn me from my resolution, and I order you to prepare to obey me.\"\n\nThe young Balkis burst into tears at these words. \"For heaven's sake,\nmy father,\" said the weeping girl, \"stifle this feeling of avarice,\nseek not to despoil this man of what is his own. Leave him to enjoy\nhis riches in peace.\"\n\n\"Be silent, insolent girl!\" said the vizir angrily, \"it does not\nbecome you to blame my actions. Answer me not. I desire you to repair\nto the house of Aboulcassem, and I swear that if you return without\nhaving seen his treasure, I will kill you.\"\n\nBalkis, hearing this dreadful alternative, retired to her apartment\noverwhelmed with grief; she called her women, and made them attire her\nin the richest apparel and most costly ornaments, though in reality\nshe needed nothing to enhance her natural beauty. No young girl was\nless desirous to please than Balkis. All she feared was appearing too\nbeautiful in the eyes of the son of Abdelaziz, and not sufficiently so\nto prince Aly.\n\nAt length, when night arrived and Aboulfatah judged it time for his\ndaughter to go, he secretly conducted her to the door of the young\nman's house, where he left her, after again declaring he would kill\nher if she returned unsuccessful. She timidly knocked and desired to\nspeak to the son of Abdelaziz. A slave led her to a room where his\nmaster was reposing on a sofa, musing on the vicissitudes of his past\nlife. As soon as Balkis appeared Aboulcassem rose to receive his\nvisitor; he gravely saluted her, and, taking her hand with a\nrespectful air, seated her on a sofa, at the same time inquiring why\nshe honoured him by this visit. She answered, that hearing of his\nagreeable manners, she had resolved to spend an evening in his\ncompany.\n\n\"Beautiful lady,\" said he, \"I must thank my lucky star for procuring\nme this delightful interview; I cannot express my happiness.\"\n\nAfter some conversation supper was announced. They seated themselves\nat a table covered with choice delicacies. A great number of officers\nand pages were in attendance, but Aboulcassem dismissed them that the\nlady might not be exposed to their curious looks. He waited on her\nhimself, presenting her with the best of every thing, and offering her\nwine in a gold cup enriched with diamonds and rubies. But all these\npolite attentions served but to increase the lady's uneasiness; and at\nlength, frightened at the dangers which menaced her, she suddenly\nchanged countenance and became pale as death, whilst her eyes filled\nwith tears.\n\n\"What is it, madam?\" said the young man much surprised; \"why this\nsudden grief? Have I said or done any thing to cause your tears to\nflow? Speak, I implore you; inform me of the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mahomet!\" exclaimed Balkis, \"I can dissimulate no longer; the\npart I am acting is insupportable. I have deceived you, Aboulcassem; I\nam a lady of rank. My father, who knows you have a hidden treasure,\nwishes me to discover where you have concealed it. He has ordered me\nto come here and spare no means to induce you to show it me. I refused\nto do so, but he has sworn to kill me if I return without being able\nto satisfy his curiosity. What an unhappy fate is mine! If I was not\nbeloved by a prince who will soon marry me, this cruel vow of my\nfather's would not appear so terrible.\"\n\nWhen the daughter of Aboulfatah had thus spoken, Aboulcassem said to\nher, \"Madam, I am very glad you have informed me of this. You will not\nrepent your noble frankness; you shall see my treasure, and be treated\nwith all the respect you may desire. Do not weep, therefore, or any\nlonger afflict yourself.\"\n\n\"Ah, my lord,\" exclaimed Balkis at this speech, \"it is not without\nreason that you pass for the most generous of men. I am charmed with\nyour noble conduct, and shall not be satisfied until I have found\nmeans to testify my gratitude.\"\n\nAfter this conversation Aboulcassem conducted the lady to the same\nchamber that the caliph had occupied, where they remained until all\nwas quiet in the dwelling. Then blindfolding the eyes of Balkis he\nsaid, \"Pardon me, madam, for being obliged to act thus, but it is only\non this condition that I can show you my treasure.\"\n\n\"Do what you please, my lord,\" answered Balkis; \"I have so much\nconfidence in your generosity that I will follow wherever you desire;\nI have no fear but that of not sufficiently repaying your kindness.\"\n\nAboulcassem then took her by the hand, and causing her to descend to\nthe garden by the winding stairs, he entered the cavern and removed\nthe bandage from her eyes. If the caliph had been surprised to see\nsuch heaps of gold and precious stones, Balkis was still more so.\nEvery thing she saw astonished her. But the objects that most\nattracted her attention were the ancient owners of the treasure. As\nthe queen had on a necklace composed of pearls as large as pigeons'\neggs, Balkis could not avoid expressing her admiration. Aboulcassem\ndetached it from the neck of the princess, and placed it round that of\nthe young lady, saying her father would judge from this that she had\nseen the treasure; he then, after much persuasion, made her take a\nlarge quantity of precious stones which he himself chose for her.\n\nThe young man then, fearing the day would dawn whilst she was looking\nat the wonders of the cavern, again placed the bandage over her eyes,\nand conducted her to a saloon where they conversed together until\nsunrise. Balkis then took leave, repeatedly assuring the son of\nAbdelaziz that she would never forget his generous conduct.\n\nShe hastened to her father's and informed him of all that had passed.\nThe vizir had been impatiently awaiting his daughter's return. Fearing\nshe might not be sufficiently able to charm Aboulcassem, he remained\nin a state of inconceivable agitation. But when he saw her enter with\nthe necklace and precious stones that Aboulcassem had given her, he\nwas transported with joy.\n\n\"Well, my daughter,\" he said, \"have you seen the treasure?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered Balkis, \"and to give you a just idea of its\nmagnitude, I tell you that if all the kings of the world were to unite\ntheir riches, they could not be compared to those of Aboulcassem. But\nstill, however vast this young man's treasures, I am less charmed with\nthem than with his politeness and generosity.\" And she then related to\nher father the whole of her adventure.\n\nIn the mean time Haroun-al-Raschid was advancing towards Bagdad. As\nsoon as he arrived at his palace he set his chief vizir at liberty,\nand restored him to his confidence. He then proceeded to relate to him\nthe events of his journey, and ended by asking, \"Giafar, what shall I\ndo? You know the gratitude of monarchs ought to surpass the pleasures\nthey have received. If I should send the magnificent Aboulcassem the\nchoicest and most precious treasure I possess, it will be but a slight\ngift, far inferior to the presents he has made me. How then can I\nsurpass him in generosity?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the vizir, \"since your majesty condescends to\nconsult me, I should write this day to the king of Basra and order him\nto commit the government of the state to the young Aboulcassem. We can\nsoon despatch the courier, and in a few days I will depart myself to\nBasra and present the patents to the new king.\"\n\nThe caliph approved of this advice. \"You are right,\" he said to his\nminister, \"it will be the only means of acquitting myself towards\nAboulcassem, and of taking vengeance on the king of Basra and his\nunworthy vizir, who have concealed from me the considerable sums they\nhave extorted from this young man. It is but just to punish them for\ntheir violence against him; they are unworthy of the situations they\noccupy.\"\n\nHe immediately wrote to the king of Basra and despatched the courier.\nHe then went to the apartment of the princess Zobeide to inform her of\nthe success of his journey, and presented her with the little page,\nthe tree, and the peacock. He also gave her a beautiful female slave.\nZobeide found this slave so charming that she smilingly told the\ncaliph she accepted this gift with more pleasure than all his other\npresents. The prince kept only the cup for himself; the vizir Giafar\nhad all the rest; and this good minister, as he had before resolved,\nmade preparations for his departure from Bagdad.\n\nThe courier of the caliph no sooner arrived in the town of Basra than\nhe hastened to present his despatch to the king, who was greatly\nconcerned on reading it. The prince showed it to his vizir.\n\"Aboulfatah,\" said he, \"see the fatal order that I have received from\nthe commander of the faithful. Can I refuse to obey it?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered the minister; \"do not afflict yourself.\nAboulcassem must be removed from hence. Without taking his life I will\nmake every one believe he is dead. I can keep him so well concealed\nthat he shall never be seen again; and by this means you will always\nremain on the throne and possess the riches of this young man; for\nwhen we are masters of his person we can increase his sufferings until\nhe is obliged to reveal where his treasure is concealed.\"\n\n\"Do what you like,\" replied the king; \"but what answer shall we send\nthe caliph?\"\n\n\"Leave that to me. The commander of the faithful will be deceived as\nwell as others. Let me execute the design I meditate, and the rest\nneed cause you no uneasiness.\"\n\nAboulfatah then, accompanied by some courtiers who were ignorant of\nhis intention, went to pay a visit to Aboulcassem. He received them\naccording to their rank, regaled them magnificently, seated the vizir\nin the place of honour, and loaded him with presents without having\nthe least suspicion of his perfidy. Whilst they were at table and\npartaking of the most delicious wines, the treacherous Aboulfatah\nskilfully threw unperceived into the cup of the son of Abdelaziz a\npowder which would render him insensible, and cause his body to remain\nin a state of lethargy resembling that of a corpse long deprived of\nlife. The young man had no sooner taken the cup from his lips than he\nfainted away. His servants hastened to support him, but soon\nperceiving he had all the appearance of a dead man, they placed him on\na sofa and uttered the most lamentable cries. The guests, struck with\nsudden terror, were silent from astonishment. As for Aboulfatah, it is\nimpossible to say how well he dissimulated. He not only feigned the\nmost immoderate grief, but tore his clothes and excited the rest of\nthe company to follow his example. He ordered a coffin to be made of\nivory and ebony, and while they were preparing it, he collected all\nthe effects of Aboulcassem and placed them in the king's palace. The\naccount of the young man's death soon spread abroad. All persons, men\nand women, put on mourning, and came to the door of the house, their\nheads and feet bare; old and young men, women and girls, were bathed\nin tears, filling the air with their cries and lamentations. Some said\nthey had lost in him an only son, others a brother or a husband\ntenderly beloved. Rich and poor were equally afflicted at his death;\nthe rich mourned a friend who had always welcomed them, and the poor a\nbenefactor whose charity had never been equalled. His death caused a\ngeneral consternation.\n\nMeanwhile the unhappy Aboulcassem was enclosed in the coffin, and a\nprocession having been formed, the people, by order of Aboulfatah,\ncarried him out of the town to a large cemetery containing a number of\ntombs, and amongst others a magnificent one where reposed the vizir's\nfather and many others of his family. They placed the coffin in this\ntomb, and the perfidious Aboulfatah, leaning his head on his knees,\nbeat his breast, and gave way apparently to the most violent grief.\nThose present pitied and prayed heaven to console him. As night\napproached the people returned to the town, but the vizir remained\nwith two of his slaves in the tomb, the door of which he shut and\ndouble locked. They lit a fire, warmed some water in a silver basin,\nand taking Aboulcassem from the coffin, bathed him with the warm\nwater. The young man by degrees regained his senses. He cast his eyes\non Aboulfatah, whom he at once recognized. \"Ah, my lord,\" said he,\n\"where are we, and to what state am I reduced?\"\n\n\"Wretch!\" answered the minister, \"know that it is I who have caused\nyour misfortune. I brought you here to have you in my power, and to\nmake you suffer a thousand torments if you will not discover to me\nyour treasure. I will rack your body with tortures--will invent each\nday new sufferings to render life insupportable: in a word, I will\nnever cease to persecute you until you deliver me those hidden\ntreasures which enable you to live with even more magnificence than\nkings.\"\n\n\"You can do what you please,\" replied Aboulcassem; \"I will never\nreveal my treasure.\"\n\nHe had scarcely uttered these words, when the cruel Aboulfatah, making\nhis slaves seize the unfortunate son of Abdelaziz, drew from his robe\na whip made of twisted lion's skin, with which he struck so long and\nwith such violence that the young man fainted. When the vizir saw him\nin this state, he commanded the slaves to replace him in the coffin,\nand leaving him in the tomb, which he firmly secured, returned to his\npalace.\n\nOn the morrow he went to inform the king of what he had done. \"Sire,\"\nsaid he, \"I tried yesterday, but in vain, to overcome the firmness of\nAboulcassem; however, I have now prepared torments for him which I\nthink he cannot resist.\"\n\nThe prince, who was quite as barbarous as his minister, said, \"Vizir,\nI am perfectly satisfied with all you have done. Ere long, I hope, we\nshall know where this treasure is concealed. But we must send back the\ncourier without delay. What shall I write to the caliph?\"\n\n\"Tell him, my lord, that Aboulcassem, hearing he was to occupy your\nplace, was so enchanted, and made such great rejoicings, that he died\nsuddenly at a feast.\"\n\nThe king approved of this advice, and writing immediately to\nHaroun-al-Raschid, despatched the courier. The vizir, flattering\nhimself that he should at length be able to force Aboulcassem to\nreveal his treasure, left the town, resolving to extract the secret or\nleave him to perish. But on arriving at the tomb, he was surprised to\nfind the door open. He entered trembling, and not seeing the son of\nAbdelaziz in the coffin, he nearly lost his senses. Returning\ninstantly to the palace, he related to the king what had occurred. The\nmonarch, seized with a mortal terror, exclaimed, \"Oh, Waschi! what\nwill become of us? Since this young man has escaped, we are lost. He\nwill not fail to hasten to Bagdad, and acquaint the caliph with all\nthat has taken place.\"\n\nAboulfatah, on his part, in despair that the victim of his avarice was\nno longer in his power, said to the king his master, \"What would I now\ngive to have taken his life yesterday! He would not then have caused\nus such uneasiness. But we will not quite despair yet; if he has taken\nflight, as no doubt he has, he cannot be very far from here. Let me\ntake some soldiers of your guard, and search in all the environs of\nthe town; I hope still to find him.\"\n\nThe king instantly consented to so important a step. He assembled all\nhis soldiers, and dividing them into two bodies, gave the command of\none to his vizir, and placing himself at the head of the other,\nprepared with his troops to search in all parts of his kingdom.\n\nWhilst they were seeking Aboulcassem in the villages, woods, and\nmountains, the vizir Giafar, who was already on the road to Basra, met\nthe courier returning, who said to him, \"My lord, it is useless for\nyou to proceed further, if Aboulcassem is the sole cause of your\njourney, for this young man is dead; his funeral took place some days\npast; my eyes were witnesses of the mournful ceremony.\"\n\nGiafar, who had looked forward with pleasure to see the new king, and\npresent his patents, was much afflicted at his death. He shed tears on\nhearing the sad news, and, thinking it was useless to continue his\njourney, retraced his steps. As soon as he arrived at Bagdad, he went\nwith the courier to the palace. The sadness of his countenance\ninformed the king he had some misfortune to announce.\n\n\"Ah, Giafar!\" exclaimed the prince, \"you have soon returned. What are\nyou come to tell me?'\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" answered the vizir, \"you do not, I am\nsure, expect to hear the bad news I am going to tell. Aboulcassem is\nno more; since your departure from Basra the young man has lost his\nlife.\"\n\nHaroun-al-Raschid had no sooner heard these words than he threw\nhimself from his throne. He remained some moments extended on the\nground without giving any signs of life. At length his eyes sought the\ncourier, who had returned from Basra, and he asked for the despatch.\nThe prince read it with much attention. He shut himself in his cabinet\nwith Giafar, and showed him the letter from the king of Basra. After\nre-reading it many times, the caliph said,\n\n\"This does not appear to me natural; I begin to suspect that the king\nof Basra and his vizir, instead of executing my orders, have put\nAboulcassem to death.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Giafar, \"the same suspicion occurred to me, and I\nadvise that they should both be secured.\"\n\n\"That is what I determine from this moment,\" said Haroun; \"take ten\nthousand horsemen of my guard, march to Basra, seize the two guilty\nwretches, and bring them here. I will revenge the death of this most\ngenerous of men.\"\n\n\"We will now return to the son of Abdelaziz, and relate why the vizir\nAboulfatah did not find him in the tomb. The young man, after long\nremaining insensible, was beginning to recover, when he felt himself\nlaid hold of by powerful arms, taken from the coffin, and gently laid\non the earth. He thought it was the vizir and his slaves come again on\ntheir cruel errand.\n\n\"Executioners!\" he cried, \"put me to death at once; if you have any\npity spare me these useless torments, for again I declare that nothing\nyou can do will ever tempt me to reveal my secret.\"\n\n\"Fear not, young man,\" answered one of the persons who had lifted him\nfrom the coffin; \"instead of ill-treating you, we are come to your\nassistance.\"\n\nAt these words Aboulcassem opened his eyes, and, looking at his\nliberators, recognized the young lady to whom he had shown his\ntreasure.\n\n\"Ah, madam!\" he said, \"is it to you I owe my life?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" answered Balkis; \"to myself and prince Aly, my\nbetrothed, whom you see with me. Informed of your noble behaviour, he\nwished to share with me the pleasure of delivering you from death.\"\n\n\"It is quite true,\" said prince Aly; \"I would expose my life a\nthousand times, rather than leave so generous a man to perish.\"\n\nThe son of Abdelaziz, having entirely recovered his senses by the help\nof some cordials they had given him, expressed to the lady and the\nprince his grateful thanks for the service they had rendered him, and\nasked how they had been informed he still lived.\n\n\"My lord,\" said Balkis, \"I am the daughter of the vizir Aboulfatah. I\nwas not deceived by the false report of your death. I suspected my\nfather in this affair, and, bribing one of his slaves, was informed of\nall concerning you. This slave is one of the two who were with him in\nthe tomb, and as he had charge of the key he confided it to me for a\nfew hours. I no sooner made this affair known to prince Aly than he\nhastened to join me with some of his confidential domestics. We lost\nnot a moment in coming hither, and, thanks be to heaven, we did not\narrive too late.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mahomet!\" said Aboulcassem, \"is it possible so unworthy and cruel\na father possesses such a daughter?\"\n\n\"Let us depart, my lord,\" said prince Aly; \"the time is precious. I\ndoubt not but that to-morrow the vizir, finding you have escaped, will\nseek you in all directions. I am going to conduct you to my house,\nwhere you will be in perfect safety, for no one will suspect me of\ngiving you an asylum.\"\n\nThey then covered Aboulcassem with a slave's robe, and all left the\ntomb. Balkis proceeded to her father's, and returned the key to the\nslave, whilst prince Aly took the son of Abdelaziz to his own palace,\nand kept him so well concealed, that it was impossible his enemies\ncould discover him. Aboulcassem remained some time in prince Aly's\nhouse, who treated him most kindly, until the king and his vizir,\ndespairing of finding him, gave up their search. The prince then gave\nhim a very beautiful horse, loaded him with sequins and precious\nstones, and said to him:\n\n\"You can now safely depart; the roads are open, and your enemies know\nnot what is become of you. Hasten to seek a place where you will be\nsecure from harm.\"\n\nThe young man thanked this generous prince for his hospitality, and\nassured him he should ever gratefully remember it. Prince Aly embraced\nhim, and prayed heaven to protect and watch over him on his journey.\nAboulcassem then took the road to Bagdad, and arrived there in safety\na few days afterwards. The first thing he did on entering the city was\nto hasten to the place where the merchants usually assembled. The hope\nof seeing there some one he had known at Basra, and of relating his\nmisfortunes, was his only consolation. He was vexed at being unable to\nfind this place, and traversing the town, sought in vain for the face\nof a friend amongst the multitudes he met. Feeling fatigued, he\nstopped before the caliph's palace to rest a little: the page whom he\nhad given to his former guest was then at a window, and the child\nlooking by chance that way, instantly recognized him. He ran to the\ncaliph's apartment.\n\n\"My lord,\" he exclaimed, \"I have just seen my old master from Basra!\"\n\nHaroun put no faith in this report. \"You are mistaken,\" he said;\n\"Aboulcassem no longer lives. Deceived by some fancied resemblance,\nyou have taken another for him.\"\n\n\"No, no, commander of the faithful; I assure you it is he: I am\ncertain I am not mistaken.\"\n\nThough the caliph did not believe this assertion, still he wished to\nfathom the mystery, and sent one of his officers with the page to see\nthe man the boy declared was the son of Abdelaziz. They found him in\nthe same place, for, imagining he had recognized his little page, he\nwaited till the child reappeared at the window. When the boy was\nconvinced he was not deceived, he threw himself at the feet of\nAboulcassem, who raised him, and asked if he had the honour of\nbelonging to the caliph.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" said the child; \"it was to the commander of the\nfaithful himself--he it was whom you entertained at Basra--it was to\nhim that you gave me. Come with me, my lord; the caliph will be\ndelighted to see you.\"\n\nThe surprise of the young man at this speech was extreme. He allowed\nhimself to be conducted into the palace by the page and the officer,\nand was soon ushered into the apartment of Haroun. The prince was\nseated on a sofa. He was extremely affected at the sight of\nAboulcassem. He hastened towards the young man, and held him long\nembraced without uttering a word, so much was he transported with joy.\nWhen he recovered a little from his emotion he said to the son of\nAbdelaziz:\n\n\"Young man, open your eyes, and recognize your happy guest. It was I\nwhom you received so hospitably, and to whom you gave presents that\nkings could not equal.\"\n\nAt these words Aboulcassem, who was not less moved than the caliph,\nand who from respect had drawn his cloak over his head, and had not\nyet dared to look up, now uncovered his face, and said:\n\n\"Oh, my sovereign master! oh, king of the world, was it you who\nhonoured your slave's house?\" And he threw himself at the feet of\nHaroun, and kissed the floor before him.\n\n\"How is it,\" said the prince, raising him, and placing him on a sofa,\n\"that you are still alive? Tell me all that has happened to you.\"\n\n[Illustration: ABOULCASSEM AND THE PAGE, p. 246.]\n\nAboulcassem then related the cruelties of Aboulfatah, and how he had\nbeen preserved from the fury of that vizir. Haroun listened\nattentively, and then said:\n\n\"Aboulcassem, I am the cause of your misfortunes. On my return to\nBagdad, wishing to repay my debt to you, I sent a courier to the king\nof Basra, desiring him to resign his crown to you. Instead of\nexecuting my orders, he resolved to take your life. Aboulfatah, by\nputting you to the most frightful tortures, hoped to induce you to\nreveal your treasures; that was the sole reason he delayed your death.\nBut you would have been revenged. Giafar, with a large body of my\ntroops, is gone to Basra. I have given him orders to seize your two\npersecutors, and to bring them here. In the mean time you shall remain\nin my palace, and be attended by my officers with as much respect as\nmyself.\"\n\nAfter this speech he took the young man by the hand, and made him\ndescend to a garden, filled with the choicest flowers. There he saw\nbasins of marble, porphyry, and jasper, which served for reservoirs to\nmultitudes of beautiful fish. In the midst of the garden, supported\nupon twelve lofty pillars of black marble, was a dome, the roof of\nsandal wood and aloes. The spaces between the columns were closed by a\ndouble trellis-work of gold, which formed an aviary containing\nthousands of canaries of different colours, nightingales, linnets, and\nother harmonious birds, who mingling their notes formed the most\ncharming concert. The baths of Haroun-al-Raschid were under this dome.\nThe prince and his guest took a bath, after which the attendants\nrubbed them with the finest towels, which had never before been used.\nThey then clothed Aboulcassem in rich apparel. The caliph conducted\nhim to a chamber where refreshments awaited them, such as roasted\nfowls and lamb, white soups, pomegranates from Amlas and Ziri, pears\nfrom Exhali, grapes from Melah and Sevise, and apples from Ispahan.\nAfter they had partaken of these delicacies, and drunk some delicious\nwine, the caliph conducted Aboulcassem to Zobeide's apartment. This\nprincess was seated on a throne of gold, surrounded by her slaves, who\nwere ranged standing on each side of her; some had tambourines, others\nflutes and harps. At that moment their instruments were mute, all\nbeing attentively engaged in listening to a young girl whose charming\nvoice rang through the saloon like the warblings of a nightingale. As\nsoon as Zobeide perceived the caliph and the son of Abdelaziz, she\ndescended from her throne to receive them.\n\n\"Madam,\" said Haroun, \"allow me to present to you my host of Basra.\"\n\nThe young man prostrated himself before the princess. At this moment\nthe vizir Giafar was heard returning with the troops, and bringing\nwith him Aboulfatah securely bound. As for the king of Basra, he was\nleft behind dying of grief and fright at not finding Aboulcassem.\nGiafar had no sooner rendered an account of his mission, than the\ncaliph ordered a scaffold to be erected before the palace, to which\nthe wicked Aboulfatah was conducted. The people knowing the cruelty of\nthis vizir, instead of being touched with his misfortune, testified\nthe utmost impatience to witness his execution. The executioner was\nalready prepared, sabre in hand, to strike off the guilty man's head,\nwhen the son of Abdelaziz prostrating himself before the caliph,\nexclaimed, \"Oh, commander of the faithful, yield to my prayers the\nlife of Aboulfatah! Let him live to witness my happiness, to behold\nall the favours you are conferring upon me, and he will be\nsufficiently punished.\"\n\n\"Oh, too generous Aboulcassem,\" replied the caliph, \"you, indeed,\ndeserve a crown! Happy the people of Basra to have you for their\nking.\"\n\n\"My lord, I have one more favour to ask. Give to the prince Aly the\nthrone you destined for myself. Let him reign, together with the lady\nwho had the generosity to avert from me the fury of her father; these\ntwo lovers are worthy this honour. As to myself, cherished and\nprotected by the commander of the faithful, I have no need of a crown;\nI shall be superior to kings.\"\n\nThe caliph assented to this proposal, and to recompense prince Aly for\nthe service he had rendered the son of Abdelaziz, sent him the\npatents, and made him king of Basra; but finding Aboulfatah too guilty\nto accord him liberty as well as life, he ordered the vizir to be shut\nup in a dark tower for the remainder of his days. When the people of\nBagdad were informed that it was Aboulcassem himself who had begged\nthe life of his persecutor, they showered a thousand praises on the\ngenerous young man, who soon after departed for Basra, escorted by a\ntroop of the caliph's guards, and a great number of his officers.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nTHE OLD CAMEL.\n\n\nEggadi-ben-Yousouf, a merchant at Miliana, was a mere lover of gain;\nhe never gave away any thing in alms; his heart was dry as the earth\nin the hottest days of summer, and never open to pity for the\nunfortunate. To amass, to amass for ever was the sole desire of\nEggadi. But in what did his riches consist? None could say, for he\nconcealed them with the utmost care.\n\nOne day one of his camels having died, he bought to replace it the\nonly camel of Ali-Benala, a poor dealer in mats. This camel was the\nsole heritage of which Ali came into possession at the death of his\nfather. He sold it for much less than its value;--Eggadi, who was an\nadept at bargaining, depreciating it in every possible way, especially\non account of its extreme age.\n\nOn his next journey Eggadi added this camel to his little caravan. As\nhe was passing a solitary place, he was surprised to see the camel\nbetake itself with hasty steps to a spot at some distance behind some\nrocks, and on its arrival there kneel down and groan, as camels\nusually do when they expect to be unloaded. A negro, having run after\nthe animal, brought it back to its place in the caravan.\n\nEggadi soon took a second journey on the same road, and on this\noccasion too the camel sold him by Ali-Benala again quitted the rank,\nand was again observed to kneel down and groan at the same place.\nThis time Eggadi followed it, and saw with surprise that the spot at\nwhich it stopped was one where no merchant of any country had been\never known to unload his merchandise. He reflected deeply on this\ncircumstance, and in the end resolved to revisit the spot alone with\nthe camel, who, faithful perhaps to some recollection, might, he\nthought, be the means of disclosing to him some mysterious act, or\nperhaps the place where a treasure lay concealed.\n\nEggadi returned, in short, soon after, to this solitary spot. He had\nbrought with him a spade, and proceeded to dig with care around the\ncamel, who had invariably knelt in the same place. He had scarcely\nlaboured ten minutes ere he discovered traces of another spade; this\nredoubled his zeal, and soon after, to his intense satisfaction, he\ncame upon some bags of money, then a coffer firmly shut, but which\ncontained, he could not doubt, objects of costly value. He first took\nthe bags, which were filled with good and true Spanish doubloons; with\nthese he loaded his camel, who thus had gained nothing but a double\nburden for his pains; then, having re-covered with stones and sand the\nprecious coffer, which he resolved upon examining another time, he\nreturned with his mind greatly preoccupied, asking himself whether it\nmust not have been the old father of Ali-Benala to whom all the wealth\nhe had just discovered formerly belonged.\n\nThis question, which he could not help addressing to his conscience\nover and over again, prevented him from fully enjoying the possession\nof his treasure. Although he dearly loved money, yet Eggadi to obtain\npossession of it had never yet plundered the widow and the orphan. The\nfirst step in the road to evil is not accomplished without difficulty\nand without remorse; Eggadi painfully experienced the truth of this.\n\"And yet,\" said he to himself, \"I made a fair bargain with poor Ali\nfor this very camel which has been the means of my finding a\ntreasure.\"\n\nBefore going to take possession of the coffer left underground behind\nthe rocks, Eggadi, impelled by his conscience, approached the\nmiserable shop where Ali carried on the sale of his mats, and said to\nhim:\n\n\"How comes it, Ali, that your father, rich as it is said he was, left\nyou no fortune, only an old camel and a house in ruins?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied Ali, \"my father was good to the poor. Not only did he\ncall every poor man his brother, but assisted him to the utmost of his\npower. At times, however, I have suspected that my father may have had\nriches concealed in some spot, and that he intended to bestow them\nupon me before he died. And I will tell you what led me to suppose so.\n\n\"A few moments before his death he sent for me, and said: 'I have a\ngreat secret to confide to thee. Come close to me that my voice may\nreach thy ear alone: but before our conversation, my son, let us pray\nto Allah to grant us on this solemn day that which is best for us.'\n\n\"We prayed, and in ten minutes my father was no more. Allah, no doubt,\njudged that that which was best for me was poverty. Allah be praised.\"\n\nAli bowed his head profoundly, laying his hand upon his breast.\nEggadi, much disturbed at the virtuous resignation of Ali-Benala,\nrejoined:\n\n\"But thinkest thou, that if good fortune befel thee, thou wouldst know\nhow to make good use of it?\"\n\n\"Allah alone knows,\" said Ali. \"Should he ever see fit to make me\nrich, he will know how to fit me for the change. For myself, I cannot\nsucceed in improving the poverty of my estate. I work incessantly, but\nnothing succeeds with me. My oxen, if I have any, drown themselves in\ncrossing a torrent; my goods either do not sell or are damaged. I am\ndestined to possess upon this earth nothing but this miserable hut,\nwhich has been my only home for ten years, But what matters it,\nprovided I fulfil the law of the prophet? I shall see Abraham, in\nheaven. If at times my poverty renders me uneasy, it is only for the\nsake of my poor children, who live miserably in a house as open to the\nwind and the rain as though it were without a roof.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Eggadi, \"it is certainly not just that such an honest man\nas thou should be in such a wretched state of poverty.\"\n\n\"How! not just!\" replied Ali. \"Are there not, then, many honest men\nwho are no richer than myself?\"\n\n\"That may be,\" said Eggadi. \"Nevertheless, since thy father was rich,\nit seems to be but just that thou shouldst be so too, and I come to\npropose to thee to enter into partnership with me. I have two good\nhouses outside the town; one shall be for thy family, the other for\nmine. We will live as brothers, and unite our children as in the time\nof the patriarchs.\"\n\nAli remained greatly astonished at such a proposition, coming\nespecially from Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, who had never had any friendship\nfor him, and who so far from evincing any generosity towards him, had\nbargained with him for his poor camel like the veriest Jew in the\nworld.\n\nHe therefore remained silent, neither accepting nor refusing the\noffer, but looking with an abstracted air upon the mats in his\nmiserable dwelling.\n\n\"Well,\" said Eggadi, ashamed at the bottom of his heart at making this\nshow of generosity to one whom he was secretly despoiling, \"well, thou\ndost not reply to me?\"\n\n\"Grant me time to imitate the example of my father by invoking Allah\nbefore taking a resolution,\" said Ali. \"Allah alone can know whether\nit will be best for me to keep at once my poverty and the freedom of\nall my actions, or to accept opulence and with it the necessity of\nbeing always of thy opinion; for bringing into our partnership nothing\nbut my two stout arms, I should be an ingrate if I did not yield in\nevery thing to thy wishes.\"\n\nEggadi involuntarily cast down his eyes before this poor man who spoke\nwith so much wisdom.\n\n\"Well,\" said he again, \"reflect till to-morrow, and come to me in the\nmorning under the palm trees in front of my house; I will there await\nthee.\"\n\nThen these two men separated. Ali, praying in the mosque, thought he\nheard his father pronounce these words. \"Never associate thyself save\nwith him who has no more than thyself, and who already knows the right\nway. The good are spoilt by associating with the rogue and the miser,\nwhilst neither rogue nor miser is reformed by association with one\nbetter than himself.\"\n\nThe next morning Ali repaired to the palm trees which grew before the\nhouse of Eggadi, where the latter awaited him uneasy and fatigued\nafter a sleepless night. After the usual Mussulman salutation,\nAli-Benala said to the rich Eggadi:\n\n\"How comes it that thou appearest sad, thou who possessest fine\nhouses, coffers of gold, and merchandise, whilst I, I who have\nnothing, rise with a joyous heart, and smoke my pipe all day with\npleasure, seated on the threshold of my poor shop?\"\n\n\"The weight of business overwhelms me,\" replied Eggadi; \"I have great\nneed of some one to share it.\"\n\n\"Then why not diminish thy transactions, and live in peace?\" inquired\nAli.\n\n\"No, no, it is impossible to set limits to one's purchases and sales.\nA fortunate speculation balances an unlucky one. You must accept all\nif you would grow rich. But come, hast thou decided? Wilt thou enter\ninto partnership with me?\"\n\n\"I have reflected and prayed,\" said Ali. \"I am very grateful for thy\noffers, and Allah will doubtless recompense thee; but prudence forbids\nme to accept them. I will never enter into partnership but with one\nwho is as poor as myself.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" exclaimed Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, \"be no longer then surprised\nat thy poverty, since thou refusest the opportunity of enriching\nthyself. The traveller who does not stop beneath the first trees he\nmeets runs the risk of not finding another upon his road, and of\nperforming the whole journey without enjoying their refreshing shade.\nSuch a man would have no right to complain of the dust of the roads,\nor the heat of the sun.\"\n\n\"I do not complain,\" replied Ali, \"I come, on the contrary, to tell\nthee that I live and sleep in peace.\"\n\n\"It is well, it is well,\" said Eggadi, who had not closed his eyes\ntill the morning, \"it is well, remain as thou art. Instead of gold\npieces, be content to receive rain-drops through thy roof, eat bread\nwhen thou hast any, and go fasting oftener; it concerns me no more.\"\n\n\"I should be a fool,\" added he internally, \"to trouble myself any\nlonger about the poverty of this man.\" And he remembered his fine\nhouse, where gilded cakes, a delicious repast, and rich and rare\nfruits awaited him.\n\nHe ate his meal in company with his sons; then he washed his beard and\nhands, rose from the table, and called his wife, his daughters, his\nmother, and his grandmother, and said to them, \"Women, eat in your\nturn; this is for you.\"\n\nThe women respectfully kissed his hands, and proceeded to make their\nmeal, whilst he went and sat down out of doors, and smoked with his\nsons, to whom he spoke as follows whilst a negro waited upon him with\ncoffee:\n\n\"I am about to take another journey. During my absence see to such and\nsuch things, and do not forget any of my orders, if you would not run\nthe risk of becoming poor, poor--\" he was going to say, \"as Ali, the\nseller of mats,\" but this name excited too keenly his remorse; he\ncould not venture to pronounce it.\n\nSo that in spite of the good repast of which he had just partaken,\nEggadi felt ill at ease, for the thought was ever recurring to him,\n\"Ali is poor, his father was rich, and it is I who have unjustly taken\npossession of his father's wealth.\" Meanwhile Eggadi had this very\nmoderate relief, he might still enjoy the benefit of a doubt as to\nwhether the father of Ali was really the possessor of the discovered\ntreasures. However, the coffer left behind the rocks would doubtless\nthrow a light upon this matter. Eggadi proceeded at once in search of\nthis coffer; he opened it, and his eyes, dazzled though they were by\nthe precious objects that met their gaze, were constrained to perceive\nat the same time a sheet of parchment, upon which the following words\nwere very distinctly inscribed:\n\n\"All the treasures buried in this spot have been lawfully acquired, or\nreceived in heritage by me, Mustapha Selim. I bequeath them to my only\nson, Ali-Benala, who has ever been a faithful servant of Allah, and\nrespectful towards me. May he, and his children, and his children's\nchildren inherit and enjoy these possessions, to which I add my\nbenediction.\"\n\nAs soon as Eggadi had read these words a profound sadness took\npossession of him, for he could no longer doubt that these hidden\nriches were the inheritance of Ali-Benala. If therefore he\nappropriated them, he was a despoiler of the poor and the orphan. It\nwould have been so delightful to have been able to keep up the\nillusion, and to say to himself: \"This wealth was without an owner;\nAllah has been pleased to bestow it on me!\" But if Eggadi had never as\nyet committed any very culpable actions, he had never done any good\nones, and did not merit the protection of heaven. He dared not doubt\nthat by keeping unlawful possession of the property of Ali he should\nincur the wrath of heaven; at the same time he could not bring himself\nto renounce it. He took the coffer, carried it home, meditating by\nturns on the uses to which he might turn his great fortune, and on\nwhat might be done by way of compromising his conscience for poor Ali,\nhis children, and his children's children.\n\nArrived at his own house, he placed his treasures in a large chest,\nwhich he kept thenceforth in the chamber where he passed his nights.\nBy day, too, this coffer often served him for a seat; whilst scarce a\nday passed without his opening it, to assure himself that nothing had\ndisappeared. He kept it carefully fastened with the aid of several\nlocks and a master key, of which he never gave up the possession.\n\nEggadi contemplated a thousand times these treasures acquired with so\nlittle trouble; if we can call that gained with little trouble which\nis purchased at the price of our peace of mind. And each time after\nhaving contemplated them, he would repeat to himself the words of Ali,\n\"Allah will no doubt recompense thee.\" \"Ah! if he recompenses me as I\ndeserve,\" he could not help reflecting, \"he will send me great\ndisasters indeed.\"\n\nPursued by the dread of a heavy chastisement, Eggadi became so\nmiserable in the midst of his fine family and his treasures, that he\nformed the project of quitting his country, where the sight of Ali,\nhis humble house and miserable shop, haunted him incessantly. So he\nadjusted his affairs, collected his merchandise, and then communicated\nhis intention to his children and his servants.\n\nBut whilst, spurred on by a secret terror, he was hastening the\npreparations for his departure, Allah, on whose will depend all things\non earth and in heaven, visited him with a severe fever, accompanied\nwith delirium, during which he spoke incessantly of the old camel of\nAli, of concealed treasures, and the vengeance of Heaven.\n\nSalmanazar, an old Jew doctor, had charge of Eggadi; he heard the\nincoherent ravings of his patient, and immediately divined them to be\nthe result of preceding mental anguish. Thanks to the skill acquired\nby medical science, and still more to the intuition engendered by the\ndesire of self-enrichment, the old Jew was not slow in comprehending\nthat there was a secret relating to a treasure unjustly acquired, and\nhe saw no reason, moreover, why he should not be a partaker in the\nbooty.\n\nHe found means therefore to remove all the attendants, and\nconstituting himself sole guardian of the sick man, seated himself by\nhis bedside and patiently awaited the auspicious moment which should\ndeliver into his merciless keeping a soul harassed by the stings of\nremorse.\n\nThis moment at length arrived; Eggadi ceased to be delirious, and as\nthough awakening from a painful dream, drew a long breath, and cast\nlooks of inquiry around him.\n\nSalmanazar, who had been watching for this opportunity, then\nexclaimed: \"Eggadi! Eggadi! you Mussulmans cry, 'God is great,' but\nyou do not believe it, for if you did, how could you dare enrich\nyourselves at the expense of the poor man and his children? Thou art\nrich, Eggadi, and Ali is poor.\"\n\n\"What sayst thou?\" cried the sick man, distending his eyes with terror\nas dismal recollections thronged upon him.\n\n\"I say that thou hast a treasure which should not belong to thee, and\nthat this is why thou hast the fever, and why moreover thou wilt die,\nunless I save thy life by my profound science. Restitution must be\nmade; nay, if indeed thou wert to do good with this treasure to poor\nJews like me, God would perhaps pardon thee, but thou takest care to\ngive us nothing. If I cure thee what will be my profit? a few\nmiserable doubloons, which I shall have all the same if thou diest;\nfor thy sons will give them me, and if they refused to pay me, I\nshould summon them before the cadi. Thus, whether thou livest or\nwhether thou diest is much the same to me. Nevertheless, if I had a\nmind I could easily cure thee, and cause thee still to live, that thy\ndays might be long upon the earth. But what profit would this be to\nme?\"\n\n\"Cure me, cure me,\" cried the sick man, \"and I will give thee far more\nthan my sons would give thee, far more than the cadi would grant thee\ndid my children refuse thee payment. I will give thee twenty\ndoubloons; nay, fifty. That would be a fine thing for thee.\"\n\n\"It would be a much better thing for thyself,\" chuckled Salmanazar.\n\"Of what use will thy doubloons be to thee when thou art dead? I\ndemand five hundred doubloons for curing thee, and I will have them at\nonce, for in an hour's time I shall demand a thousand, and if you then\ndelay deciding there will be no longer any time to choose.\"\n\n\"A thousand doubloons!\" exclaimed the patient; \"I will not even give\nthee five hundred. If I did,--Allah would not pardon me the more, even\nsupposing I really am guilty of what thou suggested.\"\n\n\"Well, then, thou wilt die,\" rejoined Salmanazar, settling himself\nagain in his chair.\n\nThe chamber of the sick man was gloomy. A small lamp cast a fitful\nlight upon one corner, while the rest seemed inhabited by nothing but\ndim shadows. An odour of fever and its remedies pervaded the\natmosphere; out of doors,--for it was night,--the dismal cry of the\njackals seeking food resounded, whilst the deep baying of the\nneighbouring dogs was heard without intermission. The weather was\nwindy and tempestuous. All this but served to increase the deep\ndepression which filled the soul of Eggadi. He threw a wistful look\naround his shadow-haunted room; it fell upon the old Jew who was\nwatching him askance, his large dark eyes dimmed by ophthalmia, and he\nasked himself whether the old man with his prominent nose, yellow\nvisage, long, lean and withered arms, habited in a scanty and dirty\ngarment, were not some evil genius come thither to curse him for his\ncrime, and drag him to the bottomless pit of perdition.\n\nNevertheless, Eggadi contrived to raise himself up in a sitting\nposture on his bed. He collected all his strength, drew a long breath,\nsighed feebly, and said:\n\n\"Well, I have decided, Salmanazar; give me the remedy which will make\nmy days long upon the earth.\"\n\n\"Give me first the five hundred doubloons,\" said Salmanazar.\n\n\"I have them not here,\" replied the sick man.\n\n\"Tell me where they are, I will go and get them.\"\n\n\"That is impossible,\" said Eggadi; \"but summon Bankala, my black\nslave, he will bring me the key of my coffer, and the coffer itself\nwhich contains my treasures.\"\n\n\"Well and good,\" replied Salmanazar; and he summoned Bankala.\n\nEggadi gave some orders to the slave in a language unknown to\nSalmanazar, and he disappeared. He returned shortly with two other\nslaves, whom he placed like two sentinels by the side of his master's\nbed.\n\n\"Send away those men,\" said Salmanazar to the sick man. The latter\nreplied, \"They are needed to go and bring the coffer as soon as\nBankala shall have given us the key; he and I alone know where it is\nhidden.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" said the Jew; and he held his peace, looking alternately\nat the sick man and the two slaves.\n\n\"What wilt thou do to effect my cure?\" began Eggadi to inquire of the\nJew in a doleful tone.\n\n\"Thou shalt see--thou shalt see,\" replied the latter. And they both\nawaited the return of the slave with an equal anxiety, which they in\nvain strove to conceal.\n\nBankala made them wait a long time, but when at length he did return,\nAli, the poor seller of mats, followed upon his footsteps. \"Arise\nquickly,\" had been the summons of the slave to him; \"Eggadi my master\nsummons thee in the name of Allah, and desires to see thee before he\ndies.\" Ali had hastened to obey. At sight of him the Jew trembled.\nEggadi, on the contrary, felt himself happy and reassured.\n\n\"Come hither, Ali,\" said he; \"come and behold a man guilty but\nrepentant. The example of thy virtues did not suffice to bring me back\nto the path of duty: it was necessary that I should be struck by\nmisfortune. Thanks to Heaven misfortune has befallen me. Ali! Ali! it\nwas I who bought of thee the old camel which was left thee by thy\nfather. That camel no doubt aided him in concealing the great wealth\nhe would fain have bestowed upon thee ere he died. I discovered this\nwealth, and I conceived the iniquitous design of keeping it, instead\nof restoring it to thee in accordance with the demands of justice. I\nwas on the point of quitting my country to avoid the further sight of\nthy poverty, the unceasing reproach to my crime, when Allah visited me\nwith a terrible malady, and a still more terrible physician. This\nphysician, whom thou there beholdest, having discovered my secret,\ninstead of urging me to the restitution of my ill-acquired fortune,\ndreamt only of sharing it with me, and threatened me with death if I\nrefused the division of the plunder.\n\n\"His horrible conduct, his avarice and cruelty combined, have inspired\nme with horror, and have shown me to what lengths an inordinate love\nof gold may lead. I have mourned for my fault, and have taken a sudden\nresolution to repair it. By deceiving this skilful man, I have been\nenabled to send for thee, and before him I declare that I render thee\nup joyfully all the treasures which are enclosed in the chest upon\nwhich Salmanazar is seated.\"\n\nSalmanazar started up on hearing these words. How! he had been\nactually sitting upon the treasure and had not divined it.\n\nEggadi continued:\n\n\"Consider, Ali, what will be most suitable to bestow upon this Jew. He\ndemanded of me five hundred doubloons down, or a thousand in an hour's\ntime, if I desired to live. I think that five hundred blows with a\nstick should be his recompense; at the same time I am unworthy to\njudge any man in this world. Thou who art just, act towards him as\nthou thinkest best, but deign, above all things, to grant me thy\nforgiveness.\"\n\nAli was of course greatly surprised at all he had just heard. He took\na moment to collect his thoughts and then said:\n\n\"Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, I pardon thee willingly; and to prove it, I say\nto thee as thou once saidst to me:\n\n\"Let us enter into partnership, let us live as brothers, and unite our\nchildren as in the time of the patriarchs. As for Salmanazar, let his\nonly punishment be to behold the riches he would have forced thee to\nshare with him, and after having seen them, let him return home\nwithout money and without blows.\"\n\nThe wish of the wise Ali was put into execution. The coffer, the key\nof which Eggadi had about him, was opened; and the Jew, though still\ntrembling with the fear of receiving the blows, could not help eagerly\nregarding the gold and precious stones which were revealed to his\ncupidity. Then he departed, filled with grief at having missed his\naim, and at not having been himself the fortunate purchaser of the old\ncamel of Ali. This event was engraven on his memory, and caused him to\nregard with looks of eager anxiety all the old camels whom he chanced\nto meet. He often stopped before them, and seemed to endeavour to\ntrace in their movements some mysterious sign which might lead to the\ndiscovery of hidden treasures.\n\nEggadi, having his conscience at ease, regained his health without the\naid of any other physician. He became the adopted brother of Ali, who\ninsisted on sharing with him his newly-acquired fortune; and these two\nmen, their children, and their children's children, continued to live\ntogether wealthy and united.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE STORY OF MEDJEDDIN.\n\n\nMany hundred years ago there lived in the famous city of Bagdad a\nretired merchant named El Kattab. The earlier part of his life had\nbeen assiduously devoted to commercial pursuits, in the prosecution of\nwhich he had made many a long journey, and crossed many a sea. In the\ncourse of his wanderings he had not only amassed the wealth he sought,\nbut, what was better, had stored his mind and memory with the\ntreasures of wisdom and general information. The property he had\nacquired was far from immense, yet it was amply sufficient to enable\nhim to live in a style of substantial comfort and respectability, and\nto devote himself to the darling object of his declining years, the\neducation and training of his only son.\n\nEl Kattab's beard was grey, yet he had not very long passed the prime\nof life, and still retained most of the vigour and elasticity of his\nearlier years. He was wise enough to be content with the quiet\nenjoyments of a moderate affluence, and had no desire to wear out the\nrest of his life in the feverish labour of constant acquirement, for\nthe mere sake of amassing a splendid fortune; therein differing from\ntoo many of his friends, who seemed to forget in their headlong\npursuit of enormous riches, that by the time these might be acquired,\nlife would be nigh spent, and at any rate all its charms gone, unless\nsome higher and nobler object had been substituted for that of mere\nwealth-getting.\n\nThe city of Mossul had been El Kattab's home in his earlier days; but\nhe quitted it, and took up his abode in Bagdad, partly in order to be\nnear his friend Salek, with whom he had been on the most intimate\nterms from his youth; partly, too, for the sake of his son's\neducation, as he expected that a residence in the latter city would\nproduce good and lasting impressions on the mind of the young man; for\nthe great city of Bagdad was at this time under the rule of the\nfar-famed caliph Haroun al Raschid, and was the resort of strangers\nfrom all parts of the globe; and here artists and sages of all\ncountries mingled with each other. Nor had El Kattab conceived a vain\nexpectation. His son, whose name was Medjeddin, was a young man gifted\nwith good natural abilities, and endowed with a pure and noble heart.\nHe used every opportunity to extend his knowledge and improve his\ndisposition; nor was he deficient in bodily exercises and warlike\naccomplishments: so that through good discipline he became powerful in\nbody and strong in mind. He was not only, therefore, as was natural\nenough, the joy and pride of his father, but was loved and esteemed by\nall who knew him, and was often pointed out by the elders, to others\nof his own age, as an example worthy of imitation. As the father saw\nhis greatest treasure in the person of his son, so the latter, with\nall the fervour of a well-directed mind, clung affectionately to his\nfather.\n\nSome years passed over them in this mutual love, rendered still more\ndelightful by the companionship of their friend Salek, and their\nhappiness was full and uninterrupted. It chanced one day that El\nKattab and Salek were taking their accustomed walk in the gardens\nadjoining the city in front of the gate. The heat of the summer's day\nhad been diminished by a gentle rain, and the two strolled on, in\nhappy conversation, and extended their walk beyond its usual length.\nThey passed the last garden, and wandered on over some green\nmeadow-land, behind a little wood, at the entrance of which stood high\npalms, whose shadows invited to repose, while a fresh spring gushed\nfrom a neighbouring rock, and meandered among the verdant herbage and\nvariegated flowers.\n\nThe two friends lay down in the shade, and conversed on the perils to\nwhich even the most virtuous men are subject, particularly enlarging\non the danger of an over-confidence in the rectitude of our own\nintentions, and on the comparative ease with which a sudden impulse\nwill sometimes hurry even the best of men, who possesses an\noverweening reliance on his own firmness of purpose, into a false or\neven fatal step in life.\n\n\"I have known men,\" observed Salek, \"who, although among the best and\nnoblest I have ever met in the course of my life, have been led\nunawares, by too great self-confidence, into an action which they\nmight easily have avoided by moderate caution, but which has proved\nthe beginning of a long chain of evils, ending at last in their\ncomplete ruin.\"\n\nEl Kattab, on the contrary, maintained that a heart accustomed from\nearly youth to virtue, would not be easily led to commit a serious\nfault; and even if this should happen, that it would readily find its\nway back from a slight error to the right road. They continued to talk\non these subjects, each endeavouring to confirm his assertions by\nexamples, whilst Medjeddin, stretched beside them, listened with\nattention to their conversation. Suddenly he sprang to his feet, and\nran quickly up the woody hill, at the foot of which they were\nreposing. His father and Salek looked after him surprised, as they\ncould not comprehend what had occasioned his sudden disappearance.\nThey then saw that a little bird, as white as snow, was flying before\nhim, which he was trying to catch. He was soon lost to their view\namong the bushes; they called to him to come back; but in vain. They\nwaited for a quarter of an hour, and still Medjeddin did not return.\nGrowing uneasy about him, they advanced in the direction in which he\nhad disappeared, but could discover nothing. At last the sun set; then\nSalek said, \"Let us return home: your son is a strong, active young\nman; he will easily find his way back to the city. Perhaps he has gone\nhome some other way, and will be there before us.\"\n\nAfter much opposition, the father was persuaded to return without his\nson; but he was still full of anxiety which no arguments could\novercome. When they arrived at the city, his friend accompanied him to\nhis house. They entered hastily, and inquired for Medjeddin: but he\nhad not returned. Salek's cheering suggestions were of no more avail;\nEl Kattab would no longer listen to him, but threw himself weeping on\nhis couch. Salek rebuked him for this weakness, and represented to him\nthat it might easily have happened that the young man had lost his way\nin the pursuit of the bird, and could not recover the track all at\nonce.\n\n\"He has no doubt found a shelter where he will remain till morning,\"\ncontinued he; \"he will return here early to-morrow, and will laugh\nheartily at your fears.\"\n\nWhen Salek was gone, El Kattab gave free scope to his feelings. He\nwept aloud, tore his beard, and dashed himself upon the ground, like a\nmadman. The slaves stood around in motionless astonishment, surprised\nto see their master exhibiting such passionate emotion; others sought\nto console him, but fruitlessly; at length they all began to cry and\nbewail with him for his dear son, who was beloved by them all. After a\nsleepless night, the afflicted father rose not at all quieted. He\nwished early in the morning to send messengers in all directions; but\nSalek, who had come to inquire if the lost one had returned home,\nexplained to him how foolish this step would be.\n\n\"Consider,\" said he, \"that your Medjeddin has most probably found a\nnight's lodging, and slept better than you. Supposing him, therefore,\nto be at any probable distance, even if he had set out on his way at\ndaybreak, he could hardly be here now: if you send these messengers\nafter him, he may perhaps come home by a shorter path, while they will\nbe searching for him in vain; wait at least till mid-day.\"\n\nEl Kattab yielded; he appointed the messengers to be ready at noon,\nand in the meanwhile walked through the gardens and in the country\naround the city, where they had been on the preceding day. His friend\naccompanied him, although he pointed out that Medjeddin might, in the\ninterval, have reached home while they were walking, and that El\nKattab was thus perhaps giving himself more trouble than was\nnecessary.\n\n\"I have yielded to you in the rest,\" replied El Kattab; \"let me at\nleast in this instance have my own will, and 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 seen a young man, whom they\naccurately described. Nobody could give them any information about\nhim. El Kattab now sent out his messengers in all directions;\npromising a rich reward to the one who should lead his lost son back\nto his arms. The messengers returned on the tenth day, and reported\nthat all their researches had been without success. At this the\nparent's grief knew no bounds. His friend Salek remained almost\nconstantly with him, comforting him; and all his friends held a\nconsultation on the possible means of gaining tidings of Medjeddin.\nThey agreed that he could not have been killed, for then his corpse\nwould have been found: that he had no cause to conceal himself: that\nhe could not have been attacked by enemies, as he had none: might he,\nthey suggested, in the pursuit of the bird, have been led to the brink\nof the river, and have thrown himself in, and been carried away by\nthe stream? scarcely had this idea presented itself, ere two\nmessengers were despatched to each side of the river to search, from\nits junction with the Euphrates above Balsora to the spot where it\nflows into the Arabian Sea, and ascertain if the corpse of Medjeddin\nhad been washed ashore. But these messengers also returned to the\nanxious parent, without having found what they sought. The parent and\nhis friend now gave up Medjeddin for lost; El Kattab's spirit was\nbroken; grief for his lost son shortened his life; he soon became old:\nall joy fled from his mind; and his sorrow was only a little\nalleviated when his faithful friend Salek sat by him in the evening,\ntalking with him of his son, relating the virtues by which he had been\ndistinguished, and telling him how it had been his darling wish that\nthis excellent young man should marry his daughter Maryam.\n\nA few days afterwards the caliph Haroun al Raschid went, as he was\naccustomed, in disguise, with his grand vizier Giafar, and Mesrur 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 the\njoys and pleasures of his subjects, as they had then ended their daily\ntoils, and were seeking comfort and repose in the bosoms of their\nfamilies. In the course of his progress he came to a street remarkable\nfor its peculiar quiet. As he approached a house, before the door of\nwhich two men were standing whispering, Haroun al Raschid addressed\nthem with these words: \"Why do you whisper, as if you were concerting\na crime? is not this street lonely enough, that you cannot hold your\ndiscourse aloud? Can you tell me why this street is so quiet, as\nthough every inhabitant were dead?\"\n\n\"I can easily tell you, my lord,\" answered one of the whisperers;\n\"here, in the next house, lives the unfortunate El Kattab; and, as\nusual at this hour, his friend Salek is sitting with him to console\nhim. Now all the inhabitants of this street respect this man, and wish\nnot to remind him, by any outburst of joy, that happier men than\nhimself live in his neighbourhood.\"\n\nBefore the caliph could answer him, the man turned away, and entered\nthe house, and the other followed him.\n\n\"Have you ever heard of this unfortunate El Kattab before?\" asked\nHaroun al Raschid of his grand vizier; and as he answered in the\nnegative, the caliph proceeded, \"Let us make an inspection of the\nhouse where this El Kattab dwells; perhaps we may discover the cause\nof his sorrow.\"\n\nThey drew near, and saw the light from the inner court shining through\na crevice. The caliph applied his eye to the aperture, and after he\nhad watched for some time, beckoned his followers to him, and said,\n\"Two grey-headed men are sitting in this court by the light of a lamp,\nand one seems to be comforting the other; but this latter continues to\nweep all the more bitterly, the more his companion endeavours to\nconsole him: both appear to be of the same rank. I am desirous of\nknowing what sorrow oppresses the unfortunate El Kattab: order him to\nappear at my palace early to-morrow morning; perhaps it may be in my\npower to lighten his calamity.\"\n\nThe next day the grand vizier executed his commission. El Kattab was\nalarmed when he heard that his presence was required at the palace. He\nwas led into the great hall where the divan usually assembled; but\nthere the attendants left him quite alone. He reviewed the whole of\nhis past life, to see if he had sinned in any way, so as to bring on\nhim the displeasure of the caliph; for he knew that Haroun al Raschid\noften, in a mysterious manner, discovered the faults of his subjects,\nand punished them accordingly. But he could not call to mind any deed\nof which he felt ashamed, nor any that deserved punishment. Whilst he\nwas thus meditating, a curtain was drawn back, and the caliph entered,\nfollowed by his vizier and his chamberlain. El Kattab rose from the\nground, and bowed his head down to the carpet on which the caliph\nstood.\n\n\"El Kattab,\" said the caliph, \"a heavy weight of grief seems to\noppress you; and by the anxiety which your neighbours manifest to show\nrespect for your sorrow, I must consider you as a man of worth: I wish\nthen to know the cause of your despondency; have you any objection to\ninform me of it before these two witnesses, or would you rather\nconfide to me alone the reason of your tears?\"\n\n\"Ruler of the faithful,\" answered El Kattab, \"sorrow is great and deep\nin my 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\nThe caliph replied, \"That which fills the heart of the meanest of my\nsubjects with such grief that it consumes his life, is not unworthy of\nmy care. If I am careful for my whole kingdom, this care none the less\nextends to each individual; and, if I am careful for one, this one is\na member of the whole, and thus my care is not lost. But speak, what\nis the cause of your affliction?\"\n\nEl Kattab then recounted the mysterious disappearance of his son; how\nhe had sought for him every where, and how all his messengers had\nreturned home without the least trace of him. \"I must therefore weep\nfor him as one that is dead,\"--thus he ended his relation; \"and in\ntears perhaps my sorrow might expend itself, if at the same time a\nspark of hope did not live in my heart, that possibly he is still\nalive: but ah! where? This spark of hope keeps the wound in the\nfather's heart always open.\"\n\n\"You have, indeed, 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\nwrong in not applying to me before; my power extends not only over\nbelievers, but also into foreign lands: other kings and rulers I have\nas my servants, whose eyes see for me, whose ears hear for me, and\nwhose hands perform what is necessary in order to do my pleasure. That\nwhich was not possible to yourself, your friends, and your servants to\naccomplish, may perhaps prove easy for me. Now go home, and believe\nthat you shall obtain news of your son, if he live on the earth, in\nany land where 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 recognised.\n\nWhen El Kattab was sitting again with his friend Salek in the evening,\nhe related to him the gracious and comforting words of the caliph.\nSalek perceived that hope was revived in his friend's heart, and that\nhe confidently trusted to find his son. He thought it his duty,\ntherefore, to damp somewhat this hope, and said, \"Beloved friend, I\nhave once heard a speech, which sunk deeply in my memory: it is,\n'Trust not in princes; they are but men.' In truth, the mightiest on\nearth are subject to destiny. If the caliph have influence in distant\nlands, it must still be within a comparatively confined and narrow\nlimit; whilst what is in the farthest regions of the earth, as well as\nwhat is but a span distant, are all equally under the control of\nall-governing fate, even from the meanest slave to the ruler of the\nfaithful.\"\n\nHaroun al Raschid meanwhile resolved to do all he could to fulfil the\nhope he had raised in El Kattab's heart. He gave a commission to all\nhis servants in the kingdom, high and low, and to his ambassadors in\nthe neighbouring kingdoms, and even sent into distant lands, with the\nprinces of which he was on terms of friendship, at the same time\ndespatching messengers with the charge to search for Medjeddin with\nall diligence, giving them a description by which they might recognise\nhim if they found him. But week after week, and month after month\npassed away; even a whole year elapsed, without any intelligence being\nreceived either of the life or death of the lost one. So that all hope\nof finding him deserted the father for ever.\n\nMedjeddin, meantime, had not perished--none of the accidents suggested\nby his father's advisers had befallen him; he still lived, but in such\ncomplete concealment that it was impossible for any one to discover\nhim. He had followed the snow-white bird till evening, without clearly\nknowing why: he was induced to think he could catch the curious\ncreature, particularly as it flew at such a moderate height from the\nground, and at the same time so slowly. The tardiness of its flight\nmade him conjecture that it must have hurt one of its wings; several\ntimes he succeeded in getting quite close to it, but just as he\nstretched out his hand to seize it, the bird again raised its wings,\nand flew a little in advance. Medjeddin now felt himself tired, and\nwould have given up the pursuit, but the bird also seemed fatigued; he\napproached it, but again the bird flew a little farther off. In this\nchase he climbed a hill, and soon after found himself in a narrow\nmeadow-valley, down which he ran; 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 seize his prisoner, it flew away, leaving only one of its\ntail-feathers tightly grasped in his hand: still he saw it through the\ntwilight flying before him, and still he hastened after it. The bird\nseemed now to quicken its pace; but as he had so nearly caught it\nonce, he continued the pursuit with more eagerness; he ran through the\nhigh grass, with his strained sight fixed on this glimmering white\nobject, he saw nothing else. Thus he came unexpectedly on a small but\ndeep pool of water, which lay across his path; he jumped in, swam\nacross, and tried to climb the other side, but it was so steep that he\nfell in with some of the crumbling earth: the water closed over his\nhead, and he lost all consciousness. When he came to himself, he found\nhimself lying on the turf, and a tall, grey-headed man of strange\nappearance by him, clothed in a long black robe reaching to his\nancles, and fastened by a glittering girdle of a fiery colour. Instead\nof a turban, he wore a high pointed cap on his head, with a tassel of\nthe same hue as the 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 the stranger raised him from the ground, passed his\nleft arm round his body, and flew with him through the air with the\nspeed of an arrow. Medjeddin again soon lost recollection, and did not\nknow how long he remained in this condition. He awoke at last as from\na deep sleep; and looking around, the first thing he observed was a\ncage of gold wire, hanging from the ceiling by a long golden chain,\nand within was the snow-white bird he had so long followed. He found\nhimself 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 which served as windows were\nprotected by lattices so skilfully contrived with winding tracery,\nthat even the white bird could have found no space to pass through,\neven if it had escaped from the cage. Beside one wall stood a crystal\nurn; and from this fell a stream of clear water, which passing over\nthe curved brim of the urn, was received in a white basin beneath,\nfrom which it disappeared unseen. Whilst he was observing this, and\nwondering what had happened to him, and how he came there, suddenly\nthe old man in the black robe entered from behind a curtain. He\ncarried a small golden box in his hand, and approached him with these\nwords: \"You have now caught the white bird, and have it safe in a\ncage; in this box is food for it, and there is water; take diligent\ncare of it, and mind that it does not escape.\"\n\nAs he said this he disappeared. Medjeddin now arose and walked round\nthe hall: he looked through the windows, and ascertained that he must\nbe in a foreign land, as the forms of the mountains and trees were\nquite different from any he had before seen. The hall seemed to be\nhigh in the air, as if it were the upper story of a lofty tower. No\nother edifice was to be seen, and from the windows he could not\ndistinguish what shrubs and plants bloomed beneath. He drew the\ncurtain aside, and discovered a doorway; but there was a thick metal\ndoor which he could not open. He was now very much embarrassed, for he\nbegan to feel hungry, and could find nothing that would serve him for\nfood. He examined the walls to see if he could discover any concealed\noutlet; he tried to open the lattices, that he might put his head out,\nand see if there were any body beneath, to whom he might cry out.\nThere was no door; he could not open the lattices; and as far as he\ncould strain his sight in every direction, he could see nobody: he\nthrew himself in despair on the pillow, wrung his hands, and wept, and\ncried: \"I am then imprisoned--imprisoned in a dungeon where splendour\nand riches are lavished around! Of what avail is it that these walls\nare built of precious stones? that this lattice is of fine gold, that\nthis cage is of gold, and hangs on a golden chain? I am as much a\nprisoner behind golden lattices as I should be behind a grating of\niron.\" Then he rose and shouted through the lattices, in hopes that\nhis voice might be heard, and aid brought; but nobody appeared, and no\none answered him. When he again threw himself weeping on his couch,\nafter these useless efforts, he observed that the white bird\nfluttered restlessly in its prison, and pecked at the golden dish for\nits food, without finding any.\n\n\"Poor brother in misfortune,\" said Medjeddin, \"you shall not suffer\nwant; I will take care of you; come, I will bring you what you want.\"\n\nHe took the pans from the cage, filling one with water from the urn,\nand the other with grain from the gold box which the old man had given\nhim. 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 this had happened; still it\nwas not long before he attacked the meats with the zest of a young man\nwho had fasted nearly all day. Although these viands were altogether\ndifferent from those he had been accustomed to taste in his father's\nhouse, they all appeared excellent. He ate till he was fully\nsatisfied, and then took from the table a golden cup, and quenched his\nthirst with pure water from the urn. After this he threw himself on a\ncouch and fell asleep. When he awoke he felt strong and well. He arose\nand began to make another tour of the hall, and he then observed that\nthe table with the meats had disappeared. This was a disappointment,\nas he had thought to make a good supper of the remainder. He did not\nallow this, however, to trouble him much, as he now felt pretty sure\nthat he was not to die of hunger. He next proceeded to scrutinise his\nprison more closely: he examined all anew, pillars, walls, and floor;\nbut could no where find a crevice or a fissure: all was fast and\nwhole. His view from the windows did not allow him to make any further\ndiscovery; he only saw that he was very far above the earth, and in a\nspacious valley; mountains were to be seen in the distance, with\ncuriously-pointed summits. As soon as he had completed this\nexamination, and found there was nothing to occupy him, he turned his\nattention to the white bird in the cage. Here was still life; and if\nthe cage was narrow, yet the prisoner could hop about on the different\nperches. Soon it remained still and gazed at him with its bright eyes,\nwhich seemed as if sense and speech lay in them, the interpretation\nonly was wanting.\n\nNight put an end to these reflections. Next morning he observed that\nthe bird again wanted food. He filled its seed-pan with grain from his\ngolden box, and gave it fresh water from the urn. Scarcely had he done\nthis, when the table covered with meats again stood in the same place\nas the day before. This day passed like the former, and the following\nin the same manner; Medjeddin wept and mourned, took care of the\nlittle bird, fed it, and was every time rewarded in the same manner\nwith the table covered with dishes as soon as he had filled the bird's\nseed-pan. He could not perceive who brought the table, nor how it\ndisappeared. It always came whilst he stood beside the cage with his\nback turned, and without any noise. On the ninth day the old man\nsuddenly appeared to him, and said, \"To-day is a day of rest for you;\nyou have performed your duty during the preceding days in giving the\nbird its food, you may now amuse yourself in the garden till evening.\"\nHe led him through a door into a narrow passage, at the end of which\nthey descended twenty steps; he then opened a small metal trap-door,\nand then Medjeddin descended twenty steps more: they next came to a\nsimilar door, and descended twenty more steps to a third, 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.\nMedjeddin was very curious to examine more closely the building in\nwhich he had been imprisoned: he therefore went round it, and narrowly\nobserved it. It was a tower of nine stories, each about fifteen feet\nin height. The tower was nine-sided, with a window in the third side\nof each story, so arranged that no window was directly over another,\nand that consequently only three altogether appeared in each side of\nthe tower from bottom to top. This distribution of regularity and\norder reigned throughout the whole building. The walls were made of\nlarge pieces of gold, quite as smooth as glass; and these were so\nskilfully put together that, even when closely looked at, the joints\ncould not be discovered. The lattices of the windows were all of gold,\nlike those in the upper hall, and the lower doors through which he had\npassed were of a yellow metal, inclining to green. All these\nconsiderations were not calculated to lessen his conviction that no\nman could possibly find him out in such a prison. Suddenly a new hope\nawoke in him: \"I am no longer shut up in the tower,\" said he to\nhimself; \"here I am in the open air, in a garden: I can clamber and\njump like a monkey; I may possibly find some outlet from this garden,\nby which I can escape.\" He immediately turned from the tower, and\nhastened through the gardens, seeking freedom; but he soon discovered\nthat this hope was vain. He found the gardens surrounded on all sides\nby a lofty wall, constructed of the same materials, and quite as\nglassy, as the tower. After making the whole circuit of the garden, he\nat length found a gate, consisting of a grating of strong iron bars,\npolished to the highest degree of smoothness, and so close together,\nthat he could scarcely pass his arm through. He tried to climb it by\nholding by the upper bars with his hands; but his feet slipped on the\nsmooth iron, and he hurt his knee so much, that he lost his hold and\nfell backwards on the earth. He next examined the grating closely to\nsee if there were no means of escape; but all was in vain: every where\nthe bars were high, thick, and like polished glass. Sorrowfully he\nwandered round the garden; the sun's rays darting down scorched up the\ngrass, and he sought some shade where he might screen himself from\ntheir influence. He lay down on a mossy bank, and meditated anew on\nhis fate. Besides his own grief at his imprisonment, the thought of\nhis father's sorrow at his loss pained him. The exhaustion consequent\non tears and loud lamentations, joined with the noontide heat, at last\ncaused him to fall into a deep sleep. When he awoke, the table covered\nwith meats was again before him; he ate, and wandered again mournfully\nthrough the garden, meditating whether he could not make a ladder from\nthe trees around him, to aid him in his escape over the grating. But\nthere was something wanting for this work; he had not even a dagger or\na knife. As he thus thought, the old man appeared, and said, \"Evening\nis drawing on; follow me in.\" He led him again to the upper room of\nthe tower, and locked the metal door 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. \"Poor creature,\" said Medjeddin,\n\"what is the matter? are you ill?\" It seemed as if the bird was\naffected by these sympathising questions, but it soon sank again into\nits former dejection. He mused long upon this. The next day and the\nfollowing ones passed like the former; but on the ninth the old man\nagain appeared, led him into the garden, and at night conducted him\nback into the hall. He took care of the bird; and as soon as he had\ngiven it food and water, he always found the table covered with meats\nbehind him. In the intervals he stood at the lattice of one of the\nthree windows looking on the plain below, earnestly hoping to catch\nsight of some person to free him from his captivity. In such\nmonotonous employment many months passed away: every ninth day the old\nman appeared, and gave him leave to walk in the garden; but he did not\nderive much amusement from his strolls in this narrow enclosure. In\nthe mean time he asked the old man many times the reason of his\nimprisonment, and how long it was to last. No answer was vouchsafed\nbut these words: \"Every man has his own fate; this is thine.\"\n\nOne day the old man appeared and led him into the garden as usual; but\nhe had not been there more than a quarter of an hour, when he\nreturned, called him in, and then quickly retired with marks of\ndisquietude. Medjeddin also remarked that the white bird, which he had\nlearnt to love more every day, sat at the bottom of its cage, more\nmournful than it usually was after the old man's visit. He drew near,\nand observed a little door in the cage which he had never before seen.\nHe examined it closely, and found a fine bolt which passed into a ring\nof gold wire. These were made so skilfully, and worked into the\nornamental parts of the cage so cunningly, that nobody could have\ndiscovered them if his attention had not been drawn to them by design\nor accident. Medjeddin pushed back the bolt and opened the door; the\nbird started up as if some sudden joy had seized it, hopped out, and\nas soon as it touched the floor was transformed, and in its stead a\nyoung maiden stood before Medjeddin, clothed in a white silk robe;\nbeautiful dark locks streamed over her neck and shoulders, and a thin\nfragrant veil fell over them, confined by a fillet set with precious\nstones; her finely-formed countenance was as white as ivory, relieved\nby the softest shade of the rose. Surprised and astonished, Medjeddin\nstarted back and said, \"By the beard of the prophet, I conjure you to\ntell me whether you are of human race, or whether you belong to the\ngenii?\"\n\n\"I am a helpless maiden,\" said she, \"and implore you to deliver me\nfrom the hands of this cruel magician; I will reward you handsomely\nfor it: know, I am the only daughter of Omar, king of Zanguebar; 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 his son with him, and praises his excellent qualities. This he\nhas done regularly for many months past, tormenting me at every visit\nfor my consent to this odious union; and he now threatens me with\ncruel tortures if I give it not by the next new moon. On that day he\nwill have kept me a year in imprisonment, and longer than a year he\nsays he will not continue to entreat: then will the time of my\npunishment begin; I conjure you therefore to help me.\" At these words\nshe burst into a flood of tears.\n\n\"Noble maiden,\" answered Medjeddin, \"how willingly would I free you!\nbut, alas, I am as helpless as yourself, and cannot even free myself.\nBut tell me how is it? 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\"But even then,\" pursued Medjeddin, \"the son could not conceal himself\nfrom me on the stairs, or in the narrow passage.\"\n\n\"Quite true,\" she answered, \"but he carries him in his pocket.\"\n\n\"What,\" exclaimed Medjeddin in astonishment, \"in his pocket!--how can\nthat be?\"\n\nThe princess informed him that the young man became on the occasion of\neach visit a white bird, like herself: that the enchanter put him into\nthe cage with her, and that she felt such a dislike to him that she\nalways fluttered about the cage to avoid getting near him; but that\nhe, with the pertinacious obstinacy of a brutal affection, would\nfollow her and settle confidingly near her. \"You must,\" she continued,\n\"have remarked how tired and mournful I always was on the ninth day\nwhen you returned.\"\n\nMedjeddin, astonished at this explanation, assured her of his\nwillingness to free her, but bewailed his helplessness. The princess,\nhowever, would not give up hopes of their success. \"It seems to me,\"\nsaid she, \"a good omen that the enchanter has to-day received a\nmessage which caused him to leave so early, and in such haste that he\ndid not securely close the cage, and that you returned so early to-day\nfrom the garden; this day is my birthday, the only day I can be\ndelivered from the magician's power; on any other day I should still\nhave remained a dumb bird, even if you had freed me from my cage; only\non this day has my touching the floor had power to restore me to my\nnatural form; the enchantment lies in the cage.\"\n\nMedjeddin instantly seized the cage, exclaiming, \"If it be so, we will\nbreak the enchantment.\" He threw the cage to the ground, stamped on it\nwith his 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 like thunder resounded through the\nair. The whole building shook as with a furious tempest, the doors\nflew open with a crash, the curtains were drawn aside, and the\nmagician stood before them with a countenance full of anger. \"Ah,\"\ncried he, \"weak worms, what have you presumed to do? how did you learn\nto break my charm in this manner? who bid you destroy the cage?\"\n\nMedjeddin was so terrified he could answer nothing. The enchanter then\nturned to the maiden and cried, \"And you, you thought this miserable\nworm could defend you against my power: I will show you how useless it\nis to oppose me.\"\n\nHe felt in the pocket of his black robe, and pulled out thence a small\nbox; this he opened, and a white bird flew out and perched on the\ntable. He then took a smaller box from his girdle and opened it,--it\nwas filled with grains of millet; from these he took one, and laid it\nbefore the bird, who had scarcely eaten it before such a distorted man\nstood in its place, that both Medjeddin and the princess screamed\naloud. His head was large and thick, his eyes red and dark, his nose\nsmall and quite flat, his lips thick and blueish red, his chin broad\nand projecting, and on his head grew a few stiff white hairs; a hump\ngrew out in front, and a similar one behind; his shoulders were quite\ndrawn up, and his head so jammed between them that his ears could not\nbe seen. The upper part of his body was so unwieldy, and his legs so\nweak and thin that it was wonderful how they supported him; he\ntottered about incessantly, balancing himself first on one leg, then\non the other.\n\n\"Come forward, my son,\" said the enchanter to this deformed 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 own change by the help of this friend. Go, my son, give your bride\na kiss, 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\nto motion him away. But by this time Medjeddin's courage had returned:\nresolving to venture all, he stepped before the princess and gave the\ndeformity such a blow that he reeled and fell backwards. His head\nstruck in the fall on the corner of the pedestal of one of the marble\npillars with such violence, that his skull was broken: a stream of\nblood flowed from the wound, and the monster gave a hollow groan.\nMedjeddin thought of nothing but the father's rage and revenge, and\ngave up his life for lost. But the enchanter stood quite confounded as\nhe observed his son's mortal wound, and appeared stupified with horror\nand amazement. Presently he threw himself down beside him, examined\nthe injury, and wrung his hands, forgetting his revenge in his sorrow.\nMedjeddin quickly seized the hand of the princess, and led her through\nthe door and down the stairs: all the doors were open, and they found\ntheir way without any obstacle into the garden. Soon they stood before\nthe grating of the iron gate, which was closed.\n\n\"Of what use is our flight?\" said Medjeddin despondingly; \"we are\nstill as much as ever in the power of the enchanter; and even if we\nwere on the other side of the gate, and concealed in the deepest\ncavern, he would discover us by his knowledge, and wreak his vengeance\non us.\"\n\n\"I am of a different opinion,\" said the princess; \"I know many of the\nthings on which the superior power of this magician depends, and I\nbelieve that if we could only get out of this place, we should be\nsafe.\"\n\nThey went on a little further, and came to a spot where a number of\ntrees had been uprooted by the hurricane; one of these lay overturned\nwith its summit resting on the top of the wall, and its boughs and\nbranches hanging far over the other side. At this sight the young man\nrejoiced; he climbed quickly on to the trunk, pulling the princess\nafter him, and guiding her with great care and tenderness into the top\nof the tree. They then clambered over the wall in spite of a\nformidable row of spikes, and let themselves down on the other side by\nthe overhanging branches of the tree. These did not quite reach to the\nground, but near enough for them to leap down; they let go\naccordingly, and fell gently to the earth; then jumping up, they\nproceeded as rapidly as the strength of the princess and the\ndifficulties of the way would allow them, through thickets, underwood,\nand plains studded with prickly plants, towards the distant mountains.\n\nAfter the two fugitives had continued their flight for several hours\nwithout looking back on the scene of their imprisonment, the princess\nfelt her strength exhausted, and that she could go no further; she\nbegged her companion, therefore, to stop and rest for a short time.\nMedjeddin sought a place free from bushes, and clad with moss and long\ngrass; they seated themselves there, and Medjeddin entreated the\nprincess to relate her history. She was too much exhausted at first,\nbut after a short pause recovered her strength and commenced thus:\n\n\"My early history is very simple. I am called Jasmin, the only\ndaughter of the sultan of Zanguebar. My mother was brought over the\nwide-stretching sea, from beyond Arabia and Mount Caucasus, and was\nsold to him as a slave. Soon attracted by her beauty and manners, he\nraised her to the dignity of wife. My earliest youth was spent in\nhappy sports under my mother's eyes, who died, however, before I had\npassed the age of childhood, as the change from the mild climate of\nher land to the heat of my father's shortened her days. My father\nloved me as his greatest treasure, and confided me to a careful nurse.\nEvery evening I passed several hours with him, as soon as he was\nreleased from the cares of government, and one whole day in each week\nhe devoted to conversation with me. On that day we always went\ntogether in a light bark to a neighbouring promontory, where he had a\nbeautiful palace and gardens. The air there was cooler and more\nrefreshing, the trees and shrubs were clothed with fresher green than\nin the shut-up garden in the capital, and we passed the whole day in\nthe open air. In the mean time I had outgrown childhood, and was\nbeloved by a prince, the son of a neighbouring king, to whom I was\nbetrothed, and who was to succeed my father in his kingdom. This\nprince, whose name was Mundiana Mesoud, often accompanied us in these\nvisits to the castle on the promontory.\n\n\"It happened one day, as we were sitting on a terrace by the sea, that\na foreign ship anchored just below us. A stranger 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\nhis wares, and begged my father to admit him. The man laid many costly\ntrinkets of gold and precious stones before us; and my father bought\nsome which pleased me the most. I remarked that the merchant watched\nme closely, but he did this with such evident pleasure that my vanity\nascribed it to his admiration of my charms, and found no harm in it.\nWhilst he showed his goods, he let fall some words which intimated\nthat he had left his most precious articles behind in the ship; he had\nthere, he said, many curious birds, particularly a snow-white bird\nwhich was the most beautiful of all creatures of this kind. He managed\nthus to excite my curiosity so much that I begged my father to allow\nme to go with the stranger to his ship to see these rarities. My\nfather was weak enough to comply with this unreasonable wish. A\nsuitable train ought to have accompanied me, but the stranger\nprevented this; he said his boat had only room in it for three people,\nand that he should not like to show his wares if many strangers came\ninto his ship. 'They are only things fit for the royal princess,' he\nsaid; 'there is no fear that I should expose her to danger. I can\nnever forget that a powerful king has entrusted his only daughter to\nmy care. However, the prince may accompany you as a watchful\nprotector.' We accompanied the merchant to the ship; there we found an\nimmense number of extraordinary things and unknown animals. In the\nplace where in other ships the rowers sat, were great apes; on high on\nthe mast sat an eagle; in the cabins were many large and small cages\nof smooth ebony with thick gold bars, behind which moved a confused\nmultitude 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 sort of box; and as I could not\nsee it distinctly, he took it out and placed it in my hand. 'The most\nwonderful circumstance,' said he, 'connected with this bird is, that,\nbeing a native of a far distant country, when removed to this it can\nonly remain a few days alive, but I have found the corn of life of\nwhich I give it some grains each week, and it is then refreshed for\nnine days.' We asked for the corn of life, of which we had never\nheard; and he opened a little box and took out three grains. He gave\nme one to give the bird, the other I was to try, and the third prince\nMesoud. When I offered the grain to the bird, it refused it; and when\nI pressed my hand closer, drew back, lost its balance and fell down\nwith outspread 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, however,\nwith a sort of malicious joy, and said that I should swallow the corn,\nbecause it would prevent the flight of the frightened prisoner; he\nsaid the same to the prince; and we swallowed the grains at the same\nmoment. I felt a wonderful transformation pass over me, and found that\nI was changed into a snow-white bird; and when I looked towards the\nprince, in his stead I saw a black bird. Upon this the stranger, who\nwas no other than the enchanter, seized me, and shut me up in the\ngolden cage which you have trodden to pieces. The apes began to ply\nthe oars, and the ship moved with unusual swiftness over the sea. I\nstill saw my father and the attendants on the terrace, and could\ndistinguish their gestures of wonder as they saw the ship depart; I\nbelieved even 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 any thing of prince Mesoud.\n\n\"When my home was far in the distance, and even the summit of the\nmountains which overhung it could no longer be distinguished, the\nenchanter rose with my cage high in the air, leaving his ship behind,\nand bore me into the hall of the tower. How he brought the other white\nbird, I do not know; I only know that he took it out of his pocket and\nput it into the cage. 'Now you have a companion,' said he. As I took\nhim for a real bird, I considered myself, though unfortunate, superior\nto him, and drew myself back into a corner. But the bird came nearer\nand followed me round the cage. At last I lost patience, and pecked\nhis eyes. When the enchanter saw this, he took out a little box and\ntook from it a grain which he laid before the bird, who picked it up\nimmediately. It was then changed into a man, the same ugly wretch you\nsaw in the tower. He desired me, as I have already told you, to take\nthat deformity for my husband; and promised me that, on my consent, I\nshould be immediately restored to my proper form, and assured me that\notherwise I should always remain as a bird, except on my birthday. It\nwas also part of my enchantment to be obliged to allure you here. I\nhave now no other wish than to return to my father in Zanguebar,\nbecause I know he is living in great affliction.\"\n\nThis relation vividly reminded Medjeddin of his own father; he knew,\nfrom the great love he had always shown him, that he must have pined\nfor his loss, and his mournful countenance and bowed-down form\npresented themselves before his mind. \"Princess,\" said he, \"your\ndesire cannot be greater than mine. Still, I swear to you, that I will\nnot return to my father till I have safely conducted you to your\nnative land, or have seen you safe into the hands of those who will\nbring you to your father; if I do not, may Heaven not grant my father\nlife to receive this joy!\"\n\nThey journeyed on with renewed vigour. But evening was drawing near,\nand it was necessary to find a resting-place for the night; fortune\nwas favourable; they soon found a nook overhung by a large and lofty\nbush. Medjeddin broke away the boughs, so as to form a hedge which\nfenced round a small spot in which he concealed the princess, leaving\nonly a narrow entrance, before which he lay down to watch. Night\npassed without danger. However anxiously Medjeddin strove against\nsleep in order to watch over his companion, it at last weighed down\nhis eyelids; and they both awoke with the first rays of the sun. They\nwandered the whole day, resting occasionally; at every step the\njourney became more hazardous; the thickets became thicker and higher;\nthey were often obliged to creep between the boughs, and their clothes\nhung in rags. On the fourth day they reached the foot of the\nmountains. There they found cultivated land and human habitations.\nMedjeddin inquired where they were, and asked the way to the sea. The\npeople told them the name of the country, which was unknown to\nMedjeddin and to the princess Jasmin, and added, that on the other\nside of the high mountains lay a large flat land, bordering on the\nsea. They received this information with great joy, and, tired and\nfootsore as they were, addressed themselves, without loss of time, to\nthe task of crossing the mountains, and at last, after a wearisome\njourney, during which they had seen the sun rise and set seven times,\nthey arrived at the flat country and the sea-coast of which they had\nbeen told. A ship lay ready at anchor; and when they inquired its\ndestination, the steersman answered, \"We are going to Zanguebar, to\nfetch a cargo of cinnamon.\" To Medjeddin's question where they came\nfrom, and the name of the land where they were, he received for\nanswer, \"that the ship belonged to a merchant of Balsora, and that it\nhad been cast on these unknown shores by 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 the fillet on her forehead, and gave it for the passage money\nof herself and her companion. The following morning they weighed\nanchor, and, after a prosperous voyage, reached the very same place\nwhere the enchanter's ship had formerly lain at anchor, when he\ncarried off the princess.\n\nThey were landed in a small boat, and Jasmin led her deliverer through\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 hastily forwards, they concealed themselves behind a bush,\nfor on the terrace sat a venerable and noble-looking man, with the\nprofoundest melancholy stamped on his features; he was looking\nseawards, and the vessel had just caught his eye; a flood of tears ran\ndown his face, \"Ah!\" cried he, \"it was just so on the day that my\nsorrows began! There lay the ship of the robber; there landed the boat\nwhich carried away my beloved daughter and her betrothed. It was even\nat the same hour of the day. I have sent messengers into all the\nneighbouring lands; I have caused the opposite sea-coasts to be\nsearched; but all has been in vain. I must die, and never see my child\nagain.\"\n\nHe pronounced these words aloud, and covered his face, as he bowed\nhimself forward on his hands.\n\nThe princess Jasmin was rushing towards him, but Medjeddin held her\nback, and said, \"Let me first prepare him for your arrival, for\notherwise joy may kill him.\" And he came forward, and bowed himself\nbefore the sorrowing old man.\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\nMedjeddin stood up and answered, \"From my appearance, you might well\ntake me for a beggar, O great king Omar. But know that under these\nragged clothes is concealed a magician, who is able to change your\ntears into smiles, your sobs into transports of joy.\"\n\n\"Can any man on earth do this?\" asked Omar.\n\n\"I have only to speak three words,\" answered the other, \"and it will\nhappen. Are you strong enough to support the highest joy that your\nheart can feel or conceive?\"\n\nAt these questions, a ray of hope kindled in the soul of the mourning\nfather. \"What is it? Who are you who can promise this?\" asked he; and,\non Medjeddin repeating his question, he answered, \"I think so,\"\nregarding him, at the same time, with eager looks.\n\n\"Approach, princess Jasmin,\" cried the youth; and she sprang forward\ninto her father's open arms.\n\nMedjeddin's promise was indeed fulfilled; the aged monarch's tears\nwere changed into smiles of joy. Their embrace continued long. At last\nOmar raised himself, beckoned Medjeddin to approach, and said, \"You\nare indeed a magician such as I have never seen before. By your words\nyou have changed the mournful course of my life into the brightest\nsunshine. I will not now ask you who you are, and what I have to thank\nyou for, nor inquire what chance brought you to my daughter; I shall\nonly give myself up to joy at her return.\"\n\nThey went back to the capital in the king's barge, and soon the joyful\nnews of the unexpected reappearance of the princess spread every\nwhere. Crowds assembled at the palace to ascertain if the news were\ntrue, and the princess at length went out of the principal gate of the\npalace, and showed herself at the head of the flight of steps which\nled up to it. Then arose a shout of joy from ten thousand voices, and\nloud wishes for her health and happiness.\n\nThe next day, after the king had heard from his daughter the history\nof her imprisonment, and of the devotion with which Medjeddin had\nwatched over her and when Medjeddin had in turn narrated his history\nOmar became very thoughtful, and caused his council to assemble, to\ndeliberate how they should reward him. \"If he were not so young,\" said\nsome of them \"he might be made grand vizier, the next in dignity to\nthe king, or be appointed governor of a province. But his youth\nprevents his being placed over the people next to the king.\"\n\nAfter longer consultation, the eldest of the councillors rose, and\nsaid, \"Omar, my king and lord, the youth has certainly performed a\ngreat service to you and the princess Jasmin; it seems to me,\ntherefore, that his reward ought to come from you. It is fitting that\nthe king, having received from him a great benefit in his family,\nshould reward him from his family. Were I in such a case, I would\nconstitute him Mundiana, and give him for a wife the daughter whom he\nhas restored.\"\n\nThe whole assembly were of the same opinion, and the king gave them to\nunderstand that this was also his wish. \"I am old,\" said he, \"and can\neasily perceive that the cares of this land will soon need other hands\nto support them. I shall be much pleased to see my daughter with so\ngood a husband. The prince Mundiana Mesoud, whom I had before chosen,\nhas disappeared; and this youth, although of lower birth, is of noble\nsoul, and will soon, under my guidance, acquire the necessary\nexperience to enable him to promote justice and order in my kingdom.\"\n\nHe did not delay, but immediately caused Medjeddin 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;\" and the\nassembled councillors immediately added their congratulations.\n\nMedjeddin expressed his gratitude in becoming terms, but inquired,\nsmiling, what was the precise nature of the dignity conferred on him.\n\nThe eldest councillor stepped forward and said, \"This name points out\nthe highest post of honour which the king can bestow. You are found\nworthy of this honour, and no other lives who bears the title, because\nthe Mundiana Prince Mesoud 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\nofficer was placed, and led through the streets. Heralds went before\nhim, and cried aloud, \"Listen to what Omar makes known to all people.\nThis youth has restored to him his dearest jewel, which he had lost.\nIn gratitude, the king has nominated him Mundiana, and has appointed\nhis daughter Jasmin for his wife. To-morrow the betrothal will be\ncelebrated; and every body is invited to the court of the palace to\npartake of the general joy.\"\n\nMedjeddin hardly knew how all this had come about. He had received\nclothes and rich arms as a present from the king, and the king so\nhighly favoured him, that he was not only to be husband of the\nprincess Jasmin, but was to succeed Omar on the throne, and to reign\nover that beautiful and rich land. In his happiness he forgot his\nearly life, his father's sorrow, and even his playfellow Maryam and\nhis father's faithful friend Salek, and thought no more of his home or\nhis father-land. 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, although, she felt a very sincere\nfriendship for her intended husband, and treated him with great\nrespect and attention, as she did not forget in her prosperity how\nmuch she had owed to him in the time of misfortune. The first days and\nweeks after the ceremony of betrothal were devoted to recreation and\namusement, after which he was formally introduced by the king to the\ncouncil, and instructed in the business of the state. The king and\ncouncillors had soon reason to wonder at the acuteness of his judgment\nin difficult cases, and above all, at his quick perception of right\nand order. Throughout the country, 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. A whole year had now elapsed,\nand the day was fast approaching when he was to marry the princess and\nascend the throne. One day, as usual, he sought his betrothed, the\nprincess Jasmin, in her apartments. He happened to enter very rapidly\nafter his announcement by the attendant, and saw the princess hastily\nwiping her eyes; and as he drew nearer, he perceived the traces of her\ntears. Sympathising with her, he asked the cause of her grief; she\ntried to avoid answering him, but as he continued to urge her, she at\nlast said, \"I dare tell you why these tears flow, because you are good\nand compassionate, and will not consider it a crime that I have a\nfeeling and constant heart. You know that I was formerly beloved by\nprince Mesoud, the son of the neighbouring king; I related to you that\nthis prince was changed into a black bird by the enchanter, and flew\nfrom the ship to the promontory of the island where our country seat\nwas situated. Now I must tell you that I grieve so much the more about\nthis prince's fate, as from my own change I can compassionate his\nmournful condition. I could not repress the desire to ascertain his\nfate, and I have obtained certain news of his present condition, by\nthe secret knowledge of a certain wise man. I have learned that he\nstill lives in his new form, and that he has flown away, from fear of\nthe machinations of the demon hunter, called among us Dolda Waldas,\nand is now in far distant regions; and that it is ordained by fate\nthat he shall never regain his human form if I give my hand to another\nhusband. Sorrow at his mournful destiny has drawn these tears from my\neyes, the traces of which you observed.\"\n\nThis narrative made a deep impression on Medjeddin; he discovered that\nJasmin had acceded to her father's wish only from gratitude and filial\nobedience, whilst her affections were still fixed on the absent\nprince. He saw that he could purchase the good fortune of being the\nhusband of the noble princess, and son-in-law of the great king Omar,\nand after him king of Zanguebar, only by the misfortunes of prince\nMesoud. He asked himself if this were right, and was obliged to\nconfess that justice and honour were opposed to it. He saw that the\nintoxication of good fortune had hitherto blinded him. Then the\nremembrance of his father came before him, and his imagination\npictured him pining away at the uncertainty of his son's fate. He\nbitterly reproached himself for his long forgetfulness, and for not\nhaving sent an embassy to announce his safe arrival in Zanguebar.\nScarcely had these thoughts and feelings arisen in his breast, than he\nmade up his mind: he went to the king, told him all, and begged him to\nlet him go and fulfil a son's duty to a father whom he had too long\nneglected. Omar sighed deeply at these disclosures of his expected\nson-in-law; he proposed to send a ship to bring his father, so that he\nmight spend the rest of his life in sharing his son's good fortune and\ncompanionship. Upon this Medjeddin declared to him, with\ndetermination, that he could never be his son-in-law or successor to\nthe throne. \"I cannot purchase such good fortune at another's\nexpense,\" said he; \"it was otherwise before I knew the decision of\nfate; but now that I know that the prince Mesoud must, through my\nhappiness, always remain in his present condition, if I thus take away\nthe possibility of his ever returning to his human form, I should be\nin the highest degree culpable, if I did not voluntarily give up my\ngood fortune.\"\n\nAll the persuasions and arguments of Omar 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 seek\ninformation about prince Mesoud 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, including many precious stones from his treasury, and\nprovided him with a ship, and all necessaries for the voyage.\n\nThe heavens seemed to favour the resolution of the returning son: the\nfinest weather and most favourable winds seconded his journey, and the\nship anchored in the harbour without accident. He took some servants,\nbought some camels, which he loaded with the king's presents, and so\nwent through Balsora along the river to Bagdad. One beautiful evening\nhe came near the city, and recognised the very place where he had lain\nat the feet of his father and Salek, and listened to their\nconversation; their last discourse there returned to his memory.\n\"Well,\" said he to himself, \"my own experience has indeed proved how\ntrue it is that it is easy for a man to be seduced from virtue into\none false step, if he be not watchful, but relies on his own power: I\nthought that my heart was sure to be always right, and neglected the\npractice of weighing carefully each action beforehand. In this manner\nhave I so much forgotten my love for my father, and had nearly\ncommitted a great wrong, having been about to sacrifice to my vanity,\nin the intoxication of good fortune, the happiness of the princess and\nher betrothed. And you, my father, were also right when you maintained\nthat a heart accustomed to virtue from early years would only for a\nshort time wander from the right road. I have myself experienced the\ntruth of these words, and I therefore thank you with tears that you\nbrought me up to what was good.\" As he spoke, he espied a small\nsolitary hut where the palm-trees used to stand. A venerable man, much\nmarked by sorrow, appeared at the door; he stood still before the\nthreshold, and regarded the youth with astonishment; the young man\ngazed earnestly at him. Then suddenly recognising the features of the\nold man, he threw himself on his knees before him, seized his hand,\nand covered it with kisses.\n\n\"My father,\" cried he, \"is it so indeed? have you become so much\naltered in the course of so few years? that is my fault. Father,\nforgive your offending son, who forgot you in the height of\nprosperity.\"\n\nEl Kattab extended his other hand to him, blessed him, and said: \"Rise\nup, my son, rise; he who feels repentance is forgiven.\" He rose and\nthrew himself into his father's arms.\n\nWhen he looked up again, he saw a man approaching, accompanied by a\nmaiden, whose features he recognised. It was Salek and his daughter\nMaryam, Medjeddin's playfellow. After welcoming him, they sat down,\nand Medjeddin related to them all that had happened to him since the\nmemorable evening. He related, truly and candidly, how he had\nforgotten his father, and nearly fallen into greater crimes, because\nhe had been blinded by fortune, by greatness, and by honours. As they\nwere sitting and conversing, they observed three birds coming up from\na distance, and who seemed to be chasing one another. They soon\nperceived that one of them was a black bird flying in great fright\nfrom a large hawk. It was obvious that the hawk would soon have seized\nhis prey, had he not been pursued in turn by a larger bird, to avoid\nwhich, he was often compelled to dart from side to side: at last they\ncame to close conflict. The pursued black bird fell into Medjeddin's\nlap; the hawk, struck by his pursuer, fell to the ground at their\nfeet, and was, by the strong hooked bill and sharp claws of his\nadversary, soon killed and torn to pieces. Scarcely had this taken\nplace, when the conqueror changed into a venerable-looking sage. He\nturned to Medjeddin, who was quite astonished, and said: \"Dip quickly\nyour forefinger in the blood of this slain bird, and anoint with it\nthe beak of the black one.\"\n\nMedjeddin obeyed immediately; and scarcely had he touched the black\nbird's beak with the blood, ere it was transformed, and a handsome\nyouth in kingly dress stood before them.\n\n\"Guess who this is,\" said the genius.\n\n\"The prince Mesoud?\" asked Medjeddin.\n\nThe genius answered, \"It is he!\" And as he stood looking at the young\nprince with astonishment, added, \"You do not perceive how and why all\nthis has happened. I could explain to you all these mysteries; but to\nwhat purpose? It is not necessary for weak men to know the threads by\nwhich their fates are linked together: suffice it to know that it was\nnecessary for you to perform all this, that you might be tried: you\nare found worthy, and Heaven rewards you with Maryam, the early\ncompanion of your youth, now to be your wife.\"\n\nThen Medjeddin turned towards Maryam, and looked inquiringly at Salek,\nher father. This latter said, \"With joy I listen to the will of fate;\nthe highest wish of my heart will now be fulfilled.\"\n\n\"Know,\" continued the genius, \"that the slain bird was the enchanter\nwho transformed the princess Jasmin and the prince Mesoud. They were\nalso to pass through trials; thus it was decreed by fate. Because the\nenchanter only fulfilled the will of fate from selfish motives, and\ncarried his revenge beyond it, and contrary to it, the king of the\ngenii commanded me to slay him.\"\n\nWith these words he disappeared from their sight. They returned now in\nhappy union to the city; and El Kattab, who had built his hut at the\nedge of the wood to be always near the place of his sorrow, dwelt\nagain in his house with his children. The prince proceeded to\nZanguebar in the same ship that had brought Medjeddin. He was received\nthere with great joy, and was soon married to his early love. But\nMedjeddin'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 Medjeddin'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. And when Giafar, his aged vizier,\nexpressed a wish to end his life in quietness, the caliph raised\nMedjeddin to the grand viziership; and he continued long in this\noffice, to the pleasure of his friends and the happiness of the\npeople, by whom he was greatly beloved.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nTHE STORY OF KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR ATALMULC.\n\n\nThe city of Damascus is one of the most populous and flourishing\ncities of the East, and to this capital of a rich kingdom travellers\nand caravans arrive from all the countries of the world. Its\nsovereigns bear the title of \"Prince of the Believers,\" and their\nperson is sacred.\n\nBedreddin-Lolo, king of Damascus, had for his grand vizir a man\ncelebrated in history for his goodness. This minister, whose real name\nwas Aswad, but whose great virtues had acquired for him the surname of\nAtalmulc[9], was in every way worthy of the high name he had so\nobtained; uniting to an indefatigable zeal for the king's service a\nvigilance that nothing could deceive, a penetrating and capacious\nmind, and a disinterestedness that was universally admired. But he was\nsurnamed the \"sorrowful\" vizir, because he appeared to be always\nplunged in a profound melancholy. Whatever he did at court was\nperformed in a grave and serious manner, and he never smiled at the\nwittiest remark that was made in his presence.\n\nOne day the king entertained this vizir and Sedif-Elmuloak, his\nfavourite, and related to them, laughing immoderately all the while,\nthe following misfortunes that happened to a rich old miser.\n\n\nTHE OLD PAIR OF SLIPPERS.\n\nThere was at Bagdad a merchant very notorious for his avarice, and his\nname was Abou-Cassem-Tambouri. Although he was enormously rich, his\nclothes were constantly in rags and tatters, and his turban, made of\ncoarse stuff, was so dirty that its colour could no longer be\ndistinguished. Of all his garments, however, his slippers were the\nmost remarkable; the soles were kept together by large, clumsy nails,\nand the upper leathers were pieced in every direction. The famous ship\nArgo was not made up of a greater number of separate fragments. During\nthe ten years of their existence as slippers, the cleverest cobblers\nof Bagdad had exerted their utmost skill to tag together their\nremains, and had only succeeded by adding piece on piece, by which\nmeans they had become so heavy, that they had passed into a proverb;\nand when any one wished to describe something weighty, the slippers of\nCassem were always the object of comparison.\n\nOne day, when this merchant was taking a walk in the great bazaar of\nthe city, a proposal was made to him to buy a considerable quantity of\nglass; he agreed to the offer, because it was an advantageous one; and\nhaving heard a few days afterwards, that a perfumer who had fallen\ninto difficulties had nothing left but some rose-water, which he would\nof course be obliged to sell as speedily as possible, Cassem took\nadvantage of the poor man's misfortune, and purchased it at less than\nhalf its value. This successful stroke of business had put him into\ngood humour, and instead of giving a great feast, according to the\ncustom of Eastern merchants, when they have made an excellent bargain,\nhe thought it better to take a bath, a luxury which he had not enjoyed\nfor a long time.\n\nWhilst he was taking off his clothes, one of his friends, or at least\none who pretended to be a friend--for it is a rare thing for a miser\nto have one--remarked to him that his slippers made him the\nlaughing-stock of the whole city, and that he certainly ought to\npurchase a new pair.\n\n\"I have long thought of doing so,\" replied Cassem; \"but my old ones\nare not so very bad, and will last me for some time even yet.\" While\ntalking, he stripped off his clothes, and entered the bath.\n\nAt this juncture the cadi of Bagdad came also to take one. Cassem,\nhaving finished his bath before the judge, went into the first\napartment, where he found his clothes, but not his slippers, which had\ndisappeared, and in their place was a new pair, which our miser was\nconvinced were a present from the man who had made him such a friendly\nremonstrance about them. With that he made no more ado, but put the\nnew pair on his own feet, thus sparing himself the pain of buying new\nones, and left the bath overjoyed with his prize.\n\nWhen the cadi had finished his bath, his slaves looked about in vain,\nfor their master's slippers, and finding only a wretched pair, which\nwere immediately recognized as Cassem's, the police ran after the\nsupposed sharper, and brought him back with the stolen goods upon his\nfeet. The cadi, after having exchanged the slippers, sent Cassem to\nprison; and, as he was well known to be rich as well as avaricious, he\nwas not allowed to come out of prison until he had paid a handsome\nfine.\n\nOn returning home the afflicted Cassem threw his slippers, in a rage,\ninto the Tigris, which flowed beneath his windows. A few days after,\nsome fishermen, drawing up a net heavier than usual, found in it\nCassem's slippers. The nails, with which they had been patched, had\nbroken the meshes of the net. The fishermen, out of spite to Cassem\nand his slippers, threw them into his room by the open window, and in\ntheir passage they struck the bottles containing the rose-water, and\nknocking them down, the bottles were broken and the water totally\nlost.\n\nThe grief and wrath of Cassem on seeing this may easily be conceived.\nHe cursed his slippers, and tearing out the hair from his beard, vowed\nthat they should cause him no more mischief; and so saying, he took a\nspade, and digging a hole in his garden, buried them there.\n\nOne of his neighbours, however, who had borne him a grudge for a long\ntime, perceived him turning up the earth, and ran and told the\ngovernor that Cassem had dug up a treasure in his garden. This was\nenough to excite the cupidity of the officer, and he sent forthwith\nfor Cassem. In vain our miser declared that he had not found money,\nthat he was only employed in burying his slippers. The governor had\ncalculated on his bribe, and the afflicted Cassem could only regain\nhis liberty by paying down a second large sum.\n\nOur friend, in an extremity of despair, consigned his slippers to\nShitan[10], and went and threw them into an aqueduct at some distance\nfrom the city, thinking that this time he should hear no more of them.\nBut as though the evil spirit he had invoked was determined to play\nhim a trick, the slippers somehow found their way just to the very\npipe of the aqueduct, by this means preventing the flowing of the\nwater. The persons who had the care of the aqueduct having gone to\nascertain the cause of the stoppage, and to remove it, carried\nCassem's slippers to the governor of the city, declaring them to be\nthe cause of all the injury. Their unfortunate owner was thrown again\ninto prison, and condemned to pay a larger fine than before. The\ngovernor who had punished the offence, and who pretended to be\nindebted to no one for any thing, returned Cassem's precious slippers\nto him again most faithfully; and Cassem, in order to free himself\nfrom all the evils which they had brought upon him, resolved to burn\nthem. As they were saturated with water, he first of all put them out\nto dry in the sun on the terrace of his house. But Cassem's evil\ngenius had not yet quite done with his tricks, and the last which he\nplayed him was the worst of all.\n\nA neighbour's dog prowling along the terrace on the housetops spied\nout the slippers, and, darting at them, carried off one of them. As,\nhowever, the dog was playing with it, and tossing it about, he\ncontrived to let it fall off the terrace on to the head of a woman who\nhappened to be passing below. The fright and the violence of the blow\ntogether, made the poor woman quite ill; and her husband having\ncarried his complaint before the cadi, Cassem was condemned to pay a\nfine proportionate to the misfortune of which he had been the cause.\nGoing home, he took up his slippers, and returned to the cadi with\nthem in his hands.\n\n\"My lord,\" he exclaimed with a vehemence which excited the judge's\nlaughter, \"my lord, look at the fatal cause of all my troubles! These\nabominable slippers have at length reduced me to poverty; be pleased\nnow to issue a decree, in order that the misfortunes which they will,\nno doubt, still continue to occasion, may not be imputed to me.\"\n\nThe cadi could not refuse to comply with this request, and Cassem\nlearned, at great expense, the danger there is in not changing one's\nslippers often enough.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe vizir listened to this story with such a serious countenance that\nBedreddin was astonished.\n\n\"Atalmulc,\" he said, \"you are of a strange disposition; you seem\nalways sad and melancholy. During ten years that you have been in my\nservice I have never seen the slightest sign of pleasure on your\ncountenance.\"\n\n\"May it please your majesty,\" replied the vizir, \"you need not be\nsurprised at it; all have their secret sorrows; there is no man on\nearth who is exempt from them.\"\n\n\"Your remark is surely untrue,\" replied the king. \"Do you mean to say\nthat all men have some secret anxiety preying on their minds, because\nyou appear in that state? Do you really believe this to be the truth?\"\n\n\"Yes, your majesty,\" replied Atalmulc; \"such is the condition of all\nthe children of Adam; our bosoms are incapable of enjoying perfect\nease. Judge of others by yourself. Is your majesty quite contented?\"\n\n\"Oh, as to me,\" exclaimed Bedreddin, \"that is impossible! I have\nenemies to deal with--the weight of an empire on my hands--a thousand\ncares to distract my thoughts, and disturb the repose of my life; but\nI am convinced that there are in the world a vast number of persons\nwhose days run on in unruffled enjoyment.\"\n\nThe vizir Atalmulc, however, pertinaciously adhered to what he had\nstated, so that the king, seeing him so strongly attached to his\nopinion, said to him:\n\n\"If no one is exempt from vexation, all the world, at any rate, is not\nlike you, wholly overcome by affliction. You have made me, however,\nvery curious to know what it is that has rendered you so pensive and\nsorrowful; tell me therefore the reason of your melancholy.\"\n\n\"I shall comply with your majesty's wish,\" replied the vizir, \"and\nreveal the cause of my secret cares to you, by relating the history of\nmy life.\"\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF ATALMULC, SURNAMED \"THE SORROWFUL VIZIR,\" AND THE\nPRINCESS ZELICA.\n\nI am the only son of a rich jeweller of Bagdad. My father, whose name\nwas Cogia Abdallah, spared no expense in my education; having from my\nearliest infancy hired masters, who taught me the various sciences,\nphilosophy, law, theology, and more particularly the different\nlanguages of Asia, in order that they might be useful to me in my\ntravels, if I should ever make any in that part of the world.\n\nShortly after this my father died, and when the funeral ceremony,\nwhich was magnificent, was over, I took possession of all his immense\nproperty. Instead of giving myself up to the pursuit of pleasure, I\nresolved to devote myself to my father's profession. Being well versed\nin the knowledge of precious stones, I had reason to believe that I\nshould succeed in business, and accordingly I went into partnership\nwith two merchant jewellers of Bagdad, friends of my father, who were\nabout to undertake a trading expedition to Ormus. At Basra we hired a\nvessel, and embarked on our enterprise from the bay which bears the\nname of that city.\n\nOur companions on board were agreeable; the ship wafted by favourable\nwinds glided swiftly through the waves. We passed the time in festive\nmirth, and our voyage promised to end as pleasantly as we could\ndesire, when my two associates gave me a startling proof that they\nwere not the honourable characters I had supposed. We were just at the\nend of our voyage, and being in good spirits on that account, we held\na sort of farewell feast, and did ample justice to some exquisite\nwines which we had laid in at Basra. For my part, being in the highest\nspirits, I made copious libations, and, on retiring to rest, lay down\non a sofa, without taking off my clothes. In the middle of the night,\nwhile I was buried in profound slumber, my partners took me up in\ntheir arms, and threw me over-board through the cabin window. Death\nwould seem inevitable under the circumstances, and in truth it is\nstill impossible for me to imagine how I was fortunate enough to\nsurvive such a catastrophe. The sea was running high at the time, but\nthe waves, as if Heaven had commanded them to spare me, instead of\noverwhelming me, bore me to the foot of a mountain, and cast me\nviolently on shore. As soon as I recovered the shock, I found myself\nsafe and sound on the beach, where I passed the remainder of the night\nin thanking God for my deliverance, at which I could not sufficiently\nwonder.\n\nAt break of day I clambered up with great difficulty to the top of the\nmountain, which was very steep, and met there with some peasants of\nthe neighbourhood, who were occupied in collecting crystal, which they\nafterwards sold at Ormus. I related to them the danger in which my\nlife had been placed, and my escape seemed miraculous to them, as well\nas to myself. These worthy people took pity on me, gave me part of\ntheir provisions, which consisted of honey and rice, and as soon as\nthey had finished gathering their crystal, acted as my guides to the\ngreat city of Ormus. I put up at a caravansary, where the first object\nthat met my eyes was one of my associates.\n\nHis surprise was great at seeing a man whom he no doubt believed to be\nsafely housed in some marine monster's stomach, and he ran off\ninstantly to find his companion, in order to acquaint him with my\narrival, and to plan how they should receive me. They soon settled as\nto their course of proceeding, and, returning to the place where I\nwas, they took no notice of me, and studiously conducted themselves as\nthough they had never seen me before.\n\n\"O traitors!\" I exclaimed, \"Heaven frustrated your murderous\nintentions, and in spite of your cruelty I am still alive; give me\nback instantly all my precious stones; I will no longer associate with\nsuch vile wretches.\"\n\nOn hearing these words, which ought to have overwhelmed them with\nshame and remorse, they had the impudence to reply:\n\n\"O thief and rogue! who are you, and where do you come from? What\nprecious stones do you speak of that we have belonging to you?\"\n\nSo saying, they set on me, and gave me several blows with a stick. I\nthreatened to complain to the cadi, but they anticipated me by going\nto that judge themselves. Bowing down before him, after having\npreviously taken care to present him with some valuable brilliants,\nwhich no doubt belonged to me, they said to him:\n\n\"O lamp of justice! light which dispels the darkness of deceit! We\nhave recourse to you. We are poor strangers, come from the ends of the\nearth to trade here; is it right that a thief should insult us, and\nwill you permit that he should deprive us by an imposture of what we\nhave acquired at the risk of our lives, and after running a thousand\ndangers?\"\n\n\"Who is the man of whom you make this complaint?\" asked the cadi.\n\n\"My lord,\" they replied, \"we do not know him, we never saw him before\nthis morning.\"\n\nAt this moment I presented myself before the judge, to make my own\ncomplaint, but as soon as they saw me they exclaimed:\n\n\"Here is the man--here is the wretch, the arrant thief! He is even\nimpudent enough to venture into your palace, and show himself before\nyou, the very sight of whom ought to frighten the guilty. Great judge,\ncondescend to protect us.\"\n\nI now approached the cadi, in order to address him, but having no\npresents to make to him, I found it impossible to get him to listen to\nmy story. The calm and unmoved aspect with which I spoke to him,\nproceeding from the testimony of a good conscience, was thought by the\ncadi's prejudiced mind to arise from impudence, and he ordered his\narchers to convey me instantly to prison, an order which they lost no\ntime in executing. So that while I, an innocent man, was loaded with\nchains, my partners departed, not only unpunished but in triumph, and\nwell persuaded that a new miracle would require to be wrought to\ndeliver me from the hands of the cadi.\n\nAnd, indeed, my escape from my present difficulty might not have been\nof so fortunate a nature as that from drowning, had not an incident\noccurred which showed the goodness of Heaven still visibly displayed\non my behalf. The peasants who had brought me to Ormus, having heard\nby chance that I had been put in prison, moved with compassion, went\nto the cadi, and told him in what way they had fallen in with me,\ntogether with all the details which they had heard from myself on the\nmountain.\n\nThis recital began to open the eyes of the judge, and caused him to\nregret that he had not listened to me. He forthwith resolved to\ninvestigate the matter; and first of all sent to the caravansary to\ninquire for the two merchants, but they had hastily decamped, and\nreturned on board the ship, which had put to sea; for in spite of the\nbias of the cadi in their favour they had taken the alarm. Their rapid\nflight effectually convinced the judge that I had been committed to\nprison unjustly, and he gave orders to set me at liberty. Such was the\ntermination of the partnership I had entered into with the two honest\njewellers.\n\nAs one saved from drowning, and the hands of justice, (or rather\ninjustice,) I might well have considered myself eminently bound to\nreturn thanks to the Almighty. My situation, however, was such as to\nrender me rather indifferent as to what might happen to me; for I was\nwithout money, without friends, without credit, and reduced either to\nsubsist on charity, or to perish of hunger. I quitted Ormus, without\nknowing what would become of me, and walked in the direction of the\nprairie of Lar, which is between the mountains and the Persian Gulf.\nOn arriving there, I met a caravan of merchants from Hindostan, who\nwere setting out for Schiras, and, joining myself to them, I gained a\nsubsistence by rendering myself useful on trifling occasions. On our\narrival at Schiras, where the shah Tahmaspe held his court, I stopped\nfor some time in that city.\n\nOne day, when returning from the great mosque to the caravansary where\nI lodged, I saw an officer of the king of Persia, richly dressed and\nvery handsome; looking at me attentively, he came up to me and said,\n\"Young man, from what country do you come; for I see you are a\nstranger, and evidently not in a very prosperous condition?\" I\nreplied, that I came from Bagdad, and that his conjecture was but too\nwell founded. I then related my history more at length, to which he\nlistened attentively, and with much feeling for my misfortunes. He\nnext asked me how old I was; and when I told him that I was nineteen\nyears of age, he desired me to follow him, and walking before me\nproceeded to the king's palace, which I entered along with him.\nConducting me into a very elegant apartment, he asked me, \"What is\nyour name?\" I replied, \"Aswad;\" he then asked many other questions,\nand being satisfied with my replies, said at last:\n\n\"Aswad, your misfortunes have affected me greatly, and I wish to\nassist you as a father: I am the capi-aga[11] of the king of Persia;\nthere is now a place vacant for a new page, and I have appointed you\nto it. You are young and handsome, and I cannot make a better choice,\nfor there is not one among the present pages who surpasses you in good\nlooks.\"\n\nI thanked the capi-aga for his kindness, and he forthwith took me\nunder his command, and caused me to be equipped in the dress of a\npage. I was made acquainted with my duties, which I soon learned to\ndischarge in such a manner as to gain the esteem of the zuluflis[12],\nand to confer honour on my protector.\n\nThere was a rule that no page of the twelve chambers should, under\npain of death, remain in the gardens of the seraglio after a certain\nhour, when the women were accustomed occasionally to walk there. The\nsame rule extended to all the officers of the palace and the soldiers\nof the guard. Being in the gardens one evening quite alone, and musing\non my misfortunes, I became so lost in thought that I did not perceive\nthat the proper time for men to leave the gardens was already past:\nknowing that no time was to be lost, I quickened my pace in order to\nenter the palace, when just as I was turning the corner of one of the\nwalks, a lady appeared before me. She was of a majestic stature, and\nin spite of the darkness I could see that she was both young and\nbeautiful. \"You are in a great hurry,\" she remarked; \"what can it be\nthat obliges you to walk so fast?\"\n\n\"I have very good reasons for doing so,\" I replied, \"and if you belong\nto the palace, as doubtless you do, you cannot be ignorant of them.\nYou know that men are forbidden to appear in the gardens after a\ncertain hour, and that whoever breaks this rule suffers death.\"\n\n\"You have been rather slow in remembering the rule,\" replied the lady,\n\"for the hour is long past; however, on another account you may thank\nyour stars you have loitered, for if you had not, you would not have\nmet with me.\"\n\n\"How unfortunate for me that I should have mistaken the time,\" I\nexclaimed, thinking only that I had placed my life in danger.\n\n\"Don't reproach yourself,\" said the lady; \"if you do, I shall feel\noffended. You ought to look on your misfortune to be rather a source\nof congratulation. It is very true that the danger in which you are\nplaced presents ideas disagreeable enough, but it is not quite so\ncertain that you will be beheaded, for the king is a good prince, who\nmay be induced to forgive you. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am one of the pages,\" I replied.\n\n\"Indeed!\" she exclaimed, \"you make very wise observations for a page;\nthe grand vizir could not make better. Well, don't distress yourself\nabout what may happen to-morrow, the events of which are hidden from\nyou, and are only known to Heaven, which has perhaps even now prepared\na means of escape for you. Leave then the future to take care of\nitself, and think only of the present. If you knew who I am, and the\ngreat honour conferred upon you by this adventure, instead of\npoisoning the precious moments by bitter reflections, you would esteem\nyourself the most fortunate of mortals.\"\n\nBy such animating language the lady at length dispelled my fears: the\nidea of the punishment which threatened me vanished from my mind as I\nabandoned myself to the flattering ideas which she held out to me, and\nI proceeded somewhat over ardently to ingratiate myself with my\ncompanion. The next moment, however, as if at a signal from her, I\nfound myself surrounded by ten or a dozen women who had concealed\nthemselves close by, in order to listen to our conversation. It was\neasy now to see that the woman who had played me this trick was\nlaughing at me. I supposed she was one of the female slaves of the\nprincess of Persia who was desirous of having a little amusement at my\nexpense. All the other women ran quickly to her assistance, and,\nbursting into laughter, began to surround me, and to joke with me.\nOne remarked that I was of a lively character, and well fitted for an\namusing companion. \"If I should ever walk all alone at night,\" said\nanother, \"I hope I shall meet with somebody quite as clever as this\npage.\" Their pleasantries put me quite out of countenance, while every\nnow and then they laughed outrageously, and I felt as ashamed as if\nthey had rallied me for being too bashful. They even made themselves\nmerry at my having permitted the hour for leaving the gardens to\nescape me, and said that it would be a pity if I were to die on that\naccount; and that I well deserved to live since I was so devoted to\nthe service of the ladies. The first one then, whom I had heard\naddressed as Cale-Cairi, said to another, \"It is for you, my princess,\nto determine respecting his lot: is it your wish that he should be\nabandoned to his fate, or shall we lend him our assistance?\"\n\n\"He must be saved from the danger he is in,\" replied the princess: \"I\ngive my consent for him to live; and, indeed, to the end that he may\nremember this adventure of his for a long time to come, we must make\nit still more agreeable to him; let him come to my apartments.\"\n\nWhen I entered the chamber of Zelica Begum--for such was her name, and\nshe was the princess of Persia--she inquired my name, and how long I\nhad been a page. When I had satisfied her curiosity on these points\nshe said:\n\n\"Well, Aswad, make yourself at home, and forget that you are in an\napartment which is forbidden to be entered by any man: forget that I\nam Zelica: speak to us as if you were with a party of young ladies,\nthe daughters of plain citizens of Schiras: look attentively at all\nthese young women, and tell me frankly which one among us all you like\nbest.\"\n\nAlthough Zelica's slaves were perfectly beautiful, and the princess\nherself might be considered to have a just claim to the preference, my\nheart decided at once in favour of the charming Cale-Cairi; but\nconcealing sentiments which would seem to cast Zelica into the shade,\nI said to her that she ought not to place herself in the same rank\nwith the others, or contend with her slaves for the possession of my\nheart, for that her beauty was such that wherever she was seen, all\neyes must be directed to her, and her alone. While speaking thus,\nhowever, I could not resist looking at Cale-Cairi in a way which would\nmake her think that my language had been dictated by courtesy alone,\nand not by the real feelings of my breast. Zelica noticing this, said,\n\"Aswad, you flatter me too much: you must be more candid: I am certain\nthat you have not spoken your real sentiments, and you must really\nanswer me truly in reply to my question: open your inmost soul to us:\nwe all beg you to do this, and you cannot confer a greater pleasure\nboth on myself and all my slaves.\" Yielding at last to their urgent\nrequests, I threw off my timidity, and addressing myself to Zelica, I\nsaid:\n\n\"I will then endeavour to comply with your highness's wishes: it would\nbe difficult to decide which of the exquisitely beautiful assemblage\nbefore me is the most beautiful, but I will avow to you that the\namiable Cale-Cairi is the lady for whom the inclinations of my heart\nplead the most strongly.\"\n\nZelica, instead of being offended by my boldness, replied: \"I am well\npleased, Aswad, that you have given the preference to Cale-Cairi; she\nis my favourite, and that is sufficient to prove that your taste is\nnot bad. You do not know the full worth of the fair lady whom you have\nchosen: we unite in owning that she excels us all.\"\n\nThe princess and her slaves now began to banter Cale-Cairi on the\ntriumph which her charms had achieved--and she received all their\nwitticisms in very good part. Zelica then ordered a lute to be\nbrought, and placing it in Cale's hands, said to her, \"Show your lover\nwhat you can do with it,\" and she played upon it in a style which\nenchanted me, accompanying it at the same time with her voice in a\nsong which indicated that when a lover has made choice of a suitable\nobject, he ought to love that dear one for ever. An old slave at\nlength came to inform us that daylight was approaching, and that there\nwas no time to be lost, if it were intended that I should quit the\napartments in safety. Zelica then told me to follow the slave, who led\nme through many galleries, and by many windings and turnings, until we\nreached a little gate of which she had the key; and on the door being\nopened, I went out, and as it was now daylight, I saw that I was no\nlonger in the palace. A few hours after I rejoined my companions.\n\nEight days after this, an eunuch came to the door of the king's\napartments, and said that he wished to speak with me. I went to him\nand inquired what he wanted.\n\n\"Is not your name Aswad?\" he asked.\n\nI replied that it was. He then put a note into my hands, and went\naway. The letter stated that if I felt inclined to pay a visit to the\ngardens of the seraglio next night, and would be at the same place as\nbefore, I should there see a lady who was very sensibly touched with\nthe preference I had given to her over all the princess's women.\nAlthough I suspected that Cale-Cairi had taken a fancy to me, I had no\nidea of receiving such a letter as this from her. Intoxicated with my\ngood luck, I asked leave from the oda-baschi to pay a visit to a\ndervise--who was a countryman of my own, and who had just arrived from\nMecca. Leave being granted me, I ran, or rather flew, to the gardens\nof the seraglio, as soon as night was come. If, on the first occasion\ntime fled too swiftly and surprised me into stopping after the hour\nfor leaving the gardens, it seemed now too slow in bringing me the\npromised pleasure, and I thought the hour of retreat would never come.\nIt did come, however, and I could see, shortly afterwards, approaching\nthe place where I was concealed, a lady whom I recognized by her\nstature and air to be Cale-Cairi. Transported with delight, I drew\nnear, and throwing myself at her feet, I remained for some time\nprostrate on the ground without speaking a word, so completely had I\nlost all self-possession.\n\n\"Rise, Aswad,\" she said, \"I am enraptured at having inspired you with\nsuch feelings towards me, for I will confess to you that for my part I\nhave not been able to resist a friendly regard for you. Your youth,\ngood looks, and lively and brilliant wit, but more than all, perhaps,\nyour preferring me to other ladies of great beauty, have endeared you\nto me. My conduct proves this sufficiently; but, alas! my dear Aswad,\"\nshe added, sighing, \"I scarcely know whether I ought to be proud of\nthe conquest I have made, or rather to regard it as an event which\nwill embitter the whole course of my life.\"\n\n\"But, madam,\" I replied, \"why give way to such gloomy presentiments at\nthe very time when your presence brings me such delight?\"\n\n\"It is not,\" she replied, \"a foolish fear that now, at such a moment\nas this, causes me annoyance and disturbs the pleasure of our meeting;\nmy fears are only too well founded, and you are ignorant of the cause\nof my grief. The princess Zelica loves you, and when she has freed\nherself, as she will do soon, from the splendid bondage in which she\nis held, she will inform you of your happiness. When she confesses to\nyou that you are dear to her, how will you receive such a glorious\navowal? Will your love for me hold out against the honour of having\nthe affections of the first princess in the world?\"\n\n\"Yes, charming Cale-Cairi,\" I said, interrupting her; \"I would prefer\nyou even to Zelica. Were it to please Heaven that you should have even\na still more formidable rival, you would see that nothing could shake\nthe constancy of a heart that is devoted to you.\"\n\n\"Unhappy Aswad!\" exclaimed the lady, \"whither does your love carry\nyou? What a fatal assurance you are giving me of your fidelity! You\nforget that I am a slave of the princess of Persia. If you were to\nrepay her kindness by ingratitude you would draw down her anger upon\nus both, and we should perish. Better it were that I should yield you\nup to so powerful a rival; it would be the only means of saving\nourselves.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" I replied hastily; \"there is another means which I should\nrather choose in my despair, and that would be to banish myself from\nthe court altogether. After my retreat you would be safe from the\nvengeance of Zelica, and you would regain your peace of mind: by\ndegrees you would forget the unfortunate Aswad, who would retire into\nthe deserts to seek for rest in his misfortunes.\"\n\nI spoke with such deep feeling and truth that the lady was herself\novercome with my grief, and said:\n\n\"Cease, Aswad, to yield to a needless affliction. You are mistaken;\nyour merits are such that it would be wrong to keep you longer in the\ndark. I am Zelica herself, and not her slave. That night when you came\nto my apartment I personated Cale-Cairi, and you supposed my attendant\nto be myself.\"\n\nZelica then called one of her women, who ran to her from amidst some\ncypress trees where she was concealed, and I perceived that she was\nthe slave whom I supposed to be the princess of Persia.\n\n\"Aswad,\" said the princess to me, \"you now see the true Cale-Cairi; I\ngive her back her name and take my own: I have no wish to disguise\nmyself any longer. Although your love is greater than your ambition, I\nam certain that it will be a source of new pleasure to you to know\nthat the lady who loves you is a princess.\"\n\nWe passed nearly the whole night in walking about and conversing, and\ndaylight would no doubt have found us in the gardens, had not\nCale-Cairi, who was with us, taken care to inform us that it was time\nto withdraw. It was needful then that we should separate, but before\nI parted from Zelica the princess said to me:\n\n\"Adieu, Aswad! do not forget me. We shall see each other again, and I\nwill soon let you know how dear you are to me.\" I threw myself at her\nfeet to thank her for so flattering a promise, after which Cale-Cairi\ntook me out by the same winding passages as before, and I then left\nthe seraglio.\n\nBeloved by the august princess whom I idolized, and forming an\nenchanting image of what she had promised me, I abandoned myself to\nthe most pleasing fancies that the mind could depict, when an\nunlooked-for event deprived me all on a sudden of my proud hopes. I\nhad heard a report that the princess Zelica was ill, and two days\nafterwards the rumour of her death was circulated in the palace. I was\nunwilling to give credit to this fatal intelligence, and refused to do\nso until I saw preparations going for the funeral ceremony. I did not\nsee the whole of it, because excessive grief threw me into a\nsuccession of dangerous fainting fits which lasted for a long time.\nOne of the officers of the palace gave directions for me to be carried\ninto the pages' room, where great care was taken of me; my limbs were\nrubbed with a balm of exceeding virtue, and in spite of my\noverwhelming misery, such was the progress I made, that in two days my\nstrength was restored. A stay in Schiras, however, having become\ninsupportable, I secretly left the court of Persia three days after\nthe interment of my beloved princess. Overwhelmed with grief, I walked\nall night without knowing whither I was going or where I ought to go.\nNext morning, having stopped to rest myself, a young man approached\nwho was dressed in a very extraordinary manner. Coming up to me he\nsaluted me and presented me with a green branch which he held in his\nhand, and after having civilly made me accept it, he began to recite\nsome Persian verses to induce me to bestow my charity upon him. As I\nhad no money I could not give him any. Thinking that I was ignorant\nof the Persian language he recited some Arabic verses, but seeing that\nhe had no better success this way than the other, and that I did not\ndo what he wanted, he said to me, \"Brother, I cannot persuade myself\nthat you are deficient in charity, but rather in the means wherewith\nto exercise it.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" I said, \"I have not a farthing in the world, and I\nknow not even where to shelter my head.\"\n\n\"Unfortunate man,\" he exclaimed, \"what a sad plight you are in; I\nreally pity you, and wish, moreover, to assist you.\"\n\nI was not a little astonished to be thus addressed by a man who had\nbeen asking alms of me a moment before, and I supposed that the\nassistance he offered was merely that of his prayers, when he went on\nto say:\n\n\"I am one of those merry fellows they call fakirs; and I can tell you,\nthat though we subsist entirely on charity, we fare none the less\nsumptuously for that, as we have discovered the secret of exciting the\ncompassion of well-meaning people by an appearance of mortification\nand penance which we well know how to impart to ourselves. It is true\nthere are a few fakirs fools enough to be really what they seem, and\nwho lead a life of such austerity as sometimes to go ten whole days\nwithout the least nourishment. But we are a little less rigorous than\nthese ascetics; we make no pretensions to the reality of their\nvirtues, only to the appearance of them. Will you become one of our\nfraternity? I am now on my way to meet two of them at Bost; if you\nhave a fancy to make the fourth, you have but to follow me.\"\n\n\"I am afraid,\" I replied, \"that not being accustomed to your religious\nexercises I shall acquit myself but clumsily.\"\n\n\"Pray don't trouble yourself,\" he broke in, \"on that head; I repeat to\nyou that we are not fakirs of the austere order; in short, we have\nreally nothing of the fakir about us but the dress.\"\n\nAlthough I guessed from what the fakir had told me, that he and his\ncompanions were in reality three libertines in disguise, I\nnevertheless did not hesitate to join them; for besides being reckless\nfrom sheer misery, I had not learned among the pages of the court many\nlessons of scrupulousness on the score of morality. As soon as I had\nsignified to the fakir my consent, he set out with me at once for\nBost, feeding me on the road with abundance of dates, rice, and other\ngood things, which people presented to him in the towns and villages\nthrough which we passed; for the moment his little bell and his\npeculiar cry became heard, the good Mussulmans came running to him\nwith provisions from all quarters.\n\nIn this way we arrived at the large town of Bost; we made our way to a\nsmall house in the suburbs, where the two other fakirs resided. They\nreceived us with open arms, and appeared delighted with my resolution\nof joining them. They soon initiated me into their mysteries; that is\nto say, they showed me how to perform their antics. As soon as I was\nwell instructed in the art of imposing on the populace, they sent me\ninto the town to present respectable citizens with flowers or\nbranches, and to recite verses to them. I always returned home with\nsome pieces of silver, which enabled us to live merrily enough.\n\nI passed nearly two years with the fakirs, and should have lived there\nmuch longer had not the one who had induced me to join them, and whom\nI liked the best, proposed to me to travel.\n\n\"Aswad,\" said he one day, \"I am sick of this town; I begin to long to\nroam a little. I have heard wonderful accounts of the city of\nCandahar; if you will accompany me we will put the truth of these\nreports to the test.\"\n\nI consented at once, for I had a curiosity to see some new country,\nor rather, I was impelled by that superior power which guides our\ndestinies.\n\nAccordingly we both quitted Bost, and passing through many cities of\nSegestan without stopping, we reached the noble city of Candahar,\nsurrounded with its strong fortifications. We betook ourselves to a\ncaravansary, where our dresses, the most commendable thing about us by\nthe way, procured us a kind and hearty reception. We found the\ninhabitants of the city in a great bustle, as they were going to\ncelebrate the feast of Giulous on the following day. We learned that\nat court they were no less busy, as every one was anxious to show his\nattachment for the king Firouzshah, who had earned by his justice the\nlove of all good men, and still more by his rigour the fear of the\nwicked.\n\nThe fakirs going where they please without hindrance, we proceeded\nnext day to court to witness the festival, which however had few\ncharms for the eyes of a man who had seen the Giulous of the king of\nPersia.\n\nWhilst we were attentively watching what passed, I felt myself pulled\nby the sleeve, and turning round, perceived close to me the very\neunuch who, in the shah's palace, had been the bearer of Cale-Cairi's,\nor rather Zelica's letter.\n\n\"My lord,\" he whispered, \"I recognized you at once in spite of your\nstrange dress; but indeed, though I flatter myself I am never\nmistaken, I am not quite sure whether on the present occasion I ought\nnot to doubt the evidence of my own eyes. Is it possible that it is\nyou I have met here?\"\n\n\"And pray,\" I asked in reply, \"what are you doing at Candahar, and why\nhave you left the court of Persia? Can the death of the princess\nZelica have driven you away as it did me?\"\n\n\"That,\" replied he, \"is exactly what I cannot tell you at this moment,\nbut I will amply satisfy your curiosity if you will meet me here\nto-morrow alone at the same hour. I have a few things to tell you\nwhich will astonish you, and which--let me add--concern you not a\nlittle.\"\n\nI promised to return alone to the same spot the following day, and\ntook care to keep my word. The eunuch was there, and coming up to me,\nproposed that we should leave the palace and seek some place better\nadapted for conversation. We accordingly went out into the city, and\nafter traversing several streets, stopped at last at the door of a\ngood-sized house, of which he had the key. We entered, and I observed\nsuites of apartments magnificently furnished, delicious carpets and\nluxurious sofas, whilst through the windows I perceived a garden\nbeautifully laid out, with a delightful piece of water in the middle,\nbordered with variegated marble.\n\n\"My lord Aswad,\" said the eunuch, \"I trust the house pleases you.\"\n\n\"I am delighted with it,\" I replied.\n\n\"I am glad to hear you say so,\" he returned, \"for I yesterday took it,\njust as you see it, for _you_. You will next want slaves to wait on\nyou. I will go and purchase some whilst you take a bath.\"\n\nSo saying, he conducted me to a chamber, where I found baths all\nready.\n\n\"In Heaven's name,\" I exclaimed, \"tell me for what purpose you have\nbrought me here, and what the news is you have promised to tell me.\"\n\n\"At the proper time and place,\" he rejoined, \"you shall learn all; for\nthe present be content to know that your lot is materially changed\nsince I met you, and that I have my orders for every thing I am\ndoing.\"\n\nAs he spoke, he assisted me to undress--a process which did not take\nlong--I entered the bath and the eunuch left me, enjoining patience.\n\nAll this mystery furnished ample food for conjecture, but I wearied\nmyself fruitlessly in endeavouring to fathom it. Schapour left me a\nlong time in the bath, and my patience was beginning to be exhausted,\nwhen he returned, followed by four slaves, two of whom carried towels\nand garments, and the others all sorts of provisions.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, my lord,\" said he, \"I am extremely sorry I have\nkept you waiting so long.\"\n\nAt the same time the slaves placed their bundles on the sofas and\nproceeded to wait on me: they rubbed me with towels of the finest\ntexture, and then dressed me in rich garments, with a magnificent robe\nand turban.\n\n\"What on earth is all this to end in?\" said I to myself; \"and by whose\norders can it be that this eunuch treats me in such a manner?\"\n\nMy impatience to be enlightened became so lively that I could not\nconceal it. Schapour soon perceived it, and said:\n\n\"It is with the deepest regret that I see you so restless and uneasy,\nbut I cannot yet relieve you. Even supposing I had not been expressly\nforbidden to say a word, or even supposing that I betrayed my trust,\nand told you every thing I am now concealing from you, I should not\nsucceed in tranquillizing you in the least; anxieties still more\nharassing would take the place of those which now worry you--you must\nwait till night, and you shall then learn all you desire to know.\"\n\nThough I would not but augur well from what the eunuch said, yet it\nwas impossible to help being for the rest of the day in a state of\ncruel suspense. I really believe that the expectation of evil causes\nless real suffering than that of some great pleasure. The night\nhowever came at last, and the slaves proceeded to light up the whole\nhouse, and particularly the principal apartment, with wax candles. In\nthis apartment I took my seat with Schapour, who, to assuage my\nimpatience, kept saying to me, \"They will be here in a moment--have\nbut a little more patience.\" At last we heard knocking at the door,\nthe eunuch went himself to open it, and returned with a lady whom,\nthe moment she raised her veil, I recognized as Cale-Cairi. My\nsurprise was extreme, for I believed her to be at Schiras.\n\n\"My lord Aswad,\" said she, \"however astonished you may be to see me,\nyou will be much more so when you hear the story I have to tell you.\"\n\nAt these words Schapour and the slaves quitted the apartment, leaving\nme alone with Cale-Cairi; we both sat down on the same sofa, and she\ncommenced her narration as follows:\n\n\"You recollect well, my lord, that night on which Zelica made herself\nknown to you, nor can you yet have forgotten the promise she made you\non leaving. The following day I asked her whether she had come to any\nresolution what course to pursue in the matter; I represented to her\nthe absurdity of a princess of her rank dreaming of exposing herself\nto disgrace and death for the sake of a mere page; in short, I used\nevery effort to overcome her passion; and you may well pardon me for\ndoing so, as all my reasoning served but to strengthen her attachment.\nWhen I saw I was utterly unable to prevail with her, 'Madam,' I said\nat length, 'I cannot contemplate without shuddering the danger into\nwhich you are rushing, but since no consideration seems powerful\nenough to detach you from your lover, we must endeavour to contrive\nsome plan for you to meet without endangering either your life or his.\nI have thought of one which would doubtless be gratifying to your\naffection, but it seems to me so daring that I hardly like to propose\nit.'\n\n\"'Let me hear it at once, Cale-Cairi,' said the princess; 'whatever it\nmay be, pray do not keep it from me.'\n\n\"'If you put it in practice,' replied I, 'you must make up your mind\nto quit the court and live as though you had been born to the humblest\nlot in life. You must renounce all the honours of your rank. Do you\nlove Aswad sufficiently to make so great a sacrifice?'\n\n\"'_Do_ I love him?' returned she, drawing a deep sigh. 'Ah! the very\nhumblest lot with him would please me far more than all the pomp and\nluxury with which I am now surrounded. Only point out to me what I can\ndo in order to enjoy his society without constraint and without\nimpropriety, and I am ready to do it without a moment's hesitation.'\n\n\"'Well, madam,' I replied, 'since I perceive it is useless to\nendeavour to overcome your attachment, I will do all in my power to\nfavour it. I am acquainted with the properties of a herb of singular\npower. One leaf of it placed in your ear will in an hour bring on so\nlethargic a sleep that you will appear quite dead; they will then\nperform the funeral rites, and carry you to your tomb, from which at\nnightfall I can easily release you--'\"\n\nHere I interrupted Cale-Cairi, \"Great Heavens!\" I exclaimed, \"is it\npossible that the princess Zelica did not die after all--what then has\nbecome of her?--\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Cale-Cairi, \"she is still alive. But pray listen\npatiently to my story, and you will learn all that you desire to know.\nMy mistress,\" she continued, \"threw herself into my arms with joy, so\nclever did my plan appear to her; presently, however, she began to\nperceive many difficulties connected with the rites and observances\nusual at funerals. I removed all her doubts, and thus we set about the\nexecution of our plan.\n\n\"Zelica complained of a terrible pain in her head, and went to bed.\nThe next morning I spread a report that she was dangerously ill; the\nroyal physician was sent for; it was no difficult matter to deceive\nhim. He sent some remedies which of course were never taken. From day\nto day the princess's illness increased; and as soon as, in my\njudgment, her last moments ought to approach, I placed in her ear a\nleaf of the herb I have mentioned. I immediately after ran to the\nshah, and told him the princess had but a few moments to live, and\ndesired anxiously to speak to him. He came to her at once, and,\nobserving that, as the herb began its work, her face changed rapidly,\nhe was deeply moved, and began to weep.\n\n\"'My lord,' said his daughter, in faint accents, 'I implore you, by\nthe love you have always borne me, to order my last wishes to be\ncarried out to the letter. My wish is, that when I am dead, no one but\nCale-Cairi shall be permitted to wash my body, and that none of my\nother slaves shall share that honour with her. I also beg that none\nbut she shall watch my tomb the first night, that no tears but hers\nshall fall on it, and that her prayers alone shall ascend to the\nprophet, to avert from me the assaults of evil spirits.'\n\n\"Shah Tahmaspe promised his daughter that I alone should perform for\nher these last sad duties.\n\n\"'But this is not all, my lord,' continued she; 'I also implore you to\ngive Cale-Cairi her liberty the moment I am no more, and to give her,\nwith her freedom, presents worthy of yourself and of the affection she\nhas always evinced towards me.'\n\n\"'My child,' replied the shah, 'make yourself perfectly easy on all\nthe matters you have commended to my notice; should it be my\nmisfortune to lose you, I swear that your favourite slave, loaded with\npresents, shall be at liberty to go whither she pleases.'\n\n\"He had hardly done speaking when the herb completed its work. Zelica\nlost all consciousness, and her father, supposing her to be dead,\nretired to his own apartments in deep grief. He gave orders that I\nalone should wash and embalm the body, which I pretended to do, and\nthen wrapping it in a white cloth, laid it in the coffin. The princess\nwas then carried in great pomp to the tomb, where by the shah's\nexpress orders I was left alone for the first night. I made a careful\nsurvey all round, to assure myself that no one was on the watch, and,\nnot having discovered any one, I roused my mistress at once from her\nsleep in the coffin, made her put on a dress and veil I had concealed\nunder my own, and we both repaired to a spot where Schapour was in\nwaiting. The faithful eunuch conducted the princess to a small house\nwhich he had taken, and I returned to the tomb to pass the remainder\nof the night. I made up a bundle to represent the corpse, covered it\nwith the same cloth in which I had previously wrapped Zelica, and\nplaced it in the coffin. The next morning the princess's other slaves\ncame to take my place, which I took care not to leave without\npreviously indulging in all the expressions of inconsolable grief\nusual on such occasions. A faithful account of this exhibition of woe\nwas duly carried to the king's ear, who was induced by it to make me\npresents far beyond what he had determined on. He ordered me ten\nthousand sequins out of his treasury, and granted me permission, the\nmoment I asked it, to quit the court and carry with me the eunuch\nSchapour. I immediately proceeded to join my mistress, and\ncongratulate her on the complete success of our stratagem. Next day we\nsent the eunuch to the royal apartments with a note asking you to come\nand see me. But one of your attendants told him you were ill, and\ncould see no one. Three days after we sent him again; he brought back\nword that you had left the palace, and that no one knew what had\nbecome of you. We caused search to be made for you all through the\ncity; Schapour left nothing undone in order to discover you; and when\nat last we gave up the search in despair and left Schiras, we took the\nroad to the Indus, because we thought it just possible that you might\nhave turned your steps in that direction;--and, stopping at every town\non our route, we set on foot the most careful inquiries, which\nnevertheless proved entirely useless.\n\n\"One day, on our road from one city to another, though we were\ntravelling with a caravan, a vast horde of robbers surrounded us, and,\nin spite of a vigorous defence, swept down the merchants and plundered\ntheir goods. Of us, of course, they soon made themselves masters,\nrobbed us of our money and jewels, carried us to Candahar, and sold us\nto a slave merchant of their acquaintance. This merchant had no sooner\nsecured Zelica, than he resolved to show her to the king of Candahar.\nFirouzshah was charmed the moment he saw her, and asked her whence she\ncame. She told him Ormus was her native place, and answered the\nprince's other inquiries in a similar manner. In the end he purchased\nus, and placed us in the palace of his wives, where the handsomest\napartments were assigned to us. Passionately though she is loved by\nthe king of Candahar, she cannot, nevertheless, forget you; and,\nthough he sighs at her feet, he has never succeeded in obtaining the\nslightest proof of any return of attachment. No one ever saw any thing\nlike the joy she exhibited yesterday when Schapour informed her he had\nmet with you. She was quite beside herself all the rest of the day.\nShe ordered Schapour instantly to engage a furnished house for you, to\nconduct you there to-day, and to suffer you to want for nothing. I am\nnow here by her orders to inform you of the several things I have\ncommunicated, and to prepare you to see her in the course of to-morrow\nnight. We shall leave the palace unobserved, and let ourselves in here\nby a small door in the garden wall, of which we have had a key made\nfor us.\" As she uttered these last words the favourite slave of the\nprincess of Persia rose and quitted the apartment, in order to return\nto her mistress, and Schapour accompanied her.\n\nI could do nothing all that night but think of Zelica, my love for\nwhom seemed to return with tenfold ardour. Sleep never approached my\neyelids, and the following day seemed a century. At last, as I almost\nbegan to think I should fall a victim to the agonies of suspense, I\nheard a knocking at the door; my slaves ran to open it, and the next\nmoment I saw my princess entering the room. How shall I describe the\nfeelings which her presence excited in me! and for her part what was\nher delight to see me once more! I threw myself at her feet and for\nsome time could do nothing but embrace them without uttering a\nsyllable. At length she forced me to rise, and seating me next her on\nthe sofa, \"Aswad,\" said she, \"I render thanks to Heaven for reuniting\nus; let us now hope that the goodness of Providence will not stop\nhere, but will remove the new obstacle which hinders our union. In\nexpectation of the arrival of that happy hour we will live here in\ncontentment; and if circumstances prevent our meeting unconstrainedly,\nwe can at least enjoy the consolation of hearing daily news of each\nother, as well as of occasional secret interviews.\" In such\nconversation we passed the greater part of the night. Next day, in\nspite of the happy thoughts which now filled my mind, I did not forget\nthe fakir in whose company I had come to Candahar; and picturing to\nmyself his uneasiness at not knowing where I was, I determined to go\nand find him out. I met him by accident in the street and we embraced\neach other.\n\n\"My friend,\" said I, \"I was on my way to your caravansary to inform\nyou of what has happened to me, and to set your mind at ease. No doubt\nI have occasioned you some uneasiness.\"\n\n\"That is true enough,\" replied he; \"I was in no small trouble about\nyou. But what a change! What clothes are these you appear in? You seem\nto have been in luck. Whilst I was worrying myself about what had\nbecome of you, you were passing your time, as it seems to me,\npleasantly enough.\"\n\n\"I confess it, my dear friend,\" replied I; \"and I can assure you,\nmoreover, that I am a thousand times happier than it is possible for\nyou to conceive. I want you not only to be witness of my good fortune,\nbut to profit by it as well. Quit your caravansary and come and live\nwith me.\"\n\nSo saying, I led him to my house and showed him all over it. He\nadmired the rooms and the furniture amazingly, and every now and then\nwould exclaim, \"O Heaven! what has Aswad done more than other men to\ndeserve such an accumulation of good fortune?\"\n\n\"What, now, fakir,\" asked I, \"do you view my happy condition with\nchagrin? It seems to me that my good fortune is positively annoying to\nyou.\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" returned he, \"it affords me the liveliest\nsatisfaction; so far from envying my friends' happiness, I am never so\nhappy as when I see them flourishing.\"\n\nAs he concluded this speech he embraced me ardently, the better to\npersuade me of the sincerity of his words. I believed him sincere, and\nacting towards him myself in the most perfect good faith, betrayed\nmyself without the least mistrust into the hands of the most envious,\nthe most cowardly, and the most treacherous of men.\n\nIn this way we continued to live for some time. Schapour or Cale-Cairi\nbrought me daily intelligence of my beloved princess, and an\noccasional stolen interview elevated me to the seventh heaven of\nhappiness. The fakir expressed the liveliest interest in the progress\nof my attachment, and I confided to him, as to my bosom friend, every\nparticular of my life.\n\nOne day, as I was reposing on a sofa and dreaming of Zelica, I was\naroused by a great noise in my house. I rose in order to ascertain the\ncause, and to my great dismay, found that it was occasioned by a body\nof Firouzshah's own guards.\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the officer in command; \"our orders are to conduct\nyou to the palace.\"\n\n\"What crime have I committed?\" asked I; \"of what am I accused?\"\n\n\"We have not been informed,\" replied the officer; \"our orders are\nmerely to carry you before the king; we know nothing about the cause:\nbut I may tell you for your comfort, that if you are innocent you have\nnothing whatever to fear, for you have to do with a prince of the\nstrictest justice, who never lightly condemns any one who is brought\nbefore him. He requires the most convincing proofs before he will pass\nan adverse sentence; but it is true at the same time that he punishes\nthe guilty with the utmost rigour, so that, if you are guilty, I pity\nyou.\"\n\nThere was no help for it; I was obliged to follow the officer. On my\nway to the palace I said to myself, \"Firouzshah has no doubt\ndiscovered my correspondence with Zelica; but how can he have learned\nit?\" As we crossed the court-yard of the palace I observed that four\ngibbets had been erected there. I made a shrewd guess at their\ndestination, and apprehended that this kind of death was the least\npart of the punishment I had to expect from the wrath of Firouzshah. I\nraised my eyes to heaven and prayed that at least the princess of\nPersia might be saved from this. We entered the palace; the officer\nwho had charge of me conducted me into the king's apartment. That\nprince was there, attended only by his grand vizir and the fakir. The\nmoment I perceived my treacherous friend I saw that I had been\nbetrayed.\n\n\"It is you, then,\" said Firouzshah to me, \"who has secret interviews\nwith my favourite. Wretch! you must be bold indeed to dare to trifle\nwith me! Speak, and reply exactly and truly to my questions:--When you\ncame to Candahar, were you not told that I was a severe punisher of\ncriminals?\"\n\nI replied that I was informed of it.\n\n\"Well,\" he continued, \"since you knew that, why have you committed the\ngreatest of all crimes?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" I answered, \"may your majesty's days last for ever. You know\nthat love gives courage to the dove: a man possessed by a violent\npassion fears nothing: I am ready to be a victim to your just wrath;\nand as to any tortures that may be reserved for me I shall not\ncomplain of your severity, provided you grant a pardon to your\nfavourite. Alas! she was living peacefully in your palace before I\ncame here, and would soon have been contented with rendering a great\nking happy, while gradually forgetting an unfortunate lover whom she\nnever thought to see again. Knowing that I was in this city, her\nformer attachment returned. It was I that separated her from your\naffection, and your punishment should fall on me alone.\"\n\nWhile I was thus speaking, Zelica, who had been sent for by the king's\norder, entered the apartment, followed by Schapour and Cale-Cairi, and\nhearing the last words I uttered, ran forward and threw herself at the\nfeet of Firouzshah.\n\n\"Great prince!\" she exclaimed, \"forgive this young man: it is on your\nguilty slave, who has betrayed you, that your vengeance ought to\nfall.\"\n\n\"Traitors that you both are!\" exclaimed the king \"expect no favour\neither of you: die! both of you. This ungrateful woman only implores\nmy kindness in behalf of the rash man who has offended me; while his\nsensibilities are only alive to the loss of her whom he loves; both of\nthem thus parading in my very sight their amorous madness; what\ninsolence! Vizir!\" he cried, turning to his minister, \"let them be led\naway to execution. Hang them up on gibbets, and after their death, let\ntheir carcasses be thrown to the dogs and the vultures.\"\n\nThe officers were leading us away, when I resolved on one more\ndesperate effort to save the princess.\n\n\"Stop, sire!\" I shouted at the top of my voice, \"take care what you\ndo, and do not treat with ignominy the daughter of a king! Let your\njealousy even in its fury have respect to the august blood from which\nshe has sprung!\"\n\nAt these words Firouzshah appeared thunderstruck, and then addressing\nZelica, he inquired, \"Who then is the prince who is your father?\"\n\nThe princess looked at me with a proud countenance, and said:\n\n\"Alas! Aswad, where was your discretion? how is it that you have told\nwhat I wished to conceal, if it were possible, even from myself? I\nshould have had the consolation in death of knowing that my rank was\na secret, but in disclosing it, you have overwhelmed me with shame.\nLearn then who I am,\" she continued, addressing herself to Firouzshah;\n\"the slave whom you have condemned to an infamous death is the\ndaughter of shah Tahmaspe!\" She then related her whole story, without\nomitting the slightest circumstance.\n\nWhen she had concluded her recital, which increased the king's\nastonishment, she said to him, \"Now I have revealed a secret which it\nwas my intention to bury in my own breast, and which nothing but the\nindiscretion of my lover could have wrung from me. After this\nconfession, which I make with extreme humiliation, I beg that you will\ninstantly give orders for my immediate execution. This is the only\nfavour I now ask of your majesty.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the king, \"I revoke the order for your death: I have\ntoo great a love for justice not to honour your faithfulness: what you\nhave told me makes me look upon you in a different light; I have no\ncomplaint to make against you, and I set you at liberty. Live for\nAswad, and may the happy Aswad live for you! Schapour also and your\nfriend have life and liberty granted to them. Go, most faithful\nlovers, and may you pass the rest of your days in the enjoyment of\neach other's society, and may nothing interrupt the course of your\nhappiness. As for you, traitor,\" he continued, turning to the fakir,\n\"you shall be punished for your treason, for your base and envious\nheart, which could not endure to see the happiness of your friend, and\nled you to deliver him up yourself to my vengeance. Miserable wretch!\nYou shall yourself be the victim of my jealousy!\"\n\nWhile this villain was being led to the gallows, Zelica and I threw\nourselves at the feet of the king of Candahar, and bathed them with\ntears of gratitude and joy. We assured him that we should ever retain\na grateful sense of his generous goodness. And at length we left his\npalace, accompanied by Schapour and Cale-Cairi, with the intention of\ntaking up our lodging at a caravansary. We were just about to enter,\nwhen an officer sent by the king accosted us. \"I come,\" he said, \"from\nmy master, Firouzshah, to offer you a lodging: the grand vizir will\nlend you a house of his, situated at the gates of the city, where you\nwill be very commodiously lodged. I will be your conductor thither, if\nyou will allow me, and will take the trouble to follow me.\" We\naccompanied him, and soon arrived at a house of imposing appearance,\nand elegant architecture: the interior corresponded to the outside\nappearance. Every thing was magnificent, and in good taste. There were\nmore than twenty slaves, who told us that their master had desired\nthem to supply us with every thing that we wanted, and to treat us as\nthey would himself all the time that we remained in the house.\n\nHere my marriage with the princess was duly celebrated, though with\nthe strictest privacy. Two days after we received a visit from the\ngrand vizir, who brought an immense quantity of presents from the\nking. There were bales of silk and cloth of India, with twenty purses,\neach containing a thousand sequins of gold. As we did not feel\nourselves quite at our ease in a house which was not our own, and as\nthe king's bounty enabled us to go elsewhere, we joined ourselves to a\ngreat caravan of merchants, who were proceeding to Bagdad, where we\narrived without encountering any disaster.\n\nWe took up our lodgings at my own house, where we remained for a few\ndays after our arrival, for the purpose of recovering ourselves from\nthe fatigue of our long journey. I then went into the city and visited\nmy friends, who were astonished to see me, as they had been told by my\nassociates on their return, that I was dead. As soon as I knew that\nthey were at Bagdad, I hastened to the grand vizir, threw myself at\nhis feet, and related their perfidious conduct towards me. He gave\norders for their immediate arrest, and commanded them to be\ninterrogated in my presence. \"Is it not true,\" I asked them, \"that I\nawoke when you took me up in your arms, that I asked what you intended\ndoing with me, and that without replying you threw me out through the\nporthole of the ship into the sea?\"\n\nThey replied that I must have been dreaming, and that I must certainly\nhave thrown myself into the sea when asleep.\n\n\"Why then,\" said the vizir, \"did you pretend not to know him at\nOrmus?\"\n\nThey replied that they had not seen me at Ormus.\n\n\"Traitors!\" he replied, eyeing them with a threatening aspect, \"what\nwill you say, when I show you a certificate from the cadi of Ormus,\nproving the contrary?\"\n\nAt these words, which the vizir only made use of to put them to the\nproof, my associates turned pale and became confused. The vizir\nnoticed their altered looks, and bade them confess their crime, that\nthey might not be compelled to do so, by being put to the torture.\n\nThey then confessed every thing and were conveyed to prison, until the\ncaliph should be informed of the matter, and give his orders\nrespecting the kind of death which they were to undergo. In the mean\ntime, however, they contrived to make their escape, either by bribing\ntheir guards, or deceiving their vigilance, and concealed themselves\nso carefully in Bagdad, that all search after them proved ineffectual.\nTheir property, however, was confiscated to the caliph, excepting a\nsmall part which was bestowed upon me, by way of some compensation for\nthe robbery.\n\nAfter this all my ambition consisted in living a quiet life with the\nprincess, with whom I was perfectly united in love and affection. My\nconstant prayer to Heaven was, that such a state of felicity might be\ncontinued to us; but alas! how vain are the wishes and hopes of man,\nwho is never destined to enjoy unruffled repose for a long time, but\nwhose existence is continually disturbed by contending cares and\nsorrows! Returning home one evening from partaking of an entertainment\nwith some friends, I knocked at the door of my house, but could get no\none to admit me, although I knocked loudly and repeatedly. I was\nsurprised at this, and began to form the gloomiest conjectures. I\nredoubled my knocks at the door, but no slave came to admit me. What\ncan have happened? I thought; can this be some new misfortune that has\nbefallen me? Such were my surmises. At the noise I made several\nneighbours came out of their houses, and being as astonished as myself\nat none of the domestics appearing, we broke open the door, and on\nentering found my slaves lying on the floor, with their throats cut,\nand weltering in their blood. We passed from them to Zelica's\napartment, and here another frightful spectacle presented itself, for\nwe found both Schapour and Cale-Cairi stretched lifeless on the\nground, bathed in their blood. I called on Zelica, but received no\nreply. I searched every room and corner in the house, but without\nfinding her. Such a blow was too much for me, and I sank back in a\nswoon in the arms of my neighbours. Happy would it have been for me\nhad the angel of death at that moment borne me away; but no! it was\nthe will of Heaven that I should live to see the full horror of my\nfate.\n\nWhen my neighbours by their attentions had succeeded in recalling me\nto life, I asked how it was possible that so terrible a slaughter\ncould have taken place in my house, and not the slightest sound of it\nhave been heard by them. They replied that they were as astonished as\nI was at the circumstance. I then ran to the cadi, who despatched his\nnayb[13] into all the surrounding country with all his asas[14], but\ntheir inquiries were fruitless, and every one formed his own\nconjecture respecting this horrible tragedy. As for myself, I\nbelieved, as well as many others, that my former partners were the\nperpetrators of the crime. My grief was so intense that I fell ill,\nand continued in a languishing state at Bagdad for a long time. When I\nrecovered I sold my house, and went to reside at Mossoul, carrying\nwith me the wreck of my fortune. I adopted this course because I had a\nrelation there of whom I was extremely fond, and who belonged to the\nhousehold of the grand vizir of the king of Mossoul. My relation\nreceived me very cordially, and in a short time I became known to the\nminister, who, thinking that he saw in me good business talents, gave\nme some employment. I endeavoured to discharge effectively the duties\nentrusted to me, and I had the good fortune to succeed. His\nsatisfaction with me daily increased, and I became insensibly\ninitiated into the most secret state affairs, the weight of which I\neven assisted him to bear. In a few years this minister died, and the\nking, who was perhaps too partial to me, appointed me to his place,\nwhich I filled for two years, to the satisfaction of the king, and the\ncontentment of the people. To mark, also, how much he was pleased with\nmy conduct as minister, he first gave me the name of Atalmulc. And now\nenvy soon began to be excited against me. Some of the chief nobles\nbecame my secret enemies, and plotted my ruin. The better to secure\ntheir ends, they instilled suspicions respecting me into the mind of\nthe prince of Mossoul, who, being influenced by their unfavourable\ninsinuations, asked the king, his father, to deprive me of power. The\nking at first refused, but yielded at last to the urgent requests of\nhis son. I thereupon left Mossoul, and came to Damascus, where I had\nsoon the honour of being presented to your majesty.\n\nI have now related to you, sire, the history of my life, and the cause\nof the deep grief in which I seem to be buried. The abduction of\nZelica is ever present to my mind, and renders me insensible to every\nkind of pleasure. If I could learn that she was no more in life, I\nmight, perhaps, lose the recollection of her, as I did before; but the\nuncertainty of her fate brings her ever back to my memory, and\nconstantly feeds my grief.\n\n\nCONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR.\n\nWhen the vizir Atalmulc had concluded the recital of his adventures,\nthe king said to him:\n\n\"I am no longer surprised at your melancholy, for you have, indeed,\ngood reason for it; but every one has not, like you, lost a princess,\nand you are wrong in thinking that there is not one man in the world\nwho is perfectly satisfied with his condition.\"\n\nFor the purpose of proving to his grand vizir that there are men in\nthis state, the king of Damascus said, one day, to his favourite\nSeyf-Elmulouk, \"Go into the city, walk before the shop of the\nartisans, and bring me here immediately the man who seems the gayest\nof the gay.\" The favourite obeyed, and returned to Bedreddin in a few\nhours. \"Well,\" said the monarch, \"have you done what I commanded you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire,\" replied the favourite, \"I passed in front of several\nshops, and saw all descriptions of workmen who sung while at their\nvarious occupations, and seemed quite contented with their lot. I\nnoticed one among them, a young weaver, named Malek, who laughed with\nhis neighbours till I thought he would have split his sides, and I\nstopped to have some chat with him. 'Friend,' I said, 'you appear to\nbe very merry.' 'Yes,' he replied, 'it is my way: I don't encourage\nmelancholy.' I asked his neighbours if it was true that he was of such\na happy turn of mind, and they all assured me that he did nothing but\nlaugh from morning till night. I then told him to follow me, and I\nhave brought him to the palace. He is now at hand: does your majesty\nwish him to be introduced to your presence?\"\n\n\"By all means,\" replied the king, \"bring him here, for I wish to speak\nwith him.\"\n\nSeyf-Elmulouk immediately left the king's cabinet and returned in an\ninstant, followed by a good-looking young man, whom the favourite\npresented to the king. The weaver threw himself down at the monarch's\nfeet, who said to him, \"Rise, Malek, and tell me truly if you are as\nhappy as you seem to be: I am told you do nothing but laugh and sing\nthe live-long day while at your work: you are thought to be the\nhappiest man in my dominions, and there is reason to believe that such\nis really the case. Tell me whether or not this is a correct judgment,\nand if you are contented with your condition. This is a matter that I\nam concerned to know; and I desire that you will speak without\ndisguise.\"\n\n\"Great king,\" replied the weaver, standing up, \"may your majesty's\ndays last to the end of the world, and be interwoven with a thousand\ndelights, unmixed with the slightest misfortune. Excuse your slave\nfrom satisfying your curiosity. If it is forbidden to lie to kings, it\nmust also be owned that there are truths that we dare not reveal. I\ncan only say that a false idea is entertained respecting me: in spite\nof my laughter and songs, I am perhaps the most unfortunate of men. Be\ncontented with this avowal, sire, and do not compel me to relate my\nmisfortunes to you.\"\n\n\"I am resolved to have them,\" replied the king. \"Why should you be\nafraid to tell them? Are they not creditable to you?\"\n\n\"Of this your majesty must judge,\" replied the weaver. \"I had resolved\nto keep them to myself, but since it is necessary I will proceed with\nmy story.\"\n\nThe weaver then began as follows:--\n\n\nTHE STORY OF MALEK AND THE PRINCESS SCHIRINE.\n\nI am the only son of a merchant of Surat, who left me at his death\nconsiderable wealth, most of which I squandered away in a very short\ntime. I was nearly at the end of my property, when one day a stranger,\nwho was going to the island of Serendib, happened to be dining with\nme. The conversation turned on voyages and travels: some who were\npresent praised the advantages and the pleasure attending them, and\nothers expatiated on their dangers. Among the guests there were a few\npersons who had travelled extensively, and who gave us detailed\naccounts of their experience in this adventurous kind of life. Between\ntheir accounts of the strange and curious scenes which they had\nwitnessed and of the dangers which they had encountered, my mind was\nkept in suspense, as I conceived a strong desire to travel, and yet\nfelt afraid of the accompanying risks. After listening to all that was\nrelated, I remarked:\n\n\"It is impossible to hear your striking account of the pleasure\nexperienced by you in travelling over the world without feeling a\nstrong wish to travel also; but the dangers to which a traveller is\nexposed deprive me of all inclination for visiting foreign countries.\nIf it were possible,\" I added, smiling, \"to go from one end of the\nearth to the other, without meeting with any bad accident by the way,\nI would leave Surat to-day.\"\n\nThese words excited universal laughter, but the stranger before\nalluded to remarked:\n\n\"O Malek! if you have a desire to travel, and if nothing prevents you\nbut the fear of encountering robbers and other dangers, I will teach\nyou whenever you have a mind, a method of travelling at your pleasure,\nand without peril, from one kingdom to another.\"\n\nI thought he was joking, but after dinner he took me aside, and told\nme that he would pay me a visit the following morning and show me\nsomething extraordinary. He was true to his word, for the next day he\ncame to see me, and said, \"I mean to keep my promise, but some days\nmust elapse before you can see the effect, for what I have to show you\nis a piece of workmanship which cannot be constructed in a day. Send\ntherefore for a carpenter; let one of your slaves go for him, and let\nthem both return with planks and other materials according to this\nlist.\" I immediately complied with his request. When the slave and the\ncarpenter returned, the stranger directed the latter to construct a\nbox in the form of a bird, six feet in length and four in breadth, the\nupper part open, so as to admit a man to sit in it. The artisan\nimmediately set to work, and the stranger on his part was not idle,\nfor he made or brought from his lodging several parts of the machine,\nsuch as wings, wheels, and springs. For several days the carpenter and\nhe worked together, and afterwards the former was dismissed, while the\nstranger spent one day in putting together the machinery and finishing\nthe work.\n\nAt length on the sixth day the box was finished, and covered with a\nPersian carpet. I observed that in this box there were several\napertures, as well to admit air as to serve for look-outs. At the\nstranger's desire I then ordered some of my slaves to carry it into\nthe country, whither I followed with the stranger. When we arrived at\nthe spot he said to me, \"Send away your slaves and let no one be here\nbut ourselves. I do not wish to have other persons present beside\nyourself to see what I am about to do.\"\n\nI ordered my slaves to return home, while I remained alone with the\nstranger. I was very anxious to know what he intended to do with this\nmachine, and eagerly watched his movements. He removed the carpet, and\nstepped inside. In a moment the box began to ascend above the earth\nand soared into the sky with incredible swiftness, carrying him\nrapidly to a great distance in the clouds; before I had recovered from\nmy astonishment he was down again on the ground. I cannot express to\nyou my amazement at witnessing this miracle of art.\n\n\"You behold,\" said the stranger to me, as he stepped out of the\nmachine, \"a very quiet carriage, and you must admit that in travelling\nin it there is no fear of being robbed on the journey. This is the\nmethod I spoke of, and I now make you a present of the machine to be\nemployed by you if ever you should take a fancy to visit foreign\ncountries. Do not suppose that there is any magic or black art in what\nyou have seen: it is neither by cabalistic words nor by virtue of a\ntalisman that the box rises above the earth: its motion is produced\nmerely by an ingenious adaptation of machinery. I am perfectly\nconversant with the mechanical arts, and know how to construct other\nmachines quite as surprising as this one.\"\n\nI thanked the stranger for such a rare gift, and as a mark of my\ngratitude presented him with a purse of sequins. I then requested him\nto instruct me how to set the machine in motion. \"It is very easily\ndone,\" he said, and requested me to step into the box along with him:\nhe then touched a spring and we immediately mounted up into the air;\nwhen there, he next showed me how to steer the machine. \"By turning\nthis screw,\" he said, \"you will go to the right, and that other screw\nwill take you to the left; by touching this spring you will ascend,\nand the same operation applied to another spring will cause you to\ndescend.\" I wanted to make the experiment myself: I turned the screws\nand touched the springs, and the machine, obedient to my hand, went\nwhither I pleased; I quickened its movements, or slackened them, just\nas I wished. After having taken several turns in the air, we directed\nour flight towards my house and alighted in the garden.\n\nWe reached home before my slaves, who were astonished beyond measure\nwhen they found we had returned. I shut up the box in my room, where I\nwatched it more carefully than any heap of gold; and the stranger\ndeparted as well satisfied with me as I was with him. I continued to\namuse myself in the society of my friends until I had eaten and drunk\nall my fortune--was compelled to borrow money, and eventually got over\nhead and ears in debt. As soon as it was known in Surat that I was a\nruined man, I lost all credit; no one would trust me, and my creditors\nbeing impatient to get their money, sent me summonses to pay them.\nFinding myself almost penniless, and consequently exposed to all kinds\nof insults and mortifications, I had recourse to my machine, and\ndragging it out one night from my room into the open air, I stepped\ninto it, taking with me some provisions and the little money I had\nleft. I touched the spring which caused the machine to ascend; and\nthen moving one of the screws, I turned my back upon Surat and my\ncreditors, without any fear of their sending the officers after me. I\nput on as much propelling power as possible all night, and it seemed\nto me that my flight was swifter than the winds. At daybreak I looked\nout of one of the apertures in the carpet to see whereabouts I was. I\ncould see nothing but mountains, precipices, a barren country, and a\nfrightful desert. Wherever I looked I could discover no signs of human\nhabitations. During all that day and the following night I continued\nmy aerial tour, and next day I found myself above a very thick wood,\nnear which was a fine city situated in an extensive plain. I stopped\nhere in order to take a view of the city, as well as of a magnificent\npalace which I saw at some distance from it at the extremity of the\nplain. I was extremely anxious to know where I was, and began to\nponder in what way I could satisfy my curiosity, when I observed a\npeasant at work in a field. I descended in the wood, left my box\nthere, and going up to the labourer, asked the name of the city.\n\"Young man,\" he replied, \"it is easy to see that you are a stranger,\nsince you do not know that this is the renowned city of Gazna, where\nthe just and valiant king Bahaman resides.\"\n\n\"And who lives,\" I asked, \"in the palace at the end of the plain?\"\n\n\"The king of Gazna,\" he replied, \"has built it in order to keep his\ndaughter, the princess Schirine, shut up there; for the princess's\nhoroscope declares that she is threatened with being deceived by a\nman. Bahaman, for the purpose of evading this predicted danger, has\nerected this palace, which is built of marble, and surrounded by a\ndeep ditch. The gate is formed of Indian steel, and while the king\nhimself keeps the key, a numerous body of troops keep watch round it\nday and night to prevent any man from gaining entrance. The king goes\nonce a week to see his daughter, and then returns to Gazna. Schirine's\nonly companions in the palace are a governess and a few female\nslaves.\"\n\nI thanked the peasant for his information, and directed my steps\ntowards the city. When I was near to it, I heard the noise of an\napproaching multitude, and soon espied a vast crowd of horsemen\nmagnificently attired, and mounted on very fine horses richly\ncaparisoned. I perceived in the midst of this splendid cavalcade a\ntall individual, with a crown of gold on his head, and whose dress was\ncovered with diamonds. I concluded that this person was the king of\nGazna, going to visit the princess his daughter; and, in fact, I\nlearned in the city that my conjecture was correct.\n\nAfter having made the circuit of the city, and somewhat satisfied my\ncuriosity, I bethought me of my machine; and although I had left it in\na spot which seemed to promise security, I became uneasy on its\naccount. I left Gazna and had no peace of mind until I reached the\nplace where I had left the box, which I found quite safe. I then\nbecame tranquil, and partook with a good appetite of the food which I\nhad brought with me, and as night was coming on, I resolved to pass it\nin the wood. I had reason to hope that a profound sleep would soon\noverpower me, for latterly my debts, as well as the general\ncomplication of my affairs, had naturally caused me much uneasiness\nand many sleepless nights: but my wishes were in vain, I could not\nsleep; for what the peasant had told me respecting the princess\nSchirine was constantly present to my mind. The more I thought of her\nand her peculiar situation, the more did I become possessed with the\ndesire of effecting an interview; at length my inclinations became\nungovernable, and I resolved to convey myself to the roof of the\nprincess's palace and endeavour to obtain an entrance into her\nchamber. \"Perhaps,\" thought I, \"I may have the happiness to please\nher, perhaps to dispel the _ennui_ she must suffer under: perhaps even\nI may be the mortal whose fortunate audacity was foretold by the\nastrologers.\" I was young and consequently thoughtless, and I was not\ndeficient in courage, or such a scheme would not have occurred to me.\nHowever, having formed the rash resolution, I instantly proceeded to\nexecute it. I raised myself up in the air and steered my machine in\nthe direction of the palace: the night was as dark as I could wish. I\npassed without being seen over the heads of the soldiers, who were\ndispersed around the palace fosse, keeping watch, and descended on the\nroof near a spot where I saw a light; quitting my box I then slipped\nin at a window which had been left open to admit the cool night\nbreeze. The room was furnished with the utmost magnificence; and I\nsaw, reposing in slumber on a sofa, a young lady who, from the\nsplendour and luxury with which she was surrounded, I could not doubt\nwas the princess Schirine herself. I gazed for some time on her and\nfound her to be of such dazzling beauty as exceeded the highest idea I\nhad formed of her. I drew nearer in order to gaze upon her more\nintently: I could not, without an overwhelming emotion of rapture,\ncontemplate such charms. I was quite overcome; and hardly knowing what\nI was about, knelt down beside her to kiss one of her beautiful hands.\nShe awoke at that instant, and seeing a man near her, though in an\nattitude of respect which need have excited no alarm, uttered a cry\nwhich soon brought her governess, who slept in an adjoining room.\n\n\"Help, Mahpeiker!\" exclaimed the princess: \"here is a man! how was it\npossible for him to get into my room? You must surely have admitted\nhim, and are an accomplice in his crime.\"\n\n\"I his accomplice!\" exclaimed the governess: \"the bare idea is an\ninsult to me! I am as astonished as you can be, to see here this rash\nyoung man. Besides, if I had even been inclined to favour him in his\nbold attempt, how was it possible for me to deceive the vigilance of\nthe guards who keep watch around the palace? You know also that there\nare twenty gates of burnished steel to be opened before any person can\nget in here; the seal royal is on every lock, and the king, your\nfather, keeps the keys. I cannot imagine how this young man has been\nable to overcome all these obstacles.\"\n\nAll this time I remained kneeling, overwhelmed with confusion: the\ngoverness's long speech, however, gave me time to collect my thoughts,\nand it occurred to me that I would endeavour to persuade them that I\nwas a being of a superior order.\n\n\"Beautiful princess,\" I said to Schirine, rising from my knee and\nmaking her a profound obeisance, \"do not be surprised at seeing me\nhere. I am not a lover who lavishes gold, and resorts to nefarious\ntricks to accomplish his wishes; far be from me any unworthy\nintention: I have not a wish at which your virtuous mind need be\nashamed. Know then that I am the king of the genii: for a long time I\nhave been aware of your singular position, and could not without\npitying you see you condemned to pass your best days in a prison. I am\ncome here to throw myself at your feet, and to ask you in marriage\nfrom Bahaman: as my bride it will be in my power to shield you from\nthe danger alluded to by the prediction which has terrified your\nfather. Deign, therefore, beautiful princess, to look kindly on my\nsuit, and then let both your father and yourself be at rest respecting\nyour future fate, which cannot fail to be both glorious and happy; for\nas soon as the news of your marriage is spread abroad in the world,\nall the kings of the earth will stand in awe of the father-in-law of\nso powerful a monarch, and every princess will envy your fate.\"\n\nSchirine and her governess looked at each other during this speech as\nif desirous of consulting together whether they should give credit to\nit. I confess I had reason to believe that they would give no heed to\nsuch a fable, but women are fond of the wonderful, and both Mahpeiker\nand her mistress believed me.\n\nAfter passing the greater part of the night in delightful conversation\nwith the princess of Gazna and her governess, I left her apartment\nbefore daybreak, promising to return next day. I lost no time in\ngetting into my machine, and ascended to a great height that I might\nnot be seen by the soldiers. I alighted in the wood, left the box\nthere, and went into the city, where I purchased a stock of provisions\nfor eight days, magnificent robes, a turban of Indian woof surrounded\nwith a golden circlet, darting forth rays of light, and a rich girdle.\nAt the same time I did not forget the costliest perfumes and\nessences. I spent all my money in these purchases without troubling my\nhead about the future; for I thought that after such a pleasant\nadventure as had befallen me, I should never more want for any thing.\nI remained all day in the wood employed in dressing and perfuming\nmyself with the utmost care and attention. When night came on, I\nentered the machine and set off for the roof of Schirine's palace,\nwhere I introduced myself into her apartment as before, and spent\nanother delightful evening in conversation with the princess and her\nattendant. I left the palace when night was waning, for fear lest my\nimposture should be discovered. I returned next day, and always\nconducted myself so cleverly that the princess and Mahpeiker had not\nthe least idea that I was an impostor. True it is that the princess by\ndegrees had acquired such a fondness for me that, on this account, she\ngave a more ready belief to what I said; for love is blind and, when\nsuch feelings exist in favour of a person, his sincerity is never\ndoubted. I, too, had become deeply enamoured of the beautiful\nprincess, and more than once regretted the imposture I was practising\non her; but what was I to do? To discover it was certain destruction,\nand I could not summon up courage to undeceive her.\n\nAfter some days had elapsed, the king of Gazna, attended by some of\nhis officers, paid his weekly visit to his daughter's palace, and\nfinding the gates securely fastened, and his seal on the locks, said\nto the vizirs who accompanied him:\n\n\"Every thing goes on as well as possible: so long as the palace gates\ncontinue in this state I have little fear of the evil with which my\ndaughter is threatened.\"\n\nHe went up to her apartment alone and unannounced, and at seeing him\nshe could not help betraying some emotion, which he noticed and\nrequired to know the reason of. His curiosity added to her perplexity;\nand, finding herself at last compelled to satisfy him, she related\nall that had taken place. Your majesty may conceive the astonishment\nof king Bahaman when he learned that, without his knowledge, a\nproposal of marriage had been made by the king of the genii. But he\nwas not so easily duped as his daughter. Suspecting the truth, he\nexclaimed:\n\n\"Alas! my child, how credulous you are! O Heaven! I see that it is\nhopeless to endeavour to avoid the misfortunes destined for us; the\nhoroscope of Schirine is fulfilled; some villain has deceived her!\"\n\nSo saying, he left the princess's room in a state of great agitation,\nand went over all the palace, from the top to the bottom, searching\nevery where, and strictly examining all the attendants, but I need\nhardly say without success, for he found no trace of any stranger, nor\nthe slightest circumstance to lead to the supposition that bribery had\nbeen resorted to, which increased his astonishment. \"By what means,\"\nhe said, \"can any person, however ingenious and daring, enter this\nfortress? To me it is inconceivable.\"\n\nHe resolved to get at the truth of the matter somehow, but being\ndesirous of setting to work prudently, and of speaking himself alone,\nin the first instance, and without witnesses, to the pretended genius,\nhe sent back his vizirs and courtiers to Gazna. \"Withdraw,\" he said to\nthem, \"and I will remain alone at the palace this night with my\ndaughter; and do you return here to-morrow.\"\n\nThey all obeyed the king's orders: they returned to the city, and\nBahaman set about questioning the princess afresh until night drew on.\nHe asked her if I had eaten with her. She replied that I had not, for\nthat she had in vain offered me refreshments, and that she had not\nseen me either eat or drink any thing since I came to her. \"Tell me\nthe whole occurrence again,\" he said, \"and conceal nothing.\" Schirine\nrelated to him her story all over again, and the king, who was\nattentive to her recital, weighed every circumstance of it carefully.\n\nNight had now set in; Bahaman seated himself on a sofa, and ordered\ntapers to be lit and to be placed before him on the marble table. He\nthen drew his sabre, to be employed, if necessary, in wiping out with\nmy blood the insult he conceived to have been offered to his honour.\nHe sat thus, expecting me every moment; and the idea of seeing me\nappear instantaneously probably agitated him not a little.\n\nThat night it happened that the atmosphere was highly charged with\nelectric matter. A brilliant flash of lightning darted across the sky\nbefore him and made him start. Approaching the window at which\nSchirine had told him I should enter, and observing the heavens to be\non fire with vivid flashes, his imagination was excited, although\nnothing was taking place but what was quite natural: he thought he saw\nin the clouds fanciful forms, among which was prominently conspicuous\nthat of a venerable old man, such as the prophet is represented to us.\nAs he gazed he forgot to reflect that these meteors arose merely from\nexhalations of an inflammable nature that exploded in the air, and\ncame to regard them as brilliant lights announcing to the world the\ndescent of the king of the genii. In such a state of mind the king was\ndisposed to receive me as really bearing the character to which I\npretended, and therefore when I appeared at the window, instead of\nexhibiting the fury he had contemplated, he was overcome with respect\nand fear; he dropped his sabre, and, falling at my feet, kissed them,\nand said, \"O great king! what am I, and what have I done to deserve\nthe honour of being your father-in-law?\"\n\nFrom these words I could guess what had passed between the king and\nthe princess, and discovered that the worthy monarch was almost as\neasily imposed upon as his daughter. We sat down together on the sofa\nand conversed. I now formally renewed to him my suit for the hand of\nthe princess. He believed all I told him, and feeling delighted at the\nprospect of being allied to me, again prostrated himself at my feet\nin sign of gratitude for my kindness. I raised him up, embraced him,\nand assured him of my protection, for which he could not find language\nsufficiently strong to thank me. It was arranged that the marriage\nshould take place the following day. I stopped with Schirine and her\nfather for a few hours, but however pleased I might be with our\ninterview, I did not forget how time was flying; I was apprehensive of\ndaylight surprising us, and of my box being seen on the roof of the\npalace. I therefore made haste to leave in good time and to reseat\nmyself in the machine.\n\nThe following day, on the return of the vizirs and great officers of\nstate, a magnificent banquet was prepared at the palace, and\nimmediately on my arrival in the evening the marriage was celebrated\nwith great pomp and rejoicing.\n\nA month had nearly passed during which I continued to be looked on and\ntreated as the king of the genii, and I was leading a most agreeable\nlife, when there arrived in the city of Gazna an ambassador from a\nneighbouring monarch to demand Schirine in marriage. On being admitted\nto an audience, and detailing the object of his embassy, Bahaman said\nto him:\n\n\"I am sorry that I am unable to give my daughter in marriage to the\nking, your master, for I have already bestowed her hand on the king of\nthe genii.\"\n\nFrom such a reply the ambassador supposed that king Bahaman had lost\nhis senses; he therefore took leave and returned to his master, who\nalso at first thought Bahaman was mad, but on reconsidering the answer\nbegan to look on the refusal as a studied insult; he therefore raised\ntroops, and forming a large army, entered the kingdom of Gazna in a\nhostile manner. This king, whose name was Cacem, was more powerful\nthan Bahaman, who also was so slow in preparing to oppose his enemy\nthat he could not prevent him from making great progress. Cacem\ndefeated some troops which opposed him, and advancing rapidly towards\nthe city of Gazna, found the army of Bahaman intrenched in the plain\nbefore the castle of the princess Schirine. The design of the\nirritated lover was to attack Bahaman in his intrenchments; but as his\ntroops had need of rest, and he had only arrived that evening in the\nplain after a long forced march, he delayed his attack until the\nfollowing morning.\n\nThe king of Gazna, having been informed of the numbers and valour of\nCacem's soldiers, began to tremble for the result. He assembled his\nprivy council and asked for their advice, when one of its members\nspoke in the following terms:\n\n\"I am astonished that the king should appear to be at all uneasy on\nthis occasion. What alarm can all the princes of the world, to say\nnothing of Cacem, occasion to the father-in-law of the king of the\ngenii? Your majesty need only address yourself to him, and beg his\nassistance, and he will soon confound your enemies. It is his duty to\ndo this, indeed, since it is on his account that Cacem has come to\ndisturb the quiet of your majesty's subjects.\"\n\nThis speech did not fail to inspire king Bahaman with confidence.\n\n\"You are right,\" he said to the courtier; \"I shall at once go and beg\nof him to repulse my proud enemy, and I venture to hope that he will\nnot reject my supplication.\"\n\nSo saying, he went to visit his daughter, and said to her:\n\n\"Schirine, to-morrow at daybreak it is Cacem's intention to attack us,\nand I am afraid he will carry our intrenchments. I wish to entreat of\nthe king of the genii that he would undertake our defence. Let us\nunite our prayers that he would be favourable to us.\"\n\n\"My lord and father,\" replied the princess, \"there will be no great\ndifficulty in engaging the king on our side; he will soon disperse the\nenemy's troops, and all the kings of the world will learn, at Cacem's\nexpense, to respect you.\"\n\n\"But,\" resumed king Bahaman, \"night is coming on, and still the king\nof the genii does not appear; can he have forsaken us?\"\n\n\"No, no, my father,\" replied Schirine; \"do not fear that he will fail\nus in time of need. He sees the army which is now besieging us, and is\nperhaps at this moment preparing to carry disorder and terror into all\nits ranks.\"\n\nAnd this, in fact, was what I was desirous of doing. I had watched\nduring the day Cacem's troops; I had observed their arrangement, and\ntaken particular notice of the head-quarters of the king. I collected\na quantity of stones and pebbles, both large and small, with which I\nfilled my box, and at midnight I mounted aloft. Advancing towards the\ntents of Cacem, I easily discovered that in which the king was\nreposing. It was very lofty, richly adorned with gilding, and in the\nform of a dome, supported on twelve columns of painted wood, fixed\ndeep in the ground; the spaces between the columns were intertwined\nwith branches of different kinds of trees, and towards the summit\nthere were two windows, one at the east, and another at the south\nside.\n\nAll the soldiers around the tent were asleep; and this circumstance\npermitted me to descend near one of the windows without being\nperceived. Through it I saw the king lying on a sofa, with his head\nsupported on a satin cushion. Rising a little in my box, I hurled a\nlarge stone at Cacem; I struck him on the forehead, and wounded him\ndangerously; he uttered a cry, which soon awoke his guards and\nofficers, who, running up to him, found him covered with blood, and\nalmost insensible. Immediately loud cries were heard, and the alarm\nwas communicated to the whole quarter, every one asking what had\nhappened. A report was soon circulated that the king was wounded, and\nit was not known by whom the blow had been struck. Whilst the culprit\nwas being searched for, I ascended high up among the clouds, and\ndischarged from an immense height a shower of stones on the royal tent\nand all near it. The stones cut through the silk of the tent, and\nseverely wounded the attendants; many of the soldiers who surrounded\nit, too, were very badly hit, and began to cry out that stones were\nbeing rained down on them from heaven. The news soon spread, and to\nconfirm it I scattered my stony artillery in all directions. Terror\ntook possession of the army; both officers and soldiers thinking that\nthe Prophet was enraged with Cacem, and that his anger was too\nevidently declared by this miraculous interference. In short,\nBahaman's enemies took to flight in a panic, and with such\nprecipitation, that they abandoned their tents and baggage to their\nfoes, crying out, \"We are lost; Heaven is destroying us!\"\n\nWhen day dawned the king of Gazna was not a little surprised to find,\nthat, instead of advancing to the attack, the enemy was in full\nretreat. Seeing this, however, he pursued the fugitives with his best\ntroops, who made prodigious carnage, and took prisoner Cacem himself,\nwhose wound prevented his making a sufficiently speedy flight.\n\n\"Why,\" asked Bahaman, when his enemy was brought before him, \"why have\nyou advanced into my dominions against all right and reason? What\nprovocation have I given you for making war against me?\"\n\n\"Bahaman,\" replied the vanquished monarch, \"I thought you had refused\nme your daughter out of contempt for me, and I thirsted to be revenged\nupon you. I believed the story of the king of the genii being your\nson-in-law to be a mere pretext. I have now, however, good reason to\nbe sure of its truth, for it is he who has wounded me and dispersed my\narmy.\"\n\nWhen the pursuit was ended Bahaman returned to Gazna with Cacem, who,\nhowever, died of his wound the same day. The spoil was divided, and it\nwas so considerable, that even the common soldiers returned home\nladen with booty; and prayers were offered up in all the mosques\nthanking Heaven for having confounded the enemies of the state.\n\nWhen night arrived, the king repaired to the princess's palace.\n\n\"My daughter,\" he said, \"I have come to thank the king of the genii\nfor a success I owe entirely to him. The courier whom I despatched to\nyou has informed you of all that he has done for us, and I am so\nprofoundly grateful for it, that I am dying with impatience to embrace\nhis knees.\"\n\nThis satisfaction was soon granted him. I entered Schirine's room by\nthe usual window, and there, as I indeed expected, I found him.\n\n\"O great king!\" he exclaimed, \"language is wanting to express to you\nwhat I feel on this occasion. Read yourself in my countenance the full\nmeasure of my gratitude.\"\n\nI raised up Bahaman, and kissed his forehead.\n\n\"Prince,\" I said to him, \"could you possibly think that I would refuse\nto help you in the embarrassing situation in which you were placed on\nmy account? I have punished the proud Cacem who intended to make\nhimself master of your kingdom, and to carry off Schirine, to place\nher among the slaves of his seraglio. No longer fear that any\npotentate on the earth will dare to make war against you; but if any\none should be so bold, be assured that I will rain a fiery shower upon\nhis troops, which will reduce them to ashes.\"\n\nAfter having again assured the king of Gazna that I would take his\nkingdom under my protection, I related how the enemy's army had been\nterrified at seeing stones showered down upon their camp. Bahaman, for\nhis part, repeated to me what Cacem had told him, and then took his\ndeparture, leaving Schirine and myself to ourselves. The princess was\nas sensible as her father of the important service I had rendered to\nthe country, and manifested the greatest gratitude, caressing me a\nthousand times over.\n\nTwo days after the interment of Cacem, on whom, although a foe, a\nmagnificent funeral was bestowed, the king of Gazna commanded that\nrejoicings should take place in the city for the defeat of the enemy's\ntroops. I thought that a festival prepared in my honour ought to be\nsignalized by some wonderful prodigy; and for this purpose I purchased\nin Gazna some combustible materials. With these I manufactured\nfireworks, which I let off at as great a height as possible, while the\npeople in the streets were celebrating their victory with great\nrejoicings. My pyrotechnic display was very successful; and as soon as\ndaylight appeared I left my machine, and went into the town to have\nthe pleasure of hearing what people said about me. I was not deceived\nin my expectations. A thousand extravagant accounts were current among\nthose who had been spectators of my display. Some said that the king\nof the genii had illuminated the whole heavens expressly to show his\nsatisfaction with the festival; and others asserted that they had even\nseen him in the sky, surrounded by a blaze of meteors.\n\nAll these speeches amused me exceedingly. But alas! while I was\nindulging in these pleasurable sensations, my box--my dear\nmachine--the instrument by which I had worked all my wonders--was\nburning to ashes in the wood. A spark, which I had not perceived, had\nset fire to it in my absence, and consumed it, and in this state I\nfound it on my return. A father who enters his house, and finds his\nonly son pierced with a thousand mortal wounds, and lying bathed in\nhis blood, could not suffer more than I did on this occasion. I tore\nmy hair and garments, while the wood resounded with my cries and\nlamentations; I even wonder that I did not lay violent hands upon\nmyself in the paroxysm of my despair. However, by degrees I became\ncalmed, and reflecting that there was no help for my disaster, I at\nthe same time perceived that some resolution must be formed\nimmediately. Only one course seemed open to me, and that was to seek\nmy fortunes elsewhere.\n\nLeaving, therefore, Bahaman and Schirine, doubtless in the deepest\ndistress about me, I left the city of Gazna, and falling in with a\ncaravan of Egyptian merchants, returning to their own country, I\njoined myself to them, and travelled to Grand Cairo, where I became a\nweaver in order to gain a subsistence. I lived there for some years\nand afterwards came to Damascus, where I have followed the same\noccupation. In appearance I am very well satisfied with my condition,\nbut in reality I am not at all happy, I cannot forget my former\nfortunate condition, Schirine is ever present to my thoughts, and\nalthough I would wish to banish her from my recollection, and in truth\nmake every effort to do so, yet the attempt, as painful as useless,\nmerely causes me constant uneasiness.\n\nI have now, may it please your majesty, performed what you required of\nme. I know very well that you do not approve the deceit I practised\ntowards the king of Gazna and the princess Schirine, for I have\nperceived oftener than once, that my story was repugnant to your\nfeelings and that your piety shuddered at my sacrilegious audacity.\nBut be pleased to remember that you demanded a true account from me,\nand condescend to forgive the confession I have made of my adventures,\nin consideration of the necessity I was under of obeying you.\n\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\nThe king of Damascus made a suitable reply, and dismissed the weaver,\nwhose story afforded a new argument in favour of the grand vizir's\nopinion that there is no man who is perfectly happy: however, the king\nwould not desist.\n\n\"Atalmulc,\" he said, \"with the exception of yourself, there is no man\napproaches me but with a smiling countenance; it cannot be that not\none of all these is perfectly happy; I shall ask my generals,\ncourtiers, and all the officers of my household. Go, vizir, and summon\nthem all into my presence in succession.\"\n\nHe had the patience to speak to them all individually, and they all\nmade the same reply; namely, that they were not exempt from grief. One\ncomplained of his wife, another of his children; the poor accused\ntheir poverty as the cause of all their misfortunes, and the rich\neither did not enjoy good health, or laboured under some other source\nof affliction.\n\nBedreddin having questioned so many persons, not one of whom was\ncontented with his lot, came at last to be of the same mind with\nAtalmulc, and was obliged to admit to his favourite vizir that perfect\nfelicity is not to be looked for in the present life; that every lot\nand every station has its cares, its anxieties, and its misfortunes;\nand that we approach the condition of complete happiness only as we\nconscientiously discharge those duties which our position daily and\nhourly requires of us.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE END.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[9] A gift to the kingdom.\n\n[10] The Devil.\n\n[11] Captain of the door of the king's chamber.\n\n[12] The officer in command of the pages.\n\n[13] Lieutenant.\n\n[14] Archers.\n\nGILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE, LONDON.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWILLIAM LAY'S\n\n_Catalogue_\n\nOF\n\nATTRACTIVE AND ENTERTAINING WORKS\n\nBY POPULAR AUTHORS.\n\nLONDON:\n\nWILLIAM LAY, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND.\n\n1857.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE AMUSING LIBRARY\n\nFOR HOME AND RAIL.\n\n\nThe object is to provide a choice supply of Books of Light Reading,\nentirely free from objectionable matter, and which may be\nindiscriminately used by young and old. Great care has been bestowed\nin the selection; and it is hoped that the Works contained in this\nSeries will be found adapted in every respect for the perusal of all\nwho desire a sound and healthy imaginative literature, free from\neverything immoral on the one hand, or controversial on the other. The\nvolumes, while issued at a price which brings them within the reach of\nall, yet possess sufficient attractions of typography and\nembellishment to fit them for the drawing-room table and for presents\nto friends.\n\n\"We have not seen for many a day books which so deeply interested us,\nand which are so much in advance of the ordinary books provided for\nthe rail or road. The 'Amusing Library' will be the most popular of\nthe many which these stirring days have produced.\"--_Churchman's\nCompanion._\n\n\"Ministers of religion and philanthropists have long lamented the\nabsence of some well-written serial works suitable for the million, to\ncounteract the baneful influence of the impure literature of the day.\nThe want is here supplied with judgment and good taste. The books are\nvaluable both to old and young.\"--_Manchester Courier._\n\n\nGrantley Manor:\n\n     The well-known and favourite Novel by Lady Georgiana\n     Fullerton. 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"The skill with which the plot of 'Grantley Manor' is constructed, the\nexquisite truth of delineation which the characters exhibit, and the\nintensity of passion which warms and dignifies the subject, are alike\nadmirable.... The depth of passion which surrounds the story of\nGenevra is the result of unquestionable genius. No heroine that we can\nremember excels this lovely creation in purity, deep affection, a\nsolemn sense of the sanctity of duty, and a profound feeling of the\nbeauty and holiness of religion.\"--_Times._\n\n\nTales of Humour.\n\n     Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"Spirited and well-selected tales of most inviting dimensions. Will be\na favourite on the 'line.'\"--_Brighton Herald._\n\n\nAbroad and at Home.\n\n     Tales Here and There. By Miss Pardoe. Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._\n     boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"Ten pretty tales, full of interesting matter, gracefully\nrelated.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: The Lay of the Golden Dice.]\n\nAmusing Poetry.\n\nA new and choice selection, Edited by Shirley Brooks. Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._\nboards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n13; KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAMUSING LIBRARY, _continued_.\n\nHendrik Conscience's Tales.\n\nComplete in Six Volumes. Each Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._\ncloth.\n\n     I. THE DEMON OF GOLD. (_Just ready._)\n\n     II. THE LION OF FLANDERS.\n\n     III. THE CURSE OF THE VILLAGE, ETC.\n\n     IV. VEVA; OR, THE WAR OF THE PEASANTS.\n\n     V. THE MISER, AND RICKETICKETACK.\n\n     VI. TALES OF FLANDERS.\n\n\"Had our writers of fiction preserved the healthful tone which\ncharacterises these volumes, they would not have been a proscribed\nclass. Each of the tales may be read by the most modest without a\nblush, and by the most fastidious without scruple.\"--_Eclectic\nReview._\n\n\"Writing in a language familiar to comparatively few, Conscience owes\nto his own merits alone the European reputation which he now enjoys.\nThere is a truthfulness in his pictures which is perfectly delightful,\nwhile the whole moral of his works is such as to make them a valuable\naddition to the light-reading division of a library.\"--_Notes and\nQueries._\n\n\"We do not know if, laying aside Sir Walter Scott, it would be\npossible to name any English historical novel at all equal in\ndeep interest to the 'Lion of Flanders,' or the 'War of the\nPeasants.'\"--_Scotsman._\n\nRomantic Tales of Great Men:\n\nArtists, Poets, Scholars, Statesmen, etc. 2s. boards; 2_s._ 6_d._\ncloth.\n\nThis volume will be found to convey information as well as amusement,\nall the tales being founded on historical facts. It is charmingly\nwritten, and forms an excellent prize or gift-book.\n\nTales of the City and the Plain.\n\n1_s._ 6_d._ boards; 2_s._ cloth.\n\nThe Betrothed;\n\nA Romance of the Seventeenth Century. By Manzoni. 2_s._ boards; 2_s._\n6_d._ cloth.\n\nThis unrivalled romance, which stands quite alone in the literature of\nfiction, is now brought within the reach of every reader in this very\nneat and portable edition.\n\n\"_I am not sure_,\" says Rogers, \"_that I would not rather have written\nthe Betrothed than all Scott's novels_.\" \"It has every quality that a\nwork of fiction ought to have.\"--_Heir of Redcliffe._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe Adventures of Jules Gerard, the \"Lion-killer\"\n\nof Northern Africa, during his Ten Years' Campaigns among the Lions of\nAlgeria; including the Details of more than Forty Encounters,\nAdventures, and Episodes, and a variety of interesting sketches of\nArab life.\n\nNew Edition, Enlarged, and Profusely Illustrated, containing a\nComplete and Concise History and Description of Algeria, with Maps,\nSections, and numerous Illustrations of Arab and French Colonial Life\nand Manners; and further enriched with numerous new Engravings\nillustrative of M. Gerard's startling Adventures among the Lions of\nNorth Africa. Fcap. 8vo, 3s. 6d., cloth.\n\nThe Amusing Library Edition may still be had, price 2s. boards; 2s.\n6d. cloth. Also a Cheap Edition, 1s., boards.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPopular Tales and Sketches.\n\nBy Mrs. S. C. Hall. Containing Eighteen Beautiful Tales by this most\npopular Authoress. 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\nTales of France.\n\nRomantic Historical, and Domestic. 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"Original in style, full of interest, and unexceptionable in\nmorals.\"--_Hants Advertiser._\n\n\nTales of Paris and its Streets.\n\n2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6 _d._ cloth.\n\n[**three asterisks]These tales, of which the scenes are laid in the\ncapital of France, introduce to the English reader some of the most\ninteresting, and, at the same time, unexceptionable of the shorter\nfictions of our Continental neighbours; many of which will be found\nuseful as well as entertaining, from the illustrations which they\nsupply of history and manners at different periods.\n\n\nTales and Traditions of the Netherlands.\n\n1_s._ 6_d._ boards; 2_s._ cloth.\n\n\"A most varied, interesting, and readable volume.\"--_Caledonian\nMercury._\n\n\"Wrought up with great skill, and extremely interesting.\"--_Daily\nExpress._\n\n\nRomantic Tales of Spain.\n\n    I. THE RIVALS; A TALE OF CASTILE.\n    II. THE GIPSY LOVERS. By Cervantes.\n    III. THE GUIDE; AN EPISODE OF THE CIVIL WARS.\n\nFcap. 8vo, 1_s._ 6_d._ boards; 2_s._ cloth.\n\n\nSea Stories:\n\nTales of Discovery, Adventure, and Escape. A new and choice\nCollection, containing several striking Narratives, mostly unknown to\nEnglish readers; also a complete and graphic Sketch of the Adventures\nof Columbus. 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"The best volume of the kind we have ever met with.\"--_Churchman's\nCompanion._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNEW WORKS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA Life of John Banim, the Irish Novelist.\n\nAuthor of \"Damon and Pythias,\" etc., and one of the writers of \"Tales\nby the O'Hara Family.\" With Extracts from his Correspondence--general\nand literary. By Patrick Joseph Murray. Fcap. 8vo.\n\n[_Just ready._\n\n_In the Press, and will speedily appear at short intervals,_\n\nTales by the O'Hara Family.\n\nReproductions of several of the most popular and powerful of these\nwonderfully graphic Tales, with the addition of Prefaces and Notes by\nMichael Banim, the survivor of the O'Hara family.\n\n\n_Nearly ready,_\n\n    CROHOORE OF THE BILLHOOK.\n    FATHER CONNELL.\n    JOHN DOE.\n\n\nTales of Brigands and Smugglers.\n\nA collection of some of the most remarkable events in the lives of\nsome celebrated Bandits and Smugglers, as well as of Adventures met\nwith by Travellers in their company, not hitherto published in any\nother collection. Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._ boards; 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n[_Just ready._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ENTERTAINING LIBRARY.\n\nA NEW SERIES OF CHOICE BOOKS OF RECREATION FOR THE YOUNG, FULLY\nILLUSTRATED.\n\n\nThe History of Jean Paul Choppart;\n\nOr, the Surprising Adventures of a Runaway. Illustrated with 22\nEngravings. Fcap. 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._ cloth.\n\n\"'Jean Paul Choppart' is a translation of a work which has become very\npopular on the Continent, and is destined to receive a like share of\nfavour in this country, should parents and instructors of children\nbecome aware of the excellent moral which its pages convey through the\nmedium of a story which is most piquant and catching for the youthful\nmind.\"--_Court Journal._\n\n\nThe Thousand and One Days;\n\nOr, Arabian Tales. A select and thoroughly unexceptionable collection\nof highly entertaining tales, illustrative of Oriental manners and\ncustoms, carefully revised and adapted for the young. With a Preface\nby Miss PARDOE. Fcap. 8vo, with numerous engravings, 3_s._ 6_d._\ncloth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Books for Students and Travellers._\n\n\nThe Vade Mecum\n\nFor Tourists in France and Belgium; containing a copious Phrasebook\nand Vocabulary adapted for every emergency of the traveller, with Maps\nof the chief routes, and full information as to Money, Passports,\nHotels, etc. etc. Of a size for the waistcoat-pocket, limp cloth,\n1_s._; with pockets and strap for passport, etc., 2_s._\n\n\"Everything wanted on the journey, and nothing more.\"\n\n\nThe German Vade Mecum;\n\nOr German and English Phrase and Guide Book for Students, Travellers,\netc. Compiled on exactly the same principles, and containing precisely\nthe same sort of matter, as the French Vade Mecum. 1_s._\n\n\nA Compendious French Grammar,\n\nFor the use of Students and Travellers; with full instructions in\nPronunciation, and containing the substance of all the best French\nGrammars in a neat portable form, easily carried in the pocket. 1_s._\n\n\nThe Pocket French Dictionary.\n\nA compendious French and English and English and French Dictionary,\nfor the use of Students and Travellers.\n\n[_Nearly ready._\n\n\nThe following is an enumeration of the principal points which\ndistinguish this Dictionary:--\n\nI. All those words are excluded which, however much they are in place\nin a large Dictionary, like that of Johnson or Webster, or the French\nDictionary of the Academy, are yet totally useless to ordinary\nreaders.\n\nII. The space thus saved is occupied by matter really useful to the\nstudent or traveller, such as--\n\n     (1.) The various meanings and uses of words in different\n     connections, so as at once to point out the particular term\n     required.\n\n     (2.) Commercial and travelling expressions, especially those\n     recently introduced; also technical words in general use.\n\n     (3.) A selection of the most useful idioms and phrases.\n\n     (4.) The prepositions required by the French verbs and\n     adjectives.\n\nIII. A clear and full explanation of the Rules of Pronunciation is\nprefixed, while that of all difficult or exceptional words is\nindicated as they occur.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA LIST OF NEW AND POPULAR WORKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.\n\nSOLD BY W. H. DALTON,\n\nBOOKSELLER TO THE QUEEN,\n\n28, COCKSPUR STREET, CHARING CROSS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Adventures of a Cat; and a Fine Cat too! By ALFRED Elwes, Author\nof \"The Adventures of a Bear,\" &c. With Eight Illustrations by\nHARRISON WEIR. Fcap. 4to. cloth, 3s. 6d.; or 6s. with coloured plates.\n\nThe Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog too! By ALFRED ELWES, Author\nof \"The Adventures of a Bear,\" &c. With Eight large Illustrations by\nHARRISON WEIR. Fcap. 4to. cloth, 3s. 6d.; or 6s. coloured pictures,\ngilt edges.\n\nThe Adventures of a Bear, and a Great Bear too! By ALFRED ELWES. With\nNine Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR. Fcap. 4to. 3s. 6d. cloth; or 6s.\nwith coloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\nThe Old Story Teller. Translated from the German of LUDWIG BECHSTEIN,\nby the Translators of \"Grimm's Household Stories.\" With 100\nIllustrations by LUDWIG RICHTER. Crown 8vo. cloth, 8s. coloured\npictures, gilt edges.\n\nDanish Fairy Tales and Legends. By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. The\ngenuine edition, translated direct from the Danish. With Twenty\nIllustrations, and a Memoir and Portrait of the Author. Fcap. 8vo. 5s.\ncloth.\n\nA Hero: Philip's Book; A Tale for Young People. By the Author of\n\"Olive,\" \"The Head of the Family,\" \"Cola Monti,\" &c. Illustrated by\nJAMES GODWIN. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 3s. 6d. coloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nW. H. DALTON, BOOKSELLER TO THE QUEEN, 28, COCKSPUR STREET, CHARING\nCROSS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nInstructive and Amusing Works.\n\n\nThe Little Drummer; or, the Boy Soldier. A Story of the Russian\nCampaign. Edited by H. W. DULCKEN. Illustrated by JOHN GILBERT. Fcap.\n8vo. cloth, 3s. 6d. coloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\nAll is not Gold that Glitters. By ALICE B. NEAL (Cousin Alice).\nIllustrated by DALZIEL. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 3s. 6d.\n\n\nBY MRS. HARRIET MYRTLE.\n\nThe Little Sister. With Sixteen Illustrations on Steel by H. J.\nSCHNEIDER. Fcap. 4to. cloth, gilt edges, 7s. 6d.\n\nA Day Of Pleasure. A Simple Story for Young Children. With Eight\nIllustrations by HABLOT K. BROWNE. Fcap. 4to. cloth, 6s. with coloured\npictures, gilt edges.\n\nHome and its Pleasures. Simple Stories for Young Children. With Eight\nIllustrations by HALBLOT K. BROWNE. Fcap. 4to. cloth, 6s. with\ncoloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\nThe Pleasures of the Country. Simple stories for Young Children.\nSecond Edition. With Eight Illustrations by JOHN GILBERT. Fcap. 4to.\ncloth, 3s. 6d.; or 6s. with coloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\nThe Ocean Child; or, Showers and Sunshine. A Tale of Girlhood. Small\n8vo. cloth, 5s.\n\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM.\n\nHousehold Stories. All the Popular Fairy Tales and Legends of Germany,\ncollected by the BROTHERS GRIMM. Newly Translated, and Illustrated\nwith Two Hundred and Forty Engravings, by EDWARD H. WEHNERT. In two\nvolumes, post 8vo. 12s. cloth; or, 18s. coloured, gilt edges.\n\nThe English Struwwelpeter; or, Pretty Stories and Funny Pictures for\nLittle Children. After the 17th Edition of DR. HEINRICH HOFFMANN'S\ncelebrated Work. With many large coloured pictures, post 4to. 2s. 6d.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Companion to the \"English Struwwelpeter.\"_\n\nA Laughter-Book for Little Folk. New Edition. Translated from the\nGerman by MADAME DE CHATELAIN. With Eighteen large Coloured Comic\nIllustrations by THOMAS HOSEMAN. Post 4to. 2s. 6d. in coloured picture\nbinding, by KENNY MEADOWS.\n\nNaughty Boys and Girls. Comic Tales and Coloured Pictures. From the\nGerman of Dr. JULIUS BAHR, by MADAME DE CHATELAIN. New Edition. A\nCompanion to the \"English Struwwelpeter.\" Post 4to, 2s. 6d. in\ncoloured picture binding, by KENNY MEADOWS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nW. H. DALTON, BOOKSELLER TO THE QUEEN, 28, COCKSPUR STREET, CHARING\nCROSS.\n\n     The Picture Pleasure-Book, Comprising nearly 1000\n     Illustrations by Eminent Artists. In a coloured Pictorial\n     Binding, by LUKE LIMNER, 2 vols. imp. 4to. 6s. each.\n\nAn edition is also published mounted on cloth, 12s.\n\n     Comical Creatures from Wurtemberg; from the Stuffed Animals\n     in the Great Exhibition. With Twenty Pictures. Square cloth,\n     3s. 6d.; or coloured, 6s.\n\n     Comical People, met with at the Great Exhibition. From\n     Drawings by J. E. GRANDVILLE. With Sixteen Pictures. Small\n     4to. 3s. 6d.; or coloured, 6s.\n\n     Funny Dogs with Funny Tales. The Dogs from the Pencil of\n     HARRISON WEIR. The Tales from the pens of ROBERT B. BROUGH,\n     ALFRED ELWES, JAMES HANNAY, and EDMUND F. BLANCHARD. Eight\n     Illustrations, post 4to. cloth, 6s.\n\n     Natural History in Stories. By M. S. C. Author of \"Little\n     Poems for Little People,\" \"Twilight Thoughts,\" &c. With\n     Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR. Small 4to. cloth, 3s. 6d.\n     coloured pictures, gilt edges.\n\n     Merry Tales for Little Folk. Edited by MADAME DE CHATELAIN.\n     An entirely New Edition, with new Frontispiece and binding.\n     16mo. cloth, 3s. 6d.\n\nThis volume, illustrated with 200 Pictures, by first-rate Artists,\ncontains about Forty of the long-established favourite Stories of the\nNursery in England and Abroad, re-written or re-translated from\noriginal Authors, by MADAME DE CHATELAIN.\n\n     AEsop's Fables. A New Version, chiefly from the Original\n     Greek. By the Rev. THOMAS JAMES, M.A. Illustrated with 100\n     Woodcuts, by JOHN TENNIEL. Twenty-first Edition. 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A Tale for Children, showing the Influence of\n     Good and Bad Temper. With Eight Illustrations. Second\n     Edition. Square, cloth, plain, 3s. 6d.; coloured, 5s.\n\n     Indestructible Pleasure-Books. Printed in Colours, on\n     prepared Cloth. One Shilling each.\n\n         1. LITTLE BO-PEEP                 7 Pictures.\n         2. MOTHER GOOSE                   7 Pictures.\n         3. HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT         11 Pictures.\n         4. WEDDING OF COCK-ROBIN          7 Pictures.\n         5. DEATH OF COCK-ROBIN           12 Pictures.\n         6. OLD MOTHER HUBBARD            14 Pictures.\n         7. THE CAT AND THE MOUSE          7 Pictures.\n         8. LIFE AND DEATH OF JENNY WREN   8 Pictures.\n         9. OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG          7 Pictures.\n        10. LITTLE MAN AND LITTLE MAID     7 Pictures.\n\n     Indestructible Pleasure-Books. FIRST SERIES comprising Parts\n     1 to 5, strongly bound in One Volume. With Forty-five\n     coloured Pictures, 5s.\n\n     Indestructible Pleasure-Books. SECOND SERIES comprising\n     Parts 6 to 10, strongly bound in One Volume. With Forty-five\n     coloured Pictures, 5s.\n\n     Maja's Lesson-Books. With numerous Coloured Pictures In Four\n     Parts, price 1s. each, coloured.\n\n         1. Maja's Alphabet.\n         2. Maja's Primer.\n         3. Maja's Spelling-Book.\n         4. Maja's Reading-Book.\n\n     Mavor's Primer. Illustrated with Thirty-eight Engravings by\n     JOHN GILBERT. Coloured pictures, 1s.\n\n     Schnorr's Bible Pictures. Scripture History Illustrated in a\n     Series of Woodcuts from original Designs by JULIUS SCHNORR.\n     Imperial 4to. cloth, 15s.\n\n     The Pictorial Sunday Book. By Dr. KITTO. Illustrated by 1303\n     Illustrations and 13 coloured Maps, folio, cloth gilt. 18s.\n\n     The Pictorial Museum of Animated Nature. By CHARLES KNIGHT.\n     With very many Illustrations. Two Volumes, folio, cloth\n     gilt, L1. 4s.\n\n     The Pictorial Gallery of Arts, both Useful and Fine Arts. By\n     CHARLES KNIGHT. With about 4000 engravings, 2 vols. folio,\n     cloth gilt, L1. 1s.\n\nW. H. DALTON, BOOKSELLER TO THE QUEEN,\n28, COCKSPUR STREET, CHARING CROSS.","title":"The Thousand and One Days: A Companion to the \"Arabian Nights\"","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":121996}