{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5612/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5612","id":"gutenberg_5612","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5612","summary":null,"tags":["Arabs -- Folklore","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales","Folklore -- Arab countries"],"text":"Text scanned by JC Byers and proof read by the volunteers of the\nDistributed Proofreaders site:\nhttp://charlz.dns2go.com/gutenberg/\n\n\n\n                       The Arabian Nights\n                        Entertainments;\n\n                         Consisting of\n\n                  One Thousand and One Stories,\n              Told by The Sultaness of the Indies,\n\n To Divert the sultan from the execution of a bloody vow he had\n   made to marry a Lady every day, and have her cut off next\n   morning, to avenge himself of the disloyalty of his first\n                         sultaness, &c.\n\n                           Containing\n\nAn accurate account of the customs, manners, and religion, of the\n                        Eastern nations.\n\n                        In Two Volumes.\n                            Vol. I.\n\n                              1813\n\n\n\n\nContents of Volume I.\n\nThe story of the genius and the lady shut up in a glass box\nThe fable of the ass, the ox, and the labourer\nThe fable of the dog and the cock\nThe story of the merchant and genius\nThe history of the first old man and the bitch\nThe story of the second old man and the two black dogs\nThe story of the fisherman\nThe story of the Grecian king, and the physician Douban\nThe story of the husband and parrot\nThe story of the vizier that was punished\nThe history of the young king of the black isles\nThe story of the three calenders, sons of kings; and of the five\n     ladies of Bagdad\nThe history of the first calender, a king's son\nThe history of the second calender, a king's son\nThe story of the envious man, and of him whom he envied\nThe history of the third calender, a king's son\nThe story of Zobeide The story of Amine\nThe story of Sindbad the sailor\n     His first voyage\n     His second voyage\n     His third voyage\n     His fourth voyage\n     His fifth voyage\n     His sixth voyage\n     His seventh and last voyage\nThe story of the three apples\nThe story of the young lady that was murdered, and of the young\n     man her husband\nThe story of Nourreddin Ali and Bedreddin Hassan\nThe story of the little hunch-back\nThe story told by the Christian merchant\nThe story told by the sultan of Casgar's purveyor\nThe story told by the Jewish physician\nThe story told by the tailor\nThe story of the barber\nThe story of the barber's eldest brother\n     Of the second\n     Of the third\n     Of the fourth\n     Of the fifth\n     Of the sixth\nThe history of Aboulhassan All Ebn Becar and Schemselnihar,\n     favourite of caliph Haroun Alraschid\nThe story of the amours of Camaralzaman, prince of the isles of\n     the children of Khaledan, and of Badoura, princess of China\nThe history of the princess of China\nThe story of Marzavan, with the sequel of that of the prince\n     Camaralzaman\nThe story of the princess Badoura, after her separation from\n     prince Camaralzaman\nThe story of the princes, Amgrad and Assad\nThe story of prince Amgrad and a lady of the city of the\n     magicians\nThe sequel of the story of prince Assad\nThe story of Nourreddin aad the fair Persian\n\n\n\n\n\n                      Epistle Dedicatory,\n\n                               To\n            The Right Hon. The Lady Marchioness D'o,\n           Lady of Honour to the Duchess of Burgundy.\n\nMadam,\n\nThe great kindnesses I received from M. de Guilleragus, your\nillustrious father, during my abode at Constantinople some years\nago, are too fresh in my mind for me to neglect any opportunity\nof publishing what I owe to his memory. Were he still alive, for\nthe welfare of France, and my particular advantage, I would take\nthe liberty to dedicate this work to him, not only as my\nbenefactor, but as a person most capable of judging what is fine,\nand inspiring others with the like sentiments. Every one\nremembers the wonderful exactness of his judgment;--the meanest\nof his thoughts had something in them that was shining, and his\nlowest expressions were always exact and nice, which made every\none admire him; for never had any man so much wit and so much\nsolidity. I have seen him, at a time when he was so much taken up\nwith the affairs of his master, that nobody could expect any\nthing from him but what related to his ministry, and his profound\ncapacity to manage the most knotty negotiations; yet all the\nweight of his employment diminished nothing of his inimitable\npleasantness, which charmed his friends, and was agreeable even\nto those barbarous nations with whom that great man did treat.\nAfter the loss of him, which to me is irreparable, I could not\naddress myself to any other person than yourself, Madam, since\nyou alone can supply the want of him to me; therefore it is that\nI take the boldness to beg of you the same protection for this\nbook that you was pleased to grant to the French translation of\nthe seven Arabian stories that I had the honour to present you.\n\nYou may perhaps wonder, Madam, that I have not since that time\npresented them to you in print; but the reason of it is, that\nwhen I was about putting them to the press, I was informed that\nthose seven stories were taken out of a prodigious collection of\nstories of the like sort, entitled \"One thousand and one nights.\"\nThis discovery obliged me to suspend the printing of them, and to\nuse my endeavours to get that collection. I was forced to send\nfor it from Syria; and have translated into French this first\nvolume being one of the four that were sent me. These stories\nwill certainly divert you, Madam, much more than those you have\nalready seen. They are new to you, and more in number; you will\nalso perceive, with pleasure, the ingenious design of this\nanonymous Arabian, who has given us these stories after the\nmanner of his country, fabulous indeed, but very diverting.\n\nI beg, Madam, your acceptance of this small present which I have\nthe honour to make you; it is a public testimony of my\nacknowledgment of the profound respect with which I am, and shall\nfor ever be,\n\nMadam,\n\nYour most humble and most obedient servant,\n\nGalland.\n\n\n\n\n\n                            Preface\n\n\n\nThere is no occasion to prepossess the reader with an opinion of\nthe merit and beauty of the following work. There needs no more\nbut to read it to satisfy any man, that hitherto nothing so fine\nof this nature has appeared in any language.\n\nWhat can be more ingenious than to compose such a prodigious\nquantity of pleasant stories, whose variety is surprising, and\nwhose connexion is so wonderful? We know not the name of the\nauthor of so great a work; but probably it is not all done by one\nhand; for how can we suppose that one man alone could have\ninvention enough to make so many fine things?\n\nIf stories of this sort be pleasant and diverting, because of the\nwonders they usually contain, these have certainly the advantage\nabove all that have yet been published; because they are full of\nsurprising events, which engage our attention, and show how much\nthe Arabians surpass other nations in compositions of this sort.\n\nThey must also be pleasing, because of the account they give of\nthe customs and manners of the eastern nations, and of the\nceremonies of their religion, as well Pagan as Mahometan, which\nare better described here than in any author that has written of\nthem, or in the relation of travellers. All the eastern nations,\nPersians, Tartars, and Indians, are here distinguished, and\nappear such as they are, from the sovereign to the meanest\nsubject; so that, without the fatigue of going to see those\npeople in their respective countries, the reader has here the\npleasure to see them act, and hear them speak. Care has been\ntaken to preserve their characters, and to keep their sense; nor\nhave we varied from the text, but when modesty obliged us to it.\nThe translator flatters himself, that those who understand\nArabic, and will be at the pains to compare the original with the\ntranslation, must agree that he has showed the Arabians to the\nFrench with all the circumspection that the niceness of the\nFrench tongue and of the times require; and if those who read\nthese stories have any inclination to profit by the example of\nvirtue and vice which they will here find exhibited, they may\nreap an advantage by it that is not to be reaped in other\nstories, which are more fit to corrupt than to reform our\nmanners.\n\n\n\n\n\n                          Approbation.\n\n\n\nI have read, by order of my Lord Chancellor, this manuscript, and\nfind nothing in it that should hinder its being printed.\n\n(Signed)\nFontenelle.\n\nParis, October 4. 1706.\n\n\n\n\n\n                 Arabian Nights Entertainments.\n\n\n\nThe chronicles of the Susanians, the ancient kings of Persia, who\nextended their empire into the Indies, over all the islands\nthereunto belonging, a great way beyond the Ganges, and as far as\nChina, acquaint us, that there was formerly a king of that potent\nfamily, the most excellent prince of his time; he was as much\nbeloved by his subjects for his wisdom and prudence, as he was\ndreaded by his neighbours because of his valour, and his warlike\nand well-disciplined troops. He had two sons; the eldest\nSchahriar, the worthy heir of his father, and endowed with all\nhis virtues. The youngest, Schahzenan, was likewise a prince of\nincomparable merit.\n\nAfter a long and glorious reign, the king died; and Schahriar\nmounted his throne. Schahzenan being excluded from all share of\nthe government by the laws of the empire, and obliged to live a\nprivate life, was so far from envying the happiness of his\nbrother, that he made it his whole business to please him, and\neffected it without much difficulty. Schahriar, who had naturally\na great affection for that prince, was so charmed with his\ncomplaisance, that, out of an excess of friendship, he would\nneeds divide his dominions with him, and gave him the kingdom of\nGreat Tartary: Schahzenan went immediately and took possession of\nit, and fixed the seat of his government at Samarcande, the\nmetropolis of the country,\n\nAfter they had been separated ten years, Schahriar, having a\npassionate desire to see his brother, resolved to send an\nembassador to invite him to his court. He made choice of his\nprime vizier for the embassy, sent him to Tartary with a retinue\nanswerable to his dignity, and he made all possible haste to\nSamarcande. When he came near the city, Schahzenan had notice of\nit, and went to meet him with the principal lords of his court;\nwho, to put the more honour on the sultan's minister, appeared in\nmagnificent apparel. The king of Tartary received the embassador\nwith the greatest demonstrations of joy, and immediately asked\nhim concerning the welfare of the sultan, his brother. The\nvizier, having acquainted him that he was in health, gave him an\naccount of his embassy. Schahzenan was so much affected with it,\nthat he answered thus:--\"Sage vizier, the sultan, my brother,\ndoes me too much honour; he could propose nothing in the world\nmore acceptable; I long as passionately to see him as he does to\nsee me. Time has been no more able to diminish my friendship than\nhis. My kingdom is in peace, and I desire no more than ten days\nto get myself ready to go with you; so that there is no necessity\nof your entering the city for so short a time; I pray you to\npitch your tents here, and I will order provisions in abundance\nfor yourself and company.\"\n\nThe vizier did accordingly; and as soon as the king returned, he\nsent him a prodigious quantity of provisions of all sorts, with\npresents of great value.\n\nIn the mean while, Schahzenan made ready for his journey, took\norders about his most important affairs, appointed a council to\ngovern in his absence, and named a minister, of whose wisdom he\nhad sufficient experience, and in whom he had entire confidence,\nto be their president. At the end of ten days, his equipage being\nready, he took his leave of the queen, his wife, and went out of\ntown in the evening with his retinue, pitching his royal pavilion\nnear the vizier's tent, and discoursed with that embassador till\nmidnight. But willing once more to embrace the queen, whom he\nloved entirely, he returned alone to his palace, and went\nstraight to her majesty's apartment; who, not expecting his\nreturn, had taken one of the meanest officers of the household to\nher bed, where they lay both fast asleep, having been in bed a\nconsiderable while.\n\nThe king entered without any noise and pleased himself to think\nhow he should surprise his wife, who, he thought, loved him as\nentirely as he did her; but how strange was his surprise, when,\nby the light of the flambeaus, which burn all night in the\napartments of those eastern princes, he saw a man in her arms! He\nstood immovable for a time, not knowing how to believe his own\neyes; but finding it was not to be doubted, How! says he to\nhimself, I am scarce out of my palace, and but just under the\nwalls of Samarcande, and dare they put such an outrage upon me?\nAll! perfidious wretches, your crime shall not go unpunished. As\nking, I am to punish wickednesses committed in my dominions; and,\nas an enraged husband, I must sacrifice you to my just\nresentment. In a word, this unfortunate prince, giving way to his\nrage, drew his scimitar, and, approaching the bed, killed them\nboth with one blow, turning their sleep into death, and\nafterwards taking them up, threw them out of a window into the\nditch that surrounded the palace.\n\nHaving avenged himself thus, he went out of town privately as he\ncame into it; and returning to his pavilion, without saying one\nword of what had happened, he ordered the tents to be struck, and\nto make ready for his journey. This was speedily done, and before\nday he began his march, with kettle-drums and other instruments\nof music, that filled every one with joy, except the king, who\nwas so much troubled at the disloyalty of his wife, that he was\nseized with extreme melancholy, which preyed upon him during his\nwhole journey.\n\nWhen he drew near the capital of the Indies, the sultan\nSchahriar, and all his court, came out to meet him; the princes\nwere overjoyed fo see one another; and alighting, after mutual\nembraces, and other marks of affection and respect, they mounted\nagain, and entered the city, with the acclamations of vast\nmultitudes of people. The sultan conducted his brother to the\npalace he had provided for him, which had a communication with\nhis own by means of a garden; and was so much the more\nmagnificent, for it was set apart as a banqueting-house for\npublic entertainment, and other diversions of the court, and the\nsplendour of it had been lately augmented by new furniture.\n\nSchahriar immediately left the king of Tartary, that he might\ngive him time to bathe himself, and to change his apparel; and as\nsoon as he had done, he came to him again, and they sat down\ntogether upon a sofa or alcove. The courtiers kept a distance,\nout of respect; and those two princes entertained one another\nsuitably to their friendship, their nearness of blood, and the\nlong separation that had been betwixt them. The time of supper\nbeing come, they ate together; after which they renewed their\nconversation, which continued till Schahriar, perceiving it was\nvery late, left his brother to his rest.\n\nThe unfortunate Schahzenan went to bed; and though the\nconversation of his brother had suspended his grief for some\ntime, it returned upon him with more violence; so that, instead\nof taking his necessary rest, he tormented himself with cruel\nreflections. All the circumstances of his wife's disloyalty\nrepresented themselves afresh to his imagination in so lively a\nmanner, that he was like one beside himself. In a word, not being\nable to sleep, he got up, and giving himself over to afflicting\nthoughts, they made such an impression upon his countenance, that\nthe sultan could not but take notice of it, and said thus to\nhimself: \"What can be the matter with the king of Tartary, that\nhe is so melancholy; has he any cause to complain of his\nreception? No, surely; I have received him as a brother whom I\nlove, so that I can charge myself with no omission in that\nrespect. Perhaps it grieves him to be at such a distance from his\ndominions, or from the queen, his wife: Alas! if that be the\nmatter, I must forthwith give him the presents I designed for\nhim, that he may return to Samarcande when he pleases.'\nAccordingly, next day Schahriar sent him a part of those\npresents, being the greatest rarities and the richest things that\nthe Indies could afford. At the same time he endeavoured to\ndivert his brother every day by new objects of pleasure, and the\nfinest treats, which, instead of giving the king of Tartary any\nease, did only increase his sorrow.\n\nOne day, Schahriar having appointed a great hunting-match, about\ntwo days journey from his capital, in a place that abounded with\ndeer, Schahzenan prayed him to excuse him, for his health would\nnot allow him to bear him company. The sultan, unwilling to put\nany constraint upon him, left him at his liberty, and went a\nhunting with his nobles. The king of Tartary, being thus left\nalone, shut himself up in his apartment, and sat down at a window\nthat looked into the garden. That delicious place, and the sweet\nharmony of an infinite number of birds, which chose it for a\nplace of retreat, must certainly have diverted him, had he been\ncapable of taking pleasure in any thing; but, being perpetually\ntormented with the fatal remembrance of his queen's infamous\nconduct, his eyes were not so often fixed upon the garden, as\nlifted up to heaven to bewail his misfortune.\n\nWhilst he was thus swallowed up with grief, an object presented\nitself to his view, which quickly turned all his thoughts another\nway. A secret gate of the sultan's palace opened all of a sudden,\nand there came out at it twenty women, in the midst of whom\nmarched the sultaness, who was easily distinguished from the rest\nby her majestic air. This princess, thinking that the king of\nTartary was gone a hunting with his brother the sultan, came up\nwith her retinue near the windows of his apartment; for the\nprince had placed himself so that he could see all that passed in\nthe garden without being perceived himself. He observed that the\npersons who accompanied the sultaness threw off their veils and\nlong robes, that they might be at more freedom; but was\nwonderfully surprised when he saw ten of them to be blacks, and\nthat each of them took his mistress. The sultaness, on her part,\nwas not long without her gallant. She clapped her hands, and\ncalled out Masoud, Masoud, and immediately a black came down from\na tree, and ran to her in all haste.\n\nModesty will not allow, nor is it necessary to relate, what\npassed betwixt the blacks and ladies. It is sufficient to say,\nthat Schahzenan saw enough to convince him that his brother had\nas much cause to complain as himself. This amorous company\ncontinued together till midnight and having bathed all together\nin a great pond, which was one of the chief ornaments of the\ngarden, they dressed themselves, and re-entered the palace, by\nthe secret door, all except Masoud, who climbed up his tree, and\ngot over the garden-wall the same way as he came.\n\nAll this having passed in the king of Tartary's sight, it gave\nhim occasion to make a multitude of reflections. How little\nreason had I, says he, to think that no one was so unfortunate as\nmyself? It is certainly the unavoidable fate of all husbands,\nsince the sultan, my brother, who is sovereign of so many\ndominions, and the greatest prince of the earth, could not escape\nit. The case being so, what a fool am I to kill myself with\ngrief? I will throw it off, and the remembrance of a misfortune\nso common shall never after this disturb my quiet. So that, from\nthat moment, he forebore afflicting himself. Being unwilling to\nsup till he saw the whole scene that was acted under his window,\nhe called then for his supper, ate with a better appetite than he\nhad done at any time after his coming to Samarcande, and listened\nwith pleasure to the agreeable concert of vocal and instrumental\nmusic that was appointed to entertain him while at table.\n\nHe continued after this to be of a very good humour; and when he\nknew that the sultan was returning, he went to meet him, and paid\nhim his compliments with a great deal of gaiety. Schahriar at\nfirst took no notice of this great alteration, but expostulated\nwith him modestly, why he would not bear him company at hunting\nthe stag; and, without giving him time to reply, entertained him\nwith the great number of deer and other game they had killed, and\nwhat pleasure he had in the sport. Schahzenan heard him with\nattention, gave answers to every thing, and being rid of that\nmelancholy which formerly over-clouded his wit, he said a\nthousand agreeable and pleasant things to the sultan.\n\nSchahriar, who expected to have found him in the same condition\nas he left him, was overjoyed to see him so cheerful, and spoke\nto him thus: Dear brother, I return thanks to Heaven for the\nhappy change it has made on you during my absence; I am extremely\nrejoiced at it; but I have a request to make to you, and conjure\nyou not to deny me. I can refuse you nothing, replies the king of\nTartary; you may command Schahzenan as you please; pray speak, I\nam impatient to know what you desire of me. Ever since you came\nto my court, replies Schahriar, I found you swallowed up by a\ndeep melancholy, and I did in vain attempt to remove it by\ndiversions of all sorts. I imagined it might be occasioned by\nreason of the distance from your dominions, or that love might\nhave a great share in it; and that the queen of Samarcande, who,\nno doubt, is an accomplished beauty, might be the cause of it. I\ndo not know if I be mistaken; but I must own that this was the\npeculiar reason why I did not importune you upon the subject, for\nfear of making you uneasy. But, without my being able to\ncontribute any thing towards it, I find now, upon my return, that\nyou are in the best humour that can be, and that your mind is\nentirely delivered from that black vapour which disturbed it.\nPray do me the favour to tell me why you were so melancholy, and\nhow you came to be rid of it.\n\nUpon this, the king of Tartary continued for some time as if he\nhad been in a dream, and contrived what he should answer; but at\nlast replied as follows: You are my sultan and master; but excuse\nme, I beseech you, from answering your question. No, dear\nbrother, said the sultan, you must answer, I will take no denial.\nSchahzenan, not being able to withstand these pressing instances,\nanswered, Well, then, brother, I will satisfy you, since you\ncommand me; and, having told him the story of the queen of\nSamarcande's treachery, this, says he, was the cause of my grief;\npray judge whether I had not reason enough to give myself up to\nit.\n\nOh! my brother, says the sultan, (in a tone which showed that he\nhad the same sentiments of the matter with the king of Tartary,)\nwhat a horrible story do you tell me! How impatient was I till I\nheard it out! I commend you for punishing the traitors who put\nsuch an outrage upon you. Nobody can blame you for that action:\nit was just; and for my part, had the case been mine, I could\nscarce have been so moderate as you, I should not have satisfied\nmyself with the life of one woman; I verily think I should have\nsacrificed a thousand to my fury. I cease now to wonder at your\nmelancholy. The cause of it was too sensible, and too mortifying,\nnot to make you yield to it. O heaven! what a strange adventure!\nnor do I believe the like of it ever befel any man but yourself.\nBut, in short, I must bless God, who has comforted you; and since\nI doubt not but your consolation is well grounded, be so good as\nlet me know what it is, and conceal nothing from me. Schahzenan\nwas not so easily prevailed upon in this point as he had been in\nthe other, because of his brother's concern in it; but, being\nobliged to yield to his pressing instances, answered, I must obey\nyou then, since your command is absolute; yet am afraid that my\nobedience will occasion your trouble to be greater than ever mine\nwas. But you must blame yourself for it, since you force me to\nreveal a thing which I should have otherwise buried in eternal\noblivion. What you say, answers Schahriar, serves only to\nincrease my curiosity. Make haste to discover the secret,\nwhatever it may be. The king of Tartary, being no longer able to\nrefuse, gave him the particulars of all that he had seen of the\nblacks in disguise, of the lewd passion of the sultaness and her\nladies; and, to be sure, he did not forget Masoud. After having\nbeen witness to those infamous actions, says he, I believed all\nwomen to be that way naturally inclined, and that they could not\nresist those violent desires. Being of this opinion, it seemed to\nme to be an unaccountable weakness in men to make themselves\nuneasy at their infidelity. This reflection brought many others\nalong with it; and, in short, I thought the best thing I could do\nwas to make myself easy. It cost me some pain indeed, but at last\nI effected it; and, if you will take my advice, you shall follow\nmy example.\n\nThough the advice was good, the sultan could not take it, but\nfell into a rage. What! says he, is the sultaness of the Indies\ncapable of prostituting herself in so base a manner? No, brother,\nI cannot believe what you say,--unless I saw it with my eyes:\nyours must needs have deceived you; the matter is so important,\nthat I must be satisfied of it myself. Dear brother, answers\nSchahzenan, that you may without much difficulty. Appoint another\nhunting-match, and when we are out of town with your court and\nmine, we will stop under our pavilions, and at night let you and\nI return alone to my apartment. I am certain that next day you\nwill see what I saw. The sultan, approving the stratagem,\nimmediately appointed a new hunting-match; and that same day the\npavilions were set up at the place appointed.\n\nNext day the two princes set out with all their retinue; they\narrived at the place of encampment, and staid there till night.\nThen Schahriar called his grand vizier, and, without acquainting\nhim of his design, commanded him to stay in his place during his\nabsence, and to suffer no person to go out of the camp upon any\noccasion whatever. As soon as he had given this order, the king\nof Grand Tartary and he took horse, passed through the camp\nincognito, returned to the city, and went to Schahzenan's\napartment. They had scarce placed themselves in the same window\nwhere the king of Tartary had seen the disguised blacks act their\nscene, but the secret gate opened, the sultaness and her ladies\nentered the garden with the blacks, and she having called upon\nMasoud, the sultan saw more than enough to convince him plainly\nof his dishonour and misfortune.\n\nO heavens! cried he, what indignity! what horror! Can the wife of\na sovereign, such as I am, be capable of such an infamous action?\nAfter this let no prince boast of his being perfectly happy.\nAlas! my brother, continues he, (embracing the king of Tartary,)\nlet us both renounce the world; honesty is banished out of it; if\nit flatter us the one day, it betrays us the next; let us abandon\nour dominions and grandeur; let us go into foreign countries,\nwhere we may lead an obscure life, and conceal our misfortune.\nSchahzenan did not at all approve of such a resolution, but did\nnot think fit to contradict Schahriar in the heat of his passion.\nDear brother, says he, your will shall be mine; I am ready to\nfollow you whither you please; but promise that you will return,\nif we can meet with any one that is more unhappy than ourselves.\nI agree to it, says the sultan, but doubt much whether we shall.\nI am not of your mind in this, replied the king of Tartary; I\nfancy our journey will be but short. Having said this, they went\nsecretly out of the palace by another way than they came. They\ntravelled as long as it was day, and lay the first night under\nthe trees; and getting up about break of day, they went on till\nthey came to a fine meadow upon the banks of the sea, in which\nmeadow there were tufts of great trees at some distance from one\nanother. They sat down under those trees to rest and refresh\nthemselves, and the chief subject of their conversation was the\nlewdness of their wives.\n\nThey had not sat long, before they heard a frightful noise, and a\nterrible cry from the sea, which filled them with fear; then the\nsea opening, there rose up a thing like a great black column,\nwhich reached almost to the clouds. This redoubled their fear,\nmade them rise speedily, and climb up into a tree to hide\nthemselves. They had scarce got up, till, looking to the place\nfrom whence the voice came, and where the sea opened, they\nobserved that the black column advanced, winding about towards\nthe shore, cleaving the water before it. They could not at first\nthink what it should be; but in a little time they found that it\nwas one of those malignant genie that are mortal enemies to\nmankind, and always doing them mischief. He was black, frightful,\nhad the shape of a giant, of a prodigious stature, and carried on\nhis head a great glass box, shut with four locks of fine steel.\nHe entered the meadow with his burden, which he laid down just at\nthe foot of the tree where the two princes were, who looked upon\nthemselves to be dead men. Meanwhile the genie sat down by his\nbox, and opening it with four keys that he had at his girdle,\nthere came out a lady magnificently apparelled, of a majestic\nstature, and a complete beauty. The monster made her sit down by\nhim; and eying her with an amorous look, Lady (says he) nay, most\naccomplished of all ladies who are admired for their beauty my\ncharming mistress, whom I carried off on your wedding-day, and\nhave loved so constantly ever since, let me sleep a few moments\nby you; for I found myself so very sleepy, that I came to this\nplace to take a little rest. Having spoken thus, he laid down his\nhuge head on the lady's knees; and stretching out his legs, which\nreached as far as the sea, he fell asleep, and snored so, that he\nmade the banks to echo again.\n\nThe lady, happening at the same time to look up to the tree, saw\nthe two princes and made a sign to them with her hand to come\ndown without making any noise. Their fear was extraordinary when\nthey found themselves discovered, and they prayed the lady, by\nother signs, to excuse them; but she, after having laid the\nmonster's head softly down, rose up, and spoke to them with a low\nbut quick voice to come down to her; she would take no denial.\nThey made signs to her that they were afraid of the genie, and\nwould fain have been excused. Upon which she ordered them to come\ndown, and, if they did not make haste, threatened to awake the\ngiant, and bid him kill them.\n\nThese words did so much intimidate the princes, that they began\nto come down with all possible precaution, lest they should awake\nthe genie. When they came down, the lady took them by the hand,\nand going a little farther with them under the trees, made a very\nurgent proposal to them. At first they rejected it, but she\nobliged them to accept it by her threats. Having obtained what\nshe desired, she perceived that each of them had a ring on his\nfinger, which she demanded of them. As soon as she received them,\nshe went and took a box out of the bundle, where her toilet was,\npulled out a string of other rings of all sorts, which she showed\nthem, and asked them if they knew what those jewels meant? No,\nsay they, we hope you will be pleased to tell us. They are,\nreplies she, the rings of all the men to whom I have granted my\nfavour; There are full fourscore and eighteen of them, which I\nkeep in token to remember them; and asked yours for the same\nreason, to make up my hundred. So that, continues she, I have had\na hundred gallants already, notwithstanding the vigilance of this\nwicked genie, that never leaves me. He is much the nearer for\nlocking me up in this glass box, and hiding me in the bottom of\nthe sea; I find a way to cheat him for all his care. You may see\nby this, that when a woman has formed a project, there is no\nhusband or gallant that can hinder her from putting it in\nexecution. Men had better not put their wives under such\nrestraint, if they have a mind they should be chaste. Having\nspoken thus to them, she put their rings upon the same string\nwith the rest, and, sitting down by the monster as before, laid\nhis head again upon her lap, and made a sign for the princes to\nbe gone.\n\nThey returned immediately by the same way they came; and when\nthey were out of sight of the lady and the genie, Schahriar says\nto Schahzenan, Well, brother, what do you think of this\nadventure? has not the genie a very faithful mistress? And do not\nyou agree that there is no wickedness equal to that of women?\nYes, brother, answers the king of Great Tartary; and you must.\nagree that the monster is more unfortunate, and has more reason\nto complain, than we. Therefore, since we have found what we\nsought for, let us return to our dominions, and let not this\nhinder us to marry again. For my part, I know a method by which I\nthink I shall keep inviolable the faith that any woman shall\nplight to me. I shall say no more of it at present, but you will\nhear of it in a little time, and I am sure you will follow my\nexample. The sultan agreed with his brother; and, continuing\ntheir journey, they arrived in the camp the third night after\nthey left it.\n\nThe news of the sultan's return being spread, the courtiers came\nbetimes in the morning before his pavilion to wait on him. He\nordered them to enter, received them with a more pleasant air\nthan formerly, and gave each of them a gratification; after which\nhe told them he would go no further, ordered them to take horse,\nand returned speedily to his palace.\n\nAs soon as he arrived, he ran to the sultaness's apartment,\ncommanded her to be bound before him, and delivered her to his\ngrand vizier, with an order to strangle her; which was\naccordingly executed by that minister, without inquiring into her\ncrime. The enraged prince did not stop here; he cut off the heads\nof all the sultaness's ladies with his own hand. After this\nrigorous punishment, being persuaded that no woman was chaste, he\nresolved, in order to prevent the disloyalty of such as he should\nafterwards marry, to wed one every night, and have her strangled\nnext morning. Having imposed this cruel law upon himself, he\nswore that he would observe it immediately after the departure of\nthe king of Tartary, who speedily took leave of him, and, being\nloaded with magnificent presents, set forward on his journey.\n\nSchahzenan being gone, Schahriar ordered his grand vizier to\nbring him the daughter of one of his generals. The vizier obeyed;\nthe sultan lay with her, and, putting her next morning into his\nhands in order to be strangled, commanded him to get another next\nnight. Whatever reluctance the vizier had to put such orders in\nexecution, as he owed blind obedience to the sultan his master,\nhe was forced to submit. He brought him then the daughter of a\nsubaltern, whom he also cut off the next day. After her, he\nbrought a citizen's daughter; and, in a word, there was every day\na maid married, and a wife murdered.\n\nThe rumour of this unparalleled barbarity occasioned a general\nconsternation in the city, where there was nothing but crying and\nlamentation. Here a father in tears, and inconsolable for the\nloss of his daughter; and there tender mothers, dreading lest\ntheirs should have the same fate, making the air to resound\nbeforehand with their groans; so that, instead of the\ncommendations and blessings which the sultan had hitherto\nreceived from his subjects, their mouths were now filled with\nimprecations against him.\n\nThe grand vizier, who, as has been already said, was the\nexecutioner of this horrid injustice against his will, had two\ndaughters, the eldest called Scheherazade, and the youngest\nDinarzade: the latter was a lady of very great merit; but the\nelder had courage, wit, and penetration, infinitely above her\nsex; she had read abundance, and had such a prodigious memory\nthat she never forgot any thing. She had successfully applied\nherself to philosophy, physic, history, and the liberal arts, and\nfor verse exceeded, the best poets of her times; besides this,\nshe was a perfect beauty, and all her fine qualifications were\ncrowned by solid virtue.\n\nThe vizier passionately loved a daughter so worthy of his tender\naffection; and one day, as they were discoursing together, she\nsays to him, Father, I have one favour to beg of you, and must\nhumbly pray you to grant it me. I will not refuse it, answered\nhe, provided it be just and reasonable. For the justice of it,\nsays she, there can be no question, and you may judge of it by\nthe motive which obliges me to demand it of you. I have a design\nto stop the course of that barbarity which the sultan exercises\nupon the families of this city. I would dispel those unjust fears\nwhich so many mothers have of losing their daughters in such a\nfatal manner. Your design, daughter, replies the vizier, is very\ncommendable; but the disease you would remedy seems to be\nincurable; how do you pretend to effect it? Father, says\nScheherazade, since by your means the sultan makes every day a\nnew marriage, I conjure you, by the tender affection you bear to\nme, to procure me the honour of his bed. The vizier could not\nhear this without horror. O heavens! replies he, in a passion,\nhave you lost your senses, daughter, that you make such a\ndangerous request to me? You know the sultan has sworn by his\nsoul that he will never lie above one night with the same woman,\nand to order her to be killed the next morning; and would you\nthat I should propose you to him? Pray consider well to what your\nindiscreet zeal will expose you. Yes, dear father, replies the\nvirtuous daughter, I know the risk I run; but that does not\nfrighten me. If I perish, my death will be glorious; and if I\nsucceed, I shall do my country an important piece of service. No,\nno, says the vizier, whatever you can represent to engage me to\nlet you throw yourself into that horrible danger, do not you\nthink that ever I will agree to it. When the sultan shall order\nme to strike my poignard into your heart, alas! I must obey him;\nand what a dismal employment is that for a father? Ah! if you do\nnot fear death, yet at least be afraid of occasioning me the\nmortal grief of seeing my hand stained with your blood. Once\nmore, father, says Scheherazade, grant me the favour I beg. Your\nstubbornness, replies the vizier, will make me angry; why will\nyou run headlong to your ruin? They that do not foresee the end\nof a dangerous enterprise can never bring it to a happy issue. I\nam afraid the same thing will happen to you that happened to the\nass, which was well, and could not keep itself so. What\nmisfortune befel the ass? replies Scheherazade. I will tell you,\nsays the vizier, if you will hear me.\n\n\n\n\n\n                            Fable.\n\n\n\n               The Ox, the Ass, and the Labourer.\n\n\n\nA very rich merchant had several country-houses, where he had\nabundance of cattle of all sorts. He went with his wife and\nfamily to one of those estates, in order to improve it himself.\nHe had the gift of understanding the language of beasts, but with\nthis condition, that he should interpret it to nobody on pain of\ndeath; and this hindered him from communicating to others what he\nhad learned by means of this gift.\n\nHe had in the same stall an ox and an ass; and one day as he sat\nnear them, and diverted himself to see his children play about,\nhim, he heard the ox say to the ass, Sprightly, O how happy do I\nthink you, when I consider the ease you enjoy, and the little\nlabour that is required of you! you are carefully rubbed down and\nwashed; you have well-dressed corn, and fresh clean water. Your\ngreatest business is to carry the merchant, our master, when he\nhas any little journey to make; and, were it not for that, you\nwould be perfectly idle. I am treated in a quite different\nmanner, and my condition is as unfortunate as yours is pleasant.\nIt is scarce day-light when I am fastened to a plough, and there\nthey make me work till night, to till up the ground, which\nfatigues me so, that sometimes my strength fails me. Besides, the\nlabourer, who is always behind me, beats me continually. By\ndrawing the plough my tail is all flead; and, in short, after\nhaving laboured from morning till night, when I am brought in,\nthey give me nothing to eat but sorry dry beans, not so much as\ncleaned from sand, or other things as pernicious; and, to\nheighten my misery, when I have filled my belly with such\nordinary stuff, I am forced to lie all night in my own dung; so\nthat you see I have reason to envy your lot.\n\nThe ass did not interrupt the ox, till he had said all that he\nhad a mind to say; but, when he had made an end, answered, They\nthat call you a foolish beast do not lie; you are too simple, you\nlet them carry you whither they please, and show no manner of\nresolution. In the mean time, what advantage do you reap by all\nthe indignities you suffer? You kill yourself for the ease,\npleasure, and profit of those that give you no thanks for so\ndoing. But they would not treat you so, if you had as much\ncourage as strength.\n\nWhen they come to fasten you to the stall, why do not you make\nresistance? why do not you strike them with your horns, and show\nthat you are angry by striking your foot against the ground? and,\nin short, why do not you frighten them by bellowing aloud? Nature\nhas furnished you with means to procure you respect, but you do\nnot make use of them. They bring you sorry beans and bad straw;\neat none of them; only smell them, and leave them. If you follow\nthe advice I give you, you will quickly find a change, for which\nyou will thank me. The ox took the ass's advice in very good\npart, and owned he was very much obliged to him for it.\n\nDear Sprightly, adds he, I will not fail to do all that you have\nsaid, and you shall see how I shall acquit myself. They held\ntheir peace after this discourse, of which the merchant heard\nevery word.\n\nNext morning betimes the labourer came to take the ox; he\nfastened him to the plough, and carried him to his ordinary work.\nThe ox, who had not forgotten the ass's counsel, was very\ntroublesome and untoward all that day; and in the evening, when\nthe labourer brought him back to the stall, and began to fasten\nhim to it, the malicious beast, instead of presenting his horns\nwillingly as he used to do, was restive, and went backward\nbellowing, and then made at the labourer as if he would have\npushed him with his horns; in a word, he did all that the ass\nadvised him to. Next day the labourer came, as usual, to take the\nox to his labour; but, finding the stall full of beans, the straw\nthat he put in the night before not touched, and the ox lying on\nthe ground with his legs stretched out, and panting in a strange\nmanner, he believed him to he sick, pitied him, and thinking;\nthat it was not proper to carry him to work, went immediately and\nacquainted the merchant with it; who, perceiving that the ox had\nfollowed all the mischievous advices of the ass, whom he thought\nfit to punish for it, ordered the labourer to go and put the ass\nin the ox's place, and to be sure to work him hard. The labourer\ndid so: the ass was forced to draw the plough all that day; which\nfatigued him so much the more, as he was not accustomed to that\nsort of labour; besides, he had been so soundly beaten, that he\ncould scarcely stand when he came back.\n\nMeanwhile the ox was mightily pleased; he ate up all that was in\nhis stall, and rested himself the whole day. He was glad at the\nheart that he had followed the ass's advice, blessed him a\nthousand times for it, and did not fail to compliment him upon it\nwhen he saw him come back. The ass answered him not one word, so\nvexed was he to be so ill treated; but says within himself, it is\nby my own imprudence I have brought this misfortune upon myself;\nI lived happily, every thing smiled upon me. I had all that I\ncould wish, it is my own fault that I am brought to this\nmiserable condition, and if I cannot contrive some way to get out\nof it, I am certainly undone; and as he spoke thus, his strength\nwas so much exhausted, that he fell down at his stall, as if he\nhad been half dead.\n\nHere the grand visier addressed himself to Scheherazade, and\nsaid, Daughter, you do like the ass; you will expose yourself to\ndestruction by your false prudence. Take my advice; be easy, and\ndo not take such measures as will hasten your death. Father,\nreplies Scheherazade, the example you bring me is not capable of\nmaking me change my resolution; I will never cease importuning\nyou until you present me to the sultan to be his bride. The\nvizier, perceiving that she persisted in her demand, replied,\nAlas, then! since you will continue obstinate, I shall be obliged\nto treat you in the same manner as the merchant I named treated\nhis wife in a little time after.\n\nThe merchant, understanding that the ass was in a lamentable\ncondition, was curious to know what passed betwixt him and the\nox; therefore, after supper, he went out by moon-light, and sat\ndown by them, his wife bearing him company. When he arrived, he\nheard the ass say to the ox, Comrade, tell me, I pray you, what\nyou intend to do to-morrow, when the labourer brings you meat?\nWhat will I do? says the ox: I will continue to do as you taught\nme. I will go off from him, and threaten him with my horns, as I\ndid yesterday; I will feign myself to be sick, and just ready to\ndie. Beware of that, replies the ass, it will ruin you: for as I\ncame home this evening, I heard the merchant, our master, say\nsomething that makes me tremble for you. Alas! what did you hear?\nsays the ox; as you love me, hide nothing from me, my dear\nSprightly. Our master, replied the ass, had these sad expressions\nto the labourer: Since the ox does not eat, and is not able to\nwork, I would have him killed tomorrow, and we will give his\nflesh as an alms to the poor for God's sake; as for his skin,\nthat will be of use to us, and I would have you give it to the\ncurrier to dress; therefore do not fail to send for the butcher.\nThis is what I had to tell you, says the ass. The concern I have\nfor your preservation, and my friendship for you, obliged me to\nlet you know it, and to give you new advice. As soon as they\nbring you your bran and straw, rise up and eat heartily. Our\nmaster will, by this, think that you are cured, and no doubt will\nrecal his orders for killing you; whereas, if you do otherwise,\nyou are certainly gone.\n\nThis discourse had the effect which the ass designed. The ox was\nstrangely troubled at it, and bellowed out for fear. The\nmerchant, who heard the discourse very attentively, fell into\nsuch a fit of laughter, that his wife was surprised at it, and\nsaid, Pray, husband, tell me what you laugh at so heartily, that\nI may laugh with you. Wife, said he, you must content yourself\nwith hearing me laugh. No, replies she, I will know the reason. I\ncannot give you that satisfaction, answers he, but only that I\nlaugh at what our ass just now said to our ox. The rest is a\nsecret, which I am not allowed to reveal. And what hinders you\nfrom revealing the secret, says she? If I tell it you, answers\nhe, it will cost me my life. You only jeer me, cried his wife;\nwhat you tell me now cannot be true. If you do not satisfy me\npresently with what you laugh at, and tell me what the ox and ass\nsaid to one another, I swear by Heaven that you and I shall never\nbed together again.\n\nHaving spoken thus, she went into the house in a great fret, and,\nsetting herself in a corner, cried there all night. Her husband\nlay alone, and finding next morning that she continued in the\nsame humour, told her she was a very foolish woman to afflict\nherself in that manner, the thing was not worth so much; and that\nit concerned her as little to know the matter, as it concerned\nhim so much to keep it secret; therefore I conjure you to think\nno more of it. I shall still think so much of it, says she, as\nnever to forbear weeping till you have satisfied my curiosity.\nBut I tell you very seriously, replied he, that it will cost me\nmy life, if I yield to your indiscretion. Let what will happen,\nsays she, I do insist upon it. I perceive, says the merchant,\nthat it is impossible to bring you to reason; and since I foresee\nthat you will occasion your own death by your obstinacy, I will\ncall in your children, that they may see you before you die.\nAccordingly he called for them, and sent for her father and\nmother, and other relations. When they were come, and heard the\nreason of their being called, they did all they could to convince\nher that she was in the wrong, but to no purpose: she told them\nshe would rather die than yield that point to her husband. Her\nfather and mother spoke to her by herself, and told her that what\nshe desired to know was of no importance to her; but that could\ngain nothing upon her, either by their authority or entreaties.\nWhen her children saw that nothing could prevail to bring her out\nof that sullen temper, they wept bitterly. The merchant himself\nwas like a man out of his senses, and was almost ready to risk\nhis own life to save that of his wife, whom he loved dearly.\n\nNow, my daughter, says the vizier to Scheherazade, this merchant\nhad fifty hens, and a cock, with a dog that gave good heed to all\nthat passed; and while the merchant was set down, as I said, and\nconsidering what he had best do, he sees the dog run towards the\ncock, as he was treading a hen, and heard him speak to him thus:\nCock, says he, I am sure Heaven will not let you live long; are\nyou not ashamed to do that thing to-day? The cock, standing up on\ntip-toe, answers the dog fiercely, And why should I not do it\nto-day as well as other days? As you do not know, replies the\ndog, then I tell you that this day our master is in great\nperplexity. His wife would have him reveal a secret, which is of\nsuch a nature, that it will cost him his life if he doth it.\nThings are come to that pass, that it is to be feared he will\nscarcely have resolution enough to resist his wife's obstinacy;\nfor, he loves her, and is affected with the tears that she\ncontinually sheds, and perhaps it may cost him his life. We are\nall alarmed at it, and you only insult our melancholy, and have\nthe imprudence to divert yourself with your hens.\n\nThe cock answered the dog's reproof thus: What! has our master so\nlittle sense? he has but one wife, and cannot govern her; and\nthough I have fifty, I make them all do what I please. Let him\nmake use of his reason, he will speedily find a way to rid\nhimself of his trouble. How, says the dog,, what would you have\nhim to do? Let him go into the room where his wife is, says the\ncock, lock the door, and take a good stick, and thrash her well,\nand I will answer for it that that will bring her to her right\nwits, and make her forbear to ask him any more what he ought not\nto tell her. The merchant had no sooner heard what the cock said,\nthan he took up a good stick, went to his wife, whom he found\nstill a crying, and, shutting the door, belaboured her so\nsoundly, that she cried out, \"It is enough, husband, it is\nenough, let me alone, and I will never ask the question more.\"\nUpon this, perceiving that she repented of her impertinent\ncuriosity, he forbore drubbing her; and, opening the door, her\nfriends came in, were glad to find her cured of her obstinacy,\nand complimented her husband upon this happy expedient to bring\nhis wife to reason. Daughter, adds the grand vizier, you deserve\nto be treated as the merchant treated his wife.\n\nFather, replies Scheherazade, I beg you will not take it ill that\nI persist in my opinion. I am nothing moved by the story of that\nwoman; I can tell you abundance of others to persuade you that\nyou ought not to oppose my design. Besides, pardon me for\ndeclaring to you that your opposing me would be in vain; for if\nyour paternal affection should hinder you to grant my request, I\nwould go and offer myself to the sultan. In short, the father\nbeing overcome by the resolution of his daughter, yielded to her\nimportunity; and though he was very much grieved that he could\nnot divert her from such a fatal resolution, he went that minute\nto acquaint the sultan that next night he would bring him\nScheherazade.\n\nThe sultan was much surprised at the sacrifice which the grand\nvizier made to him. How could you resolve, says he, to bring me\nyour own daughter? Sir, answers the vizier, it is her own offer.\nThe sad destiny that attends it could not scare her; she prefers\nthe honour of being your majesty's wife for one night to her\nlife. But do not mistake yourself, vizier, says the sultan;\nto-morrow, when I put Scheherazade into your hands, I expect you\nshall take away her life; and, if you fail, I swear that yourself\nshall die. Sir, rejoins the vizier, my heart, without doubt will\nbe full of grief to execute your commands; but it is to no\npurpose for nature to murmur; though I be her father I will\nanswer for the fidelity of my hand to obey your order. Schahriar\naccepted his minister's offer, and told him he might bring his\ndaughter when he pleased.\n\nThe grand vizier went with the news to Scheherazade, who received\nit with as much joy as if it had been the most agreeable thing in\nthe world; she thanked her father for having obliged her in so\nsensible a manner; and, perceiving that he was overwhelmed with\ngrief, she told him, in order to his consolation, that she hoped\nhe would never repent his having married her to the sultan; but\nthat, on the contrary, he should have cause to rejoice at it all\nhis days.\n\nAll her business was to put herself in a condition to appear\nbefore the sultan; but, before she went, she took her sister\nDinarzade apart, and says to her, My dear sister, I have need of\nyour help in a matter of very great importance, and must pray you\nnot to deny it me. My father is going to carry me to the sultan\nto be his wife; do not let this frighten you, but hear me with\npatience. As soon as I come to the sultan, I will pray him to\nallow you to lie in the bride-chamber, that I may enjoy your\ncompany this one night more. If I obtain that favour, as I hope\nto do, remember to awake me to-morrow an hour before day, and to\naddress me in these or some such words: \"My sister, if you be not\nasleep, I pray you, that till day-break, which will be very\nspeedily, you would tell me one of the fine stories of which you\nhave read so many.\" Immediately I will tell you one; and I hope\nby this means to deliver the city from the consternation they are\nunder at present. Dinarzade answered, that she would obey with\npleasure what she required of her.\n\nThe time of going to bed being come, the grand vizier conducted\nScheherazade to the palace, and retired, after having introduced\nher into the sultan's apartment. As soon as the sultan was left\nalone with her, he ordered her to uncover her face, and found it\nso beautiful, that he was perfectly charmed with her; and\nperceiving her to be in tears, asked her the reason. Sir,\nanswered Scheherazade, I have a sister, who loves me tenderly, as\nI do her, and I could wish that she might be allowed to be all\nnight in this chamber, that I might see her, and bid her once\nmore adieu. Will you be pleased to allow me the comfort of giving\nher this last testimony of my friendship? Schahriar having\nconsented to it, Dinarzade was sent for, who came with all\npossible diligence. The sultan went to bed with Scheherazade upon\nan alcove raised very high, according to the custom of the\nmonarchs of the east; and Dinarzade lay in a bed that was\nprepared for her, near the foot of the alcove.\n\nAn hour before day, Dinarzade, being awake, failed not to do as\nher sister ordered her. My dear sister, cries she, if you be not\nasleep, I pray, until day-break, which will be in a very little\ntime, that you will tell me one of those pleasant stories you\nhave read; alas! this may perhaps be the last time that ever I\nshall have that satisfaction.\n\nScheherazade, instead of answering her sister, addressed herself\nto the sultan thus: Sir, will your majesty be pleased to allow me\nto give my sister this satisfaction? With all my heart, answers\nthe sultan. Then Scheherazade bid her sister listen; and\nafterwards, addressing herself to Schahriar, began thus.\n\n\n\n\n\n                        The First Night.\n\n\n\n                  The Merchant and the Genie.\n\n\n\nSir--There was formerly a merchant, who had a great estate in\nlands, goods, and money. He had abundance of deputies, factors,\nand slaves. He was obliged from time to time to take journies,\nand talk with his correspondents; and one day being under the\nnecessity of going a long journey about an affair of importance,\nhe took horse, and put a portmanteau behind him, with some\nbiscuits and dates, because he had a great desert to pass over,\nwhere he could have no manner of provisions. He arrived without\nany accident at the end of his journey, and, having despatched\nhis affairs, took horse again in order to return home.\n\nThe fourth day of his journey, he was so much incommoded by the\nheat of the sun, and the reflection of that heat from the earth,\nthat he turned out of the road to refresh himself under some\ntrees that he saw in the country. There he found, at the foot of\na great walnut-tree, a fountain of very clear running water; and\nalighting, tied his horse to a branch of the tree, and sitting\ndown by the fountain, took some biscuits and dates out of his\nportmanteau, and, as he ate his dates, threw the shells about on\nboth sides of him. When he had done eating, being a good\nMussulman, he washed his hands, his face, and his feet, and said\nhis prayers. He had not made an end, but was still on his knees,\nwhen he saw a genie appear, all white with age, and of a\nmonstrous bulk; who, advancing towards him, with a scimitar in\nhis hand, spoke to him in a terrible voice thus: Rise up, that I\nmay kill thee with this scimitar, as you have killed my son; and\naccompanied those words with a frightful cry. The merchant, being\nas much frightened at the hideous shape of the monster as at\nthese threatening words, answered him trembling, Alas! my good\nlord, of what crime can I be guilty towards you, that you should\ntake away my life? I will, replies the genie, kill thee, as thou\nhast killed my son. O heaven! says the merchant, how should I\nkill your son? I did not know him, nor ever saw him. Did not you\nsit down when you came hither, replies the genie? Did not you\ntake dates out of your portmanteau, and, as you ate them, did not\nyou throw the shells about on both sides? I did all that you say,\nanswers the merchant; I cannot deny it. If it be so, replies the\ngenie, I tell thee that thou hast killed my son, and the way was\nthus; when you threw your nut-shells about, my son was passing\nby, and you threw one of them into his eye, which killed him;\ntherefore I must kill thee. Ah! my lord, pardon me, cried the\nmerchant. No pardon, answers the genie, no mercy. Is it not just\nto kill him that has killed another? I agree to it, says the\nmerchant; but certainly I never killed your son; and if I have,\nit was unknown to me, and I did it innocently; therefore I beg\nyou to pardon me, and suffer me to live. No, no, says the genie,\npersisting in his resolution, I must kill thee, since thou hast\nkilled my son; and then taking the merchant by the arm, threw him\nwith his face upon the ground, and lifted up his scimitar to cut\noff his head.\n\nThe merchant, all in tears, protested he was innocent, bewailed\nhis wife and children, and spoke to the genie in the most moving\nexpressions that could be uttered. The genie, with his scimitar\nstill lifted up, had so much patience as to hear the wretch make\nan end of his lamentations, but would not relent. All this\nwhining, says the monster, is to no purpose; though you should\nshed tears of blood, that shall not hinder me to kill thee, as\nthou killedst my son. Why! replied the merchant, can nothing\nprevail with you? Will you absolutely take away the life of a\npoor innocent? Yes, replied the genie, I am resolved upon it.\n\nAs Scheherazade had spoken these words, perceiving it was day,\nand knowing that the sultan rose betimes in the morning to say\nhis prayers, and hold his council, Scheherazade held her peace.\nLord, sister, says Dinarzade, what a wonderful story is this! The\nremainder of it, says Scheherazade, is more surprising; and you\nwill be of my mind, if the sultan will let me live this day, and\npermit me to tell it you next night. Schahriar, who had listened\nto Scheherazade with pleasure, says to himself, I will stay till\nto-morrow, for I can at any time put her to death, when she has\nended the story. So having resolved not to take away\nScheherazade's life that day, he rose and went to prayers, and\nthen called his council.\n\nAll this while the grand vizier was terribly uneasy. Instead of\nsleeping, he spent the night in sighs and groans, bewailing the\nlot of his daughter, of whom he believed that he himself should\nbe the executioner: And as, in this melancholy prospect, he was\nafraid of seeing the sultan, he was agreeably surprised when he\nsaw the prince enter the council-chamber, without giving him the\nfatal orders he expected.\n\nThe sultan, according to his custom, spent the day in regulating\nhis affairs; and when night came, he went to bed with\nScheherazade. Next morning, before day, Dinarzade failed not to\naddress herself to her sister thus: My dear sister, if you be not\nasleep, I pray you, till day-break, which will be in a very\nlittle time, to go on with the story you began last night. The\nsultan, without staying till Scheherazade asked him leave, bid\nher make an end of the story of the genie and the merchant, for I\nlong to hear the issue of it; upon which Scheherazade spoke, and\ncontinued the story as follows.\n\n                       The Second Night.\n\nWhen the merchant saw that the genie was going to cut off his\nhead, he cried out aloud, and said to him, For Heaven's sake hold\nyour hand! allow me one word, be so good as to grant me some\nrespite; allow me but time to bid my wife and children adieu, and\nto divide my estate among them by will, that they may not go to\nlaw with one another after my death; and when I have done so, I\nwill come back to the same place, and submit to whatever you\nshall please to order concerning me. But, says the genie, if I\ngrant you the time you demand, I doubt you will never return. If\nyou will believe my oath, answers the merchant, I swear, by all\ntnat is sacred, that I will come and meet you here without fail.\nWhat time do you demand then, replies the genie? I ask a year,\nsays the merchant; I cannot have less to order my affairs, and\nprepare myself to die without regret. But I promise you that this\nday twelve months I will return under these trees, to put myself\ninto your hands. Do you take Heaven to be witness to this\npromise, says the genie? I do, answers the merchant, and repeat\nit, and you may rely upon my oath. Upon this the genie left him\nnear the fountain, and disappeared.\n\nThe merchant, being recovered from his fright, mounted his horse,\nand set forward on his journey; and as he was glad, on the one\nhand, that he had escaped so great a danger, so he was mortally\nsorry, on the other, when he thought on his fatal oath. When he\ncame home, his wife and children received him with all the\ndemonstrations of perfect joy. But he, instead of making them\nanswerable returns, fell a-weeping bitterly; from whence they\nreadily conjectured that something extraordinary had befallen\nhim. His wife asked the reason of his excessive grief and tears;\nwe are all overjoyed, says she, at your return, but you frighten\nus to see you in this condition? Pray tell us the cause of your\nsorrow. Alas! replies the husband, the cause of it is, that I\nhave but a year to live; and then told what had passed betwixt\nhim and the genie, and that he had given his oath to return at\nthe end of the year to receive death from his hands.\n\nWhen they had heard these sad news, they all began to lament\nheavily; his wife made a pitiful outcry, beat her face, and tore\nher hairs. The children, being all in tears, made the house\nresound with their groans; and the father, not being able to\novercome nature, mixed his tears with theirs; so that, in a word,\nit was the most affecting spectacle that any man could behold.\n\nNext morning, the merchant applied himself to put his affairs in\norder, and, first of all, to pay his debts. He made presents to\nhis friends, gave great alms to the poor, set his slaves of both\nsexes at liberty, divided his estate among his children,\nappointed guardians for such of them as were not come of age; and\nrestoring to his wife all that was due to her by contract of\nmarriage, he gave her, over and above, all that he could do by\nlaw.\n\nAt last the year expired, and go he must. He put his\nburial-clothes in his portmanteau; but never was there such grief\nseen, as when he came to bid his wife and children adieu. They\ncould not think of parting, but resolved to go along and to die\nwith, him; but, finding that he must be forced to part from those\ndear objects, he spoke to them thus: 'My dear wife and children,'\nsays he, 'I obey the order of Heaven in quitting you; follow my\nexample, submit courageously to this necessity, and consider that\nit is the destiny of man to die.' Having said these words, he\nwent out of the hearing of the cries of his family; and, taking\nhis journey, arrived at the place, where he promised to meet the\ngenie, on the day appointed. He alighted, and setting himself\ndown by the fountain, waited the coming of the genie with all the\nsorrow imaginable. Whilst he languished in this cruel\nexpectation, a good old man, leading a bitch, appeared, and drew\nnear him; they saluted one another, after which the old man says\nto him, Brother, may I ask you why you are come into this desert\nplace, where there is nothing but evil spirits, and by\nconsequence you cannot be safe. To look upon these fine trees,\nindeed, one would think the place inhabited; but if is a true\nwilderness where it is not safe to stay long.\n\nThe merchant satisfied his curiosity, and told him the adventure\nwhich obliged him to be there. The old man listened to him with\nastonishment, and when he had done, cried out, This is the most\nsurprising thing in the world, and you are bound by the most\ninviolable oath; however, I will be witness of your interview\nwith the genie; and sitting down by the merchant, they talked\ntogether. But I see day, says Scheherazade, and must leave off;\nbut the best of the story is yet to come. The sultan, resolving\nto hear the end of it, suffered her to live that day also.\n\n                       The Third Night.\n\nNext morning Dinarzade made the same request to her sister as\nformerly, thus: My dear sister, says she, if you be not asleep,\ntell me one of those pleasant stories you have read: but the\nsultan, willing to understand what followed betwixt the merchant\nand the genie, bid her go on with that; which she did as follows:\n\nSir, while the merchant and the old man that led the bitch were\ntalking, they saw another old man coming to them, followed by two\nblack dogs; after they had saluted one another, he asked them\nwhat they did in that place? The old man with the bitch told him\nthe adventure of the merchant and genie, with all that had passed\nbetwixt them, particularly the merchant's oath. He added, that\nthis was the day agreed on, and that he was resolved to stay and\nsee the issue.\n\nThe second old man, thinking it also worth his curiosity,\nresolved to do the like: he likewise sat down by them; and they\nhad scarcely begun to talk together, when there came a third old\nman, who, addressing himself to the two former, asked why the\nmerchant that sat with them looked so melancholy. They told him\nthe reason of it, which appeared so extraordinary to him, that he\nalso resolved to be witness to the result, and for that end sat\ndown with them.\n\nIn a little time they perceived in the field a thick vapour, like\na cloud of dust rising by a whirlwind, advancing towards them,\nwhich vanished all of a sudden, and then the genie appeared, who,\nwithout saluting them, came up to the merchant with his drawn\nscimitar, and taking him by the arm, says, Get thee up, that I\nmay kill thee as thou didst kill my son. The merchant and the\nthree old men being frightened, began to lament, and to fill the\nair with their cries.--Here Scheherazade, perceiving day, left\noff her story which did so much whet the sultan's curiosity, that\nhe was absolutely resolved to hear the end of it, and put off the\nsultaness's execution till next day.\n\nNobody can express the grand vizier's joy, when he perceived that\nthe sultan did not order him to kill Scheherazade; his family,\nthe court, and all the people in general, were astonished at it.\n\n                       The Fourth Night.\n\nTowards the end of the following night, Dinarzade failed not to\nawake the sultaness. Mv dear sister, says she, if you be not\nasleep, pray tell me one of your fine stories. Then Scheherazade,\nwith the sultan's permission, spoke as follows:\n\nSir, when the old man that led the bitch saw the genie lay hold\nof the merchant, and about to kill him without pity, he threw\nhimself at the feet of the monster, and kissing them, says to\nhim: Prince of genies, I most humbly request you to suspend your\nanger, and do me the favour to hear me. I will tell you the\nhistory of my life, and of the bitch you see; and if you think it\nmore wonderful and surprising than the adventure of the merchant\nyou are going to kill, I hope you will pardon the poor\nunfortunate man the third of his crime. The genie took some time\nto consult upon it, but answered at last, Well, then; I agree to\nit.\n\n\n\n\n            THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST OLD MAN AND THE\n                             BITCH.\n\n\n\nI shall begin then, says the old man; listen to me I pray you,\nwith attention. This bitch you see is my cousin, nay, what is\nmore, my wife: she was only twelve years of age when I married\nher, so that I may justly say, she ought as much to regard me as\nher father, as her kinsman and husband.\n\nWe lived together twenty years without any children, yet her\nbarrenness did hot hinder my haying a great deal of complaisance\nand friendship for her. The desire of having children only made\nme to buy a slave, by whom I had a son, who was extremely\npromising. My wife being jealous, conceived a hatred both for\nmother and child, but concealed it so well, that I did not know\nit till it was too late.\n\nMean time my son grew up, and was ten years old, when I was\nobliged to undertake a journey: before I went, I recommended to\nmy wife, of whom I had no mistrust, the slave and her son, and\nprayed her to take care of them during my absence, which was for\na whole year. She made use of that time to satisfy her hatred:\nshe applied herself to magic, and when she knew enough of that\ndiabolical art to execute her horrible contrivance, the wretch\ncarried my son to a desolate place, where, by her enchantments,\nshe changed my son into a calf, and gave him to my farmer to\nfatten, pretending she had bought him. Her fury did not stop at\nthis abominable action, but she likewise changed the slave into a\ncow, and gave her also to the farmer.\n\nAt my return, I asked for the mother and child: your slave, says\nshe, is dead; and for your son, I know not what is become of him:\nI have not seen him these two months. I was troubled at the death\nof my slave; but my son having also disappeared, as she told me,\nI was in hopes he would return in a little time. However, eight\nmonths passed, and I heard nothing of him, When the festival of\nthe great Bairam happened, to celebrate the same, I sent to my\nfarmer for one of the fattest cows to sacrifice; and he sent me\none accordingly. The cow which he brought me was my slave, the\nunfortunate mother of my son, I tied her, but as I was going to\nsacrifice her, she bellowed pitifully and I could perceive\nstreams of tears run from her eyes. This seemed to me very\nextraordinary, and finding myself, in spite of all I could do,\nseized with pity, I could not find in my heart to give her the\nblow, but ordered my farmer to get me another.\n\nMy wife, who was present, was enraged at my compassion, and\nopposing herself to an order which disappointed her malice, she\ncries out, What do you do, husband? Sacrifice that cow, your\nfarmer has not a finer, nor one fitter for that use. Out of\ncomplaisance to my wife, I came again to the cow, and combatting\nmy pity, which suspended the sacrifice, was going to give her the\nfatal blow, when the victim redoubling her tears, and bellowing,\ndisarmed me a second time. Then I put the mell into the farmer's\nhands, and bade him sacrifice her himself, for her tears and\nbellowing pierced my heart.\n\nThe farmer, less compassionate than I, sacrificed her; and when\nhe flead her, found her nothing but bones, though to us she\nseemed very fat. Take her to yourself, says I to the farmer, I\nquit her to you; give her in alms, or which way you will; and if\nyou have a very fat calf, bring me it in her stead. I did not\ninform myself what he did with the cow; but, soon after he took\nher away, he came with a very fat calf. Though I knew not that\nthe calf was my son, yet I could not forbear being moved at the\nsight of him. On his part, as soon as he saw me, he made so great\nan effort to come to me, that he broke his cord, threw himself at\nmy feet, with his head against the ground, as if he would excite\nmy compassion, conjuring me not to be so cruel as to take his\nlife, and did as much as was possible for him to do, to signify\nthat he was my son.\n\nI was more surprised and affected with this action than with the\ntears of the cow: I found a tender pity, which made me concern\nmyself for him, or rather nature did its duty. Go, says I to the\nfarmer, carry home that calf, take great care of him, and bring\nme another in his stead immediately.\n\nAs soon as my wife heard me say so, she immediately cried out,\nWhat do you do, husband? Take my advice, sacrifice no other calf\nbut that. Wife, said I, I will not sacrifice him, I will spare\nhim, and pray do not you oppose it. The wicked woman had no\nregard to my desire, she hated my son too much to consent that I\nshould save him; I tied the poor creature, and taking up the\nfatal knife--Here Scheherazade stopped, because she perceived\nday-light.\n\nThen Dinarzade said, Sister, I am enchanted with this story,\nwhich bespeaks my attention so agreeably. If the sultan will\nsuffer me to live to-day, answers Scheherazade, what I have to\ntell you to-morrow will divert you abundantly more. Schahriar,\ncurious to know what would become of the old man's son, who led\nthe bitch, told the sultaness he would be very glad to hear the\nend of that story next night.\n\n                        The Fifth Night.\n\nWhen day began to draw near, Dinarzade put her sister's orders in\nexecution very exactly, who, being awaked, prayed the sultan to\nallow her to give Dinarzade that satisfaction, which the prince,\nwho took so much pleasure in the story himself, readily agreed\nto.\n\nSir, then, says Scheherazade, the first old man, who led the\nbitch, continuing his story to the genie, the two other old men,\nand the merchant, proceeded thus: I took the knife, says he, and\nwas going to strike it into my son's throat, when, turning his\neyes, bathed with tears, in a languishing manner towards me, he\naffected me so, that I had not strength to sacrifice him, but,\nlet the knife fall, and told my wife positively that I would have\nanother calf to sacrifice, and not that. She used all endeavours\nto make me change my resolution; but I continued firm, and\npacified her a little, by promising that I would sacrifice him\nagainst the Bairam next year.\n\nNext morning, my farmer desired to speak with me alone; and told\nme, I come, says he, to tell you a piece of news, for which, I\nhope, you will return me thanks. I have a daughter that has some\nskill in magic: Yesterday, as I carried back the calf which you\nwould not sacrifice, I perceived she laughed when she saw him,\nand in a moment after fell a-weeping. I asked her why she acted\ntwo such contrary parts at one and the same time. Father, replies\nshe, the calf you bring back is our landlord's son: I laughed for\njoy to see him still alive, and I wept at the remembrance of the\nformer sacrifice that was made the other day of his mother, who\nwas changed into a cow. These two metamorphoses were made by the\nenchantments of our master's wife, who hated the mother and son;\nand this is what my daughter told me, said the farmer, and I come\nto acquaint you with it.\n\nAt these words, the old man adds, I leave you to think, my lord\ngenie, how much I was surprised: I went immediately to my farmer,\nto speak with his daughter myself. As soon as I came, I went\nforthwith to the stall where my son was; he could not answer my\nembraces, but received them in such a manner as fully satisfied\nme he was my son.\n\nThe farmer's daughter came: My good maid, says I, can you restore\nmy son to his former shape? Yes, says she, I can, Ah! said I, if\nyou can, I will make you mistress of my fortune. She replied to\nme, smiling, You are our master, and know very well what I owe to\nyou, but cannot restore your son into his former shape, but on\ntwo conditions. The first is, that you give him me for my\nhusband, and the second is, that you allow me to punish the\nperson who changed him into a calf. For the first, said I, I\nagree to it with all my heart; nay, I promise you more, a\nconsiderable estate for yourself, independent of what I design\nfor my son. In a word, you shall see how I will reward the great\nservice I expect from you. As to what relates to my wife, I also\nagree to it: A person that has been capable of committing such a\ncriminal action, deserves very well to be punished; I leave her\nto you; only I must pray you not to take her life. I am just\ngoing then, answers she, to treat her as she has treated my son.\nI agree to it, said I, provided you restore my son to me\nbeforehand.\n\nThen the maid took a vessel full of water, pronounced words over\nit that I did not understand, and addressing herself to the calf,\nO calf, says she, if thou wast created by the almighty and\nsovereign Master of the world, such as you appear at this time,\ncontinue in that form: but, if thou art a man, and changed into a\ncalf by enchantment, return to thy natural shape by the\npermission of the Sovereign Creator. As she spoke these words,\nshe threw water upon him, and in an instant he recovered his\nfirst shape.\n\nMy son, my dear son, cried I! immediately embracing him with such\na transport of joy that I knew not what I was doing; it is Heaven\nthat has sent us this young maid to take off the horrible charm\nby which you were enchanted, and to avenge the injury done to you\nand your mother. I doubt not but, in acknowledgment, you will\ntake your deliverer to wife, as I have promised. He consented to\nit with joy; but, before they were married, she changed my wife\ninto a bitch, and this is she you see here. I desired she should\nhave this shape, rather than another less agreeable, that we\nmight see her in the family without horror.\n\nSince that time my son has become a widower, and gone to travel;\nand it being several years since I heard of him, I am come abroad\nto inquire after him; and not being willing to trust any body\nwith my wife while I should come home, I thought it fit to carry\nher every where with me. This is the history of myself and this\nbitch, is it not one of the most wonderful and surprising that\ncan be? I agree it is, says the genie, and, upon that account, I\nforgive the merchant the third of his crime.\n\nWhen the first old man, Sir, continued the sultaness, had\nfinished his story, the second, who led the two black dogs,\naddressed himself to the genie, and says to him, I am going to\ntell you what happened to me and these two black dogs you see by\nme, and I am certain you will say that my story is yet more\nsurprising than that which you have just now heard; but when I\nhave told it you, I hope you will be pleased to pardon the\nmerchant the second third of his crime. Yes, replies the genie,\nprovided your story surpass that of the bitch. Then the second\nbegan in this manner. But as Scheherazade pronounced these words,\nshe saw it was day, and left off speaking.\n\nO Heaven! sister, says Dinarzade, these adventures are very\nsingular. Sister, replies the sultaness, they are not comparable\nto those which I have to tell you next night, if the sultan, my\nlord and master, be so good as to let me live. Schahriar answered\nnothing to that, but rose up, said his prayers, and went to\ncouncil, without giving any order against the life of the\nScheherazade.\n\n                        The Sixth Night.\n\nThe sixth night being come, the sultan and his lady went to bed.\nDinarzade awaked at the usual hour, and calling to the sultaness,\nsays, Dear sister, if you be not asleep, I pray you, until it be\nday, to satisfy my curiosity; I am impatient to hear the story of\nthe old man and the two black dogs. The sultan consented to it\nwith pleasure, being no less desirous to know the story than\nDinarzade; and Scheherazade continued it as follows.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE SECOND OLD MAN AND THE\n                        TWO BLACK DOGS.\n\n\n\nGreat prince of genies, says the old man, you must know that we\nare three brothers, I and the two black dogs you see: Our father\nleft each of us, when he died, one thousand sequins; with that\nsum we all entered into the same way of living, and became\nmerchants. A little time after we had opened shop, my eldest\nbrother, one of these two dogs, resolved to travel and trade in\nforeign countries. Upon this design, he sold his estate, and\nbought goods proper for the trade he intended.\n\nHe went away, and was absent a whole year; at the end of which, a\npoor man, who, I thought, had come to ask alms, presented himself\nbefore me in my shop. I said to him, God help you. God help you\nalso, answered he, is it possible you do not know me? Upon this,\nI looked to him narrowly, and knew him. Ah, my brother! cried I,\nembracing him, how could I know you in this condition? I made him\ncome into my house, and asked him concerning his health, and the\nsuccess of his travels. Do not ask me that question, says he;\nwhen you see me, you see all. It would only renew my grief to\ntell you all the particulars of the misfortunes that have\nbefallen me, and reduced me to this condition, since I left you.\n\nI immediately shut up my shop, and, carrying him to a bath, gave\nhim the best clothes I had by me; and examining my books, and\nfinding that I had doubled my stock, that is to say, that I was\nworth two thousand sequins, I gave him one half. With that, said\nI, brother, you may make up your loss. He joyfully accepted the\nproffer, recovered himself, and we lived together as before.\n\nSome time after, my second brother, who is the other of these two\ndogs, would also sell his estate. I and his other brother did all\nwe could to divert him from it, but could not; He sold it, and\nwith the money bought such goods as were suitable for the trade\nhe designed. He joined a caravan; and took a journey. He returned\nat the end of the year in the same condition as my other brother;\nand I having gained another thousand sequins, gave him them, with\nwhich he furnished his shop, and continued to follow his trade.\n\nSome time after, one of my brothers comes to me to propose a\ntrading voyage with them; I immediately rejected their proposal.\nYou have travelled, said I, and what have you gained by it? Who\ncan assure me that I shall be more successful than you have been?\nThey represented to me in vain all that they thought fit to\nprevail upon me to engage in that design with them, for I\nconstantly refused; but they importuned me so much, that after\nhaving resisted their solicitations five whole. years, they\novercame me at last: but when we were to make preparations for\nour voyage, and to buy goods necessary for the undertaking, I\nfound they had spent all, and that they had not one farthing left\nof the thousand sequins I had given each of them. I did not,\nhowever, upbraid them in the least with it. On the contrary, my\nstock being six thousand sequins, I shared the half of it with\nthem, telling them, My brothers, we must venture these three\nthousand sequins, and hide the rest in some sure place, that, in\ncase our voyage be no more successful than yours was formerly, we\nmay have wherewith to assist us, and to follow our ancient way of\nliving. I gave each of them a thousand sequins; and keeping as\nmuch for myself, I buried the other three thousand in a corner of\nmy house. We bought our goods; and, after having embarked them on\nboard a vessel, which we freighted betwixt us three, we put to\nsea with a favourable wind. After a month's sail--But I see day,\nsays Scheherazade, I must stop here.\n\nSister, says Dinarzade, this story promises a great deal; I fancy\nthe rest of it must be very extraordinary. You are not mistaken,\nanswered the sultaness; and if the sultan will allow me to tell\nit you, I am persuaded it will very much divert you. Schahriar\ngot up, as he did the day before, without explaining his mind;\nbut gave no order to the grand vizier to kill his daughter.\n\n                       The Seventh Night.\n\nWhen the seventh night drew near a close, Dinarzade awaked the\nsultaness, and prayed her to continue the story of the second old\nman. I will, answered Scheherazade, provided the sultan, my lord\nand master, do not oppose it. Not at all, says Shahriar; I am so\nfar from opposing it, that I desire you earnestly to go on with\nit.\n\nTo resume the thread of the story, says Scheherazade, you must\nknow that the old man, who led the two dogs, continued his story\nto the genie, the other two old men, and the merchant, thus: In\nshort, says he, after two months sail, we arrived happily at a\nport, where we landed, and had a very great vent for our goods. I\nespecially sold mine so well, that I gained ten to one; and we\nbought commodities of that country to transport and sell in our\nown.\n\nWhen we were ready to embark in order to return, I met, upon the\nbanks of the sea, a lady handsome enough, but poorly clad. She\ncame up to me presently, kissed my hand, prayed me, with the\ngreatest earnestness imaginable, to marry her, and take her along\nwith me. I made some difficulty to agree to it; but she said so\nmany things to persuade me that I ought to make no objections to\nher poverty, and that I should have all the reason in the world\nto be satisfied with her conduct, that I yielded. I ordered fit\napparel to be made for her; and, after having married her\naccording to form, I took her on board, and we set sail.\n\nDuring the navigation, I found the wife I had taken had so many\ngood qualities, that I loved her every day more and more. In the\nmean time my two brothers, who had not managed their affairs so\nwell as I did mine, envied my prosperity; and their fury carried\nthem so far as to conspire against my life; so that one night,\nwhen my wife and I were asleep, they threw us both into the sea.\n\nMy wife was a fairy, and by consequence, genie, you know well,\nshe could not be drowned; but for me, it is certain, I had been\nlost without her help. I had scarcely fallen into the water, till\nshe took me up, and carried me to an island. When it was day, the\nfairy said to me, You see, husband, that, by saving your life, I\nhave not rewarded you ill for your kindness to me. You must know\nthat I am a fairy, and that, being upon the bank of the sea, when\nyou were going to embark, I found I had a strong inclination for\nyou: I had a mind to try your goodness, and presented myself\nbefore you in the disguise wherein you saw me. You have dealt\nvery generously with me, and I am mighty glad to have found an\nopportunity of testifying my acknowledgment to you: But I am\nincensed against your two brothers, and nothing will satisfy me\nbut their lives.\n\nI listened to this discourse of the fairy with admiration. I\nthanked her as well as I could for the great kindness she had\ndone me; but, Madam, said I, for my brothers, I beg you to pardon\nthem; whatever cause they have given me, I am not cruel enough to\ndesire their death. I told her the particulars of what I had done\nfor them, which increased her indignation so, that she cried out,\nI must immediately fly after those ungrateful traitors, and take\nspeedy vengeance on them; I will drown their vessel, and throw\nthem into the bottom of the sea. No, my good lady, replied I, for\nthe sake of Heaven do not so; moderate your anger, consider that\nthey are my brothers, and that we must do good for evil.\n\nI pacified the fairy by these words; and as soon as I had spoken\nthem, she transported me in an instant from the island where we\nwere to the roof of my own house, which was terrassed, and\ndisappeared in a moment. I went down, opened the doors, and dug\nup the three thousand sequins I had hid. I went afterwards to the\nplace where my shop was, which I also opened, and was\ncomplimented by the merchants, my neighbours, upon my return.\nWhen I went to my house, I perceived two black dogs, which came\nto me in a very submissive manner; I knew not what it meant, but\nwas much astonished at it. But the fairy, who appeared\nimmediately, says to me, Husband, do not be surprised to see\nthese two black dogs by you; they are your two brothers. I was\ntroubled at these words, and asked her by what power they were so\ntransformed. It was I that did it, says she, at least I gave\ncommission to one of my sisters to do it, who, at the same time,\nsunk their ship. You have lost the goods you had on board, but I\nwill make it up to you in another way. As to your two brothers, I\nhave condemned them to remain five years in that shape. Their\nperfidiousness too well deserves such a penance; and, in short,\nafter having told me where I might hear of her, she disappeared.\n\nNow the five years being out, I am travelling in quest of her;\nand as I passed this way, I met this merchant, and the good old\nman that led the bitch, and sat down by them. This is my history,\nO prince of genies, do not you think it very extraordinary? I own\nit, says the genie, and, upon that account, remit the merchant\nthe second third of the crime which he has committed against me.\n\nAs soon as the second old man had finished his story, the third\nbegan, and made the like demand of the genie with the two first;\nthat is to say, to pardon the merchant the other third of his\ncrime, provided the story he had to tell him exceeded the two he\nhad already heard for singular events. The genie made him the\nsame promise as he had done the other two. Hearken then, says the\nold man to him. But day appears, says Scheherazade, I must stop\nhere.\n\nI cannot enough admire, sister, says Dinarzade, the adventures\nyou have told me. I know abundance more, answers the sultaness,\nthat are still more wonderful. Schahriar, willing to know if the\nstory of the third old man would be as agreeable as that of the\nsecond, put off the execution of Scheherazade till the next\nnight.\n\n                       The Eighth Night.\n\nAs soon as Dinarzade perceived it was time to call the sultaness,\nshe says, Sister, I have been awake a long time, and have a great\nmind to awake you, I am so impatient to hear the story of the\nthird old man. The sultan answered, I can hardly think that the\nthird story will surpass the two former ones.\n\nSir, replies the sultaness, the third old man told his story to\nthe genie; I cannot tell it you, because it is not come to my\nknowledge, but I know that it did so much exceed the two former\nstories in the variety of wonderful adventures that the genie was\nastonished at it; and no sooner heard the end of it, but he said\nto the third old man, I remit the other third part of the\nmerchant's crime upon the account of your story. He is very much\nobliged to all three of you, for having delivered him out of this\ndanger by your stories; without which he had not now been in the\nworld. And, having spoken thus, he disappeared to the great\ncontentment of the company.\n\nThe merchant failed not to give his three deliverers the thanks\nhe owed them. They rejoiced to see him out of danger; after which\nhe bid them adieu, and each of them went on his way. The merchant\nreturned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his\ndays with them in peace. But, Sir, added Scheherazade, how\npleasant soever these stories may be, that I have told your\nmajesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the fisherman.\nDinarzade, perceiving that the sultaness demurred, says to her,\nSister, since there is still some time remaining, pray tell us\nthe story of the fisherman, if the sultan is willing. Schahriar\nagreed to it, and Scheherazade, resuming her discourse, pursued\nit in this manner.\n\n\n\n\n\n                  THE STORY OF THE FISHERMAN.\n\n\n\nSir--There was a very ancient fisherman, so poor, that he could\nscarcely earn enough to maintain himself, his wife, and three\nchildren. He went every day to fish betimes in a morning; and\nimposed it as a law upon himself, not to cast his nets above four\ntimes a-day. He went one morning by moon-light, and, coming to\nthe sea-bank, undressed himself, and cast in his nets. As he drew\nthem towards the shore, he found them very heavy, and thought he\nhad got a good draught of fish, at which he rejoiced within\nhimself; but, in a moment after, perceiving that, instead of\nfish, there was nothing in his nets but the carcase of an ass, he\nwas mightily vexed. Scheherazade stopped here, because she saw it\nwas day.\n\nSister, says Dinarzade, I must confess that the beginning of this\nstory charms me, and I foresee that the result of it will be very\nagreeable. There is nothing more surprising than the story of\nthis fisherman, replied the sultaness, and you will be convinced\nof it next night, if the sultan will be so gracious as to let me\nlive. Schahriar, being curious to hear the success of such an\nextraordinary fishing, would not order Scheherazade to be put to\ndeath that day.\n\n                        The Ninth Night.\n\nMy dear sister, cries Dinarzade, next morning at the usual hour,\nif you be not asleep, I pray you to go on with the story of the\nfisherman; I am ready to die till I hear it. I am willing to give\nyou that satisfaction, says the sultaness; but at the same time\nshe demanded leave of the sultan, and, having obtained it, began\nagain as follows:\n\nSir, when the fisherman, vexed to have made such a sorry draught,\nhad mended his nets, which the carcase of the ass had broken in\nseveral places, he threw them in a second time; and when he drew\nthem, found a great deal of resistance, which made him think he\nhad taken abundance of fish; but he found nothing except a\npannier full of gravel and slime, which grieved him extremely. O\nFortune! cries he, with a lamentable tone, do not be angry with\nme, nor persecute a wretch who prays thee to spare him. I came\nhither from my house to seek for my livelihood, and thou\npronouncest death against me. I have no other trade but this to\nsubsist by; and, notwithstanding all the care I take, I can\nscarcely provide what is absolutely necessary for my family. But\nI am in the wrong to complain of thee; thou takest pleasure to\npersecute honest people, and to leave great men in obscurity,\nwhilst thou showest favour to the wicked, and advancest those who\nhave no virtue to recommend them.\n\nHaving finished this complaint, he threw away the pannier in a\nfret, and washing his nets from the slime, cast them the third\ntime, but brought up nothing except stones, shells, and mud.\nNobody can express his disorder; he was within an ace of going\nquite mad. However, when day began to appear, he did not forget\nto say his prayers like a good Mussulman, and afterwards added\nthis petition: \"Lord, you know that I cast my net only four times\na day; I have already drawn them three times, without the least\nreward for my labour: I am only to cast them once more; I pray\nyou to render the sea favourable to me, as you did to Moses.\"\n\nThe fisherman, having finished this prayer, cast his nets the\nfourth time; and, when he thought it was time, he drew them, as\nformerly, with great difficulty; but, instead of fish, found\nnothing in them but a vessel of yellow copper, that, by its\nweight, seemed to be full of something; and he observed that it\nwas shut up and sealed with lead, having the impression of a seal\nupon it. This rejoiced him; I will sell it, says he, to the\nfounder, and with the money arising from the product, buy a\nmeasure of corn. He examined the vessel on all sides, and shook\nit, to see if what was within made any noise, and heard nothing.\nThis circumstance, with the impression of the seal upon the\nleaden cover, made him to think there was something precious in\nit. To try this, he took a knife, and opened it with very little\nlabour; he presently turned the mouth downward; but nothing came\nout, which surprised him extremely. He set it before him, and,\nwhile he looked upon it attentively, there came out a very thick\nsmoke which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it.\n\nThis smoke mounted as high as the clouds, and extending itself\nalong the sea, and upon the shore, formed a great mist, which, we\nmay well imagine, did mightily astonish the fisherman. When the\nsmoke was all out of the vessel, it reunited itself, and became a\nsolid body, of which there was formed a genie twice as high as\nthe greatest of giants. At the sight of a monster of such\nunsizeable bulk, the fisherman would fain have fled, but was so\nfrightened that he could not go one step.\n\nSolomon, cried the genie immediately, Solomon, the great prophet,\npardon, pardon; I will never more oppose your will: I will obey\nall your commands.--Scheherazade, perceiving it day, broke off\nher story.\n\nUpon which Dinarzade said, Dear sister, nobody can keep their\npromise better than you can keep yours. This story is certainly\nmore surprising than the former. Sister, replies the sultaness,\nthere are more wonderful things yet to come, if my lord the\nsultan will allow me to tell them you. Schahriar had too great a\ndesire to hear out the story of the fisherman to deprive himself\nof that pleasure, and therefore put off the sultaness's death\nanother day.\n\n                        The Tenth Night.\n\nDinarzade called her sister next night when she thought it was\ntime, and prayed her to continue the story of the fisherman; and\nthe sultan being also impatient to know what concern the genie\nhad with Solomon, Scheherazade continued her story thus;\n\nSir, the fisherman, when he heard these words of the genie,\nrecovered his courage, and says to him, Thou proud spirit, what\nis this that you talk? it is above eighteen hundred years since\nthe prophet Solomon died, and we are now at the end of time: Tell\nme your history, and how you came to be shut up in this vessel.\n\nThe genie, turning to the fisherman with a fierce look, says, You\nmust speak to me with more civility; thou art very bold to call\nme a proud spirit. Very well, replies the fisherman, shall I\nspeak to you with more civility, and call you the owl of good\nluck? I say, answers the genie, speak to me more civilly, before\nI kill thee. I have only one favour to grant thee. And what is\nthat, says the fisherman? It is, answers the genie, to give you\nyour choice in what manner you wouldst have me to take thy life.\nBut wherein have I offended you, replies the fisherman? Is this\nthe reward for the good service I have done you. I cannot treat\nyou otherwise, says the genie; and that you may be convinced of\nit, hearken to my story.\n\nI am one of those rebellious spirits that opposed themselves to\nthe will of Heaven; all the other genies owned Solomon, the great\nprophet, and submitted to him. Sacar and I were the only genies\nthat would never be guilty of so mean a thing: And, to avenge\nhimself, that great monarch sent Asaph, the son of Barakia, his\nchief minister, to apprehend me. That was accordingly done; Asaph\nseized my person, and brought me by force before his master's\nthrone.\n\nSolomon, the son of David, commanded me to quit my way of living,\nto acknowledge his power, and to submit myself to his commands: I\nbravely refused to obey, and told him, I would rather expose\nmyself to his resentment, than swear fealty, and submit to him as\nhe required. To punish me, he shut me up in this copper vessel;\nand to make sure of me that I should not break prison, he stamped\n(himself) upon this leaden cover his seal, with the great name\nGod engraven upon it. Thus he gave the vessel to one of the\ngenies that submitted to him, with orders to throw it into the\nsea, which was executed to my great sorrow.\n\nDuring the first hundred years imprisonment, I swore that if one\nwould deliver me before the hundred years expired, I would make\nhim rich even after his death: But that century ran out, and\nnobody did me that good office. During the second, I made an\noath, that I would open all the treasures of the earth to any one\nthat would set me at liberty, but with no better success. In the\nthird, I promised to make my deliverer a potent monarch, to be\nalways near him in spirit, and to grant him every day three\ndemands, of what nature soever they might be: But this century\nran out as well as the two former, and I continued in prison. At\nlast, being angry, or rather mad, to find myself a prisoner so\nlong, I swore, that if afterwards any one should deliver me, I\nwould kill him without pity, and grant him no other favour but to\nchoose what kind of death he would die; and therefore, since you\nhave delivered me to-day, I give you that choice.\n\nThis discourse afflicted the poor fisherman extremely: I am very\nunfortunate, cries he, to come hither to do such a piece of good\nservice to one that is so ungrateful. I beg you to consider your\ninjustice, and revoke such an unreasonable oath: pardon me, and\nHeaven will pardon you; if you grant me my life, Heaven will\nprotect you from all attempts against yours. No, thy death is\nresolved on, says the genie, only choose how you will die. The\nfisherman, perceiving the genie to be resolute, was extremely\ngrieved, not so much for himself as for his three children, and\nbewailed the misery they must be reduced to by his death. He\nendeavoured still to appease the genie, and says, Alas! be\npleased to take pity on me in consideration of the good service I\nhave done you. I have told thee already, replies the genie, it is\nfor that very reason I must kill thee. That is very strange, says\nthe fisherman, are you resolved to reward good for evil? The\nproverb says, \"That he who does good to one who deserves it not,\nis always ill rewarded.\" I must confess I thought it was false;\nfor in effect there can be nothing more contrary to reason, or\nthe laws of society. Nevertheless, I find now, by cruel\nexperience, that it is but too true. Do not let us lose time,\nreplies the genie, all thy reasoning shall not divert me from my\npurpose: Make haste, and tell me which way you choose to die.\n\nNecessity is the mother of invention. The fisherman bethought\nhimself of a stratagem. Since I must die then, says he to the\ngenie, I submit to the will of Heaven; but, before I choose the\nmanner of death, I conjure you by the great name which was\nengraven upon the seal of the prophet Solomon, the son of David,\nto answer me truly the question I am going to ask you. The genie,\nfinding himself obliged to give a positive answer by this\nadjuration, trembled, and replied to the fisherman, Ask what thou\nwilt, but make haste. Day appearing, Scheherazade held her peace.\n\nSister, says Dinarzade, it must be owned, that the more you\nspeak, the more you surprise and satisfy. I hope the sultan, our\nlord, will not order you to be put to death till he hears out the\nfine story of the fisherman. The sultan is absolute, replies\nScheherazade; we must submit to his will in every thing. But\nShahriar, being as willing as Dinarzade to hear an end of the\nstory, did again put off the execution of the sultaness.\n\n                      The Eleventh Night.\n\nShahriar, and the princess his spouse, passed this night in the\nsame manner as they had done the former; and, before break of\nday, Dinarzade awaked them with these words, which she addressed\nto the sultaness: I pray you, sister, to resume the story of the\nfisherman. With all my heart, says Scheherazade, I am willing to\nsatisfy you, with the sultan's permission.\n\nThe genie (continued she) having promised to speak the truth, the\nfisherman says to him, I would know if you were actually in this\nvessel? Dare you swear it by the name of the great God? Yes,\nreplied the genie, I do swear by that great name that I was, and\nit is a certain truth. In good faith, answered the fisherman, I\ncannot believe you; the vessel is not capable to hold one of your\nfeet, and how should it be possible that your whole body could be\nin it? I swear to thee notwithstanding, replied the genie, that I\nwas there just as you see me here: Is it possible that thou dost\nnot believe me after the great oath which I have taken? Truly,\nnot I, said the fisherman; nor will I believe you unless you show\nit me.\n\nUpon which the body of the genie was dissolved, and changed\nitself into smoke, extending itself, as formerly, upon the\nsea-shore; and then at last, being gathered together, it began to\nreenter the vessel, which he continued to do successively, by a\nslow and equal motion, after a smooth and exact way, till nothing\nwas left out, and immediately a voice came forth, which said to\nthe fisherman, Well, now, incredulous fellow, I am all in the\nvessel, do not you believe me now?\n\nThe fisherman, instead of answering the genie, took the cover of\nlead, and having speedily shut the vessel, Genie, cries he, now\nit is your turn to beg my favour, and to choose which way I shall\nput thee to death; but not so, it is better that I should throw\nyou into the sea, whence I took you; and then I will build a\nhouse upon the bank, where I will dwell, to give notice to all\nfishermen, who come to throw in their nets, to beware of such a\nwicked genie as thou art, who hast made an oath to kill him who\nshall set thee at liberty.\n\nThe genie, enraged at these expressions, did all he could to get\nout of the vessel again, but it was not possible for him to do\nit; for the impression of Solomon's seal prevented him; so,\nperceiving that the fisherman had got the advantage of him, he\nthought fit to dissemble his anger. Fisherman, says he, in a\npleasant tone, take heed you do not what you say; for what I\nspoke before was only by way of jest, and you are to take it no\notherwise. O genie! replies the fisherman, thou who wast but a\nmoment ago the greatest of all genies, and now art the least of\nthem, thy crafty discourse will signify nothing to thee, but to\nthe sea thou shalt return: If thou hadst staid in the sea so long\nas thou hast told me, thou mayst very well stay there till the\nday of judgment. I begged thee, in God's name, not to take away\nmy life, and thou didst reject my prayers; I am obliged to treat\nyou in the same manner.\n\nThe genie omitted nothing that could prevail upon the fisherman:\nOpen the vessel, says he, give me my liberty, I pray thee, and I\npromise to satisfy thee to thy own content. Thou art a mere\ntraitor, replies the fisherman, I should deserve to lose my life,\nif I be such a fool as to trust thee; thou wilt not fail to treat\nme in the same manner as a certain Grecian king treated the\nphysician Douban. It is a story I have a mind to tell thee,\ntherefore listen to it.\n\nTHE STORY OF THE GRECIAN KING, AND THE PHYSICIAN DOUBAN.\n\nThere was in the country of Zouman, in Persia, a king whose\nsubjects were originally Greeks. This king was all over leprous,\nand his physicians in vain endeavoured his cure; and when they\nwere at their wits end what to prescribe him, a very able\nphysician, called Douban, arrived at his court.\n\nThis physician had learned his science in Greek, Persian,\nTurkish, Arabian, Latin, Syrian, and Hebrew books; and, besides\nthat he was an expert philosopher, he fully understood the good\nand bad qualities of all sorts of plants and drugs. As soon as he\nwas informed of the king's distemper, and understood that his\nphysicians had given him over, he clad himself the best he could,\nand found a way to present himself to the king: Sir, says he, I\nknow that all your majesty's physicians have not been able to\ncure you of the leprosy; but if you will do me the honour to\naccept my service, I will engage myself to cure you without\ndrenches or external applications.\n\nThe king listened to what he said, and answered, if you are able\nto perform what you promise, I will enrich you and your\nposterity; and, besides the presents I shall make you, you shall\nbe my chief favourite. Do you assure me, then, that you will cure\nme of my leprosy, without making me take any potion, or applying\nany external medicine? Yes, sir, replies the physician, I promise\nmyself success, through God's assistance, and to-morrow I will\nmake trial of it.\n\nThe physician returned to his quarters, and made a mallet, hollow\nwithin, and at the handle he put in his drugs: He made also a\nball in such a manner as suited his purpose, with which, next\nmorning, he went to present himself before the king, and, falling\ndown at his feet, kissed the very ground. Here Scheherazade,\nperceiving day, acquainted the sultan with it, and held her\npeace.\n\nI wonder, sister, says Dinarzade, where you learn so many things.\nYou will hear a great many others to-morrow, re-*\n045.txt---------------------------- plies Scheherazade, if the\nsultan, my master, will be pleased to prolong my life further,\nSchahriar, who longed as much as Dinarzade to hear the sequel of\nthe story of Douban the physician, did not order the sultaness to\nbe put to death that day.\n\n THE TWELFTH NIGHT.\n\nThe twelfth night was pretty far advanced, when Dinarzade called,\nand says, Sister, you owe us the continuation of the agreeable\nhistory of the Grecian king and the physician Douban. I am very\nwilling to pay my debt, replies Scheherazade, and resumed the\nstory as follows.\n\nSir, the fisherman, speaking always to the genie, whom he kept\nshut up in his vessel, went on thus: The physician Douban rose\nup, and, after a profound reverence, says to the king, he judged\nit meet that his majesty should take horse, and go to the place\nwhere he used to play at the mell. The king did so, and when he\narrived there, the physician came to him with the mell, and says\nto him, Sir, exercise yourself with this mell, and strike the\nball with it until you find your hands and your body in a sweat.\nWhen the medicine I have put in the handle of the mell is heated\nwith your hand, it will penetrate your whole body; and as soon as\nyou shall sweat, you may leave off the exercise, for then the\nmedicine will have had its effect. As soon as you are returned to\nyour palace, go into the bath, and cause yourself to be well\nwashed and rubbed; then go to bed, and, when you rise to-morrow,\nyou will find yourself cured.\n\nThe king took the mell, and struck the ball, which was returned\nby his officers that played with him; he struck it again, and\nplayed so long, till his hand and his whole body were in a sweat,\nand then the medicine shut up in the handle of the mell had its\noperation, as the physician said. Upon this the king left off\nplay, returned to his palace, entered the bath, and observed very\nexactly what his physician had prescribed him.\n\nHe was very well after; and next morning, when he arose, he\nperceived, with as much wonder as joy, that his leprosy was\ncured, and his body as clean as if he had never been attacked\nwith that distemper. As soon as he was dressed, he came into the\nhall of public audience, where he mounted his throne, and showed\nhimself to his courtiers, who, longing to know the success of the\nnew medicine, came thither betimes, and, when they saw the king\nperfectly cured, did all of them express a mighty joy for it. The\nphysician Douban, entering the hall, bowed himself before the\nthrone wiih his face to the ground. The king, perceiving him,\ncalled him, made him sit down by his side, showed him to the\nassembly, and gave him all the commendation he deserved. His\nmajesty did not stop here; but, as he treated all his court that\nday, he made him to eat at his table atone with him. At these\nwords Scheherazade, perceiving day, broke off her story. Sister,\nsays Dinarzade, I know not what the conclusion of this story will\nbe, but I find the beginning very surprising. That which is to\ncome is yet better, answered the sultaness, and I am certain you\nwill not deny it, if the sultan gives me leave to make an end of\nit to-morrow night. Shahriar consented, and rose very well\nsatisfied with what he had heard.\n\n                     The Thirteenth Night.\n\nDinarzade, willing to keep the sultan in ignorance of her design,\ncried out, as if she had started out of her sleep, 0 dear sister,\nI have had a troublesome dream, and nothing will sooner make me\nforget it than the remainder of the story of the Grecian king and\nthe doctor Douban. I conjure you, by the love you always bore me,\nnot to defer it a moment longer. I shall not be wanting, good\nsister, to ease your mind; and, if my sovereign will permit me, I\nwill go on. Schahriar, being charmed with the agreeable manner of\nScheherazade's telling her story, says to her, You will oblige me\nno less than Dinarzade, therefore continue.\n\nThe Grecian king (says the fisherman to the genie) was not\nsatisfied with having admitted the physician Douban to his table,\nbut towards night, when he was about dismissing the company, he\ncaused him to be clad in a long rich robe, like unto those which\nhis favourites usually wore in his presence; and, besides that,\nhe ordered him two thousand sequins. The next day, and the day\nfollowing, he was very familiar with him. In short, this prince,\nthinking that he could never enough acknowledge the obligations\nhe lay under to that able physician, bestowed every day new\nfavours upon him. But this king had a grand vizier that was\navaricious, envious, and naturally capable of all sorts of\nmischief; he could not see, without envy, the presents that were\ngiven to the physician, whose other merits had begun to make him\njealous, and therefore he resolved to lessen him in the king's\nesteem. To effect this, he went to the king, and told him in\nprivate that he had some advice to give him which was of the\ngreatest concernment. The king having asked what it was, Sir,\nsaid he, it is very dangerous for a monarch to put confidence in\na man whose fidelity he never tried. Though you heap favours upon\nthe physician Douban, and show him all the familiarity that may\nbe, your majesty does not know but he may be a traitor at the\nsame time, and came on purpose to this court to kill you. From\nwhom have you this, answered the king, that you dare tell it me?\nConsider to whom you speak, and that you advance a thing which I\nshall not easily believe. Sir, replied the vizier, I am very well\ninformed of what I have had the honour to represent to your\nmajesty, therefore do not let your dangerous confidence grow to a\nfurther height; if your majesty be asleep, be pleased to awake;\nfor I do once more repeat it, that the physician Douban did not\nleave the heart of Greece, his country, nor come hither to settle\nhimself at your court, but to execute that horrid design which I\nhave just now hinted to you.\n\nNo, no, vizier, replies the king, I am certain that this man,\nwhom you treat as a villain and a traitor, is one of the best and\nmost virtuous men in the world; and there is no man I love so\nmuch. You know by what medicine, or rather by what miracle, he\ncured me of my leprosy; if he had a design upon my life, why did\nhe save me? He needed only to have left me to my disease; I could\nnot have escaped; my life was already half gone; forbear, then,\nto fill me with any unjust suspicions. Instead of listening to\nyou, I tell you, that from this day forward I will give that\ngreat man a pension of a thousand sequins per month for his life;\nnay, though I did share with him all my riches and dominions, I\nshould never pay him enough for what he has done me; I perceive\nit to be his virtue that raises your envy; but do not think that\nI will be unjustly possessed with prejudice against him; I\nremember too well what a vizier said to King Sinbad, his master,\nto prevent his putting to death the prince his son. But, sir,\nsays Scheherazade, day-light appears, which forbids me to go\nfurther.\n\nI am very well pleased that the Grecian king, says Dinarzade, had\nso much firmness of spirit as to reject the false accusation of\nhis vizier. If you commend the firmness of that prince to-day,\nsays Scheherazade, you will as much condemn his weakness\nto-morrow, if the sultan be pleased to allow me time to finish\nthis story. The sultan, being curious to hear wherein the Grecian\nking discovered his weakness, did further delay the death of the\nsultaness.\n\n                     The Fourteenth Night.\n\nAn hour before day, Dinarzade awaked her sister, and says to her,\nyou will certainly be as good as your word, madam, and tell us\nout the story of the fisherman. To assist your memory, I will\ntell you where you left off; it was where the Grecian king\nmaintained the innocence of his physician Douban against his\nvizier. I remember it, says Scheherazade, and am ready to give\nyou satisfaction.\n\nSir, continues she, addressing herself to Schahriar, that which\nthe Grecian king said about King Sinbad raised the vizier's\ncuriosity, who says to him, Sir, I pray your majesty to pardon\nme, if I have the boldness to demand of you what the vizier of\nKing Sinbad said to his master to divert him from cutting off the\nprince his son. The Grecian king had the complaisance to satisfy\nhim: That vizier, says he, after having represented to King\nSinbad that he ought to beware lest, on the accusation of a\nmother-in-law, he should commit an action which he might\nafterwards repent of, told him this story.\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF THE HUSBAND AND PARROT.\n\n\n\nA certain man had a fair wife, whom he loved so dearly that he\ncould scarcely allow her to be out of his sight. One day, being\nobliged to go abroad about urgent affairs, he came to a place\nwhere all sorts of birds were sold, and there bought a parrot,\nwhich not only spoke very well, but could also give an account of\nevery thing that was done before it. He brought it in a cage to\nhis house, prayed his wife to put it in the chamber, and to take\ncare of it, during a journey he was obliged to undertake, and\nthen went out.\n\nAt his return, he took care to ask the parrot concerning what had\npassed in his absence, and the bird told him things that gave him\noccasion to upbraid his wife. She thought some of her slaves had\nbetrayed her, but all of them swore they had been faithful to\nher; and they all agreed that it must have been the parrot that\nhad told tales.\n\nUpon this, the wife bethought herself of a way how, she might\nremove her husband's jealousy, and at the same time revenge\nherself on the parrot, which she effected thus: Her husband being\ngone another journey, she commanded a slave, in the night time,\nto turn a hand-mill under the parrot's cage; she ordered another\nto throw water, in form of rain, over the cage; and a third to\ntake a glass, and turn it to the right and to the left before the\nparrot, so as the reflections of the candle might shine on its\nface. The slaves spent great part of the night in doing what\ntheir mistress commanded them, and acquitted themselves very\ndexterously.\n\nNext night the husband returned, and examined the parrot again\nabout what had passed during his absence. The bird answered, Good\nmaster, the lightning, thunder, and rain, did so much disturb me\nall night, that I cannot tell how much I suffered by it. The\nhusband, who knew that there had been neither thunder, lightning,\nnor rain that night, fancied that the parrot, not having told him\nthe truth in this, might also have lied to him in the other; upon\nwhich he took it out of the cage, and threw it with so much force\nto the ground that he killed it; yet afterwards he understood, by\nhis neighbours, that the poor parrot had not lied to him when it\ngave him an account of his wife's base conduct, which made him\nrepent that he had killed it. Scheherazade stopped here, because\nshe saw it was day.\n\nAll that you tell us, sister, says Dinarzade is so curious, that\nnothing can be more agreeable. I shall be willing to divert you,\nanswers Scheherazade, if the sultan, my master, will allow me\ntime to do it. Schahriar, who took as much pleasure to hear the\nsultaness as Dinarzade, rose, and went about his affairs, without\nordering the vizier to cut her off.\n\n                      The Fifteenth Night.\n\nDinarzade was punctual this night, as she had been the former, to\nawake her sister, and begged of her, as usual, to tell her a\nstory. I am going to do it, sister, says Scheherazade; but the\nsultan interrupted her, for fear she should begin a new story,\nand bid her finish the discourse between the Grecian king and his\nvizier about his physician Douban. Sir, says Scheherazade, I will\nobey you, and went on with the story as follows.\n\nWhen the Grecian king, says the fisherman to the genie, had\nfinished the story of the parrot; and you, vizier, adds he,\nbecause of the hatred you bear to the physician Douban, who never\ndid you any hurt, you would have me cut him off; but I will take\ncare of that, for fear I should repent it, as the husband did the\nkilling of his parrot.\n\nThe mischievous vizier was too much concerned to effect the ruin\nof the physician Douban to stop here. Sir, says he, the death of\nthe parrot was but a trifle, and I believe his master did not\nmourn for him long. But why should your fear of wronging an\ninnocent man hinder your putting this physician to death? Is it\nnot enough that he is accused of a design against your life to\nauthorize you to take away his? When the business in question is\nto secure the life of a king, bare suspicion ought to pass for\ncertainty; and it is better to sacrifice the innocent than to\nspare the guilty. But, sir, this is not an uncertain thing; the\nphysician Douban has certainly a mind to assassinate you. It is\nnot envy which makes me his enemy; it is only the zeal and\nconcern I have for preserving your majesty's life, that make me\ngive you my advice in a matter of this importance. If it be\nfalse, I deserve to be punished in the same manner as a vizier\nwas formerly punished. What had that vizier done, says the\nGrecian king, to deserve punishment? I will inform your majesty\nof that, says the vizier, if you will be pleased to hear me.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE VIZIER THAT WAS PUNISHED.\n\n\n\nThere was a king, says the vizier, who had a son that loved\nhunting mightily. He allowed him to divert himself that way very\noften, but gave orders to his grand vizier to attend him\nconstantly, and never to lose sight of him.\n\nOne hunting day, the huntsman having roused a deer, the prince\nwho thought the vizier followed him, pursued the game so far, and\nwith so much earnestness, that he was left quite alone. He\nstopped, and finding that he had lost his way, endeavoured to\nreturn the same way he came, to find out the vizier, who had not\nbeen careful enough to find him, and so wandered further.\n\nWhilst he rode up and down without keeping any road, he met, by\nthe way-side, a handsome lady, who wept bitterly. He stopped his\nhorse, asked who she was, how she came to be alone in that place,\nand what she wanted? I am, says she, daughter of an Indian king;\nas I was taking the air on horseback in the country, I grew\nsleepy, fell from my horse, who is got away, and I know not what\nis become of him. The young prince, taking compassion on her,\nasked her to get up behind him, which she willingly accepted.\n\nAs they passed by the ruins of a house, the lady signified a\ndesire to alight on some occasion. The prince stopped his horse,\nand suffered her to alight; then he alighted himself, and went\nnear the ruins with his horse in his hand: But you may judge how\nmuch he was surprised, when he heard the lady within it say these\nwords, \"Be glad, my children, I bring you a handsome young man,\nand very fat;\" and other voices which answered immediately,\n\"Mamma, where is he, that we may eat him presently, for we are\nvery hungry.\"\n\nThe prince heard enough to convince him of his danger, and then\nhe perceived that the lady, who called herself daughter to an\nIndian king, was a hogress, wife to one of those savage demons\ncalled hogress, who live in remote places, and make use of a\nthousand wiles to surprise and devour passengers; so that the\nprince, being thus frightened, mounted his horse as soon as he\ncould.\n\nThe pretended princess appeared that very moment, and perceiving\nthat she had missed her prey, she cries, Fear nothing, prince!\nWho are you? Whom do you seek? I have lost my way, replies he,\nand am seeking it. If you have lost your way, says she, recommend\nyourself to God, he will deliver you out of your perplexity. Then\nthe prince lift up his eyes towards Heaven. But, sir, says\nScheherazade, I am obliged to break off, for day appears.\n\nI long mightily, says Dinarzade, to know what became of that\nyoung prince, I tremble for him. I will deliver you from your\nuneasiness to-morrow, answers the sultaness, if the sultan will\nallow me to live till then. Schahriar, willing to hear an end of\nthis adventure, prolonged Scheherazade's life for another day.\n\n                      The Sixteenth Night.\n\nDinarzade had such a mighty desire to hear out the story of the\nyoung prince, that she awaked that night sooner than ordinary,\nand said, Sister, pray go on with the story you began yesterday:\nI am much concerned for the young prince, and ready to die for\nfear that he was eaten up by the hogress and her children.\nSchahriar having signified that he had the same fear, the\nsultaness replies, Well, Sir, I will satisfy you immediately.\n\nAfter the counterfeit Indian princess had bid the young prince\nrecommend himself to God, he could not believe she spoke\nsincerely, but thought she was sure of him, and therefore lifting\nup his hands to Heaven, said, Almighty Lord, cast thine eyes upon\nme, and deliver me from this enemy. After this prayer, the\nhogress entered the ruins again, and the prince rode off with all\npossible haste. He happily found his way again, and arrived safe\nand sound at his father's court, to whom he gave a particular\naccount of the danger he had been in through the vizier's\nneglect; upon which the king, being incensed against that\nminister, ordered him to be strangled that very moment.\n\nSir, continues the Grecian king's vizier, to return to the\nphysician Douban, if you do not take care, the confidence you put\nin him will be fatal to you: I am very well assured that he is a\nspy sent by your enemies to attempt your majesty's life. He has\ncured you, you will say: But, alas! who can assure you of that?\nHe has perhaps cured you only in appearance, and not radically;\nwho knows but the medicines he has given you may in time have\npernicious effects?\n\nThe Grecian king, who had naturally very little sense, was not\nable to discover the wicked design of his vizier, nor had he\nfirmness enough to persist in his first opinion. This discourse\nstaggered him: Vizier, says he, thou art in the right; he may be\ncome on purpose to take away my life, which he may easily do by\nthe very smell of some of his drugs. We must consider what is fit\nfor us to do in this case.\n\nWhen the vizier found the king in such a temper as he would have\nhim, Sir, says he, the surest and speediest method you can take\nto secure your life, is to send immediately for the physician\nDouban, and order his head to be cut off as soon as he comes. In\ntruth, says the king, I believe that is the way we must take to\nprevent his design. When he had spoken thus, he called for one of\nhis officers, and ordered him to go for the physician; who,\nknowing nothing of the king's design, came to the palace in\nhaste.\n\nKnow ye, says the king, when he saw him, why I sent for you? No,\nSir, answered he; I wait till your majesty be pleased to inform\nme. I sent for you, replied the king, to rid myself of you by\ntaking your life.\n\nNo man can express the surprise of the physician, when he heard\nthe sentence of death pronounced against him. Sir, says he, why\nwould your majesty take away my life? What crime have I\ncommitted? I am informed by good hands, replies the king, that\nyou come to my court only to attempt my life; but, to prevent\nyou, I will be sure of yours. Give the blow, says he to the\nexecutioner, who was present, and deliver me from a perfidious\nwretch, who came hither on purpose to assassinate me.\n\nWhen the physician heard this cruel order, he readily judged that\nthe honours and presents he had received from the king had\nprocured him enemies, and that the weak prince was imposed upon.\nHe repented that he had cured him of his leprosy, but it was now\ntoo late. Is it thus, replies the physician, that you reward me\nfor curing you? The king would not hearken to him, but ordered\nthe executioner a second time to strike the fatal blow. The\nphysician then had recourse to his prayers: Alas! sir, cries he,\nprolong my days, and God will prolong yours; do not put me to\ndeath, lest God treat you in the same manner. The fisherman broke\noff his discourse here, to apply it to the genie. Well, genie,\nsays he, you see that what passed then betwixt the Grecian king\nand his physician Douban is acted just now betwixt us.\n\nThe Grecian king, continues he, instead of having regard to the\nprayers of the physician, who begged him for God's sake to spare\nhim, cruelly replied to him, No, no; I must of necessity cut you\noff, otherwise you may take away my life with as much subtleness\nas you cured me. The physician, melting into tears, and bewailing\nhimself sadly for being so ill rewarded by the king, prepared for\ndeath. The executioner bound up his eyes, tied his hands, and\nwent to draw his scimitar.\n\nThen the courtiers, who were present, being moved with\ncompassion, begged the king to pardon him, assuring his majesty\nthat he was not guilty of the crime laid to his charge, and that\nthey would answer for his innocence; but the king was inflexible,\nand answered them so, as they dared not to say any more of the\nmatter.\n\nThe physician being on his knees, his eyes tied up, and ready to\nreceive the fatal blow, addressed himself once more to the king:\nSir, says he, since your majesty will not revoke the sentence of\ndeath, I beg, at least, that you will give me leave to return to\nmy house, to give orders about my burial, to bid farewell to my\nfamily, to give alms, and to bequeath my books to those who are\ncapable of making good use of them. I have one in particular I\nwould present to your majesty; it is a very precious book, and\nworthy to be laid up very carefully in your treasury. Well,\nreplies the king, why is that book so precious as you talk of?\nSir, says the physician, because it contains an infinite number\nof curious things, of which the chief is, that when you have cut\noff my head, if your majesty will give yourself the trouble to\nopen the book at the sixth leaf, and read the third line of the\nleft page, my head will answer all the questions you ask it. The\nking, being curious to see such a wonderful thing, deferred his\ndeath till next day, and sent him home under a strong guard.\n\nThe physician, during that time, put his affairs in order; and\nthe report being spread, that an unheard-of prodigy was to happen\nafter his death, the viziers, emirs, officers of the guard, and,\nin a word, the whole court, repaired next day to the hall of\naudience, that they might be witnesses of it.\n\nThe physician Douban was soon brought in, and advanced to the\nfoot of the throne, with a great book in his hand; there he\ncalled for a bason, upon which he laid the cover that the book\nwas wrapped in, and presenting the book to the king, Sir, says\nhe, take that book, if you please, and as soon as my head is cut\noff, order that it may be put into the bason upon the cover of\nthe book; as soon as it is put there, the blood will stop; then\nopen the book, and my head will answer your questions. But, Sir,\nsays he, permit me once more to implore your majesty's clemency;\nfor God's sake grant my request, I protest to you that I am\ninnocent. Your prayers, answers the king, are vain; and if it\nwere for nothing but to hear your head speak after your death, it\nis my will you should die. As he said this, he took the book out\nof the physician's hand, and ordered the executioner to do his\nduty.\n\nThe head was so dexterously cut off, that it fell into the bason,\nand was no sooner laid upon the cover of the book than the blood\nstopped; then, to the great surprise of the king, and all the\nspectators, it opened its eyes, and said, Sir, will your majesty\nbe pleased to open the book? The king opened it, and finding that\none leaf was, as it were, glued to another, that he might turn it\nwith more ease, he put his finger to his mouth, and wet it with\nspittle. He did so till he came to the sixth leaf, and finding no\nwriting on the place where he was bid to look for it, Physician,\nsays he to the head, here is nothing written. Turn over some more\nleaves, replies the head. The king continued to turn over,\nputting always his finger to his mouth, until the poison, with\nwhich each leaf was imbued, came to have its effect; the prince\nfinding himself, all of a sudden, taken with an extraordinary\nfit, his eye-sight failed, and he, fell down at the foot of his\nthrone in great convulsions. At these words Scheherazade,\nperceiving day, gave the sultan notice of it, and forbore\nspeaking. Ah! dear sister, says Dinarzade, how grieved am I that\nyou have not time to finish this story! I should be inconsolable\nif you lose your life to-day. Sister, replies the sultaness, that\nmust be as the sultan pleases; but I hope he will be so good as\nto suspend my death till to-morrow. And accordingly Schahriar,\nfar from ordering her death that day, expected next night with\nmuch impatience; so earnest was he to hear out the story of the\nGrecian king, and the sequel of that of the fisherman and the\ngenie.\n\n                     The Seventeenth Night.\n\nThough Dinarzade was very curious to hear the rest of the story\nof the Grecian king, she did not awake that night so soon as\nusual, so that it was almost day before she called upon the\nsultaness; and then said, I pray you, sister, to continue the\nwonderful story of the Greek king; but make haste, I beseech you,\nfor it will speedily be day.\n\nScheherazade resumed the story where she left off the day before.\nSir, says she to the sultan, when the physician Douban, or rather\nhis head, saw that the poison had taken effect, and that the king\nhad but a few moments to live: Tyrant, it cried, now you see how\nprinces are treated, who, abusing, their authority, cut off\ninnocent men: God punishes, soon or late, their injustice and\ncruelty. Scarcely had the head spoken these words, when the king\nfell down dead, and the head itself lost what life it had.\n\nSir, continues Scheherazade, such was the end of the Grecian\nking, and the physician Douban; I must return now to the story of\nthe fisherman and the genie; but it is not worth while to begin\nit now, for it is day. The sultan, who always observed his hours\nregularly, could stay no longer, but got up; and having a mind to\nhear the sequel of the story of the genie and, the fisherman, he\nbid the sultaness prepare to tell it him next night.\n\n                     The Eighteenth Night.\n\nDinarzade made amends this night for last night's neglect; she\nawaked long before day, and calling upon Scheherazade, Sister,\nsays she, if you be not asleep, pray give us the rest of the\nstory of the fisherman and the genie; you know the sultan desires\nto hear it as well as I.\n\nI shall soon satisfy his curiosity and yours, answers the\nsultaness; and then, addressing herself to Schahriar, Sir,\ncontinued she, as soon as the fisherman had concluded the history\nof the Greek king and his physician Douban, he made the\napplication to the genie, whom he still kept shut up in the\nvessel. If the Grecian king, says he, would have suffered him to\nlive; but he rejected his most humble prayers; and it is the same\nwith thee, O genie. Could I have prevailed with thee to grant me\nthe favour I demanded, I should now have had pity upon thee; but\nsince, notwithstanding the extreme obligation thou wast under to\nme for having set thee at liberty, thou didst persist in thy\ndesign to kill me, I am obliged in my turn to be as hard-hearted\nto thee.\n\nMy good friend fisherman, replies the genie, I conjure thee once\nmore not to be guilty of so cruel a thing; consider that it is\nnot good to avenge one's self, and that, on the other hand, it is\ncommendable to do good for evil; do not treat me as Imama treated\nAteca formerly. And what did Imama to Ateca, replies the\nfisherman? Ho! says the genie, if you have a mind to know it,\nopen the vessel; do you think that I can be in a humour to tell\nstories in so strait a prison? I will tell you as many as you\nplease when you let me out. No, says the fisherman, I will not\nlet thee out, it is in vain to talk of it; I am just going to\nthrow you into the bottom of the sea. Hear me one word more,\ncries the genie, I promise to do thee no hurt; nay, so far from\nthat, I will show thee a way how thou mayst become exceeding\nrich.\n\nThe hope of delivering himself from poverty prevailed with the\nfisherman. I could listen to thee says he, were there any credit\nto be given to thy word; swear to me by the great name of God,\nthat you will faithfully perform what you promise, and I will\nopen the vessel; I do not believe you will dare to break such an\noath.\n\nThe genie swore to him, and the fisherman immediately took off\nthe covering of the vessel. At that very instant the smoke came\nout, and the genie having resumed his form as before, the first\nthing he did was to kick the vessel into the sea. This action\nfrightened the fisherman: Genie, says he, what is the meaning of\nthat; will not you keep the oath you made, just now? And must I\nsay to you as the physician Douban said to the Grecian king,\nSuffer me to live, and God will prolong your days.\n\nThe genie laughed at the fisherman's fear, and answered, No,\nfisherman, be not afraid, I only did it to divert myself, and to\nsee if thou wouldst be alarmed at it: But, to persuade thee that\nI am in earnest, take thy net and follow me. As he spoke these\nwords, he walked before the fisherman, who, having taken up his\nnets, followed him, but with some distrust: They passed by the\ntown, and came to the top of a mountain, from whence they\ndescended into a vast plain, which brought them to a great pond\nthat lay betwixt four hills,\n\nWhen they came to the side of the pond, the genie says to the\nfisherman, Cast in thy nets, and take fish; the fisherman did not\ndoubt to catch some, because he saw a great number in the pond;\nbut he was extremely surprised when he found they were of four\ncolours; that is to say, white, red, blue, and yellow. He threw\nin his nets, and brought out one of each colour; having never\nseen the like, he could not but admire them, and, judging that he\nmight get a considerable sum for them, he was very joyful. Carry\nthese fish, says the genie to him, and present them to the\nsultan; he will give you more money for them than ever you had in\nyour life. You may come every day to fish in this pond, and I\ngive thee warming not to throw in thy nets above once a day;\notherwise you will repent it. Take heed, and remember my advice;\nif you follow it exactly, you will find your account in it.\nHaving spoken thus, he struck his foot upon the ground, which\nopened, and shut again after it had swallowed up the genie.\n\nThe fisherman, being resolved to follow the genie's advice\nexactly, forebore casting in his nets a second time; but returned\nto the town very well satisfied with his fish, and making a\nthousand reflections upon his adventure. He went straight to the\nsultan's palace to present him his fish. But, sir, says\nScheherazade, I perceive day, and must stop here.\n\nDear sister, says Dinarzade, how surprising are the last events\nyou have told us? I have much ado to believe that any thing you\nhave to say can be more surprising. Sister, replies the\nsultaness, if the sultan, my master, will let me live till\nto-morrow, I am persuaded you will find the sequel of the history\nof the fisherman more wonderful than the beginning of it, and\nincomparably more diverting. Schahriar, being curious to know if\nthe remainder of the story of the fisherman would be such as the\nsultaness said, put off the execution of the cruel law one day\nmore.\n\n                     The Nineteenth Night.\n\nTowards morning, Dinarzade called the sultaness, and said, Dear\nsister, my pendulum tells me it will be day speedily, therefore\npray continue the history of the fisherman; I am extremely\nimpatient to know what the issue of it was. Scheherazade, having\ndemanded leave of Schahriar, resumed her discourse as follows:\nSir, I leave it to your majesty to think how much the sultan was\nsurprised when he saw the four fishes which the fisherman\npresented him. He took them up one after another, and beheld them\nwith attention; and after having admired them a long time, take\nthese fishes, says he to his prime vizier, and carry them to the\nfine cook-maid that the emperor of the Greeks has sent me. I\ncannot imagine but they must be as good as they are fine.\n\nThe vizier carried them himself to the cook, and, delivering them\ninto her hands, Look ye, says he, there are four fishes newly\nbrought to the sultan, he orders you to dress them; and, having\nsaid so, he returned to the sultan his master, who ordered him to\ngive the fisherman four hundred pieces of gold of the coin of\nthat country, which he did accordingly.\n\nThe fisherman, who had never seen so much cash in his lifetime,\ncould scarcely believe his own good fortune, but thought it must\nneeds be a dream, until he found it to be real, when he provided\nnecessaries for his family with it.\n\nBut, sir, says Scheherazade, having told you what happened to the\nfisherman, I must acquaint you next with what befel the sultan's\ncook-maid, whom we shall find in a mighty perplexity. As soon as\nshe had gutted the fishes, she put them upon the fire in a\nfrying-pan with oil, and when she thought them fried enough on\none side, she turned them upon the other; but, O monstrous\nprodigy! scarcely were they turned, when the wall of the kitchen\nopened, and in comes a young lady of wonderful beauty and comely\nsize. She was clad in flowered satin, after the Egyptian manner,\nwith pendants in her ears, necklace of large pearl, and bracelets\nof gold, garnished with rubies, with a rod of myrtle in her hand.\nShe came towards the frying-pan, to the great amazement of the\ncook-maid, who continued immovable at this sight, and, striking\none of the fishes with the end of the rod, says, \"Fish, fish, art\nthou in thy duty?\" The fish having answered nothing, she repeated\nthese words, and then the four fishes lift up their heads\naltogether, and said to her, \"Yes, yes, if you reckon, we reckon;\nif you pay your debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we overcome, and\nare content.\" As soon as they had finished these words, the lady\noverturned the frying-pan, and entered again into the open part\nof the wall, which shut immediately, and became as it was before.\n\nThe cook-maid was mightily frightened at this, and, coming a\nlittle to herself, went to take up the fishes that fell upon the\nearth, but found them blacker than coal, and not fit to be\ncarried to the sultan. She was grievously troubled at it, and\nfell a-weeping most bitterly: Alas! says she, what will become of\nme? If I tell the sultan what I have seen, I am sure he will not\nbelieve me, but will be mightily enraged against me.\n\nWhilst she was thus bewailing herself, in comes the grand vizier,\nand asked her if the fishes were ready? She told him all that had\nhappened, which, we may easily imagine, astonished him mightily;\nbut, without speaking a word to the sultan, he invented an excuse\nthat satisfied him, and sending immediately for the fisherman,\nbid him bring four more such fish; for a misfortune had befallen\nthe other, that they were not fit to be carried to the sultan.\nThe fisherman, without saying any thing of what the genie had\ntold him, in order to excuse himself from bringing them that very\nday, told the vizier he had a great way to go for them, but would\ncertainly bring them to-morrow.\n\nAccordingly the fisherman went away by night, and, coming to the\npond, threw in his nets betimes next morning, took four such\nfishes as the former, and brought them to the vizier at the hour\nappointed. The minister took them himself, carried them to the\nkitchen, and shutting himself up all alone with the cook-maid,\nshe gutted them, and put them on the fire, as she had done the\nfour others the day before; when they were fried on the one side,\nand she had turned them upon the other, the kitchen-wall opened,\nand the same lady came in with the rod in her hand, struck one of\nthe fishes, spoke to it as before, and all four gave her the same\nanswer. But, sir, says Scheherazade, day appears, which obliges\nme to break off. What I have told you is indeed singular, but if\nI be alive to-morrow, I will tell you other things which are yet\nbetter worth your hearing. Schahriar, conceiving that the sequel\nmust be very curious, resolved to hear her next night.\n\n                      The Twentieth Night.\n\nNext morning the sultan prevented Dinarzade, and says to\nScheherazade, Madam, I pray you make an end of the story of the\nfisherman; I am impatient to hear it. Upon which the sultaness\ncontinued it thus:\n\nSir, after the four fishes had answered the young lady, she\noverturned the frying-pan with her rod, and retired into the same\nplace of the wall from whence she came out. The grand vizier\nbeing witness to what passed, This is too surprising and\nextraordinary, says he, to be concealed from the sultan; I will\ninform him of this prodigy; which he did accordingly, and gave\nhim a faithful account of all that had happened.\n\nThe sultan, being much surprised, was mighty impatient to see\nthis himself. To this end, he sent immediately for the fisherman,\nand says to him, Friend, cannot you bring me four more such\nfishes? The fisherman replied, If your majesty will be pleased to\nallow me three days time, I will do it. Having obtained this\ntime, he went to the pond immediately, and, at the first throwing\nin of his net, he took four such fishes, and brought them\npresently to the sultan, who was the more rejoiced at it, as he\ndid not expect them so soon, and ordered him other four hundred\npieces of gold. As soon as the sultan had the fish, he ordered\nthem to be carried into the closet, with all that was necessary\nfor frying them; and having shut himself up there with his\nvizier, that minister gutted them, put them in the pan upon the\nfire, and when they were fried on one side, turned them upon the\nother; then the wall of the closet opened; but, instead of the\nyoung lady, there came out a black, in the habit of a slave, and\nof a gigantic stature, with a great green baton in his hand. He\nadvanced towards the pan, and touching one of the fishes with his\nbaton, says to it with a terrible voice, \"Fish, art thou in thy\nduty?\" At these words, the fishes raised up their heads, and\nanswered, \"Yes, yes, we are: if you reckon, we reckon; if you pay\nyour debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we overcome, and are\ncontent.\"\n\nThe fish had no sooner finished these words, than the black threw\nthe pan into the middle of the closet, and reduced these fishes\nto a coal. Having done this, he retired fiercely, and entering\nagain into the hole of the wall, it shut, and appeared just as it\nwas before.\n\nAfter what I have seen, says the sultan to the vizier, it will\nnot be possible for me to be easy in my mind. These fish, without\ndoubt, signify something extraordinary, in which I have a mind to\nbe satisfied. He sent for the fisherman; and when he came, says\nto him, Fisherman, the fishes you have brought us make me very\nuneasy; where did you catch them? Sir, answers he, I fished for\nthem in a pond situate betwixt four hills, beyond the mountain\nthat we see from hence. Know you that pond, says the sultan to\nthe vizier? No, sir, replies the vizier, I never so much as heard\nof it; and yet it is not sixty years since I hunted beyond that\nmountain and thereabouts. The sultan asked the fisherman, how far\nthe pond might be from the palace? The fisherman answered, it was\nnot above three hours journey. Upon this assurance, and there\nbeing day enough beforehand, the sultan commanded all his court\nto take horse, and the fisherman served them for a guide. They\nall ascended the mountain, and at the foot of it they saw, to\ntheir great surprise, a vast plain, that nobody had observed till\nthen; and at last they came to the pond, which they found\nactually to be situate betwixt four hills, as the fisherman had\nsaid. The water of it was so transparent, that they observed all\nthe fishes to be like those which the fisherman had brought to\nthe palace.\n\nThe sultan staid upon the bank of the pond, and, after beholding\nthe fishes with admiration, he demanded of his emirs and all his\ncourtiers, if it was possible they had never seen this pond,\nwhich was within so little a way of the town. They all answered,\nthat they had never so much as heard of it.\n\nSince you all agree, says he, that you never heard of it, and as\nI am no less astonished than you are, at this novelty I am\nresolved not to return to my palace till I know how this pond\ncame hither, and why all the fish in it are of four colours.\nHaving spoken thus, he ordered his court to encamp, and\nimmediately his pavilion, and the tents of his household, were\nplanted upon the banks of the pond.\n\nWhen night came, the sultan retired under his pavilion, and spoke\nto the vizier by himself thus: Vizier, my mind is very uneasy:\nthis pond transported hither, the black that appeared to us in my\ncloset, and the fishes that we heard speak; all this does so much\nwhet my curiosity, that I cannot resist the impatient desire that\nI have to be satisfied in it. To this end, I am resolved to\nwithdraw alone from the camp, and I order you to keep my absence\nsecret; stay in my pavilion, and to-morrow morning, when the\nemirs and courtiers come to attend my levee, send them away, and\ntell them, that I am somewhat indisposed, and have a mind to be\nalone: and the following day tell them the same thing, till I\nreturn.\n\nThe grand vizier said several things to divert the sultan from\nhis design: He represented to him the danger to which he might be\nexposed, and that all his labour might perhaps be in vain. But it\nwas to no purpose; the sultan was resolved on it, and would go.\nHe put on a suit fit for walking, and took his scimitar; and as\nsoon as he saw that all was quiet in the camp, he goes out alone,\nand went over one of the hills without much difficulty; he found\nthe descent still more easy, and, when he came to the plain,\nwalked on till the sun rose, and then he saw before him, at a\nconsiderable distance, a great building. He rejoiced at the\nsight, in hopes to be informed there of what he had a mind to\nknow. When he came near, he found it was a magnificent palace, or\nrather a very strong castle, of fine black polished marble, and\ncovered with fine steel, as smooth as a looking-glass. Being\nmightily pleased that he had so speedily met with something\nworthy his curiosity, he stopped before the front of the castle,\nand considered it with abundance of attention.\n\nHe afterwards came up to the gate, which had two leaves, one of\nthem open: though he might have entered when he would, yet he\nthought it best to knock. He knocked at first softly, \"and waited\nfor some time; but seeing nobody, and supposing they had not\nheard him, he knocked harder the second time; but neither seeing\nnor hearing anybody, he knocked again and again; but nobody\nappearing, it surprised him extremely; for he could not think\nthat a castle so well in repair was without inhabitants. If there\nbe nobody in it, says he to himself, I have nothing to fear, and\nif there be, I have wherewith to defend me.\n\nAt last he entered, and when he came within the porch, he cries,\nIs there nobody here to receive a stranger, who comes in for some\nrefreshment as he passes by? He repeated the same two or three\ntimes; but, though he spoke very high, nobody answered.\n\nThis silence increased his astonishment; he came into a very\nspacious court, and looking on every side to see if he could\nperceive any body, he saw no living thing. But, sir, says\nScheherazade, day appears, and I must stop.\n\nAh! sister, says Dinarzade, you break off at the very best of the\nstory. It is true, answers the sultaness; but, sister, you see I\nam forced to do so. If my lord the sultan pleases, you may hear\nthe rest to-morrow, Schahriar agreed to this, not so much to\nplease Dinarzade as to satisfy his own curiosity, being mightily\nimpatient to hear what adventure the prince met with in the\ncastle.\n\n                    The Twenty-first Night.\n\nDinarzade, to make amends for her neglect the night before, never\nlaid eye together, and, when she thought it was time, awaked the\nsultaness, saying to her, My dear sister, pray give us an account\nof what happened in the fine castle where you left us yesterday.\n\nScheherazade forthwith resumed her story, and, addressing herself\nto Schahriar, says, Sir, the sultan, perceiving nobody in the\ncourt, entered the great halls, which were hung with silk\ntapestry; the alcoves and sofas were covered with stuffs of\nMecca, and the porches with the richest stuffs of the Indies,\nmixed with gold and silver. He came afterwards into an admirable\nsaloon, in the middle of which there was a great fountain, with a\nlion of massy gold at each corner: Water issued at the mouths of\nthe four lions, and this water, as it fell, formed diamonds and\npearls, that very well answered a jet of water, which, springing\nfrom the middle of the fountain, rose as high almost as the\nbottom of a cupola painted after the Arabian manner.\n\nThe castle on three sides was encompassed by a garden, with\nflower-pots, water-works, groves, and a thousand other fine\nthings concurring to embellish it; and what completed the beauty\nof the place, was an infinite number of birds, which filled the\nair with their harmonious notes, and always staid there; nets\nbeing spread over the trees, and fastened to the palace, to keep\nthem in. The sultan walked a long time from apartment to\napartment, where he found every thing very grand and magnificent.\nBeing tired with walking, he sat down in an open closet, which\nhad a view over the garden, and there reflecting upon what he had\nalready seen, and did then see, all of a sudden he heard the\nvoice of one complaining, accompanied with lamentable cries. He\nlistened with attention, and heard distinctly these sad words: \"O\nfortune! thou who wouldst not suffer me longer to enjoy a happy\nlot, and hast made me the most unfortunate man in the world,\nforbear to persecute me, and by a speedy death, put an end to my\nsorrows! Alas! is it possible that I am still alive after so many\ntorments as I have suffered?\n\nThe sultan, being affected with those pitiful complaints, rose\nup, and made towards the place where he heard the voice; and when\nhe came to the gate of a great hall, he opened it, and saw a\nhandsome young man, richly habited, set upon a throne raised a\nlittle above the ground. Melancholy was painted in his looks, The\nsultan drew near, and saluted him: The young man returned him his\nsalute by a low bow with his head; but not being able to rise up,\nhe says to the sultan, My lord, I am very well satisfied that you\ndeserve I should rise to receive you, and do you all possible\nhonour; but I am hindered from doing so by a very sad reason, and\ntherefore hope you will not take it ill. My lord, replies the\nsultan, I am very much obliged to you for having so good an\nopinion of me: As to the reason of your not rising, whatever your\napology be, I heartily accept of it. Being drawn hither by your\ncomplaints, and affected by your grief, I came to offer you my\nhelp; would to God that it lay in my power to ease you of your\ntrouble; I would do my utmost to effect it. I flatter myself that\nyou would willingly tell me the history of your misfortunes; but\npray tell me first the meaning of the pond near the palace, where\nthe fishes are of four colours? what this castle is? how you came\nto be here? and why you are alone?\n\nInstead of answering these questions, the young man began to weep\nbitterly. \"Oh, how inconstant is fortune!\" cried he: \"She takes\npleasure to pull down those men she hath raised up. Where are\nthey who enjoy quietly the happiness which they hold of her, and\nwhose day is always clear and serene?\"\n\nThe sultan, moved with compassion to see him in that condition,\nprayed him forthwith to tell him the cause of his excessive\ngrief. Alas! my lord, replies the young man, how is it possible\nbut I should grieve? And why should not my eyes be inexhaustible\nfountains of tears? At these words, lifting up his gown, he\nshowed the sultan that he was a man only from his head to the\ngirdle, and that the other half of his body was black marble.\nHere Scheherazade broke off, and told the sultan that day\nappeared.\n\nSchahriar was so much charmed with the story, and became so much\nin love with Scheherazade, that he resolved to let her live a\nmonth. He got up, however, as usual, without acquainting her with\nhis resolution.\n\n                    The Twenty-second Night.\n\nDinarzade was so impatient to hear out the story, that she called\nher sister next morning sooner than usual, and says to her,\nSister, pray continue the wonderful story you began, but could\nnot make an end of yesterday morning. I agree to it, replied the\nsultaness; hearken then.\n\nYou may easily imagine, continues she, that the sultan was\nstrangely surprised when he saw the deplorable condition of the\nyoung man. That which you show me, says he, as it fills me with\nhorror, whets my curiosity so, that I am impatient to hear your\nhistory, which no doubt is very strange, and I am persuaded that\nthe pond and the fishes make some part of it; therefore I conjure\nyou to tell it me. You will find some comfort in it, since it is\ncertain that unfortunate people find some sort of ease in telling\ntheir misfortunes. I will not refuse you that satisfaction,\nreplies the young man, though I cannot do it without renewing my\ngrief. But I give you notice beforehand, to prepare your ears,\nyour mind, and even your eyes, for things that surpass all that\nthe most extraordinary imagination can conceive.\n\n\n\n\n           THE HISTORY OF THE YOUNG KING OF THE BLACK\n                             ISLES.\n\n\n\nYou must know, my lord, continued he, that my father, who was\ncalled Mahmoud, was king of this country. This is the kingdom of\nthe Black Isles, which takes its name from the four little\nneighbouring mountains; for those mountains were formerly isles:\nThe capital where the king my father had his residence, was where\nthat pond you now see is. The sequel of my history will inform\nyou of all those changes.\n\nThe king my father died when he was seventy years of age: I had\nno sooner succeeded him, but I married; and the lady I chose to\nshare the royal dignity with me was my cousin. I had all the\nreason imaginable to be satisfied in her love to me; and, for my\npart, I had so much tenderness for her, that nothing was\ncomparable to the good understanding betwixt us, which lasted\nfive years, at the end of which time I perceived the queen my\ncousin had no more delight in me.\n\nOne day, while she was at bath, I found myself sleepy after\ndinner, and lay down upon a sofa; two of her ladies, who were\nthen in my chamber, came and sat down, one at my head, and the\nother at my feet, with fans in their hands to moderate the heat,\nand to hinder the flies from troubling me in my sleep. They\nthought I was fast, and spoke very low; but I only shut my eyes,\nand heard every word they said.\n\nOne of them says to the other, Is not the queen much in the wrong\nnot to love such an amiable prince as this? Ay, certainly,\nreplies the other; for my part I do not understand it, and I know\nnot how she goes out every night, and leaves him alone: is it\npossible that he does not perceive it? Alas! says the first, how\nwould you have him to perceive it? She mixes every evening in his\ndrink the juice of a certain herb, which makes him sleep so sound\nall night, that she has time to go where she pleases, and as day\nbegins to appear, the comes and lies down by him again, and wakes\nhim by the smell of something she puts under his nose.\n\nYou may guess, my lord, how much I was surprised at this\ndiscourse, and with what sentiments it inspired me; yet, whatever\nemotions it made within me, I had command enough over myself to\ndissemble it, and feigned myself to awake, without having heard\none word of it.\n\nThe queen returned from the bath; we supped together, and, before\nwe went to bed, she presented me with a cup of water such as I\nwas accustomed to drink; but, instead of putting it to my mouth,\nI went to a window that stood open, and threw out the water so\nprivately that she did not perceive it, and put the cup again\ninto her hands, to persuade her I had drunk it.\n\nWe went to bed together, and soon after, believing that I was\nasleep, though I was not, she got up with so little precaution,\nthat she said, so loud as I could hear distinctly, Sleep, and may\nyou never awake again. She dressed herself speedily, and went out\nof the chamber. As Scheherazade spoke these words, she saw day\nappear, and stopped.\n\nDinarzade had heard, her sister with a great deal of pleasure;\nand Shahriar thought the history of the king of the Black Isles\nso worthy of his curiosity, that he rose up full of impatience\nfor the rest of it.\n\n                    The Twenty-third Night.\n\nAn hour before day, Dinarzade, being awake, failed not to call\nupon the sultaness, and said, Pray, dear sister, go on with the\nhistory of the young king of the Black Islands. Scheherazade,\ncalling to mind where she left off, resumed ths story thus:\n\nAs soon as the queen my wife went out, continues the king of the\nBlack Islands, I got up, dressed me in haste, took my scimitar,\nand followed her so quick that I soon heard the sound of her feet\nbefore me, and then walked softly after her, for fear of being\nheard. She passed through several gates, which opened upon her\npronouncing some magical words; and the last she opened was that\nof the garden, which she entered: I stopped at the gate, that she\nmight not perceive me, As she crossed a plot, and looking after\nher as far as I could in the night, I perceived that she entered\na little wood, whose walks were guarded by thick palisadoes. I\nwent thither by another way, and slipping behind the palisadoes\nof a long walk, I saw her walking there with a man.\n\nI gave good heed to their discourse, and heard her say thus; I do\nnot deserve, says the queen to her gallant, to be upbraided by\nyou for want of diligence; you know very well what hinders me;\nbut if all the marks of love that I have already given you be not\nenough, I am ready to give you greater marks of it: You need but\ncommand me; you know my power. I will, if you desire it, before\nsun-rising, change this great city, and this fine palace, into\nfrightful ruins, which shall be inhabited by nothing but wolves,\nowls, and ravens. Would you have me to transport all the stones\nof those walls, so solidly built, beyond mount Caucasus, and out\nof the bounds of the habitable world? Speak but the word, and all\nthose places shall be changed.\n\nAs the queen finished these words, her gallant and she came to\nthe end of the walk, turned to enter another, and passed before\nme. I had already drawn my scimitar, and her gallant being next\nme, I struck him in the neck, and made him fall to the ground. I\nthought I had killed him, and therefore retired speedily without\nmaking myself known to the queen, whom I had a mind to spare,\nbecause she was my kinswoman.\n\nIn the mean time, the blow I had given her gallant was mortal,\nbut she preserved his life by the force of her enchantments, in\nsuch a manner, however, that he could not be said to be either\ndead or alive. As I crossed the garden to return to the palace, I\nheard the queen cry out lamentably, and, judging by that how much\nshe was grieved, I was pleased that I had spared her life.\n\nWhen I returned to her apartment, I went to bed, and being\nsatisfied with having punished the villain that did me the\ninjury, I went to sleep; and when I awaked next morning, found\nthe queen lying by me. Scheherazade was obliged to stop here,\nbecause she saw day.\n\nO Heaven! sister, says Dinarzade, how it troubles me that you can\nsay no more! Sister, replies the sultaness, you ought to have\nawaked me sooner; it is your fault. I will make amends next\nnight, replies Dinarzade; for I doubt not but the sultan will be\nas willing to hear out the story as I am; and I hope he will be\nso good as to let you live one day more.\n\n                    The Twenty-fourth Night.\n\nDinarzade was actually as good as her word; she called the\nsultaness very early, saying, Dear sister, if you be not asleep,\npray make an end of the agreeable history of the king of the\nBlack Isles; I am ready to die with impatience to know how he\ncame to be changed into marble. You shall hear it, replies\nScheherazade, if the sultan will give me leave.\n\nI found the queen lying by me, then, says the king of the Black\nIslands; I cannot tell you whether she slept or not; but I got up\nwithout making any noise, and went to my closet, where I made an\nend of dressing myself. I afterwards went and held my council,\nand, at my return, the queen was clad in mourning, her hair\nhanging about her eyes, and part of it pulled off. She presented\nherself before me, and said, Sir, I come to beg your majesty not\nto be surprised to see me in this condition; three afflicting\npieces of news that I have just now received all at once are the\ncause of my heavy grief, of which the tokens you see are but very\nfaint resemblances. Alas! what is that news, madam, said I? The\ndeath of the queen, my dear mother, said she; that of the king my\nfather killed in battle; and that of one of my brothers, who is\nfallen headlong into it.\n\nI was not ill pleased that she made use of this pretext to hide\nthe true cause of her grief, and I thought she had not suspected\nme to have killed her gallant. Madam, said I, I am so far from\nblaming your grief, that I assure you I am willing to bear what\nshare of it is proper for me. I should very much wonder if you\nwere insensible of so great a loss. Mourn on, your tears are so\nmany proofs of your good-nature; but I hope, however, that time\nand reason will moderate your grief.\n\nShe retired into her apartment, where, giving herself wholly up\nto sorrow, she spent a whole year in mourning and afflicting\nherself. At the end of that time, she begged leave of me to build\na burying-place for herself within the bounds of the palace,\nwhere she would continue, she told me, to the end of her days. I\nagreed to it, and she built a stately palace, with a cupola, that\nmay be seen here, and she called it the Palace of Tears. When it\nwas finished, she caused her gallant to be brought thither from\nthe place that she made him to be carried the same night that I\nwounded him; she had hindered his dying by the drink she gave\nhim, and carried to him herself every day after he came to the\nPalace of Tears.\n\nYet, with all her enchantments, she could not cure the wretch; he\nwas not only unable to walk, and to help himself, but had also\nlost the use of his speech, and gave no sign of life but only by\nhis looks. Though the queen had no other consolation but to see\nhim, and to say to him all that her foolish passion could inspire\nher with, yet every day she made him two long visits; I was very\nwell informed of all this, but pretended to know nothing of it.\n\nOne day I went out of curiosity to the Palace of Tears to see how\nthe princess employed herself, and, going to a place where she\ncould not see me, I heard her speak thus to her gallant: I am\nafflicted to the highest degree to see you in this condition; I\nam as sensible as you are yourself of the tormenting grief you\nendure; but, dear soul, I always speak to you, and you do not\nanswer me. How long will you be silent? speak only one word:\nAlas! the sweetest moments of my life are those I spend here in\npartaking of your grief. I cannot live at a distance from you,\nand would prefer the pleasure of always seeing you to the empire\nof the universe.\n\nAt these words, which were several times interrupted by her sighs\nand sobs, I lost all patience; and, discovering myself, came up\nto her, and said, Madam, you have mourned enough, it is time to\ngive over this sorrow which dishonours us both; you have too much\nforgotten what you owe to me and to yourself. Sir, says she, if\nyou have any kindness or complaisance left for me, I beseech you\nto put no force upon me; allow me to give myself up to mortal\ngrief; it is impossible for time to lessen it.\n\nWhen I saw that my discourse, instead of bringing her to her\nduty, served only to increase her rage, I gave over and retired.\nShe continued every day to visit her gallant, and for two long\nyears gave herself up to excessive grief.\n\nI went a second time to the Palace of Tears while she was there;\nI hid myself again, and heard her speak thus to her gallant: It\nis now three years since you spoke one word to me; you return no\nanswer to the marks of love I give you by my discourse and\ngroans. Is it from want of sense, or out of contempt? O tomb!\nhave you abated that excessive love he had for me? Have you shut\nthose eyes that showed me so much love, and were all my joy? No,\nno, I believe nothing of it. Tell me rather by what miracle you\nbecame intrusted with the rarest treasure that ever was in the\nworld?\n\nI must confess, my lord, I was enraged at these words; for, in\nshort, this gallant so much doted upon, this adored mortal, was\nnot such a one as you would imagine him to have been; he was a\nblack Indian, a native of that country. I say, I was so enraged\nat this discourse, that I discovered myself all of a sudden, and\naddressing the tomb in my turn, O tomb! cried I, why do you not\nswallow up that monster in nature, or rather why do you not\nswallow up the gallant and his mistress?\n\nI had scarcely finished these words, when the queen, who sat by\nthe black, rose up like a fury. Ah, cruel man! says she, thou art\nthe cause of my grief; do not you think but I know it. I have\ndissembled it but too long; it is thy barbarous hand which hath\nbrought the object of my love to this lamentable condition; and\nyou are so hard-hearted as to come and insult a despairing lover.\nYes, said I, in a rage, it is I who chastized that monster\naccording to his desert; I ought to have treated thee in the same\nmanner; I repent now that I did not do it; thou hast abused my\ngoodness too long. As I spoke these words, I drew out my\nscimitar, and lifted up my hand to punish her; but she,\nsteadfastly beholding me, said, with a jeering smile, Moderate\nthy anger. At the same time she pronounced words I did not\nunderstand, and afterwards added, By virtue of my enchantments, I\ncommand thee immediately to become half marble and half man.\nImmediately, my lord, I became such as you see me, already a dead\nman among the living, and a living man among the dead. Here\nScheherazade, perceiving day, broke off her story.\n\nUpon which Dinarzade says, Dear sister, I am exceedingly\nobligated to the sultan, for it is to his goodness I owe the\nextraordinary pleasure I have in your stories. My sister, replies\nthe sultaness, if the sultan will be so good as to suffer me to\nlive till to-morrow, I shall tell you a thing that will afford as\nmuch satisfaction as any thing you have yet heard. Though\nSchahriar had not resolved to defer the death of Scheherazade a\nmonth longer, he could not have ordered her to be put to death\nthat day.\n\n                    The Twenty-fifth Night.\n\nTowards the end of the night, Dinarzade cried, Sister, if I do\nnot trespass too much upon your complaisance, I would pray you to\nfinish the history of the king of the Black Islands.\nScheherazade, having awaked upon her sister's call, prepared to\ngive the satisfaction she required, and began thus:\n\nThe king, half marble half man, continued his history to the\nsultan thus: After this cruel magician, unworthy of the name of a\nqueen, had metamorphosed me thus, and brought me into this hall\nby another enchantment, she destroyed my capital, which was very\nflourishing and full of people; she abolished the houses, the\npublic places, and markets, and made a pond and desert field of\nit, which you may have seen; the fishes of four colours in the\npond are the four sorts of people, of different religions, that\ninhabited the place. The white are the Mussulmen; the red, the\nPersians, who worshipped the fire; the blue, the Christians; and\nthe yellow, the Jews. The four little hills were the four islands\nthat gave name to this kingdom. I learned all this from the\nmagician, who, to add to my affliction, told me with her own\nmouth these effects of her rage. But this is not all; her revenge\nwas not satisfied with the destruction of my dominions, and the\nmetamorphosis of my person; she comes every day, and gives me,\nover my naked shoulders, an hundred blows with ox pizzles, which\nmakes me all over blood; and, when she has done so, covers me\nwith a coarse stuff of goats hair, and throws over it this robe\nof brocade that you see, not to do me honour, but to mock me.\n\nAt this part of the discourse, the king could not withhold his\ntears; and the sultan's heart was so pierced with the relation,\nthat he could not speak one word to comfort him. A little time\nafter, the young king, lifting up his ryes to heaven, cried out,\nMighty Creator of all things, I submit myself to your judgments,\nand to the decrees of your providence; I endure my calamities\nwith patience, since it is your will it should be so; but I hope\nyour infinite goodness will reward me for it.\n\nThe sultan, being much moved by the recital of so strange a\nstory, and animated to avenge this unfortunate prince, says to\nhim, Tell me whither this perfidious magician retires, and where\nher unworthy gallant may be, who is buried before his death? My\nlord, replies the prince, her gallant, as I have already told\nyou, is in the Palace of Tears, in a tomb in form of a dome, and\nthat palace joins to this castle on the side of the gate. As to\nthe magician, I cannot precisely tell whither she retires; but\nevery day at sun-rising she goes to see her gallant, after having\nexecuted her bloody vengeance upon me, as I have told you: and\nyou see I am not in a condition to defend myself against so great\ncruelty. She carries him the drink with which she has hitherto\nprevented his dying, and always complains of his never speaking\nto her since he was wounded.\n\nOh, unfortunate prince, says the sultan, you can never enough be\nbewailed! Nobody can be more sensibly touched with your condition\nthan I am; never did such an extraordinary misfortune befal any\nman; and those who write your history will have the advantage to\nrelate a passage that surpasses all that has ever yet been\nrecorded. There is nothing wanting but one thing, the revenge\nwhich is due to you, and I will omit nothing that can be done to\nprocure it.\n\nWhile the sultan discoursed upon this subject with the young\nprince, he told him who he was, and for what end he entered the\ncastle, and thought on a plan of revenge, which he communicated\nto him. They agreed upon the measures they were to take for\neffecting their design, but deferred the execution of it till the\nnext day. In the mean time, the night being far spent, the sultan\ntook some rest, but the poor young prince passed the night\nwithout sleep as usual, having never slept since he was\nenchanted; but he conceived some hopes of being speedily\ndelivered from his misery.\n\nNext morning the sultan got up before day, and, in order to\nexecute his design, he hid in a corner his upper garment, that\nwould have been cumbersome to him, and went to the Palace of\nTears. He found it illuminated with an infinite number of\nflambeaux of white wax, and a delicious scent issued from several\nboxes of fine gold, of admirable workmanship, all ranged in\nexcellent order. As soon as he saw the bed where the black lay,\nlie drew his scimitar, killed the wretch without resistance,\ndragged his corpse into the court of the castle, and threw it\ninto a well. After this he went and lay down in the black's bed,\ntook his scimitar with him under the counterpane, and lay there\nto execute what he had designed.\n\nThe magician arrived in a little time; she first went into the\nchamber where her husband, the king of the Black Islands, was;\nstripped him, and beat him with bull pizzles in a most barbarous\nmanner. The poor prince filled the palace with his lamentations\nto no purpose; and conjured her, in the most affecting manner\nthat could be, to take pity on him; but the cruel woman would not\ngive over till she had given him an hundred blows. You had no\ncompassion on my lover, said she, and you are to expect none from\nme. Scheherazade, perceiving day, stopped, and could go no\nfurther.\n\nO heaven! says Dinarzade, sister, this was a barbarous\nenchantress indeed. But must we stop here? Will you not tell us\nwhether she received the chastisement she deserved? My dear\nsister, says the sultaness, I desire nothing more than to\nacquaint you with it to-morrow; but you know that depends on the\nsultan's pleasure. After what Schahriar had heard, he was far\nfrom any design to put Scheherazade to death; on the contrary,\nsays he to himself, I will not take away her life till she has\nfinished this surprising story, though it should last for two\nmonths. It shall always be in my power to keep the oath I have\nmade.\n\n                    The Twenty-sixth Night.\n\nAs soon as Dinarzade thought it was time to call the sultaness,\nshe says to her, How much should I be obliged to you, dear\nsister, if you would tell us what passed in the Palace of Tears.\nSchahriar having signified that he was as curious to know it as\nDinarzade, the sultaness resumed the story of the young enchanted\nprince as follows:\n\nSir, after the enchantress had given the king her husband an\nhundred blows with bull pizzles, she put on again his covering of\ngoat hair, and his brocade gown over all; she went afterwards to\nthe Palace of Tears, and, as she entered the same, she renewed\nher tears and lamentations; then approaching the bed, where she\nthought her gallant was, What cruelty, cries she, was it to\ndisturb the contentment of so tender and passionate a lover as I\nam! O thou who reproachest me that I am too inhuman, when I make\nthee feel the effects of my resentment! cruel prince! does not\nthy barbarity surpass my vengeance? Ah, traitor! in attempting\nthe life of the object whom I adore, hast thou not robbed me of\nmine? Alas! says she, addressing herself to the sultan, while she\nthought she spoke to the black, my soul, my life, will you always\nbe silent? Are you resolved to let me die, without giving me so\nmuch comfort as to tell me that you love me? My soul! speak one\nword to me at least, I conjure you.\n\nThe sultan, making as if he had awakened out of a deep sleep, and\ncounterfeiting the language of the blacks, answers the queen with\na grave tone, 'There is no force nor power but in God alone, who\nis almighty.' At these words, the enchantress, who did not expect\nthem, gave a great shout, to signify her excessive joy. My dear\nlord, says she, do not I deceive myself? is it certain that I\nhear you, and that you speak to me? Unhappy wretch, said the\nsultan, art thou worthy that I should answer thy discourse? Alas!\nreplies the queen, why do you reproach me thus? The cries,\nreplied he, the groans and tears of thy husband, whom thou\ntreatest every day with so much indignity and barbarity, hinder\nme to sleep night and day. I should have been cured long ago, and\nhave recovered the use of my speech, hadst thou disenchanted him.\nThis is the cause of my silence, which you complain of. Very\nwell, says the enchantress, to pacify you, I am ready to do what\nyou will command me; would you that I restore him as he was? Yes,\nreplies the sultan, make haste to set him at liberty, that I be\nno more disturbed with his cries.\n\nThe enchantress went immediately out of the Palace of Tears; she\ntook a cup of water, and pronounced words over it, which caused\nit to boil as if it had been on the fire. She went afterwards to\nthe hall to the young king her husband, and threw the water upon\nhim, saying, 'If the Creator of all things did form thee so as\nthou art at present, or if he be angry with thee, do not change;\nbut if thou art in that condition merely by virtue of my\nenchantments, resume thy natural shape, and become what thou wast\nbefore.' She had scarcely spoken these words, when the prince,\nfinding himself restored to his former condition, rose up freely\nwith all imaginable joy, and returned thanks to God. The\nenchantress then said to him, Get thee gone from this castle, and\nnever return here on pain of death. The young king, yielding to\nnecessity, went away from the enchantress without replying a\nword, and retired to a remote place, where he immediately\nexpected the success of the design which the sultan had begun so\nhappily. Meanwhile the enchantress returned to the Palace of\nTears, and, supposing that she still spoke to the black, says,\nDear lover, I have done what you ordered; let nothing now hinder\nyou to give me that satisfaction of which I have been deprived so\nlong.\n\nThe sultan continued to counterfeit the language of the blacks.\nThat which you have just now done, said he, signifies nothing to\nmy cure; you have only eased me of part of my disease; you must\ncut it up by the roots. My lovely black, replies she, what do you\nmean by the roots? Unfortunate woman, replies the sultan, do you\nnot understand that I mean the town and its inhabitants, and the\nfour islands, which thou hast destroyed by thy enchantments?\n\nThe fishes, every night at midnight, raise their heads out of the\npond, and cry for vengeance against thee and me. This is the true\ncause of the delay of my cure. Go speedily, restore things as\nthey were, and at thy return I will give thee my hand, and thou\nshalt help me to rise.\n\nThe enchantress, filled with hopes from these words, cried out in\na transport of joy, My heart, my soul, you shall soon be restored\nto your health; for I will immediately do what you command me.\nAccordingly she went that moment, and when she came to the brink\nof the pond, she took a little water in her hand, and sprinkling\nit--Here Scheherazade saw day, and stopped.\n\nDinarzade says to the sultaness, Sister, I am much rejoiced to\nhear that the young king of the Black Islands was disenchanted,\nand I already consider the town and the inhabitants as restored\nto their former state; but I long to know what will become of the\nenchantress. Have a little patience, replies the sultaness, and\nyou shall have the satisfaction you desire to-morrow, if the\nsultan, my lord, will consent to it. Schahriar, having resolved\non it already, as was said before, rose up, and went about his\nbusiness.\n\n                   The Twenty-seventh Night.\n\nAt the usual hour Dinarzade called upon the sultaness thus: Dear\nsister, pray tell us what was the fate of the magician queen, as\nyou promised us; upon which Scheherazade went on thus: The\nenchantress had no sooner sprinkled the water, and pronounced\nsome words over the fishes and the pond, than the city was\nrestored that very minute. The fishes became men, women, and\nchildren; Mahometans, Christians, Persians, or Jews, freemen or\nslaves, ns they were before; every one having recovered their\nnatural form. The houses and shops were immediately filled with\ntheir inhabitants, who found all things as they were before the\nenchantment. The sultan's numerous retinue, who found themselves\nencamped in the largest square, were astonished to see\nthemselves, in an instant, in the middle of a large, fine, and\nwell-peopled city.\n\nTo return to the enchantress: As soon as she had made this\nwonderful change, she returned with all diligence to the Palace\nof Tears, that she might reap the fruits of it. My dear lord,\ncries she, as she entered, I come to rejoice with you for the\nreturn of your health; I have done all that you required of me;\nthen pray rise, and give me your hand. Come near, says the\nsultan, still counterfeiting the language of the blacks. She did\nso. You are not near enough, replies he; come nearer. She obeyed.\nThen he rose up, and seized her by the arm so suddenly, that she\nhad not time to know who it was, and with a blow of his scimitar\ncut her in two, so that the one half fell one way, and the other\nanother. This being done, he left the carcase upon the place,\nand, going out of the Palace of Tears, he went to seek the young\nking of the Black Isles, who waited for him with a great deal of\nimpatience; and when he found him, Prince, says he, embracing\nhim, rejoice, you have nothing to fear now; your cruel enemy is\ndead.\n\nThe young prince returned thanks to the sultan in such a manner\nas showed that he was thoroughly sensible of the kindness that he\nhad done him, and, in acknowledgment, wished him a long life and\nall happiness. You may henceforward, says the sultan, dwell\npeaceably in your capital, unless you will go to mine, which is\nso near, where you shall be very welcome, and have as much honour\nand respect as if you were at home. Potent monarch, to whom I am\nso much indebted, replies the king, you think then that you are\nvery near your capital. Yes, says the sultan, I know it, it is\nnot above four or five hours journey. It will take you a whole\nyears journey, says the prince; I do believe, indeed, that you\ncame hither from your capital in the time you spoke of, because\nmine was enchanted; but, since the enchantment is taken off,\nthings are changed: However, this shall not hinder me to follow\nyou, were it to the utmost corner of the earth. You are my\ndeliverer, and that I may give you proofs of my acknowledging\nthis during my whole life, I am willing to accompany you, and to\nleave my kingdom without regret.\n\nThe sultan was exceedingly surprised to understand that he was so\nfar from his dominions, and could not imagine how it could be.\nBut the young king of the Black Islands convinced him so plainly,\nthat he could no more doubt of it. Then the sultan replied, it is\nno matter; the trouble that I shall have to return to my own\ncountry is sufficiently recompensed by the satisfaction I have\nhad to oblige you, and by acquiring you for a son; for since you\nwill do me the honour to attend me, and that I have no child, I\nlook upon you as one; and from this moment I appoint you my heir\nand successor.\n\nThis discourse between the sultan and the king of the Black\nIslands concluded with the most affectionate embraces; after\nwhich the young prince was wholly taken up in making preparations\nfor his journey, which were finished in three weeks time, to the\nregret of his court and subjects, who agreed to receive at his\nhands one of his nearest kindred for king.\n\nAt last the sultan and the young prince began their journey with\nan hundred camels laden with inestimable riches from the treasury\nof the young king, followed by fifty handsome gentlemen on\nhorseback, perfectly well mounted and dressed. They had a very\nhappy journey; and when the sultan, who had sent courtiers to\ngive advice of his delay, and of the adventure which had\noccasioned it, came near his capital, the principal officers he\nhad left there came to receive him, and to assure him that his\nlong absence had occasioned no alteration in his empire. The\ninhabitants also came out in great crowds, receiving him with,\nmighty acclamations, and made public rejoicings for several days,\n\nNext day after his arrival, the sultan gave all his courtiers a\nvery ample account of all things which, contrary to his\nexpectation, had detained him so long. He acquainted them with\nhis having adopted the king of the four Black Islands, who was\nwilling to leave a great kingdom to accompany and live with him;\nand in short, as an acknowledgment of their loyalty, he rewarded\neach of them according to their rank.\n\nAs for the fisherman, as he was the first cause of the\ndeliverance of the young prince, the sultan gave him a plentiful\nestate, which made him and his family happy the rest of their\ndays.\n\nHere Scheherazade made an end of the story of the fisherman and\nthe genie. Dinarzade signified that she had taken a great deal of\npleasure in it; and Schahriar having said the same thing, the\nsultaness told that she knew another which was much finer; and if\nthe sultan would give her leave, she would tell it them next\nmorning, for day began to appear. Schahriar, bethinking himself\nthat he had granted the sultaness a month's reprieve, and being\ncurious, moreover, to know if this new story would be as\nagreeable as she promised, got up with a design to hear it next\nmorning.\n\n[Advertisement. The readers of the Tales were tired, in the\nformer editions, with the interruption Dinarzade gave them: This\ndefect is now remedied; and they will meet with no more\ninterruptions at the end of every night. It is sufficient to know\nthe design of the Arabian author who first made this collection;\nand for this purpose we retained his method in the preceeding\nnights.\n\nThere are of these Arabian Tales where neither Scheherazade,\nSultan Schahriar, Dinarzade, or any distinction by nights, is\nmentioned; which shows that all the Arabians have not approved\nthe method which this author has used, and that a great number of\nthem have been fatigued with these repetitions. This, therefore,\nbeing reformed in the following translation, the reader must be\nacquainted that Scheherazade goes on always without being\ninterrupted.]\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE THREE CALENDERS, SONS OF\n            KINGS; AND OF THE FIVE LADIES OF BAGDAD.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, there was at Bagdad,\nthe place of their residence, a porter, who, notwithstanding his\nmean and laborous business, was a fellow of wit and good-humour.\nOne morning, as he was at a place where he usually plied, with a\ngreat basket, waiting for employment, a young handsome lady,\ncovered with a great muslin veil, came to him, and said with a\npleasant air, Hark ye, porter, take your basket, and follow me.\nThe porter, charmed with those few words pronounced in so\nagreeable a manner, took his basket immediately, set it on his\nhead, and followed the lady, saying, \"O happy day, a day of good\nluck!\"\n\nThe lady stopped presently before a gate that was shut, and\nknocked: a Christian, with a venerable long white beard, opened\nthe gate, and she put money into his hand, without speaking one\nword; but the Christian, who knew what she wanted, went in, and\nin a little time after brought a large jug of excellent wine.\nTake this jug, says the lady to the porter, and put it in your\nbasket. This being done, she commanded him to follow her; and as\nshe went on, the porter says still, \"O happy day! this is a day\nof agreeable surprise and joy!\"\n\nThe lady stopped at a fruit-shop, where she bought several sorts\nof apples, apricots, peaches, quinces, lemons, citrons, oranges,\nmyrtles, sweet basil, lilies, jessamine, and some other sorts of\nflowers and plants that smell well; she bid the porter put them\nall into his basket, and follow her. As she went by a butcher's\nstall, she made him weigh her twenty-five pounds of his best\nmeat, which she ordered the porter to put also in his basket.\n\nAt another shop, she took capers, cucumbers, and other herbs\npreserved in vinegar; at another she bought pistachios, walnuts,\nsmall nuts, almonds, kernels of pine-apples, and other fruits;\nand of another she bought all sorts of confections. When the\nporter had put all these things into his basket, and perceiving,\nthat it grew full, My good lady, says he, you ought to have given\nme notice that you had so much provision to carry, and then I\nwould have got a horse, or rather a camel, to have carried them;\nfor if you buy ever so little more, I shall not be able to carry\nit. The lady laughed at the fellow's pleasant humour, and ordered\nhim still to follow her.\n\nThen she went to a druggist, where she furnished herself with all\nmanner of sweet-scented waters, cloves, musk, pepper, ginger, and\na great piece of ambergris, and several other Indian spices; this\nquite filled the porter's basket, and she ordered him to follow\nher. They walked till they came to a magnificent house, whose\nfront was adorned with fine columns, and which had a gate of\nivory: there they stopped, and the lady knocked softly.\n\nWhile the young lady and the porter staid for the opening of the\ngate, the porter had a thousand thoughts: he wondered that such a\nline lady should come abroad to buy provisions; he concluded she\ncould not be a slave, her air being too noble for that, and\ntherefore he thought she must needs be a woman of quality. Just\nas he was about to ask her some questions upon that head, another\nlady came to open the gate, and appeared so beautiful to him,\nthat he was perfectly surprised, or rather so much struck with\nher charms, that he was like to let the basket fall, for he had\nnever seen any beauty that came near her.\n\nThe lady, who brought the porter with her, perceiving his\ndisorder, and the occasion of it, diverted herself with it, and\ntook so much pleasure to examine his looks, that she forgot the\ngate was opened. Upon this, the beautiful lady says to her, Pray\nsister, come in, what do you stay for? Do you not see this poor\nman so heavy loaded, that he is scarcely able to stand under it?\n\nWhen she entered with the porter, the lady who opened the gate\nshut it, and all three, after having gone through a very fine\nporch, came into a very spacious court encompassed with an open\ngallery, which had a communication with several apartments on a\nfloor, and was extremely magnificent. There was at the further\nend of the court a sofa richly adorned, with a throne of amber in\nthe middle of it, supported by four columns of ebony, enriched\nwith diamonds and pearls of extraordinary size, and covered with\nsatin embroidered with Indian gold, of admirable workmanship. In\nthe middle of the court there was a great fountain faced with\nwhite marble, and full of clear water, which fell into it\nabundantly out of the mouth of a lion of brass.\n\nThe porter, though very heavily loaded, could not but admire the\nmagnificence of the house, and the excellent order that every\nthing was placed in; but that which particularly captivated his\nattention was a third lady, who seemed to be a greater beauty\nthan the second, and was set upon the throne just now mentioned:\nshe came down from it as soon as she saw the two former ladies,\nand advanced towards them: He judged, by the respect which the\nothers showed her, that she was the chief, in which he was not\nmistaken. This lady was called Zobeide, she who opened the gate\nwas called Safie, and Amine was the name of her who went out to\nbuy the provisions.\n\nZobeide says to the two ladies, when she came to them, Sisters,\ndo not you see that this honest man is like to sink under his\nburden? why do not you ease him of it? Then Amine and Safie took\nthe basket, the one before and the other behind; Zobeide also\nlent her hand, mid all three set it on the ground, then emptied\nit; and when they had done, the beautiful Amine took out money,\nand paid the porter liberally.\n\nThe porter, very well satisfied with the money he had received,\nwas to have taken up his basket and be gone; but he could not\ntell how to think on it. Do what he could, he found himself\nstopped by the pleasure of seeing three such beauties, who\nappeared to him equally charming; for Amine, having now laid\naside her veil, was as handsome as either of them. That which\nsurprised him most was, that he saw never a man about the house;\nyet most of the provisions he brought in, as dry fruits, and\nseveral sorts of cakes and confections, were fit chiefly for\nthose who could drink and make merry.\n\nZobeide thought at first that the porter staid only to take his\nbreath; but perceiving that he staid too long, What do you wait\nfor, says she, are you not well enough paid? And turning to\nAmine, says, Sister, give him something more, that he may depart\nsatisfied. Madam, replies the porter, it is not that which stays\nme. I am over and above paid; I am sensible that I am unmannerly\nto stay longer than I ought, but, I hope you will be so good as\nto pardon me, if I tell you that I am astonished to see that\nthere is no man with three ladies of such extraordinary beauty;\nand you know that a company of women without men is as melancholy\na thing as a company of men without women. To this he added\nseveral very pleasing things to prove what he said, and did not\nforget the Bagdad proverb, 'That one is never well at a table,\nunless there be four in company. And so concluded, that as there\nwere but three, they had need of a fourth.'\n\nThe ladies fell a laughing at the porter's discourse, after which\nZobeide says to him, very gravely, Friend, you are a little too\nbold; and though you do not deserve that I should enter into\nparticulars with you, yet I am willing to tell you we are three\nsisters, who do our business so secretly that nobody knows any\nthing of it. We have too great reason to be cautious of\nacquainting indiscreet persons with it; and a good author that we\nhave read, says, 'Keep your secret, and do not reveal it to any\nbody.' He that reveals it is no longer master of it. If your own\nbreast cannot keep your secret, how do you think that another\nperson will keep it?\n\nMy ladies, replies the porter, by your very air I judged at first\nyou were persons of extraordinary merit, and I conceive that I am\nnot mistaken; though fortune has not given me wealth enough to\nraise me above my mean profession, yet I have not failed to\ncultivate my mind as much as I could by reading books of science\nand history: And allow me, if you please, to tell you, that I\nhave also read in another author a maxim which I have always\nhappily practised: 'We do not conceal our secrets, says he, but\nfrom such persons as are known to all the world to want\ndiscretion, and would abuse the confidence we put in them; but we\nmake no scruple to discover them to prudent persons, because we\nknow they can keep them.' A secret with me is as sure as if it\nwere in a closet whose key is lost, and the door sealed up.\n\nZobeide, perceiving that the porter did not want sense, but\nconceiving that he had a mind to have a share in their treat,\nreplies to him, smiling, You know that we are about to have a\ntreat, and you know also that we have been at a considerable\nexpense, and it is not just that you should have a share of it\nwithout contributing towards it. The beautiful Safie seconded her\nsister, and says to the porter, Friend, have you never heard that\nwhich is commonly said, \"If you bring any thing with you, you\nshall be welcome; but if you bring nothing, you must get you gone\nwith nothing?\"\n\nThe porter, notwithstanding his rhetoric, must, in all\nprobability, have retired in confusion, if Amine had not taken\nhis part, and said to Zobeide and Safie, My dear sisters, I\nconjure you to let him stay with us; I need not tell you that he\nwill divert us, you see well enough that he is capable of that: I\nmust needs tell you, that unless he had been very willing, as\nwell as nimble, and hardy enough to follow me, I could not have\ndone so much business in so little time; besides, should I repeat\nto you all the obliging expressions he made to me by the way, you\nwould not he surprised at my protecting him.\n\nAt these words of Amine, the porter was so much transported with\njoy, that he fell on his knees, kissed the ground at the feet of\nthat charming person, and, raising himself up, says, Most\nbeautiful lady, you began my good fortune to-day, and now you\ncomplete it by this generous action; I cannot enough testify my\nacknowledgment of it. As to what remains, my ladies, says he,\naddressing himself to all the three sisters, since you do me so\ngreat honour, do not think that I will abuse it, or look upon\nmyself as a person who deserves it. No, I shall always look upon\nmyself as one of your most humble slaves. When he had spoken\nthese words, he would have returned the money he had received;\nbut the grave Zobeide ordered him to keep it. That which we have\nonce given, says she, to reward those who have served us, we\nnever take again.\n\nZobeide would not take back the money from the porter, but said,\nMy friend, in consenting that you stay with us, I must forewarn\nyou, that it is not only on condition that you keep secret what\nwe have required of you, but also that you observe exactly the\nrules of good manners and civility. In the mean time the charming\nAmine put off the apparel she went abroad with, put on her\nnight-gown, that she might be more easy, and covered the table,\nwhich she furnished with several sorts of meat, and upon a\nsideboard she set bottles of wine and cups of gold. Soon after\nthe ladies took their places, and made the porter sit down by\nthem, who was overjoyed to see himself at the table with three\nsuch admirable beauties. After they had ate a little, Amine, who\nsat next the sideboard, took up a bottle and cup, filled out\nwine, and drank first herself, according to the custom of the\nArabians; then she filled the cup to her sisters, who drank in\ncourse as they sat; and at last she filled it the fourth time to\nthe porter, who, as he received it, kissed Amine's hand, and,\nbefore he drank, sung a song to this purpose: That as the wind\nbrings along with it the sweet scents of the perfumed places\nthrough which it passes, so the wine he was going to drink,\ncoming from her fair hands, received a more exquisite taste than\nwhat it had of its own nature. This song pleased the ladies so\nmuch, that each of them sung another in their turn. In short,\nthey were extraordinary merry all the time of dinner, which\nlasted a long while, and nothing was wanting that could make it\nagreeable. The day being almost spent, Safie spoke in the name of\nthe three ladies, and says to the porter, Arise, and be gone; it\nis time for you to depart. But the porter, not willing to leave\nso good company, cried, Alas! ladies, whither do you command me\nto go in the condition I am in? I am quite beside myself by what\nI have seen since I came hither, and having also drank above my\nordinary, I shall never find the way home: Allow me this night to\nrecover myself in any place where you please, for no less time is\nnecessary for me to come to myself; but, go when I will, I shall\nleave the best part of myself behind me.\n\nAmine pleaded a second time for the porter, saying, Sisters, he\nis in the right; I am pleased with the request; he having already\ndiverted us so well; and if you will take my advice, or if you\nlove me as much as I think you do, let us keep him to pass away\nthe remaining part of the night. Sister, answered Zobeide, we can\nrefuse you nothing; and then, turning to the porter, said, We are\nwilling once more to grant your request; but upon this new\ncondition, that whatever we do in your presence, relating to\nourselves or any thing else, take heed that you do not once open\nyour mouth to ask the reason of it; for if you ask questions\nabout that which does not belong to you, you may come to know\nthat which will be no way pleasing to you: Beware, therefore, and\nbe not too curious to dive into the motives of our actions.\n\nMadam, replies the porter, I promise to observe this condition\nwith such exactness, that you shall have no cause to reproach me\nwith the breaking of it, and far less to punish my indiscretion;\nmy tongue shall be immovable on this occasion, and my eye like a\nlooking-glass, which retains nothing of the object that is set\nbefore it. And to show you, says Zobeide, with a serious\ncountenance, that what we demand of you is not a new thing among\nus, rise up and read what is over our gate in the inside.\n\nThe porter went thither, and read these words, written in large\ncharacters of gold: 'He who speaks of things that do not concern\nhim, shall hear of things that will not please him.' Returning\nagain to the three sisters, Ladies, says he, I give you my oath\nthat you will never hear me speak any thing which does not\nconcern me, or wherein you may have any concern.\n\nThis agreement being made, Amine brought in supper, and after the\nroom was set round with tapers that were mixed with aloes and\nambergris, which gave a most agreeable scent, as well as a\ndelicate light, she sat down at table with her sisters and the\nporter. They began again to eat and drink, to sing and repeat\nverses. The ladies took pleasure to inebriate the porter, under\npretext of causing him to drink their healths; and abundance of\nwitty sentences passed on both sides. In short, as they were all\nin the best humour in the world, they heard one knocking at the\ngate.\n\nWhen the ladies heard the knocking, they all three got up to open\nthe gate; but Safie, to whom this office did particularly belong,\nwas the nimblest; which her other two sisters perceiving, sat\ndown till she came back to acquaint them who it could be that had\nany business with them so late. Safie returning, said, Sisters,\nwe have here a very fine opportunity to pass a good part of the\nnight with much satisfaction, and if you be of the same mind with\nme, we shall not let it slip. There are three calenders at our\ngate, at least they appear to be such by their habit; but that\nwhich you will most wonder at is, they are all three blind of the\nright eye, have their heads, beards, and eye-brows shaved, and,\nas they say, are but just come to Bagdad, where they never were\nbefore; and it being night, and not knowing where to find any\nlodging, they happened by chance to knock at this gate, and pray\nus, for the love of Heaven, to have compassion on them, and\nreceive them into the house: They care not what place we put them\nin; provided they may be under shelter, they would be satisfied\nwith a stable. They are young and handsome enough, and seem also\nto be men of good sense; but I cannot, without laughing, think of\ntheir pleasant and uniform figure. Here Safie fell a-laughing so\nheartily, that it put the two sisters and the porter into the\nsame mood. My dear sisters, says she, are you content that they\ncome in? it is impossible but, with such persons as I have\nalready described them to be, we shall finish the day better than\nwe began it; they will afford us diversion enough, and put us to\nno charge, because they desire shelter only for this night, and\nresolve to leave us as soon as day appears.\n\nZobeide and Amine made some difficulty to grant Safie's request,\nfor reasons they knew well enough; but she having so great a\ndesire to obtain this favour, they could not refuse. Go then,\nsays Zobeide, and bring them in, but do not forget to acquaint\nthem that they must not speak of any thing which does not concern\nthem, and cause them to read what is written over the gate. Safie\nran out with a great deal of joy, and in a little while after\nreturned with the three calenders in company.\n\nAt their entrance they made a profound bow to the ladies. who\nrose up to receive them; told them most obligingly that they were\nvery welcome, that they were glad to have met with an opportunity\nto oblige them, and to contribute towards relieving them from the\nfatigue of their journey, and at last invited them to sit down\nwith them.\n\nThe magnificence of the place, and the civility of the ladies,\nmade the calenders to conceive a mighty idea of their fine\nland-ladies: But, before they sat down, having by chance cast\ntheir eye upon the porter, whom they saw clad almost like one of\nthose other calenders with whom they are in controversy about\nseveral points of discipline, because they neither shave their\nbeards nor eye-brows, one of them said, Look here, I believe we\nhave got one of our revolted Arabian brethren.\n\nThe porter, though half asleep, and having his head pretty warm\nwith wine, was affronted at these words; and, with a fierce look,\nwithout stirring from his place, answered, Sit you down, and do\nnot meddle with what does not concern you. Have you not read the\ninscription over the gate? Do not pretend to make people live\nafter your fashion, but follow ours.\n\nHonest man, says the calender, do not put yourself into a\npassion; we should be very sorry to give you the least occasion;\nbut, on the contrary, we are ready to receive your commands. Upon\nwhich, to avoid all quarrels, the ladies interposed, and pacified\nthem. When the calenders were set at table, the ladies served\nthem with meat; and Safie, being most pleased with them, did not\nlet them want for drink.\n\nAfter the calenders had ate and drunk liberally, they signified\nto the ladies that they had a great desire to entertain them with\na concert of music, if they had any instruments in the house, and\nwould cause them to be brought them. They willingly accepted the\nproffer, and fair Safie, going to fetch them, returned again in a\nmoment, and presented them with a flute of her own country\nfashion, another of the Persian sort, and a tabor. Each man took\nthe instrument he liked, and all the three together began to play\na tune. The ladies, who knew the words of a merry song that\nsuited that air, joined the concert with their voices; but the\nwords of the song made them now and then stop, and fall into\nexcessive laughter.\n\nAt the height of this diversion, and when the company was in the\nmidst of their jollity, somebody knocks at the gate; Safie left\noff singing, and went to see who it was. But, sir, says\nScheherazade to the sultan, it is fit your majesty should know\nwhy this knocking happened so late at the ladies' house, and the\nreason was this: The caliph Haroun Alraschid was accustomed to\nwalk abroad in disguise very often by night, that he might see\nwith his own eyes if every thing was quiet in the city, and that\nno disorders were committed in it.\n\nThis night the caliph went out pretty early on his rambles,\naccompanied with Giafar his grand vizier, and Mesrour the chief\nof the eunuchs of his palace, all disguised in merchants' habits;\nand passing through the street where the three ladies dwelt, he\nheard the sound of the music, and great fits of laughter; upon\nwhich he commanded the vizier to knock, because he would go in to\nknow the reason of that jollity. The vizier told him in vain that\nit was some women a merry-making; that, without question, their\nheads were warm with wine; and that it would not be proper he\nshould expose himself to be affronted by them; besides, it was\nnot yet an unlawful hour, and therefore he ought not to disturb\nthem in their mirth. No matter, said the caliph, I command you to\nknock. So it was that the grand vizier Giafar knocked at the\nladies' gate by the caliph's order, because he himself would not\nbe known. Safie opened the gate, and the vizier perceived, by the\nlight that she held in her hand, that she was an incomparable\nbeauty. The vizier acted his part very well, and, with a very low\nbow and respectful behaviour, said, Madam, we are three merchants\nof Moussol, who arrived about ten days ago with rich merchandise,\nwhich we have in a warehouse at a khan, or inn, where we have\nalso our lodging. We happened to-day to be with a merchant of\nthis city, who invited us to a treat at his house, where we had a\nsplendid entertainment; and the wine having put us in humour, he\nsent for a company of dancers; night being come on, and the music\nand dancers making a great noise, the watch came by in the mean\ntime, caused the gate to be opened, and some of the company to be\ntaken up; but we had the good fortune to escape by getting over a\nwall. Now, says the vizier, being strangers, and somewhat\novercome with wine, we were afraid of meeting another, or perhaps\nthe same watch, before we got home to our khan, which lies a good\nway from hence. Besides, when we come there, the gates will be\nshut, and not opened till morning; wherefore, madam, hearing, as\nwe passed by this way, the sound of music, we supposed you were\nnot yet going to rest, and made bold to knock at your gate, to\nbeg the favour of lodging ourselves in the house till morning;\nand if you think us worthy of your good company, we will\nendeavour to contribute to your diversion what lies in our power,\nto make some amends for the interruption we have given you; if\nnot, we only beg the favour of staying this night under your\nporch.\n\nWhile Giafar held this discourse, fair Safie had time to observe\nthe vizier and his two companions, who were said to be merchants\nlike himself, and told them that she was not mistress of the\nhouse; but, if they would have a minute's patience, she would\nreturn with an answer.\n\nSafie acquainted her sisters with the matter, who considered for\nsome time what to conclude upon; but, being naturally of a good\ndisposition, and having granted the same favour to the three\ncalenders, they at last consented to let them in.\n\nThe caliph, his grand vizier, and the chief of the eunuchs, being\nintroduced by the fair Safie, very courteously saluted the ladies\nand the calenders; the ladies returned them the like civilities,\nsupposing them to be merchants. Zobeide, as the chief, says to\nthem, with a grave and serious countenance, which was natural to\nher, You are welcome; but, before I proceed further, I hope you\nwill not take it ill if we desire one favour of you. Alas! said\nthe vizier, what favour? We can refuse nothing to such fair\nladies. Zobeide replied, It is, that you would only have eyes,\nbut no tongues; that you put no questions to us about the reason\nof any thing you may happen to see; and not to speak of any thing\nthat does not concern you, lest you come to hear of things that\nwill by no means please you. Madam, replied the vizier, you shall\nbe obeyed. We are not censorious, nor impertinently curious; it\nis enough for us to take notice of that which concerns us,\nwithout meddling with that which does not belong to us. Upon this\nthey all sat down, and the company being united, they drank to\nthe health of the new comers.\n\nWhile Giafar entertained the ladies in discourse, the caliph\ncould not forbear to admire their extraordinary beauty, graceful\nbehaviour, pleasant humour, and ready wit; on the other hand,\nnothing was more surprising to him than the calenders being all\nthree blind of the right eye. He would gladly have been informed\nof this singularity; but the conditions so lately imposed upon\nhimself and his companions would not allow him to speak. This,\nwith the richness of the furniture, the exact order of every\nthing, and neatness of the house, made him think it was some\nenchanted palace.\n\nTheir entertainment happening to be upon divertisements, and\ndifferent ways of making merry, the calenders rose and danced\nafter their fashion, which augmented the good opinion the ladies\nhad conceived of them, and procured them the esteem of the caliph\nand his companions.\n\nWhen the three calenders had made an end of their dance, Zobeide\narose, and, taking Amine by the hand, said, Pray, sister, rise\nup, for the company will not take it ill if we use our freedom;\nand their presence need not hinder our performance of what we\nwere wont to do. Amine, by understanding her sister's meaning,\nrose up from her seat, carried away the dishes, the table, the\nflasks, and cups, together with the instruments which the\ncalenders had played upon.\n\nSafie was not idle, but swept the room, put every thing again in\nits place, snuffed the candies, and put fresh aloes and ambergris\nto them, and then prayed the three calenders to sit down upon the\nsofa on one side, and the caliph, with his companions, on the\nother. As to the porter, she savs to him, Get up, and prepare\nyourself to serve in what we are going to be about; a man like\nyou, who is one of the family, ought not to be idle. The porter,\nbeing somewhat recovered from his wine, gets up immediately, and,\nhaving tied the sleeve of his gown to his belt, answers, Here am\nI, ready to obey your commands in any thing. That is very well,\nreplied Safie; stay till you are spoken to; you shall not be idle\nvery long. A little time after, Amine came in with a chair, which\nshe placed in the middle of the room; and so went to a closet,\nwhich having opened, she beckoned to the porter, and says to him,\nCome hither and help me; which he obeying, entered the closet,\nand returned immediately leading two black bitches, with each of\nthem a collar and chain; they looked as if they had been severely\nwhipped with rods, and he brought them into the middle of the\nroom.\n\nThen Zobeide, rising from her seat between the calenders and the\ncaliph, marched very gravely towards the porter, Come on, says\nshe, with a great sigh, let us perform our duty; then tucking up\nher sleeves above her elbows, and receiving a rod from Safie,\nPorter, said she, deliver one of the bitches to my sister Amine,\nand come to me with the other.\n\nThe porter did as he was commanded; the bitch that he held in his\nhand began to cry, and, turning towards Zobeide, held her head up\nin a begging posture; but Zobeide, having no regard to the sad\ncountenance of the bitch, which would have moved pity, nor her\ncries that sounded through ail the house, whipped her with the\nrod till she was out of breath; and having spent her strength\nthat she could strike no more, she threw down the rod, and,\ntaking the chain from the porter, lifted up the bitch by her\npaws, and looking upon her with a sad and pitiful countenance,\nthey both wept; after which Zobeide, with her handkerchief, wiped\nthe tears from the bitch's eyes, kissed her, returned the chain\nto the porter, bid him carry her to the place whence he took her,\nand bring her the other. The porter led back the whipped bitch to\nthe closet, and receiving the other from Amine, presented her to\nZobeide, who, bidding the porter hold her as he had done the\nfirst, took up the rod, and treated her after the same manner;\nand when she had wept over her, dried her eyes, and, kissing her,\nreturned her to the porter; but lovely Amine spared him the\ntrouble of leading her back into the closet, and did it herself.\nThe three calenders and the caliph, with his companions, were\nextremely surprised at this execution, and could not comprehend\nwhy Zobeide, after having so furiously whipped those two bitches,\nthat, by the Mussulman religion, are reckoned unclean animals,\nshould cry with them, wipe off their tears, and kiss them. They\nmuttered among themselves; and the caliph, being more impatient\nthan the rest, longed exceedingly to be informed of the cause of\nso strange an action, and could not forbear making signs to the\nvizier to ask the question; the vizier turned his head another\nway; but, being pressed by repeated signs, he answered by others\nthat it was not yet time for the caliph to satisfy his curiosity.\n\nZobeide sat still some time in the middle of the room, where she\nhad whipped the two bitches, to recover from the fatigue; and\nfair Safie called to her, Dear sister, will you be pleased now to\nreturn to your place, that I may also act my part? Yes, sister,\nreplies Zobeide, and then went and sat down upon the sofa, having\nthe caliph, Giafar, and Mesrour, on her right hand, and the three\ncalenders, with the porter, on her left.\n\nAfter Zobeide sat down, the whole company was silent for a while;\nat last Safie, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room,\nspoke to her sister Amine; Dear sister, I conjure you to rise up;\nyou know well enough what I would say, Amine rose up, and went\ninto another closet near to that where the bitches were, and\nbrought out a case covered with yellow satin, richly embroidered\nwith gold and green silk; she came near Safie, and opened the\ncase, from whence she took a lute, and presented her, and, after\nsome time spent in tuning it, Safie began to play, and,\naccompanying it with her voice, she sung a song about the\ntorments that absence creates to lovers, with so much sweetness\nas to charm the caliph and all the company. Having sung with a\ngreat deal of passion and action, she said to lovely Amine, Pray\ntake it, sister, for I can do no more; my voice fails me; oblige\nthe company with a tune and song in my room. Very willingly,\nreplied Amine, who, taking the lute from her sister Safie, sat\ndown in her place.\n\nAmine, after a small trial to see whether the instrument was in\ntune, played and sung almost as long upon the same subject, but\nwith so much vehemency, and was so much affected, or rather\ntransported, by the words of the song, that her strength failed\nher as she made an end of it.\n\nZobeide, willing to testify her satisfaction, said, Sister, you\nhave done wonders, and we may easily see that you have a feeling\nof the grief you have expressed so much to the life. Amine was\nprevented from answering this civility, her heart being so\nsensibly touched at the same moment, that she was obliged, for\nair, to uncover her neck and breast, which did not appear so fair\nas might have been expected from such a lady; but, on the\ncontrary, black and full of scars, which frightened all the\nspectators. This, however, gave her no ease, but she fell into a\nfit.\n\nWhile Zobeide and Safie ran to help their sister, one of the\ncalenders could not forbear to say, We had better have slept in\nthe streets than have come hither, had we thought to have seen\nsuch spectacles. The caliph, who heard this, came up to him and\nthe other calenders, and asked them what might be the meaning of\nall this? They answered, Sir, we know no more than you do. What,\nsays the caliph, are you not of the family? nor can you resolve\nus concerning the two black bitches and the lady that fainted\naway, and has been so basely abused? Sir, said the calenders,\nthis is the first time that ever we were in the house, having\ncome in but a few minutes before you.\n\nThis increased the caliph's astonishment. It may be, says he,\nthis other man that is with you may know something of it. One of\nthe calenders made a sign for the porter to come near, and asked\nhim whether he knew why those two black bitches had been whipped,\nand why Amine's bosom was so scarred? Sir, said the porter, I can\nswear by Heaven, that if you know nothing of all this, I know as\nlittle as you do. It is true I live in this city, but I never was\nin the house till now, and if you are suprised to see me here, I\nam as much to find myself in your company; and that which\nincreases my wonder is, that I have not seen one man with these\nladies.\n\nThe caliph and his company, as well as the calenders, supposed\nthe porter had been one of the family, and hoped he could inform\nthem of what they desired to know; but finding he could not, and\nresolving to satisfy his curiosity, cost what it would, he says\nto the rest, Look ye, we are here seven men, and have but three\nwomen to deal with; let us try if we can oblige them to satisfy\nus, and, if they refuse by fair means, we are in a condition to\nforce them to it.\n\nThe grand vizier Giafar was against this method, and showed the\ncaliph what might be the consequence of it; but, without\ndiscovering the prince to the calenders, he addressed him, as if\nhe had been, a merchant, thus: Sir, consider, I pray you, that\nour reputation lies at stake; you know very well upon what\nconditions these ladies were ready to receive us, and we also\nagreed to them. What will they say of us if we break them? We\nshall be still more to blame if any mischief befal us; for it is\nnot likely that they would demand such a promise of us, if they\ndid not know themselves in a condition to make us repent the\nbreaking of it.\n\nHere the vizier took the caliph aside, and whispered to him thus:\nSir, the night will soon be at an end, and if your majesty will\nonly be pleased to have so much patience, I will take these\nladies to-morrow morning, and bring them before your throne,\nwhere you may be informed of all you desire to know. Though this\nadvice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, bid the vizier\nhold his tongue, and said he would not stay till then, but would\nhave satisfaction in the matter presently.\n\nThe next business was to know who should carry the message. The\ncaliph endeavoured to prevail with the calenders to speak first;\nbut they excused themselves, and at last they agreed that the\nporter should be the man. And as they were consulting how to word\nthis fatal question, Zobeide returned from her sister Amine, who\nwas recovered of her fit, drew near them, and having overheard\nthem speaking pretty loud, and with some passion, says,\nGentlemen, what is the subject of your discourse? what are you\ndisputing about?\n\nThe porter answered immediately, Madam, these gentlemen pray you\nto let them understand wherefore you wept over your two bitches,\nafter you whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of the\nlady, who lately fainted away, comes to be so full of scars? This\nis what I am ordered to ask in their name.\n\nAt these words, Zobeide looked with a stern countenance, and,\nturning towards the caliph and the rest of the company, Is it\ntrue, gentlemen, says she, that you have given him orders to ask\nme this question? All of them, except Giafar, who spoke not a\nword, answered, Yes. On which she told them, in a tone which\nsufficiently expressed her resentment, Before we granted you the\nfavour of being received into our house, and to prevent all\noccasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we did it\nupon condition that you should not speak of any thing that did\nnot concern you, lest you might come to hear that which would not\nplease you; and yet, after having received and entertained you as\nwell as possibly we could, you make no scruple to break your\npromise. It is true that our easy temper has occasioned this, but\nthat shall not excuse you, for your proceedings are very\nunhandsome. As she spoke these words, she gave three hard knocks\nwith her foot, and, clapping her hands as often together, cried,\nCome quick! Upon this a door flew open, and seven strong sturdy\nblack slaves, with scimitars in their hands, rushed in; every one\nseized a man, threw him on the ground, and dragged him into the\nmiddle of the room in order to cut off his head.\n\nWe may easily conceive what a fright the caliph was in; he then\nrepented, but too late, that he had not taken his vizier's\nadvice. In the mean time this unhappy prince, Giafar, Mesrour,\nthe porter, and the calenders, were upon the point of losing\ntheir lives by their indiscreet curiosity. But, before they would\nstrike the fatal blow, one of the slaves says to Zobeide and her\nsisters, High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command us\nto cut their throats? Stay, says Zobeide, I must examine them\nfirst. The frightened porter interrupted her thus: In the name of\nHeaven, do not make me die for another man's crime. I am\ninnocent, they are to blame. Alas! says he, crying, how\npleasantly did we pass our time! those blind calenders are the\ncause of this misfortune; there is no town in the world but goes\nto ruin, wherever these inauspicious fellows come. Madam, I beg\nyou not to destroy the innocent with the guilty, and consider\nthat it is more glorious to pardon such a wretch as I, who have\nno way to help myself, than to sacrifice me to your resentment.\n\nZobeide, notwithstanding her anger, could not but laugh within\nherself at the porters lamentation; but, without answering him,\nshe spoke a second time to the rest: Answer me, says she, and\ntell me who you are, otherwise you shall not live one moment\nlonger. I cannot believe you to be honest men, nor persons of\nauthority or distinction in your own countries; for, if you were,\nyou would have been more modest and more respectful to us.\n\nThe caliph, who was naturally impatient, was infinitely more so\nthan the rest, to find his life depend upon the command of a lady\njustly incensed; but he began to conceive some hopes when he saw\nshe would know who they all were; for he imagined she would not\ntake away his life when once she came to be informed who he was;\ntherefore he spoke with a low voice to the vizier, who was near\nhim, to declare speedily who he was; but the vizier, being more\nprudent, resolved to save his master's honour, and not to let the\nworld know the affront he had brought upon himself by his own\nweakness; and therefore answered, We have what we deserve. But,\nif he would have spoken in obedience to the caliph, Zobeide did\nnot give him time; for having turned to the calenders, and seeing\nthem all three blind of one eye, she asked if they were brothers.\nOne of them answered, No, madam, no otherwise than as we are all\ncalenders; that is to say, as we observe the same rules. Were you\nborn blind of the right eye? replied she. No, madam, answers he,\nI lost my eye in such a surprising adventure, that it would be\ninstructive to every body, were it in writing. After this\nmisfortune, I shaved my beard and eye-brows, and took the habit\nof a calender, which I now wear.\n\nZobeide asked the other two calenders the same question, and had\nthe same answer; but he that spoke last added, Madam, to show you\nthat we are no common fellows, and that you may have some\nconsideration for us, be pleased to know, that we are all three\nsons of kings; and though we never met together till this\nevening, yet we have had time enough to make that known to one\nanother; and I assure you that the kings from whom we derive our\nbeing made some noise in the world.\n\nAt this discourse Zobeide assuaged her anger, and said to the\nslaves, Give them their liberty a while, but stay here. Those who\ntell us their history, and the occasion of their coming, do them\nno hurt, let them go where they please, but do not spare those\nwho refuse to give vis that satisfaction.\n\nScheherazade demanded leave of the sultan, and having obtained\nit, Sir, says she, the three calenders, the caliph, the grand\nvizier Giafar, the eunuch Mesrour, and the porter, were all in\nthe middle of the hall, set upon a foot-carpet, in the presence\nof the three ladies, who sat upon a sofa, and the slaves stood\nready to do whatever their mistresses should command.\n\nThe porter, understanding that he might rid himself of his danger\nby telling his history, spoke first, and said, Madam, you know my\nhistory already, and the occasion of coming hither; so that what\nI have to say will be very short. My lady, your sister there,\ncalled me this morning at the place where I plied as a porter to\nsee if anybody would employ me, that I might get my bread; I\nfollowed her to a vintner's, then to an herb-woman's, then to one\nthat sold oranges, lemons, and citrons, then to a grocer's, next\nto a confectioner's and a druggist's, with my basket upon my\nhead, as full as I was able to carry it; then I came hither,\nwhere you had the goodness to suffer me to continue till now; a\nfavour that I shall never forget. This, Madam, is my history.\n\nWhen the porter had done, Zobeide says to him, Go, march; let us\nsee you no more here. Madam, replies the porter, I beg you to let\nme stay; it would be just, after the rest have had the pleasure\nto hear my history, that I should also have the satisfaction to\nhear theirs. And having spoken thus, he sat him down at the end\nof the sofa, glad to the heart to have escaped the danger that\nhad frightened him so much. After him, one of the three\ncalenders, directing his speech to Zobeide, as the principal of\nthe three ladies, and the person that commanded him to speak,\nbegan his history thus;\n\n\n\n\n\n          THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST CALENDER, A KING'S\n                              SON.\n\n\n\nMadam, in order to inform you how I lost my right eye, and why I\nwas obliged to put myself into a calender's habit, I must tell\nyou that I am king's son born; the king my father had a brother\nthat reigned, as he did, over a neighbouring kingdom; and the\nprince his son and I were almost of one age.\n\nAfter I had learned my exercises, and that the king my father\ngranted me such liberty as suited my dignity, I went regularly\nevery year to see my uncle, at whose court I diverted myself\nduring a month or two, and then returned again to my father's.\nThese several journies gave occasion of contracting a very firm\nand particular friendship between the prince my cousin and\nmyself. The last time I saw him, he received me with greater\ndemonstrations of tenderness than he had done at any time before;\nand resolving one day to give me a treat, he made great\npreparations for that purpose. We continued a long time at table,\nand after we had both supped very well, Cousin, says he, you will\nhardly be able to guess how I have been employed since your last\ndeparture from hence, now about a year past. I have had a great\nmany men at work to perfect a design I have had in my mind; I\nhave caused an edifice to be built, which is now finished so well\nas one may dwell in it: You will not be displeased if I show'it\nyou. But first you are to promise me, upon oath, that you will\nkeep my secret, according to the confidence I repose in you.\n\nThe love and familiarity existing between us would not allow me\nto refuse him any thing. I very readily took the oath required of\nme: Upon which he says to me, Stay here till I return; I will be\nwith you in a moment: and accordingly he came with a lady in his\nhand, of singular beauty, and magnificently apparrelled. He did\nnot discover who she was, neither did I think it was polite in me\nto make inquiry. We sat down again with this lady at table, where\nwe continued some time entertaining ourselves with discourses\nupon indifferent subjects; and now and then a full glass to drink\none another's health. After which the prince said, Cousin, we\nmust lose no time, therefore pray oblige me to take this lady\nalong with you, and conduct her to such a place, where you will\nsee a tomb newly built in the form of a dome; you will easily\nknow it; the gate is open; go in there together, and tarry till I\ncome, which will be very speedily.\n\nBeing true to my oath, I made no further inquiry, but took the\nlady by the hand, and by the directions which the prince my\ncousin had given me, I brought her to the place, by the light of\nthe moon, without losing one step of the way. We were scarcely\ngot thither, when we saw the prince following after, carrying a\nlittle pitcher with water, a hatchet, and a little bag with\nplaister.\n\nThe hatchet served him to break down the empty sepulchre in the\nmiddle of the tomb; he took away the stones one after another,\nand laid them in a corner. When all this was taken away, he\ndigged up the ground, where I saw a trap-door under the\nsepulchre, which he lifted up, and underneath perceived the head\nof a staircase leading into a vault. Then my cousin, speaking to\nthe lady, said, Madam, it is by this way that we are to go to the\nplace I told you of. Upon which the lady drew nigh and went down,\nand the prince began to follow after, but, turning first to me,\nsaid, My dear cousin, I am infinitely obliged to you for the\ntrouble you have been at; I thank you: Adieu. I cried, Dear\ncousin, what is the meaning of this? Be content, replied he; you\nmay return back the same way you came.\n\nMadam, said the calender to Zobeide, I could get nothing further\nfrom him, but was obliged to take leave of him; as I returned to\nmy uncle's palace, the vapours of the wine got up into my head;\nhowever, I got to my apartment, and went to bed. Next morning,\nwhen I awaked, I began to reflect upon what befel me the night\nbefore, and, after recollecting all the circumstances of such a\nsingular adventure, I fancied it was nothing but a dream. Being\nfull of these thoughts, I sent to see if the prince my cousin was\nready to receive a visit from me; but when they brought back word\nthat he did not lie in his own lodgings that night, they knew not\nwhat was become of him, and were in much trouble about it, I\nconceived that the strange event of the tomb was but too true. I\nwas sensibly afflicted at it, and, stealing away privately from\nmy people, I went to the public burying-place, where there was a\nvast number of tombs like that which I had seen. I spent the day\nin viewing them one after another, but could not find that I\nsought for; and thus I spent four days successively in vain.\n\nYou must know all this while the king my uncle was absent, and\nhad been a-hunting for several days. I grew weary of staying for\nhim, and having prayed his ministers to make my apology to him at\nhis return, I left his palace, and set towards my father's court,\nfrom which I had never been so long absent before. I left the\nministers of the king my uncle in great trouble to think what had\nbecome of the prince my cousin; but, because of the oath I had\nmade to keep his secret, I durst not tell them any thing of what\nI had seen or knew, in order to make them easy.\n\nI arrived at my father's capital, the usual place of his\nresidence, where, contrary to custom, I found a great guard at\nthe gate of the palace, who surrounded me as I entered. I asked\nthe reason, and the commanding officer replied, Prince, the army\nproclaimed the grand vizier king instead of your father, who is\ndead; and I take you prisoner in the name of the new king. At\nthese words the guards laid hold of me, and carried me before the\ntyrant. I leave you to judge, madam, how much I was surprised and\ngrieved.\n\nThe rebel vizier had entertained a mortal hatred against me for a\nlong time upon this occasion: When,I was a stripling, I loved to\nshoot with a cross-bow; and being one day upon the terrace of the\npalace with my bow, a bird happened to come by; I shot, but\nmissed him, and the ball by misfortune hit the vizier, who was\ntaking the air upon the terrace of his own house, and put out one\nof his eyes. As soon as I understood it, I not only sent to make\nmy excuse to him, but did it in person; yet he always resented\nit, and, as opportunity offered, made me sensible of it. But now,\nmadam, that he had me in his power, he expressed his resentment\nin a very barbarous manner; for he came to me like a madman as\nsoon as ever he saw me, and, thrusting his finger into my right\neye, pulled it out himself; and so, madam, I became blind of one\neye.\n\nBut the usurper's cruelty did not stop here; he ordered me to be\nshut up in a box, and commanded the executioner to carry me into\nthe country to cut off my head, and leave me to be devoured by\nthe birds of prey. The hangman and another carried me, thus shut\nup on horseback, into the country, in order to execute the\nusurper's barbarous sentence; but by my prayers and tears I moved\nthe executioner's compassion. Go, says he, get you speedily out\nof the kingdom, and take heed of ever returning to it, otherwise\nyou will certainly meet with your own ruin and be the cause of\nmine. I thanked him for the favour he did me; and as soon as I\nwas left alone, I comforted myself for the loss of my eye, by\nconsidering that I had very narrowly escaped a much greater\ndanger.\n\nBeing in such a condition, I could not travel far at a time. I\nretired to remote places while it was day, and travelled as far\nby night as my strength would allow me. At last I arrived in the\ndominions of the king my uncle, and came to his capital.\n\nI gave him a long detail of the tragical cause of my return, and\nof the sad condition he saw me in. Alas! cried he, was it not\nenough for me to have lost my son; but must I have also news of\nthe death of a brother I loved so dearly, and see you also\nreduced to this deplorable condition? He told me how uneasy he\nwas; that he could hear nothing of his son, notwithstanding all\nthe diligence and inquiry he could make. At these words, the\nunfortunate father burst out into tears, and was so much\naffected, that, pitying his grief, it was impossible for me to\nkeep the secret any longer; so that, notwithstanding the oath I\nhad made to the prince my cousin, I told the king his father all\nthat I knew.\n\nHis majesty listened to me with some sort of comfort, and when I\nhad done, Nephew, says he, what you tell me gives me some hope. I\nknow that my son ordered that tomb to be built, and I can guess\npretty near at the place, and, with the idea you still have of\nit, I fancy we shall find it; but since he ordered it to be built\nprivately, and you took your oath to keep his secret, I am of\nopinion that we ought to go in quest of it alone, without saying\nany thing.\n\nBut he had another reason for keeping the matter secret, which he\ndid not then tell me, and an important reason it was, as you will\nperceive by the sequel of my discourse.\n\nWe both of us disguised ourselves, and went out by a door of the\ngarden which opened into the field, and soon found what we sought\nfor. I knew the tomb, and was so much the more rejoiced at it,\nbecause I had formerly sought it a long time in vain. We entered,\nand found the iron trap pulled down upon the entrance of the\nstair-case; we had much ado to raise it, because the prince had\nfastened it on the inside with the water and mortar formerly\nmentioned; but at last we got it up.\n\nThe king my uncle went down first, I following, and we went down\nabout fifty steps. When we came to the foot of the stairs, we\nfound a sort of antichamber full of a thick smoke, and an ill\nscent, which obscured the lamp that gave a very faint light. From\nthis antichamber we came into another, very large, supported by\ngreat columns, and lighted by several branched candlesticks.\nThere was a cistern in the middle, with provisions of several\nsorts standing on one side of it; but we were very much surprised\nto see nobody. Before us there appeared a high sofa, which we\nmounted by several steps, and over this there appeared a very\nlarge bed, with the curtains drawn close. The king went up, and,\nopening the curtains, perceived the prince his son and the lady\nin bed together, but burnt and changed into a coal, as if they\nhad been thrown into a great fire, and taken out again before\nthey were consumed.\n\nBut that which surprised me most of all was, that though this\nspectacle filled me with horror, the king my uncle, instead of\ntestifying his sorrow to see the prince his son in such a\nfrightful condition, spit in his face, and says to him, with an\nair, \"This is the punishment of this world, but that of the other\nwill last to eternity;\" and, not content with this, he pulled off\nhis sandal, and gave his son a great blow on the cheek with it.\n\nI cannot enough express, Madam, said the calender how much I was\nastonished, when I saw the king my uncle abuse the prince his\nson, thus, after he was dead. Sir, said I, whatever grief this\ndismal sight is capable to impress upon me, I am forced to\nsuspend it, on purpose to ask your majesty what crime the prince\nmy cousin may have committed, that his corpse should deserve this\nsort of treatment? Nephew, replied the king, I must tell you that\nmy son (who is unworthy of that name) loved his sister from his\ninfancy, and so she did him: I did not hinder their growing love,\nbecause I did not foresee the pernicious consequences of it. This\ntenderness increased as they grew in years, and came to such a\nheight, that I dreaded the end of it. At last I applied such\nremedies as were in my power; I not only gave my son a severe\nreprimand in private, laying before him the foulness of the\npassion he was entertaining, and the eternal disgrace he would\nbring upon my family if he persisted in such criminal courses,\nbut I also represented the same thing to my daughter; and besides\nI shut her up so close, that she could have no conversation with\nher brother. But that unfortunate creature had swallowed so much\nof the poision, that all the obstacles, which by my prudence I\ncould lay in the way, served only the more to inflame her love.\n\nMy son, being persuaded of his sister's constancy, on pretence of\nbuilding a tomb, caused this subterraneous habitation to be made,\nin hopes to find one day or other an opportunity to possess\nhimself of that object which was the cause of his flame, and to\nbring her hither. He laid hold on the time of my absence to enter\nby force into the place of his sister's confinement; but that is\na thing which my honour would not suffer me to make public; and,\nafter so damnable an action, he came and enclosed himself and her\nin this place, which he has supplied, as you see, with all sorts\nof provisions, that he might enjoy his detestable pleasures for a\nlong time, which ought to be a subject of horror to all the\nworld: but God, who would not suffer such an abomination, has\njustly punished them both. At these words he melted into tears,\nand I joined mine with his.\n\nAfter a while, casting his eyes upon me, Dear nephew, cried he,\nembracing me, if I have lost that unworthy son, I shall happily\nfind in you one who will better supply his place. And, upon some\nother reflections he made on the doleful end of the prince and\nprincess, we both fell into a new fit of weeping.\n\nWe went up the same stairs again, and departed at last from this\ndismal place. We let down again the trapdoor, and covered it with\nearth, and such other materials as the tomb was built of, on\npurpose to hide, as much as lay in our power; so terrible an\neffect of the wrath of God.\n\nWe had not been very long got back to the palace unperceived by\nanyone, before we heard a confused noise of trumpets, drums, and\nother instruments of war: We soon understood, by the thick cloud\nof dust which almost darkened the air, that it was the arrival of\na formidable army; and it proved to be the same vizier that had\ndethroned my father, and usurped his throne, who, with a vast\nnumber of troops, was also come to possess himself of that of the\nking my uncle.\n\nThat prince, who then had only his usual guards about him, could\nnot resist so many enemies; they invested the city, and the gates\nbeing opened to them without any resistance, they very soon\nbecame masters of the city, and broke into the palace where the\nking my uncle was, who defended himself till he was killed, and\nsold his life at a dear rate. For my part I fought as well as I\ncould for a while, but, seeing we were forced to submit to a\nsuperior power, I thought on my retreat and safety, which I had\nthe good fortune to effect by some back ways, and got to one of\nthe king's servants, on whose fidelity I could depend.\n\nBeing thus surrounded with sorrows, and persecuted by fortune, I\nhad recourse to a stratagem, which was the only means left me to\nsave my life; I caused my beard and eyebrows to be shaved, and\nputting on a calender's habit, I passed, unknown by any, out of\nthe city: After that, by degrees, I found it easy to get out of\nmy uncle's kingdom by taking the byeroads.\n\nI avoided passing through towns, until I was got into the empire\nof the mighty governor of the Mussulmen, the glorious and\nrenowned Caliph Haroun Alraschid, when I thought myself out of\ndanger; and, considering what I was to do, I resolved to come to\nBagdad, intending to throw myself at the monarch's feet, whose\ngenerosity is every where applauded. I shall move him to\ncompassion, said I to myself, by the relation of my surprising\nmisfortunes, and without doubt he will take pity on such an\nunfortunate prince, and not suffer me to implore his assistance\nin vain.\n\nIn short, after a journey of several months, I arrived yesterday\nat the gate of this city, into which I entered about the dusk of\nthe evening, and standing still a little while to revive my\nspirits, and to consider on which hand I was to turn, this other\ncalender you see here next me came also along; he saluted me, and\nI him. You appear, said I, to be a stranger, as I am. You are not\nmistaken, replied he. He had no sooner returned this answer, than\nthis third calender you see there overtook us. He saluted us, and\ntold us he was a stranger newly come to Bagdad; so that as\nbrethren we joined together, resolving not to separate from one\nanother.\n\nMeanwhile it was late, and we knew not where to seek a lodging in\nthe city, where we had no acquaintance, nor had ever been before.\nBut good fortune having brought us before your gate, we made bold\nto knock, when you received us with so much kindness, that we are\nincapable to return you suitable thanks. This, madam, (said he,)\nis, in obedience to your commands, the account I was, to give you\nwhy I lost my right eye, wherefore my beard and eye-brows are\nshaved, and how I came to be with you at this present time.\n\nIt is enough, says Zobeide, you may retire to what place you\nthink fit. The calender made his excuse, and begged the ladies'\nleave to stay till he had heard the relations of his two\ncomrades, whom I cannot, says he, leave with honour; and till he\nmight also hear those of the three other persons that were in\ncompany.\n\nThe story of the first calender seemed very strange to the whole\ncompany, but especially to the caliph, who, though the slaves\nstood by with their scimitars in their hands, could not forbear\nwhispering to the vizier, Many stories have I heard, but never\nany thing that came near the story of the calender. Whilst he was\nsaying this, the second calender began, addressing himself to\nZobeide.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE SECOND CALENDER, A KING'S\n                              SON.\n\n\n\nMadam, said he, to obey your command, and to show you by what\nstrange accident I became blind of the right eye, I must of\nnecessity give you the whole account of my life.\n\nI was scarcely past my infancy, when the king my father (for you\nmust know, madam, I am a prince by birth) perceived that I was\nendowed with a great deal of sense, and spared nothing to improve\nit. He employed all the men in his dominions, who excelled in\nsciences and arts, to be constantly about me.\n\nNo sooner had I learned to read and write, than I learned the\nalcoran from the beginning to the end by heart; that admirable\nbook, which contains the foundation, the precepts, and the rules\nof our religion; and, that I might be thoroughly instructed in\nit, I read the works of the most approved authors by whose\ncommentaries it had been explained. I added to this study that of\nall the traditions collected from the mouth of our prophet by the\ngreat men that were contemporary with him. I was not satisfied\nwith the knowledge alone of all that had any relation to our\nreligion, but made also a particular search into our histories. I\nmade myself perfect in polite learning, in the works of the\npoets, and in versification. I applied myself to geography, to\nchronology, and to speak our Arabian language in its purity; not\nforgetting, in the mean time, all such exercises as were proper\nfor a prince to understand. But one thing I was mightily in love\nwith, and succeeded in to admiration, was, to form the characters\nof our Arabian language, wherein I surpassed all the\nwriting-masters of our kingdom, that had acquired the greatest\nreputation.\n\nFame did me more honour than I deserved, for she had not only\nspread the renown of my parts through all the dominions of the\nking my father, but carried it as far as the Indian court, whose\npotent monarch, desirous to see me, sent an embassador, with rich\npresents, to demand me of my father, who was extremely glad of\nthis embassy for several reasons; for he was persuaded that\nnothing could be more commendable in a prince of my age, than to\ntravel and see foreign courts; and, besides, he was very glad to\ngain the friendship of the Indian sultan. I departed with the\nembassador, but with no great retinue, because of the length and\ndifficulty of the journey.\n\nWhen we had travelled about a month, we discovered at a distance\na great cloud of dust, and under that we saw very soon fifty\nhorsemen well armed, that were robbers, coming towards us at full\ngallop.\n\nAs we had ten horses laden with baggage and other presents, which\nI was to present to the Indian sultan from the king my father,\nand that my retinue was but small, you may easily judge that\nthese robbers came boldly up to us; and, not being in a posture\nto make any opposition, we told them that we were embassadors\nbelonging to the sultan of the Indies, and hoped they would\nattempt nothing contrary to the honour that is due to them,\nthinking to save our equipage and our lives; but the robbers most\ninsolently replied, For what reason would you have us show any\nrespect to the sultan your master? We are none of his subjects,\nnor are we upon his territories. And, having spoken thus, they\nsurrounded and fell upon us. I defended myself as well as I\ncould; but finding myself wounded, and seeing the embassador,\nwith his servants and mine, lying on the ground, I made use of\nwhat strength yet remained in my horse, who was also very much\nwounded, and separated myself from the crowd, and rode away as\nfast as he could carry me; but he, happening all of a sudden to\nfall under me by weariness and the loss of blood, fell down dead;\nI got rid of him in a trice; and finding that I was not pursued,\nit made me judge the robbers were not willing to quit the booty\nthey had got.\n\nHere you see me alone, wounded, destitute of all help, and in a\nstrange country. I durst not betake myself to the high- road,\nfearing I might fall again into the hands of these robbers. When\nI had bound up my wound, which was not dangerous, I marched on\nthe rest of the day, and arrived at the foot of a mountain, where\nI perceived a passage into a cave; I went in, and staid there\nthat night with little satisfaction, after I had eaten some\nfruits that I had gathered by the way.\n\nI continued my journey for several days following, without\nfinding any place of abode; but, after a month's time, I came to\na large town well inhabited, and situtate very advantageously,\nbeing surrounded with several rivers, so that it enjoyed a\nperpetual spring.\n\nThe pleasant objects which then presented themselves to my view,\nafforded me some joy, and suspended for a time the deep sorrow\nwith which I was overwhelmed, to find myself in such a condition.\nMy face, hands, and feet, were all tawny and sun-burnt, and by my\nlong journey my shoes and stockings were quite worn out, so that\nI was forced to walk bare-footed; arid, besides, my clothes were\nall in rags. I entered into the town to inform myself where I\nwas, and addressed myself to a tailor that was at work in his\nshop; who, perceiving by my air that I was a person of more note\nthan my outward appearance bespoke me to be, made me sit down by\nhim, and asked me who I was, and from whence I came, and what had\nbrought me thither? I did not conceal any thing of all that had\nbefallen me. nor made I any scruple to discover my quality.\n\nThe tailor listened with attention to my words; but after I had\ndone speaking, he, instead of giving me any consolation,\naugmented my sorrow. Take heed, says he, how you discover to any\nperson what you have now declared to me; for the prince of this\ncountry is the greatest enemy that the king your father has, and\nhe will certainly do you some mischief when he comes to hear of\nyour being in this city. I made no doubt of the tailor's\nsincerity when he named the prince; but since that enmity which\nis between my father and him has no relation to my adventures, I\nmust beg your pardon, madam, to pass it over in silence.\n\nI returned the tailor thanks for his good advice, and showed\nmyself inclinable wholly to follow his counsel, and assured him\nthat his favours should never be forgotten by me. And as he\nbelieved I could not but be hungry, he caused them to bring me\nsomewhat to eat, and offered me at the same time a lodging--in\nhis house, which I accepted. Some days after, finding me pretty\nwell recovered of the fatigue I had endured by a long and tedious\njourney, and, besides, being sensible that most princes of our\nreligion did apply themselves to some art or calling that might\nstand them in stead upon occasion, he asked me if I had learned\nany thing whereby I might get a livelihood, and not be burdensome\nto any man? I told him that I understood the laws both divine and\nhuman; that I was a grammarian and poet; and, above all, that I\nunderstood writing perfectly well. By all this, says he, you will\nnot be able, in this country, to purchase yourself one morsel of\nbread; nothing is of less use here than those sciences: But if\nyou will be advised by me, says he, dress yourself in a\nlabourer's habit; and since you appear to be strong, and of a\ngood constitution, you shall go into the next forest, and cut\ndown fire-wood, which you may bring to the market to be sold; and\nI can assure you it will turn to so good an account, that you may\nlive by it without dependence upon any man: By this means you\nwill be in a condition to wait for the favourable minute when\nHeaven shall think fit to dispel those clouds of misfortune that\nthwart your happiness, and oblige you to conceal your birth: I\nwill take care to supply you with a rope and a hatchet.\n\nThe fear of being known, and the necessity I was under of getting\na livelihood, made me agree to this proposal, notwithstanding all\nthe meanness and hardships that attend it. The day following, the\ntailor brought me a rope, a hatchet, and a short coat, and\nrecommended me to some poor people that gained their bread after\nthe same manner, that they might take me into their company. They\nconducted me to the wood, and the first day I brought in as much\nupon my head as brought me half a piece of gold, which is the\nmoney of that country; for though the wood is not far distant\nfrom the town, yet it was very scarce there, by reason that few\nor none would be at the trouble to go and cut it. I gained a good\nsum of money in a short time, and repaid my tailor what he had\nadvanced for me.\n\nI continued this way of living for a whole year; and one day that\nby chance I had gone further into the wood than usual, I happened\nto light on a very pleasant place, where I began to cut down\nwood; and, in pulling up the root of a tree, I espied an iron\nring, fastened to a trap-door of the same metal. I took away the\nearth that covered it, and, having lifted it up, saw stairs,\nwhich I descended, with my axe in my hand.\n\nWhen I was come to the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in a\nlarge palace, which put me into a mighty consternation, because\nof the great light which appeared as clear in it as if it had\nbeen above ground in the open air. I went forward along a gallery\nsupported by pillars of jasper, the bases and chapiters of massy\ngold; but seeing a lady of a noble and free air, and of\nextraordinary beauty, coming towards me, this turned my eyes from\nbeholding any other object but her alone.\n\nBeing desirous to spare the lady the trouble to come to me, I\nmade haste to meet her; and as I was saluting her with a low bow,\nshe asked me, What are you? a man or a genie? A man, madam, said\nI; I have no correspondence with genies. By what adventure, said\nshe, (fetching a deep sigh,) are you come hither? I have lived\nhere these twenty-five years, and never saw any man but yourself\nduring that time.\n\nHer great beauty, which had already smitten me, and the sweetness\nand civility wherewith she received me, made me bold to say to\nher, Madam, before I have the honour to satisfy your curiosity,\ngive me leave to tell you that I am infinitely satisfied with\nthis unexpected rencounter, which offers me an occasion of\nconsolation in the midst of my affliction; and perhaps it may\ngive me an opportunity to make you also more happy than you are.\nI gave her a true account by what strange accident she saw me,\nthe son of a king, in such a condition as I then appeared in her\npresence; and how fortune would have it that I should discover\nthe entrance into that magnificent prison, where I had found her,\nbut in an uneasy condition, according to appearance.\n\nAlas! prince, said she, (sighing once more,) you have just cause\nto believe this rich and pompous prison cannot be otherwise than\na most wearisome abode; the most charming place in the world\nbeing nowise delightful when we are detained in it contrary to\nour will. It is not possible but you have heard of the great\nEpitimarus, king of the isle of Ebone, so called from that\nprecious wood it produces in abundance; I am the princess his\ndaughter.\n\nThe king my father had chosen for me a husband, a prince that was\nmy cousin; but, on my wedding-night, in the midst of the\nrejoicing there was in the court and the capital city of the\nkingdom of the isle of Ebone, before I was given to my spouse, a\ngenie took me away. I fainted at the same moment, and lost all my\nsenses; but, when I came to myself again, I found myself in this\nplace. I was a longtime inconsolable; but time and necessity have\naccustomed me to see and receive the genie. It is twenty-five\nyears, as I told you before, that I have continued in this place,\nwhere, I must confess, I have every thing that I can wish for\nnecessary to life; and also every thing that can satisfy a\nprincess that loves nothing but fine dress and fashions.\n\nEvery ten days, says the princess, the genie comes hither to lie\nwith me one night, which he never exceeds; and the excuse he\nmakes for it is, that he is married to another wife, who would\ngrow jealous if she came to know how unfaithful he was to her.\nMeanwhile, if I have any occasion for him by day or night, as\nsoon as I touch a talisman, which is at the entrance of my\nchamber, the genie appears. It is now the fourth day since he was\nhere, and I do not expect him before the end of six more; so, if\nyou please, you may stay five days and keep me company, and I\nwill endeavour to entertain you according to your quality and\nmerit. I thought myself too fortunate to have obtained so great a\nfavour without asking it, to refuse so obliging a proffer. The\nprincess made me go into a bagnio, which was the most handsome,\nthe most commodious, and the most sumptuous, that could be\nimagined; and when I came forth, instead of my own clothes, I\nfound another very costly suit, which I did not esteem so much\nfor its richness as that it made me look worthy to be in her\ncompany. We sat down on a sofa covered with rich tapestry, with\ncushions to lean upon, of the rarest Indian brocade; and, some\ntime after, she covered a table with several dishes of delicate\nmeats. We ate together, and passed the remainder of the day with\nvery great satisfaction; and at night she received me to her bed.\n\nThe next day, as she contrived all manner of ways to please me,\nshe brought in at dinner a bottle of old wine, the most excellent\nthat ever was tasted, and, out of complaisance, she drank part of\nit with me. Whan my head grew hot with the agreeable liquor, Fair\nprincess, said I, you have been too long thus buried alive; come\nfollow me, and enjoy the real day from which you have been\ndeprived of so many years, and abandon this false light that you\nhave here. Prince, replied she with a smile, leave this\ndiscourse; if you, out of the days, will grant me nine, and\nresign the last to the genie, the fairest day that ever was would\nbe nothing in my esteem. Princess, said I, it is the fear of the\ngenie that makes you speak thus; for my part, I value him so\nlittle that I will break his talisman, with the conjuration that\nis written about it, in pieces. Let him come then, I will expect\nhim, and how brave or redoubtable soever he be, I will make him\nfeel the weight of my arm. I swear solemnly that I shall\nextirpate all the genies in the world, and him first. The\nprincess, who knew the consequence, conjured me not to touch the\ntalisman, for that would be a mean, said she, to ruin both you\nand me; I know what belongs to genies better than you. The fumes\nof the wine did not suffer me to hearken to her reasons, but I\ngave the talisman a kick with my foot, and broke it in several\npieces.\n\nThe talisman was no sooner broken than the palace began to shake,\nand was ready to fall, with a hideous noise like thunder,\naccompanied with flashes of lightning, and a great darkness. This\nterrible noise in a moment dispelled the fumes of my wine, and\nmade me sensible, but too late, of the folly I had committed.\nPrincess, cried I, what means all this? She answered in a fright,\nand without any concern for her own misfortune, cries, Alas! you\nare undone, if you do not escape presently.\n\nI followed her advice, and my fears were so great that I forgot\nmy hatchet and cords. I was scarcely got to the stairs by which I\ncame down, when the enchanted palace opened at once, and made a\npassage for the genie. He asked the princess, in great anger,\nwhat has happened to you, and why did you call me? A qualm at my\nstomach, said the princess, made me fetch this bottle which you\nsee here, out of which I drank twice or thrice, and by mischance\nmade a false step, and fell upon the talisman, which is broken,\nand that is all the matter.\n\nAt this answer the furious genie told her, You are a false woman\nand a liar. How came that axe and those ropes there? I never saw\nthem till this moment, said the princess. Your coming in such an\nimpetuous manner has, it may be, forced them up in some place as\nyou came along, and so brought them hither without your knowing\nit.\n\nThe genie made no other answer but what was accompanied with\nreproaches and blows, of which I heard the noise. I could not\nendure to hear the pitiful cries and shouts of the princess so\ncruelly abused; I had already laid off the suit she made me put\non, and taken my own, which I had laid on the stairs the day\nbefore, when I came out of the bagnio. I made haste up stairs,\nbeing so much the more full of sorrow and compassion that I had\nbeen the cause of so great a misfortune; and that, by sacrificing\nthe fairest princess on earth to the barbarity of a most\nmerciless genie, I was become the most criminal and ungrateful of\nmankind. It is true, said I, she has been a prisoner these\ntwenty-five years; but, setting liberty aside, she wanted nothing\nthat could make her happy. My madness has put an end to her\nhappiness, and brought upon her the cruelty of an unrelenting\ndevil. I let down the trap-door, covered it again with earth, and\nreturned to the city with a burden of wood, which I bound up\nwithout knowing what I did, so great were my trouble and sorrow.\n\nMy landlord, the tailor, was very much rejoiced to see me. Your\nabsence, said he, has disquieted me very much, by reason you had\nintrusted in with the secret of your birth, and I knew not what\nto think. I was afraid that somebody had known you; God be\nthanked for your return. I thanked him for his zeal and\naffection, but never a word durst I say of what had passed, nor\nthe reason why I came back without my hatchet and cords.\n\nI retired to my chamber, where I reproached myself a thousand\ntimes for my excessive imprudence. Nothing, said I, could have\nparalleled the princess's good fortune and mine, had I foreborn\nto break the talisman.\n\nWhile I was thus giving myself over to melancholy thoughts, the\ntailor came in and told me, An old man, said he, whom I do not\nknow, brings me your hatchet and cords, which he found in his\nway, as he tells me, and understood, by your comrades that go\nalong with you to the woods, that you lodge here. Come out and\nspeak to him, for he will deliver them to none but yourself.\n\nAt this discourse I changed colour, and fell a-trembling. While\nthe tailor was asking me the reason, my chamber-door opened at\nonce, and the old man, having no patience to stay, appeared to us\nwith my hatchet and cords. This was the genie, the ravisher of\nthe fair princess of the isle of Ebone, who had thus disguised\nhimself, after he had treated her with the utmost barbarity. I am\na genie, said he, son of the daughter of Ebis, prince of genies.\nIs not this your hatchet? said he, speaking to me, and are not\nthese your cords?\n\nAfter the genie had put the question to me, he gave me no time to\nanswer, nor was it in my power, so much had his terrible aspect\nput me beside myself. He grasped me by the middle, dragged me out\nof the chamber, and, mounting into the air, carried me up as high\nas the skies, with such swiftness, that I perceived I was got so\nhigh as not to be able to take notice of the way, being carried\nin so few moments. He descended again in like manner to the\nearth, which, on a sudden, he caused to open with a knock of his\nfoot, and so sunk down at once, where I found myself in the\nenchanted palace before the fair princess of the isle of Ebone.\nBut, alas! what a spectacle was there; I saw that which pierced\nme to the heart; this poor princess was quite naked, all in\nblood, and laid upon the ground, more like one dead than alive,\nwith her cheeks all bathed in tears.\n\nPerfidious wretch, said the genie to her, pointing at me, is not\nthis your gallant? She cast her languishing eyes upon me, and\nanswered mournfully, I do not know him; I never saw him till this\nmoment. What, said the genie, he is the cause of thy being in the\ncondition thou art justly in; and yet darest thou say thou dost\nnot know him? If I do not know him, said the princess, would you\nhave me to make a lie on purpose to ruin him? O then, said the\ngenie, pulling out a scimitar, and presenting it to the princess,\nif you never saw him before, take the scimitar and cut off his\nhead. Alas! replied the princess, how is it possible I should\nexecute what you would force me to do? My strength is so far\nspent that I cannot lift my arm; and if I could, how should I\nhave the heart to take away an innocent man's life, and one I do\nnot know? This refusal, said the genie to the princess,\nsufficiently informs me of your crime. Upon which, turning to me,\nAnd thou, said he, dost thou hot know her?\n\nI should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most\nperfidious of all mankind, if I had not shown myself as faithful\nto the princess as she was to me, who had been the cause of her\nmisfortunes. Therefore I answered the genie, How should I know\nher, that never saw her till now? If that be so, said he, take\nthe scimitar and cut off her head. On this condition I will set\nthee at liberty, for then I will be convinced that thou never saw\nher till this very moment, as thou sayest thyself. With all my\nheart, replied I, and took the scimitar in my hand.\n\nDo not think, madam, that I drew near to the fair princess of the\nisle of Ebone, to be the executioner of the genie's barbarity; I\ndid it only to demonstrate by my behaviour, as much as possible,\nthat as she had shown her resolution to sacrifice her life for my\nsake, so I would not refuse to sacrifice mine for her's. The\nprincess, notwithstanding her pain and suffering, understood my\nmeaning, which she signified by an obliging look, and made me\nunderstand her willingness to die for me; and that she was\nsatisfied to see also how willing I was to die for her. Upon this\nI stepped back, and threw the scimitar on the ground. I shall for\never, says I to the genie, be hateful to all mankind, should I be\nso base as to murder, I do not only say a person whom I do not\nknow, but also a lady like this, who is ready to give up the\nghost; do with me what you please since I am in your power; I\ncannot obey your barbarous commands.\n\nI see, said the genie, that you both out-brave me, and insult my\njealousy; but both of you shall know, by the treatment I give\nyou, what I am capable to do. At these words, the monster took up\nthe scimitar and cut off one of her hands, which left her only so\nmuch life as to give me a token with the other, that she bid me\nfor ever adieu. For the blood she had lost before, and that which\ngushed out then, did not permit her to live above one or two\nmoments after this barbarous cruelty, the sight of which threw me\ninto a fit. When I was come to myself again, I expostulated with\nthe genie, why he made me languish in expectation of death.\nStrike, cried I, for I am ready to receive the mortal blow, and\nexpect it as the greatest favour you can show me. But instead of\nagreeing to that, Look ye, says he, how genies treat their wives\nwhom they suspect of unfaithfulness; she has received thee here,\nand were I certain that she had put any other affront upon me, I\nwould make thee die this minute; but I will content myself to\ntransform thee into a dog, ape, lion, or bird: take thy choice of\nany of these, I will leave it to thyself.\n\nThese words gave me some hopes to mollify him. O genie; said I,\nmoderate your passion, and since you will not take away my life,\ngive it me generously; I shall always remember your clemency, if\nyou pardon me, as one of the best men in the world pardoned one\nof his neighbours who bore him a mortal hatred. The genie asked\nme what had passed between those two neighbours, and said, he\nwould have patience till he heard the story, which I told him\nthus: And I believe, madam, you will not take it ill if I also\nrelate it to you.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE ENVIOUS MAN, AND OF HIM\n                        WHOM HE ENVIED.\n\n\n\nIn a considerable town, two persons dwelt next door to each\nother; one of them conceived such a violent hatred against the\nother, that he who was hated resolved to remove his dwelling\nfurther off, being persuaded that their being neighbours was the\nonly cause from whence his animosity did arise; for, though he\nhad done him several pieces of service, he found, nevertheless,\nthat his hatred was nothing diminished; therefore he sold his\nhouse, with what goods he had left, and retired to the capital\ncity of that kingdom, which was not far distant. He bought a\nlittle spot of ground, which lay about half a league from the\ncity; he had a house convenient enough, with a fine garden, and a\npretty spacious court, wherein was a deep well, which was not in\nuse.\n\nThe honest man, having made this purchase, put on a dervize's or\nmonk's habit to lead a retired life, and caused several cells to\nbe made in the house, where in a short time he established a\nnumerous society of dervizes. He came soon to be publicly known\nby his virtue, through which he acquired the esteem of a great\nmany people, as well of the commonalty as of the chief of the\ncity. In short, he was extremely honoured and cherished by every\none. People came from far to recommend themselves to his prayers;\nand all those that came to live with him published what blessings\nthey received through his means.\n\nThe great reputation of that honest man having spread to the town\nfrom whence he came, it touched the envious man so much to the\nquick, that he left his house and affairs, with a resolution to\ngo and ruin him. With this intent he went to the new convent of\ndervizes, of which his former neighbour was the head, who\nreceived him with all imaginable tokens of friendship. The\nenvious man told him that he was come on purpose to communicate a\nbusiness of importance to him, which he could not do but in\nprivate; and because that nobody shall hear us, let us, says he,\ntake a walk in your court, and seeing night begins to draw on,\ncommand your dervizes to retire to their cells. The head of the\ndervizes did as he required.\n\nWhen the envious man saw that he was alone, with this good man,\nhe began to tell him his errand, walking side by side in the\ncourt until he saw his opportunity; and getting the good man near\nthe brink of the well, he gave him a thrust, and pushed him into\nit, without any body being witness to so wicked an action. Having\ndone this, he marched off immediately, got out at the gate of the\nconvent without being known to any one, and came home to his own\nhouse, well satisfied with his journey, being fully persuaded\nthat the object of his hatred was no more in this world.\n\nThis old well was inhabited by fairies and genies, which happened\nluckily for the relief of the head of the convent; for they\nreceived and supported him, and carried him to the bottom, so\nthat he got no hurt. He perceived well enough that there was\nsomething extraordinary in his fall, which must otherwise have\ncost him his life; whereas he neither saw nor felt any thing. But\nhe soon heard a voice, which said, Do you know what honest man\nthis is to whom we have done this piece of service? Another voice\nanswered, No. To which the first replied, Then I will tell you.\nThis man, out of charity the greatest that ever was known, left\nthe town he lived in, and has established himself in this place,\nin hopes to cure one of his neighbours of the envy he had\nconceived against him; he has acquired such a general esteem,\nthat the envious man, not able to endure it, came hither on\npurpose to ruin him, which he had performed, had it not been for\nthe assistance which we have given this honest man, whose\nreputation is so great, that the sultan, who keeps his residence\nin the neighbouring city, was to pay him a visit to-morrow, and\nto recommend the princess his daughter to his prayers.\n\nAnother voice asked, What need had the princess of the dervize's\nprayers? To which the first answered, You do not know, it seems,\nthat she is possessed by genie Maimoun, the son of Demdim, who is\nfallen in love with her. But I know well how this good head of\nthe dervizes may cure her; the thing is very easy, and I will\ntell it you. He has a black cat in his convent, with a white spot\nat the end of her tail, about the bigness of a small piece of\nEnglish money: let him only pull seven hairs out of this white\nspot, burn them, and smoke the princess's head with the fume, she\nwill not only be perfectly cured, but be so safely delivered from\nMaimoun, the son of Demdim, that he will never dare to come near\nher a second time.\n\nThe head of the dervizes remembered every word of the discourse\nbetween the fairies and the genies, who were very silent all the\nnight after. The next morning, by break of day, when he could\ndiscern one thing from another, the well being broken down in\nseveral places, he saw a hole, by which he crept out with ease.\n\nThe other dervizes who had been seeking for him, were rejoiced to\nsee him. He gave them a brief account of the wickedness of that\nman to whom he had given so kind a reception the day before, and\nretired into his cell. It was not long till the black cat, of\nwhich the fairies and the genies had made mention in their\ndiscourses the night before, came to fawn upon her master, as she\nwas accustomed to do: He took her up, and pulled seven hairs out\nof the white spot that was upon her tail, and laid them aside for\nhis use, when occasion should serve.\n\nThe sun was not high, when the sultan, who would leave no means\nuntried which he thought could restore the princess to her\nperfect health, arrived at the gate of the convent. He commanded\nhis guards to halt, whilst he, with his principal officers, went\nin. The dervizes received him with profound respect.\n\nThe sultan called their head aside, and says, good Sheik, it may\nbe you know already the cause of my coming hither. Yes, sir,\nreplies he, very gravely; if I do not mistake it, it is the\ndisease of the princess which procures me this honour that I have\nnot deserved. That is the very thing, replied the sultan. You\nwill give me new life, if your prayers, as I hope they will, can\nprocure my daughter's health. Sir, said the good man, if your\nmajesty will be pleased to let her come hither, I am in hopes,\nthat through God's assistance and favour, she shall return in\nperfect health.\n\nThe prince, transported with joy, sent immediately to fetch his\ndaughter, who very soon appeared with a numerous train of ladies\nand eunuchs, but masked, so that her face was not seen. The chief\nof the dervizes caused a pall to be held over her head, and he\nhad no sooner thrown the seven tufts of hair upon the burning\ncoal, than the genie Maimoun, the son of Demdim, gave a great\ncry, without any thing being seen, and left the princess at\nliberty; upon which she took the veil from off her face, and rose\nup to see where she was, saying, Where am I, and who brought me\nhither? At these words, the sultan, overcome with excess of joy,\nembraced his daughter, and kissed her eyes; he also kissed the\nchief of the dervize's hands, and said to his officers, Tell me\nyour opinion, what reward does he deserve who has cured my\ndaughter? They all cried, he deserves her in marriage. That is\nwhat I had in my thoughts, said the sultan; and I make him my\nson-in-law from this moment. Some time after, the prime vizier\ndied, and the sultan conferred the place on the dervize. The\nsultan himself died without heirs-male; upon which the religious\norders and the militia gathered together, and the honest man was\ndeclared and acknowledged sultan by general consent.\n\nThe honest dervize, being mounted on the throne of his\nfather-in-law, as he was one day in the midst of his courtiers\nupon a march, espied the envious man among the crowd of people\nthat stood as he passed along, and calling one of his viziers\nthat attended him, whispered him in the ear thus: Go bring me\nthat man you see there, but take care you do not frighten him.\nThe vizier obeyed, and when the envious man was brought into his\npresence, the sultan said, Friend, I am extremely glad to see\nyou. Upon which he called an officer: Go immediately, says he,\nand cause to be paid this man out of my treasury one hundred\npieces of gold; let him have also twenty load of the richest\nmerchandise in my store-houses, and a sufficient guard to conduct\nhim to his house. After he had given this charge to the officer,\nhe bade the envious man farewell, and proceeded on his march.\n\nWhen I had finished the recital of this story to the genie, the\nmurderer of the princess of the isle of Ebone, I made the\napplication to himself thus: O genie! you see here that this\nbountiful sultan did not content himself with forgetting the\ndesign of the envious man to take away his life, but treated him\nkindly, and sent him back with all the favours which I just now\nrelated. In short, I made use of all my eloquence, prayed him to\nimitate such a good example, and to grant me pardon; but it was\nimpossible for me to move his compassion.\n\nAll that I can do for thee, said he, is, that I will not take\naway thy life; do not flatter thyself that I will send thee safe\nand sound back. I must let you feel what I am able to do by my\nenchantments. With that he laid violent hands on me, and carried\nme across the vault of the subterraneous palace, which opened to\ngive him passage; he flew up with me so high, that the earth\nseemed to be only a little white cloud; from thence he came down\nagain like lightning, and alighted upon the ridge of a mountain.\n\nThere he took up a handful of earth, and pronounced, or rather\nmuttered, some words which I did not understand, and threw it\nupon me. Leave the shape of a man, says he to me, and take on\nthat of an ape. He vanished immediately, and left me alone,\ntransformed into an ape, overwhelmed with sorrow in a strange\ncountry, not knowing if I was near unto or far from my father's\ndominions.\n\nI went down from the height of the mountain, and came into a\nplain country, which took me a month's time to travel through,\nand then I came to a coast of the sea. It happened then to be a\ngreat calm, and I espied a vessel about half a league from the\nshore; I would not lose this good opportunity, but broke off a\nlarge branch from a tree, which I carried with me to the\nsea-side, and set myself astride upon it, with a stick in each\nhand to serve me for oars.\n\nI launched out in this posture, and advanced near the ship. When\nI was near enough to be known, the seamen and passengers that\nwere upon the deck thought it an extraordinary spectacle, and all\nof them looked upon me with great astonishment. In the mean time,\nI got aboard, and laying hold of a rope, I jumped on the deck,\nand, having lost my speech, I found myself in very great\nperplexity; and indeed the risk I ran then was nothing less than\nwhen I was at the mercy of the genie.\n\nThe merchants, being both superstitious and scrupulous, believed\nI should occasion some mischief to their voyage, if they received\nme: therefore, says one, I will knock him down with an handspike;\nsays another, I will shoot an arrow through his guts; says a\nthird, Let us throw him into the sea. Some of them would not have\nfailed to have executed their design, if I had not got to the\nside where the captain was; when I threw myself at his feet, and\ntook him by the coat in a begging posture. This action, together\nwith the tears which he saw gush from my eyes, moved his\ncompassion; so that he took me into his protection, threatened to\nbe avenged on him that should do me the least hurt; and he\nhimself made very much of me, And on my part, though I had no\npower to speak, I did, by my gestures, show all possible signs of\ngratitude.\n\nThe wind that succeeded the calm was gentle and favourable, and\ndid not alter for five days, but brought us safe to the port of a\nfine town, well peopled, and of great trade, where we came to an\nanchor. It was so much the more considerable, that it was the\ncapital city of a powerful state.\n\nOur vessel was speedily surrounded with an infinite number of\nboats, full of people, who either came to congratulate their\nfriends upon their safe arrival, or to inquire for those they had\nleft behind them in the country from whence they came, or out of\ncuriosity to see a ship that came from a far country.\n\nAmongst the rest, some officers came on board, desiring to speak\nwith the merchants in the name of the sultan. The merchants\nappearing, one of the officers told them, The sultan, our master,\nhath commanded us to acquaint you that he is glad of your safe\narrival, and prays you to take the trouble, every one of you, to\nwrite some lines upon this roll of paper; and, that his design\nmay be understood, you must know that he had a prime vizier, who,\nbesides a great capacity to manage affairs, understood writing to\nthe highest perfection. This minister is lately dead, at which\nthe sultan is very much troubled, and since he can never behold\nhis writing without admiration, he has made a solemn vow not to\ngive the place to any man but to him that can write as well as he\ndid. Abundance of people have presented their writings; but to\nthis day nobody in all this empire has been judged worthy to\nsupply the vizier's place.\n\nThose merchants that believed they could write well enough to\npretend to this high dignity, wrote, one after another, what they\nthought fit. After they had done, I advanced and took the roll\nout of the gentleman's hand; but all the people, especially the\nmerchants, cried out, he will tear it, or throw it into the sea,\ntill they saw how properly I held the roll, and made a sign that\nI would write in my turn. Then they were of another opinion, and\ntheir fears turned into admiration. However, since they had never\nseen an ape that could write, nor could be persuaded that I was\nmore ingenious than other apes, they offered to snatch the roll\nout of my hand; but the captain took my part once more. Let him\nalone, says he; suffer him to write. If he only scribbles the\npaper, I promise you that I will punish him upon the spot. If, on\nthe contrary, he writes well, as I hope he will, because I never\nsaw an ape so handy and ingenious, and so apprehensive of every\nthing, I do declare that I will own him as my son. I had one that\nhad not by far the wit that he has. Perceiving that no man did\nany more oppose my design, I took the pen, and wrote, before I\nhad done, six sorts of hands used among the Arabians, and each\nspecimen containing an extemporary distich or quatram in praise\nof the sultan. My writings did not only outdo that of the\nmerchants, but I dare say they had not before seen any such fair\nwriting in that country. When I had done, the officers took the\nroll, and carried it to the sultan.\n\nThe sultan took little notice of any of the other writings, but\nconsidered mine, which was so much to his liking, that he says to\nthe officers, Take the finest horse in my stable, with the\nrichest harness, and a robe of the most sumptuous brocade, to put\nupon that person who wrote those six hands, and bring him hither\nto me. At this command the officers could not forbear laughing:\nthe sultan grew angry at their boldness, and was ready to punish\nthem till they told him. Sir, replied the officers, we humbly beg\nyour majesty's pardon; these characters are not written by a man,\nbut by an ape. What do you say! says the sultan, are not these\nadmirable characters written by the hands of a man? No, sir,\nreplied the officers, we do assure your majesty that it was an\nape who wrote them in our presence. The sultan was too much\nsurprised at this account not to desire a sight of me; and\ntherefore says, Do what I command you, and bring me speedily that\nwonderful ape.\n\nThe officers returned to the vessel, and showed the captain their\norder, who answered, that the sultan's commands must be obeyed.\nWhereupon they clothed me with that rich brocade robe, and\ncarried me ashore, where they set me on horseback, whilst the\nsultan waited for me at the palace with a great number of\ncourtiers, whom he gathered together, to do me the more honour.\n\nThe cavalcade being begun, the harbour, the streets, the public\nplaces, windows, terraces, palaces, and houses, were all filled\nwith an infinite number of people, of all sorts, who were curious\nto come from all parts of the city to see me; for the rumour was\nspread in a moment, that the sultan had chosen an ape to be his\ngrand vizier; and after having served for a spectacle to the\npeople, who could not forbear to express their surprise by\nredoubling their shouts and cries, I arrived at the palace of the\nsultan.\n\nI found the prince seated on his throne, in the midst of the\ngrandees. I made my bow three times very low, and at last kneeled\nand kissed the ground before him, and afterwards sat down in my\nseat in the posture of an ape. The whole assembly admired me, and\ncould not comprehend how it was possible that an ape should\nunderstand so well to give the sultan his due respect; and he\nhimself was more astonished than any man. In short, the usual\nceremony of the audience would have been complete, could I have\nadded speech to my behaviour; but apes do never speak, and the\nadvantage I had of having been a man did not allow me that\nprivilege.\n\nThe sultan dismissed his courtiers, and none remained by him but\nhis chief of the eunuchs, a little young slave, and myself. He\nwent from his chamber of audience into his own apartment, where\nhe ordered dinner to be brought. As he sat at table, he gave me a\nsign to come near, and eat with him. To show my obedience, I\nkissed the ground, stood up, sat down at table, ate with\ndiscretion, and moderately.\n\nBefore the table was uncovered, I espied an ink-horn, which I\nmade a sign should be brought me; having got it, I wrote upon a\nlarge peach some verses after my own way, which testified my\nacknowledgment to the sultan; who having read them, after my\npresenting him the peach, it increased his astonishment. When the\ntable was uncovered, they brought him a particular liquor, of\nwhich he caused them to give me a glass. I drank, and wrote some\nnew verses upon it, which explained the state I was in, after a\ngreat many sufferings. The sultan read them likewise, and said,\nan ape that was capable of doing so much ought to be exalted\nabove the greatest of men.\n\nThe sultan caused them to bring in a chess-board, and asked me,\nby a sign, if I understood that game, and would play with him? I\nkissed the ground, and laying my hand upon my head, signified\nthat I was ready to receive that honour. He won the first game,\nbut I won the second and third; and perceiving he was somewhat\ndispleased at it, I made a quatrain to pacify him; in which I\ntold him that two potent armies had been fighting very eagerly\nall day, but that they made up a peace towards the evening, and\npassed the remaining part of the night very peaceably together\nupon the field of battle.\n\nSo many things appearing to the sultan far beyond what any one\nhad either seen or known of the behaviour or knowledge of apes,\nhe would not be the only witness of these prodigies himself; but\nhaving a daughter, called the lady of beauty, to whom the head of\nthe eunuchs, then present, was governor, Go, said the sultan to\nhim, and bid your lady come hither: I am willing she should have\na share in my pleasure.\n\nThe eunuch went, and immediately brought the princess, who had\nher face uncovered; but she was no sooner got into the room, than\nshe put on her veil, and said to the sultan, Sir, your majesty\nmust needs have forgotten yourself; I am very much surprised that\nyour majesty has sent for me to appear among men. How, daughter!\nsaid the sultan, you do not know what you say. Here is nobody but\nthe little slave, the eunuch your governor, and myself, who have\nthe liberty to see your face; and yet you lower your veil, and\nwould make me a criminal in having sent for you hither. Sir, said\nthe princess, your majesty shall soon understand that I am not in\nthe wrong. That ape you see before you, though he has the shape\nof an ape, is a young prince, son of a great king; he has been\nmetamorphosed into an ape by enchantment. A genie, the son of the\ndaughter of Eblis, has maliciously done him this wrong, after\nhaving cruelly taken away the life of the princess of the isle of\nEbone, daughter to the king of Epitimarus.\n\nThe sultan, astonished at this discourse, turned towards me, and\nspoke no more by signs, but, in plain words, asked me, if it was\ntrue what his daughter said? Seeing I could not speak, I put my\nhand to my head to signify that what the princess spoke was true.\nUpon this the sultan said again to his daughter, How do you know\nthat this prince has been transformed by enchantment into an ape?\nSir, replied the lady of beauty, your majesty may remember that\nwhen I was past my infancy, I had an old lady that waited upon\nme; she was a most expert magician, and taught me seventy rules\nof magic, by virtue of which I can transport your capital city\ninto the midst of the sea, in the twinkling of an eye, or beyond\nmount Caucasus. By this science I know all enchanted persons at\nfirst sight. I know who they are, and by whom they have been\nenchanted: therefore do not admire if I forthwith relieve this\nprince, in spite of enchantments, from that which hinders him to\nappear in your sight what he naturally is. Daughter, said the\nsultan, I did not believe you to have understood so much. Sir,\nreplies the princess, these things are curious, and worth\nknowing; but I think I ought not to boast of them. Since it is\nso, said the sultan, you can dispel the prince's enchantment.\nYes, sir, said the princess, I can restore him to his first shape\nagain. Do it then, said the sultan, you cannot do me a greater\npleasure; for I will have him to be my vizier, and he shall marry\nyou. Sir, said the princess, I am ready to obey you in all that\nyou shall be pleased to command me.\n\nThe princess, the lady of beauty, went into her apartment, from\nwhence she brought in a knife which had some Hebrew words\nengraved on the blade: She made us all, viz. the sultan, the\nmaster of the eunuchs, the little slave, and myself, to go down\ninto a private court adjoining to the palace, and there left us\nunder a gallery that went round it. She placed herself in the\nmiddle of the court, where she made a great circle, and within it\nshe wrote several words in Arabian characters, some of them\nancient, and others of those which they call the character of\nCleopatra.\n\nWhen she had finished and prepared the circle as she thought fit,\nshe placed herself in the centre of it, where she began\nadjurations, and repeated verses out of the alcoran. The air grew\ninsensibly dark, as if it had been night, and the whole world\nabout to be dissolved. We found ourselves struck with a panic\nfear, and this fear increased the more, when we saw the genie,\nthe son of the daughter of Eblis, appear all of a sudden in the\nshape of a lion of a frightful size.\n\nAs soon as the princess perceived this monster, You dog, said\nshe, instead of creeping before me, dare you present yourself in\nthis shape, thinking to frighten me? And thou, replied the lion,\nart thou not afraid to break the treaty which was solemnly made\nand confirmed between us by oath, not to wrong or do one another\nany hurt? Oh, thou cursed creature! replied the princess, I can\njustly reproach thee with doing so. The lion answered fiercely,\nThou shalt quickly have thy reward for the trouble thou hast\ngiven me to return: With that he opened his terrible throat, and\nran at her to devour her; but she, being upon her guard, leaped\nbackward, got time to pull out one of her hairs, and, by\npronouncing three or four words, changed herself into a sharp\nsword, wherewith she cut the lion through the middle in two\npieces.\n\nThe two parts of the lion vanished, and the head was only left,\nwhich changed itself into a large scorpion. Immediately the\nprincess turned herself into a serpent, and fought the scorpion,\nwho, finding himself worsted, took the shape of an eagle, and\nflew away: But the serpent at the same time took also the shape\nof an eagle that was black and much stronger, and pursued him, so\nthat we lost sight of them both.\n\nSome time after they disappeared, the ground opened before us,\nand out of it came forth a cat, black and white, with her hair\nstanding upright, and keeping up a fearful mewling; a black wolf\nfollowed her close, and gave her no time to rest. The cat, being\nthus hard beset, changed herself into a worm, and being nigh to a\npomegranate that had accidentally fallen from a tree that grew on\nthe side of a canal, which was deep, but not broad, the worm\npierced the pomegranate in an instant, and hid itself; but the\npomegranate swelled immediately, and became as big as a gourd,\nwhich, mounting up to the top of the gallery, rolled there for\nsome space backward and forward, fell down again into the court,\nand broke into several pieces.\n\nThe wolf, who had in the meanwhile transformed itself into a\ncock, fell a-picking up the seeds of the pomegranate one after\nanother; but, finding no more, he came towards us with his wings\nspread, making a great noise, as if he would ask us whether there\nwas any more seed? There was one lying on the brink of the canal,\nwhich the cock perceiving as he went back, ran speedily thither;\nbut just as he was going to pick it up, the seed rolled into the\nriver, and turned into a little fish.\n\nThe cock jumped into the river, and was turned into a pike, that\npursued the small fish; they continued both under water above two\nhours, and we knew not what became of them; but all of a sudden\nwe heard terrible cries, which made us to quake, and a little\nwhile after we saw the genie and princess all in flames. They\nthrew flashes of fire out of their mouths at one another, until\nthey came to it hand to hand; then the fires increased, with a\nthick burning smoke, which mounted so high, that we had reason to\nfear that it would set the palace on fire. But we very soon had a\nmore pressing occasion of fear; for the genie, having got loose\nfrom the princess, came to the gallery where we stood, and blew\nflames of fire upon us. We had all perished, if the princess,\nrunning to our assistance, had not forced him, by her efforts, to\nretire and defend himself against her; yet, notwithstanding all\nher diligence, she could not hinder the sultan's beard from being\nburnt, and his face spoiled, the chief of the eunuch's from being\nstifled, and burnt on the spot, nor a spark to enter my right\neye, and make it blind. The sultan and I expected nothing but\ndeath, when we heard a cry, Victory, victory; and, all of a\nsudden, the princess appeared in her natural shape, but the genie\nwas reduced to a heap of ashes.\n\nThe princess came near to us, and, that she might not lose time,\ncalled for a cup of cold water, which the young slave that had\ngot no damage brought her: She took it, and, after pronouncing\nsome words over it, threw it upon me, saying, If thou art become\nan ape by enchantment, change thy shape, and take that of a man,\nwhich thou hadst before. These words were hardly uttered till I\nbecame a man, as I was before, one eye only excepted.\n\nI was preparing myself to give thanks to the princess, but she\nprevented me, by addressing herself to her father thus: Sir, I\nhave got the victory over the genie, as your majesty may see; but\nit is a victory that costs me dear; I have but a few moments to\nlive, and you will not have the satisfaction to make the match\nyou intended; the fire has pierced me during the terrible combat,\nand I find it consumes me by degrees. This would not have\nhappened, had I perceived the last of the pomegranate seeds, and\nswallowed it as I did the other, when I was changed into a cock.\nThe genie had fled thither as to his last intrenchment, and upon\nthat the success of the combat depended, which would have been\nsuccessful, and without danger to me. This slip obliged me to\nhave recourse to fire, and to fight with those mighty arms as I\ndid between heaven and earth in your presence; for, in spite of\nall his redoubtable art and experience, I made the genie to know\nthat I understood more than he: I have conquered and reduced him\nto ashes, but I cannot escape death, which is approaching.\n\nThe sultan suffered the princess, the lady of beauty, to go on\nwith the recital of her combat; and when she had done, he spoke\nto her in a tone that sufficiently testified his grief. My\ndaughter, said he, you see in what condition your father is:\nAlas! I wonder that I am yet alive! Your governor, the eunuch, is\ndead, and the prince whom you have delivered from his enchantment\nhas lost one of his eyes. He could speak no more; for his tears,\nsighs, and sobs, made him speechless; his daughter and I were\nexceedingly sensible of his sorrow, and wept with him.\n\nIn the mean time, while we were striving to outdo one another in\ngrief, the princess cried, I burn; Oh, I burn! She found that the\nfire which consumed her had at last seized upon her whole body,\nwhich made her still to cry, I burn, until death had made an end\nof her intolerable pains. The effect of that was so\nextraordinary, that in a few moments she was wholly reduced to\nashes like the genie.\n\nI cannot tell you, madam, how much I was grieved at so dismal a\nspectacle. I had rather all my life have continued an ape or a\ndog, than to have seen my benefactress thus miserably perish. The\nsultan, being afflicted beyond all that can be imagined, cried\nout piteously, and beat himself upon his head and stomach, until\nsuch time as, being quite overcome with grief, he fainted away,\nwhich made me fear his life. In the mean time the eunuchs and\nofficers came running at the sultan's cries, and with very much\nado brought him to himself again. There was no need for that\nprince and me to give them a long narrative of this adventure, in\norder to convince them of their great loss. The two heaps of\nashes, into which the princess and genie had been reduced, were\ndemonstration enough. The sultan was hardly able to stand\nupright, but was forced to be supported by them till he could get\nto his apartment.\n\nWhen the noise of this tragical event had spread itself through\nthe palace and the city, all the people bewailed the misfortune\nof the princess, the lady of beauty, and were sensible of the\nsultan's affliction. Every one was in deep mourning for seven\ndays, and a great many ceremonies were performed: The ashes of\nthe genie were thrown into the air, but those of the princess\nwere gathered into a precious urn, to be kept; and the urn was\nset in a stately tomb, which was built for that purpose, on the\nsame place where the ashes had lain.\n\nThe grief which the sultan conceived for the loss of his daughter\nthrew him into a fit of sickness, which confined him to his\nchamber for a whole month. He had not fully recovered strength\nwhen he sent for me: Prince, said he, hearken to the orders that\nI now give you; it will cost you your life if you do not put them\nin execution. I assured him of exact obedience; upon which he\nwent on thus: I have constantly lived in perfect felicity, and\nnever was crossed by any accident; but by your arrival all the\nhappiness I possessed is vanished; my daughter is dead, her\ngovernor is no more, and it is through a miracle that I am yet\nalive. You are the cause of all those misfortunes, for which it\nis impossible that I should be comforted; therefore depart from\nhence in peace, but without further delay, for I myself must\nperish, if you stay any longer: I am persuaded that your presence\nbrings mischief along with it. This is all I have to say to you.\nDepart, and take care of ever appearing again in my dominions;\nthere is no consideration whatsoever that shall hinder me from\nmaking you repent of it. I was going to speak, but he stopped my\nmouth by words full of anger; and so I was obliged to remove from\nhis palace, rejected, banished, thrown off by all the world, and\nnot knowing what would become of me. Before I left the city, I\nwent into a bagnio, where I caused my beard and eye-brows to be\nshaved, and put on a calender's habit. I began my journey, not so\nmuch deploring my own miseries as the death of the two fair\nprincesses of which I had been the occasion. I passed through\nmany countries without making myself known; at last I resolved to\ncome to Bagdad, in hopes to get myself introduced to the\ncommander of the faithful, to move his compassion by giving him\nan account of my strange adventures. I came hither this evening,\nand the first man I met was this calender, our brother, that\nspoke before me. You know the remaining part, madam, and the\ncause of my having the honour to be here.\n\nWhen the second calender made an end of his story, Zobeide, to\nwhom he had addressed his speech, told him, It is very well, you\nmay go which way you please; I give you leave: but, instead of\ndeparting, he also petitioned the lady to show him the same\nfavour she had vouchsafed to the first calender, and went and sat\ndown by him.\n\nThe third calender, perceiving it was his turn to speak,\naddressed his speech, as the rest had done, to Zobeide, and began\nin this manner.\n\n\n\n\n\n          THE HISTORY OF THE THIRD CALENDER, A KING'S\n                              SON.\n\n\n\nMost Honourable Lady,\n\nThat which I am going to tell you very much differs from what you\nhave heard already. The two princes that spoke before me have\neach lost an eye by the pure effects of their destiny, but mine I\nlost through my own fault, and by hastening to seek my own\nmisfortune, as you shall hear by the sequel of my story.\n\nMy name is Agib, and I am the son of a king who was called\nCassib. After his death I took possession of his dominions, and\nresided in the same city where he lived before. This city is\nsituate on the sea-coast; has one of the finest and safest\nharbours in the world, and an arsenal large enough for fitting\nout fifty men of war to sea, that are always ready on occasion,\nand light frigates, and pleasure-boats for recreation. My kingdom\nis composed of several fine provinces upon Terra Firma, besides a\nnumber of spacious islands, every one of which lies almost in\nsight of my capital city.\n\nThe first thing I did was to visit the provinces; I afterwards\ncaused to fit out and man my whole fleet, went to my islands to\ngain the hearts of my subjects by my presence, and to confirm\nthem in their loyalty; and, some time after I returned, I went\nthither again. These voyages giving me some taste for navigation,\nI took so much pleasure in it that I resolved to make some\ndiscoveries beyond my islands; to which end I caused only ten\nships to be fitted out, embarked on board them, and set sail.\n\nOur voyage was very successful for forty days together; but on\nthe forty-first night the wind became contrary, and withal so\nboisterous that we were like to have been lost in the storm.\nAbout break of day the wind grew calm, the clouds were dispersed,\nand the sun having brought back fair weather, we came close to an\nisland, where we remained two days to take in fresh provisions;\nthis being done, we put off again to sea. After ten days sail, we\nwere in hopes of seeing land, for the tempests we had gone\nthrough had so much abated my curiosity, that I gave orders to\nsteer back to my own coast; but I perceived at the same time that\nmy pilot knew not where we were. Upon the tenth day, a seaman\nbeing sent to look out for land from the mast-head, he gave\nnotice that on starboard and larboard he could see nothing but\nthe sky and the sea which bounded the horizon, but just before\nus, upon the stern, he saw a great blackness.\n\nThe pilot changed colour at the relation and throwing his turban\non the deck with one hand, and beating his breast with the other,\ncried, O, sir, we are all lost; not one of us will escape; and,\nwith all my skill, it is not in my power to prevent it! Having\nspoken thus, he fell a-crying like a man who foresaw unavoidable\nruin; his despair put the whole ship's crew into a terror. I\nasked him what reason he had thus to despair? He told me, the\ntempest which we had outlived had brought us so far out of our\ncourse that to-morrow about noon we should come near to that\nblack place, which is nothing else but the black mountain, that\nis, a mine of adamant, which at this very minute draws all your\nfleet towards it, by virtue of the iron nails that are in your\nships; and when we come to-morrow, at a certain distance, the\nstrength of the adamant will have such a force, that all the\nnails will be drawn out of the sides and bottoms of the ships,\nand fastened to the mountain, so that your vessel will fall to\npieces, and sink to the bottom; and as the adamant has a virtue\nto draw all iron to it, whereby its attraction becomes stronger,\nthis mountain on the side of the sea is all covered over with\nnails, drawn out of an infinite number of vessels that have\nperished by it; and this preserves and augments its virtue at the\nsame time.\n\nThis mountain, continues the pilot, is very rugged. On the top of\nit there is a dome of fine brass, supported by pillars of the\nsame, and upon the top of that dome there stands a horse of the\nsame metal, with a rider on his back, who has a plate of lead\nfixed to his breast, upon which some talismantical characters are\nengraved. Sir, the tradition is, that this statue is the chief\ncause that so many ships and men have been lost and sunk in this\nplace, and that it will ever continue to be fatal to all who have\nthe misfortune to come near it, until such time as it shall be\nthrown down.\n\nThe pilot, having ended his discourse, began to weep afresh, and\nthis made all the rest of the ship's company to do the like. I\nmyself had no other thoughts but that my days were there to have\nan end. In the mean time every one began to provide for his own\nsafety, and to that end took all imaginable precautions; and,\nbeing uncertain of the event, they all made one another their\nheirs, by virtue of a will, for the benefit of those that should\nhappen to be saved.\n\nThe next morning we perceived the black mountain very plain, and\nthe idea we had conceived of it made it appear more frightful\nthan it was. About noon we were come so near that we found what\nthe pilot had foretold to be true; for we saw all the nails and\niron about the ships fly towards the mountain, where they were\nfixed, by the violence of the attraction, with a horrible noise;\nthe ship split asunder, and sunk into the sea, which was so deep\nabout that place that we could not sound it. All my people were\ndrowned, but God had mercy on me, and permitted me to save myself\nby means of a plank, which the wind drove ashore just at the foot\nof the mountain; I did not receive the least hurt, and my good\nfortune brought me to a landing-place, where there were steps\nthat went up to the top of the mountain.\n\nAt the sight of these steps, for there was not a bit of ground\neither on the right or left whereon a man could set his foot, I\ngave thanks to God, and recommended myself to his holy\nprotection. I began to mount the steps, which were so narrow,\nrugged, and hard to get up, that had the wind blown ever so\nlittle, it would have thrown me down into the sea; but at last I\ngot up to the top without any accident; I came into the dome,\nand, kneeling on the ground, gave God thanks for his mercies to\nme.\n\nI passed the night under the dome, and, in my sleep, an old grave\nman appeared to me, and said, Hearken, Agib, as soon as thou art\nawake, dig up the ground under thy feet; thou shalt find a bow of\nbrass, and three arrows of lead, that are made under certain\nconstellations, to deliver mankind from so many calamities that\nthreaten them. Shoot the three arrows at the statue, and the\nrider shall fall into the sea, but the horse will fall down by\nthy side, which thou must bury in the same place from whence you\ntook the bow and arrows. This being done, the sea will swell and\nrise up to the foot of the dome that stands upon the top of the\nmountain; when it is come up so high, thou shalt see a boat with\none man and an oar in each hand. This man is also of metal,\ndifferent from that thou hast thrown down; step on board to him\nwithout mentioning the name of God, and let him conduct thee. He\nwill in ten days time bring thee into another sea, where thou\nshalt find an opportunity to get home to thy country safe and\nsound, provided, as I have told thee, thou dost not mention the\nname of God during the whole voyage.\n\nThese were the contents of the old man's discourse. When I\nawaked, I was very much comforted by the vision, and did not fail\nto observe every thing that he had commanded me. I took the bow\nand arrows out of the ground, shot them at the horseman, with the\nthird arrow I overthrew him, and he full into the sea, as the\nhorse fell by my side, which I buried in the place whence I took\nthe bow and arrows. In the mean time the sea swelled, and rose up\nby degrees. When it came as high as the foot of the dome that\nstood upon the top of the mountain, I saw afar off a boat rowing\ntowards me, and I returned God thanks that every thing succeeded\naccording to my dream.\n\nAt last the boat came ashore, and I saw the man was made of\nmetal, according as I had dreamed. I stepped aboard, and took\ngreat heed not to pronounce the name of God, neither spoke I one\nword at all; I sat down, and the man of metal began to row off\nfrom the mountain. He rowed without ceasing, till the ninth day\nthat I saw some islands, which put me in hopes that I was out of\nall the danger that I was afraid of. The excess of joy made me\nforget what I was forbidden to do; God's name be blessed, said I,\nthe Lord be praised!\n\nI had no sooner spoken these words than the boat sunk with the\nman of metal, and, leaving me upon the surface, I swam the\nremaining part of the day towards that land which appeared\nnearest to me. A very dark night succeeded, and, not knowing\nwhereabouts I was, I swam at a venture; my strength began at last\nto fail, and I despaired of being able to save myself, when the\nwind began to blow hard, and a wave as big as a mountain threw me\non a flat, where it left me, and drew back. I made haste to get\nashore, fearing another wave might wash me back again. The first\nthing I did was to strip and wring the water out of my clothes,\nand then I laid them down to dry on the sand, which was still\npretty warm by the heat of the day.\n\nNext morning the sun dried my clothes betimes; I put them on, and\nwent forward to see whereabouts I was. I had not walked very far\ntill I found I was got upon a little desert island, though very\npleasant, where grew several sorts of trees and wild fruits; but\nI perceived it was very far from the continent, which much\ndiminished the joy I conceived for having escaped the danger of\nthe seas. Notwithstanding, I recommended myself to God, and\nprayed him to dispose of me according to his good-will and\npleasure; at the same time I saw a vessel coming from the\nmain-land, before the wind, directly to the island. I doubted not\nthat they were coming to anchor there, and being uncertain what\nsort of people they might be, whether friends or foes, thought it\nnot safe for me to be seen: I got up into a very thick tree, from\nwhence I might safely view them. The vessel came into a little\ncreek, where ten slaves landed, carrying a spade and other\ninstruments fit for digging up the ground; they went towards the\nmiddle of the island, where I saw them stop, and dig the ground a\nlong while, after which I thought I saw them lift a trap-door.\nThey returned again to the vessel, and unloaded several sorts of\nprovisions and furniture, which they carried to that place where\nthey had broken ground, and so went downward, which made me\nsuppose it was a subterraneous dwelling.\n\nI saw them once more go to the ship, and return soon after with\nan old man, who led a very handsome young lad in his hand, of\nabout fourteen or fifteen years of age; they all went down at the\ntrap-door; and being come up again, having let down the\ntrap-door, and covered it over with earth, they returned to the\ncreek where the ship lay, but I saw not the young man in their\ncompany; this made me believe that he staid behind in that place\nunder ground, at which I could not but be extremely astonished.\n\nThe old man and the slaves went on board again, and the vessel\nbeing got under sail, steered its course towards the mainland.\nWhen I perceived they were at such a distance that they could not\nsee me, I came down from the tree, went directly to the place\nwhere I had seen the ground broken, and removed the earth by\ndegrees, till I found a stone that was two or three feet square.\nI lifted it up, and saw it covered the head of the stairs, which\nwere also of stone; I went down, and came into a large room,\nwhere there was laid a foot-carpet, with a couch covered with\ntapestry, and cushions of rich stuff, upon which the young man\nsat with a fan in his hand. I saw all this by the light of two\ntapers, together with the fruits and flower-pots he had standing\nabout him. The young lad was startled at the sight of me; but, to\nrid him of his fear, I spoke to him as I came in thus: Whoever\nyou be, sir, do not fear any thing: a king, and the son of a\nking, as I am, is not capable of doing you any prejudice. On the\ncontrary, it is probable that your good destiny has brought me\nhither to deliver you out of this tomb, where it seems they have\nburied you alive, for reasons unknown to me. But that which makes\nme wonder, and that which I cannot conceive, (for you must know\nthat I have been witness to all that hath passed since your\ncoming into this island) is, that you suffered yourself to be\nburied in this place without any resistance.\n\nThe young man recovered himself at these words, and prayed me,\nwith a smiling countenance, to sit down by him; which when I had\ndone, he said, Prince, I am to acquaint you with a matter so odd\nin itself that it cannot but surprise you.\n\nMy father is a merchant-jeweller, who has acquired, through his\ningenuity in his calling, a great estate; he hath a great many\nslaves, and also deputies whom he employs to go as supercargoes\nto sea with his own ships, on purpose to maintain the\ncorrespondence he has at several courts, which he furnishes with\nsuch precious stones as they want.\n\nHe had been married a long while, and without issue, when he\nunderstood by a dream that he should have a son, though his life\nwould be but short, at which he was very much concerned when he\nawaked. Some days after, my mother acquainted him that she was\nwith child, and the time which she supposed to be that of her\nconception agreed exactly with the day of his dream. She was\nbrought to bed of me at the end of nine months, which occasioned\ngreat joy in the family.\n\n\nMy father, who had observed the very moment of my birth,\nconsulted astrologers about my nativity, who told him, Your son\nshall live very happy till the age of fifteen, when he will be in\ndanger of losing his life, and hardly be able to escape it; but\nif his good destiny preserve him beyond that time, he will live\nto grow very old. It will be then, said they, when the statue of\nbrass that stands upon the top of the mountain of adamant, shall\nbe thrown down into the sea by Prince Agib, son of King Cassib;\nand, as the stars prognosticate, your son shall be killed fifty\ndays afterwards by that prince.\n\nAs the event of this part of the prediction about the statue\nagrees exactly with my father's dream, it afflicted him so much\nthat he was struck to the very heart with it. In the mean time,\nhe took all imaginable care of my education, until this present\nyear, which is the fifteenth of my age; and he had notice given\nhim yesterday that the statue of brass had been thrown into the\nsea about ten days ago by the same prince I told you of. This\nnews has cost him so many tears, and has alarmed him so much,\nthat he looks not like himself.\n\nUpon these predictions of the astrologers, he has sought by all\nmeans possible to falsify my horoscope, and to preserve my life.\nIt is not long since he took the precaution to build me this\nsubterranean habitation to hide me in till the expiration of the\nfifty days after the throwing down of the statue; and therefore,\nsince it was that this had happened ten days ago, he came hastily\nhither to hide me, and promised at the end of forty days to come\nagain and fetch me out. As for my own part, I am in good hopes,\nand cannot believe that Prince Agib will come to seek for me in a\nplace under ground in the midst of a desert island. This, my\nlord, is what I have to say to you.\n\nWhilst the jeweller's son was telling me this story, I laughed in\nmyself at those astrologers who had foretold that I should take\naway his life; for I thought myself so far from being likely to\nverify what they said, that he had scarcely done speaking when I\ntold him with great joy, Dear sir, put your confidence in the\ngoodness of God, and fear nothing; you may consider it as a debt\nyou was to pay, but that you are acquitted of it from this very\nhour. I am glad that, after my shipwreck, I came so fortunately\nhither to defend you against all those that would attempt your\ndeath; I will not leave you till the forty days are expired, of\nwhich the foolish astrologers have made you so apprehensive; and\nin the mean time I will do you all the service that lies in my\npower; after which I shall have the benefit of getting to the\nmain-land in your vessel, with leave of your father and yourself;\nand when I am returned into my kingdom, I shall remember the\nobligations I owe you, and endeavour to demonstrate my\nacknowledgments in a suitable manner.\n\nThis discourse of mine encouraged the jeweller's son, and made\nhim have confidence in me. I took care not to tell him I was the\nvery Agib whom he dreaded, lest I should put him into a fright,\nand took as much care not to give him any cause to suspect it. We\npassed the time in several discourses, till night came on. I\nfound the young lad of a ready wit, and ate with him of his\nprovisions, of which he had enough to have lasted beyond the\nforty days, though he had had more guests than myself. After\nsupper, we continued some time in discourse, at last we went to\nbed.\n\nThe next day, when we got up, I held the basin and water to him;\nI also provided dinner, and set it on the table in due time.\nAfter we had done, I invented a play to divert ourselves, not\nonly for that day, but for those that followed. I prepared supper\nafter the same manner as I had prepared dinner; and having\nsupped, we went to bed as formerly. We had time enough to\ncontract friendship; I found he loved me; and, for my part, I had\nso great a respect for him, that I have often said to myself,\nThose astrologers, who predicted to his father that his son\nshould die by my hand, were impostors; for it is not possible\nthat I could commit so base an action. In short, madam, we spent\nthirty-nine days in the pleasantest manner that could be in a\nplace under ground.\n\nThe fortieth day appeared; and in the morning, when the young man\nawaked, he says to me, with a transport of joy that he could not\nrestrain, Prince, this is the fortieth day, and I am not dead;\nthanks to God and your good company. My father will not fail to\nbe here anon to give you testimony of his gratitude for it, and\nshall furnish you with all that is necessary for your return to\nyour kingdom; but in the mean time, said he, I beg you to get\nready some water very warm to wash my whole body in that portable\nbagnio, that I may clean myself, and change my clothes, to\nreceive my father more cheerfully.\n\nI set the water on the fire, and when it was hot put it into the\nmoveable bagnio. The youth went in, and I myself washed and\nrubbed him. At last he came out, and laid himself down in his bed\nthat I had prepared, and covered him with his bed-clothes. After\nhe had slept a while, he awaked, and said, Dear prince, pray do\nme the favour to fetch me a melon and some sugar, that I may eat\nsome and refresh me.\n\nOut of several melons that remained, I took the best, and laid it\non a plate; and because I could not find a knife to cut it with,\nI asked the young man if he knew where there was one? There is\none, said he, upon this cornice over my head; I accordingly saw\nit there, and made so much haste to reach it, that while I had it\nin my hand, my foot being entangled in the covering, I fell most\nunhappily upon the young man, and the knife ran into his heart in\na minute.\n\nAt this spectacle I cried out most hideously; I beat my head, my\nface, and breast; I tore my clothes, and threw myself on the\nground with unspeakable sorrow and grief. Alas! I cried, there\nwere only some hours wanting to have put him out of that danger\nfrom which he sought sanctuary here; and when I myself thought\nthe danger past, then I became his murderer, and verified the\nprediction. But, O Lord, said I, lifting up my face and hands to\nheaven, I beg thy pardon, and, if I be guilty of his death, let\nme not live any longer.\n\nAfter this misfortune I would have embraced death without any\nreluctance, had it presented itself to me. But what we wish to\nourselves, whether good or bad, will not always happen.\nNevertheless, considering with myself that all my tears and\nsorrows would not bring the young man to life again, and, the\nforty days being expired, I might be surprised by his father, I\nquitted that subterranean dwelling, laid down the great stone\nupon the entry of it, and covered it with earth.\n\nI had scarcely done, when, casting my eyes upon the sea towards\nthe main-land, I perceived the vessel coming to fetch home the\nyoung man. I began then to consider what I had best do; I said to\nmyself, if I am seen by the old man, he will certainly lay hold\non me, and perhaps cause me to be massacred by his slaves. When\nhe has seen his son killed, all that I can allege to justify\nmyself will not be able to persuade him of my innocence. It is\nbetter for me, then, to withdraw, since it is in my power, than\nexpose myself to his resentment.\n\nThere happened to be near this subterranean habitation a large\ntree with thick leaves, which I thought fit to hide me in. I got\nup to it, and was no sooner fixed in a place where I could not be\nseen, than I saw the vessel come to the same place where she lay\nthe first time.\n\nThe old man and his slaves landed immediately, and advanced\ntowards the subterranean dwelling, with a countenance that showed\nsome hope; but when they saw the earth had been newly removed,\nthey changed colour, particularly the old man. They lifted up the\nstone, and went down; they called the young man by his name, but\nhe not answering, their fears increased; they went down to seek\nhim, and at length found him lying upon the bed with the knife in\nhis heart, for I had not power to take it out. At this sight,\nthey cried out lamentably, which increased my sorrow: the old man\nfell down in a swoon. The slaves, to give him air, brought him up\nin their arms, and laid him at the foot of the tree where I was;\nbut, notwithstanding all the pains they took to recover him, the\nunfortunate father continued a long while in that condition, and\nmade them oftener than once despair of his life; but at last he\ncame to himself. Then the slaves brought up his son's corpse\ndressed in his best apparel, and when they had made a grave, they\nput him into it. The old man, supported by two slaves, and his\nface all covered with tears, threw the first earth upon him,\nafter which the slaves filled up the grave.\n\nThis being done, all the furniture was brought out from under\nground, and, with the remaining provisions, put on board the\nvessel. The old man, overcome with sorrow, and not being able to\nstand, was laid upon a sort of litter, and carried to the ship,\nwhich put forth to sea, and in a short time sailed quite out of\nsight.\n\nAfter the old man and his slaves were gone with the vessel, I was\nleft alone upon the island. I lay that night in the subterranean\ndwelling, which they had shut up; and when the day came, I walked\nround the isle, and stopped in such places as I thought most\nproper to repose in when I had need.\n\nI led this wearisome life for a month together; after which I\nperceived the sea to be mightily fallen, the island to be much\nlarger, and the main-land seemed to be drawing nearer me. In\neffect, the water grew so low, that there was but a small stream\nbetween me and the Terra Firma. I crossed it, and the water did\nnot come above the middle of my leg. I marched so long upon the\nslime and sands that I was very weary; at last I got upon firm\nground, and, when at a good distance from the sea, I saw a good\nway before me somewhat like a great fire, which gave me some\ncomfort, for I said to myself, I shall find somebody or other, it\nnot being possible that this fire should kindle of itself; but\nwhen I came nearer, I found my error, and saw that what I had\ntaken to be fire was a castle of red copper, which the beams of\nthe sun made look, at a distance, as if it had been in flames.\n\nI stopped near the castle, and sat down to admire its admirable\nstructure, and to rest a while. I had not taken such a full view\nof this magnificent building, as it deserved, when I saw ten\nhandsome young men coming along as if they had been taking a\nwalk; but that which most surprised me was, that they were all\nblind of the right eye; they accompanied an old man, who was very\ntall, and of a venerable aspect.\n\nI could not but wonder at the sight of so many half-blind men all\ntogether, and every one of the same eye. As I was thinking in my\nmind by what adventure all these could come together, they came\nup to me, and seemed to be mighty glad to see me. After the first\ncompliments were passed, they inquired what had brought me\nhither? I told them my story would be somewhat tedious, but, if\nthey would take the trouble to sit down, I would satisfy their\nrequest. They did so, and I related unto them all that had\nhappened unto me since I left my kingdom, which filled them with\nastonishment.\n\nAfter I had ended my discourse, the young gentlemen prayed me to\ngo with them into the castle; I accepted the proffer, and we\npassed through a great many halls, antichambers, bedchambers, and\nclosets, very well furnished, and arrived at last in a spacious\nhall, where there were ten small blue sofas set round, and\nseparate from each other, upon which they sat by day, and slept\nby night. In the middle of this round there stood an eleventh\nsofa, not so high as the rest, but of the same colour, upon which\nthe old man before mentioned sat down, and the young gentlemen\nmade use of the other ten, whereas each sofa could only contain\none man. One of the young men says to me, Comrade, sit down upon\nthat carpet in the middle of the room, and do not inquire into\nany thing that concerns us, nor the reason why we are all blind\nof the right eye; be content with what you see, and let not your\ncuriosity go any further.\n\nThe old man, having sat a little while, rose up, and went out;\nbut he returned in a minute or two, brought in supper for the ten\ngentlemen, distributed to each man his proportion by himself, and\nlikewise brought me mine, which I ate by myself, as the rest did,\nand when supper was almost done, he presented to each of us a cup\nof wine.\n\nThey thought my story so extraordinary, that they made me repeat\nit after supper, and this gave occasion to discourses which\nlasted a good part of the night. One of the gentlemen, observing\nthat it was late, said to the old man, You see it is time to go\nto bed, and you do not bring us that with which we may acquit\nourselves of our duty. At these words the old man rose, and went\ninto a closet, from whence he brought out upon his head ten\nbasons, one after another, all covered with blue stuff: He set\none before every gentleman, together with a light.\n\nThey uncovered their basons, in, which there were ashes, coal-\ndust, and lamp-black; they mixed all together, and rubbed and\nbedaubed their faces with it in such a manner, that they looked\nvery frightful. After having thus blackened themselves, they fell\na-weeping and lamenting, beating their heads and breasts, and\ncried continually, This is the fruit of our idleness and\ndebauches.\n\nThey continued this almost the whole night, and when they left\noff, the old man brought them water, with which they washed their\nfaces and hands; they also changed their clothes, which were\nspoiled, and put on others; so that they did not look in the\nleast as if they had been doing so strange an action.\n\nYou may judge, Madam, how uneasy I was all the while; I had a\nmind a thousand times to break the silence which these young\ngentlemen had imposed upon me, and ask questions; nor was it\npossible for me to sleep that night.\n\nAfter we got up next day, we went out to walk, and then I told\nthem, Gentlemen, I declare to you that I must renounce that law\nwhich you prescribed to me last night, for I cannot observe it.\nYou are men of sense, and all of you have wit in abundance; you\nhave convinced me of it, yet I have seen you do such actions, as\nnone but madmen could be capable of. Whatever misfortune befals\nme, I cannot forbear asking, why you bedaubed your faces with\nblack? How it comes that each of you have but one eye? Some\nsingular thing must have been the cause of it, therefore I\nconjure you to satisfy my curiosity. To these pressing instances\nthey answered nothing, but that it was none of my business to ask\nsuch questions, and that I should do well to hold my peace.\n\nWe passed that day in discourses upon different subjects, and\nwhen night was come, and every man had supped, the old man\nbrought in the blue basons, and the young gentlemen bedaubed\ntheir faces, wept, and beat themselves, crying, This is the fruit\nof our idleness and debauches, as before, and continued the same\nactions the following night. At last, not being able to resist my\ncuriosity, I earnestly prayed them to satisfy me, or to show me\nhow to return to my own kingdom, for it was impossible for me to\nkeep them company any longer, and to see every night such an odd\nspectacle, without being permitted to know the reason.\n\nOne of the gentlemen answered in behalf of the rest, Do not\nwonder at our conduct in regard to yourself; and that hitherto we\nhave not granted your request; it is out of mere kindness, and to\nprevent the sorrow of your being reduced to the same condition\nwith us. If you have a mind to try our unfortunate destiny, you\nneed but speak, and we will give you the satisfaction you desire.\nI told them I was resolved on it, let come what will. Once more,\nsaid the same gentleman, we advise you to restrain your\ncuriosity; it will cost you the loss of your right eye. No\nmatter, said I; I declare to you, that if such a misfortune befal\nme, I will not impute it to you, but to myself. He further\nrepresented to me, that when I had lost an eye, I must not hope\nto stay with them, if I were so minded, because their number was\ncomplete, and no addition could be made to it. I told them, that\nit would be a great satisfaction to me never to part from such\nhonest gentlemen, but, if there was necessity for it, I was ready\nto submit; and, let it cost what it would, I begged them to grant\nmy request.\n\nThe ten gentlemen, perceiving that I was positive in my\nresolution, took a sheep and killed it, and, after they had taken\noff the skin, presented me with the knife, telling me it would be\nuseful to me on a certain occasion, which they should tell me of\npresently. We must sew you into this skin, said they, and then\nleave you; upon which a fowl of monstrous size, called a roc,\nwill appear in the air, and, taking you to be a sheep, will come\ndown upon you, and carry you up to the very sky; but let not that\nfrighten you, he will come down again with you, and lay you upon\nthe top of a mountain. When you find yourself upon the ground,\ncut the skin with the knife, and throw it off. As soon as the roc\nsees you, he will fly away for fear, and leave you at liberty. Do\nnot stay, but walk on till you come to a prodigious castle, all\ncovered with plates of gold, large emeralds, and other precious\nstones: Go up to the gate, which always stands open, and walk in:\nWe have been in the castle as long as we have been here: We will\ntell you nothing of what we saw, or what befel us there, because\nyou will learn it yourself; all that we can inform you is, that\nit has cost each of us our right eye, and the penance which you\nhave been witness to is what we are obliged to do, because we\nhave been there. The history of each of us in particular is so\nfull of extraordinary adventures, that a large volume would not\ncontain them; but we must explain ourselves no further.\n\nWhen the gentleman had ended this discourse, I wrapt myself in\nthe sheep's skin, held fast the knife which was given me; and\nafter those young gentlemen had been at the trouble to sew the\nskin about me, they retired into the hall, and left me on the\nplace. The roc they had spoken of was not long a-coming; he fell\ndown upon me, took me up between his talons like a sheep, and\ncarried me to the top of the mountain. When I found myself upon\nthe ground, I made use of the knife, cut the skin, and throwing\nit off, the roc at the first sight of me flew away. This roc is a\nwhite bird of a monstrous size; his strength is such that he can\nlift up elephants from the plains, and carry them to the tops of\nmountains, where he feeds upon them. Being impatient till I\nreached the castle, I lost no time, but made so much haste, that\nI got thither in half a day's journey, and I must say, that I\nfound it surpassed the description they had given me of it. The\ngate being open, I entered into a court that was square, and so\nlarge, that there were round it ninety-nine gates of wood of\nsanders and aloes, with one of gold, without counting those of\nseveral magnificent stair-cases that led up to apartments above,\nbesides many more I could not see. The hundred doors I spoke of\nopened into gardens or store-houses full of riches, or into\npalaces that contained things wonderful to be seen. I saw a door\nstanding open just before me, through which I entered into a\nlarge hall, where I found forty voung ladies of such perfect\nbeauty, that imagination could not go beyond it; they were all\nmost sumptuously apparelled; and as soon as they saw me, they\nrose up, and, without expecting my compliments, said to me, with\ndemonstrations of joy, Noble sir, you are very welcome. And one\nspoke to me in the name of the rest thus: We have been in\nexpectation a long while of such a gentleman as you; your mien\nassures us that you are master of all the good qualities we can\nwish for, and we hope you will not find our company disagreeable\nor unworthy of yours. They forced me, notwithstanding all the\nopposition I could make, to sit down on a seat that was higher\nthan theirs, and though I signified that I was uneasy. That is\nyour place, said they; you are at present our lord, master, and\njudge, and we are your slaves, ready to obey your commands.\n\nNothing in the world, madam, so much astonished me as the passion\nand eagerness of those fair ladies to do me all possible service.\nOne brought hot water to wash my feet; a second poured sweet\nscented water on my hands; some brought me all sorts of\nnecessaries, and change of apparel; others brought in a\nmagnificent collation; and the rest came with glasses in their\nhands to fill me delicious wines, all in good order, and in the\nmost charming manner that could be. I ate and drank; after which\nthe ladies placed themselves about me, and desired an account of\nmy travels. I gave them a full relation of my adventures, which\nlasted till night came on.\n\nWhen I had made an end of my story, which I related to the forty\nladies, some of them that sat nearest me staid to keep me\ncompany, whilst the rest, seeing it was dark, rose to fetch\ntapers. They brought a prodigious quantity, which made such a\nmarvellous light as if it had been day, and they were so\nproportionably disposed,, that nothing could be more beautiful.\nOther ladies covered a table with dry fruits, sweet-meats, and\neverything proper to make the liquor relish; and a side-board was\nset with several sorts of wines and other liquors. Some of the\nladies came in with musical instruments, and, when every thing\nwas prepared, they invited me to sit down to supper. The ladies\nsat down with me, and we continued a long while at supper. They\nthat were to play upon the instruments, and sing, stood up, and\nmade a most charming concert. The others began a sort of ball,\nand danced by two and two, one after another, with a wonderfully\ngood grace. It was past midnight before those divertisements\nended. At length one of the ladies says to me, You are doubtless\nwearied by the journey you have made to-day; it is time for you\nto go to rest; your lodging is prepared; but, before you depart,\nmake choice of any of us you like best to be your bed-fellow. I\nanswered, That I knew better things than to offer to make my own\nchoice, since they were all equally beautiful, witty, and worthy\nof my respects and service, and that I would not be guilty of so\nmuch incivility as to prefer one before another. The same lady\nthat spoke to me before answered. We are all very well satisfied\nof your civility, and find you are afraid to create a jealousy\namong us, which occasions your modesty; but let nothing hinder\nyou. We assure you, that the good fortune of her whom you choose\nshall cause no jealousy; for we are agreed among ourselves, that\nevery one of us shall have the same honour till it go round, and,\nwhen forty days are past, to begin again; therefore make your\nfree choice, and lose no time to go and take the repose you stand\nin need of. I was obliged to yield to their instances, and\noffered my hand to the lady that spoke; she, in return, gave me\nhers, and we were conducted to an apartment, where they left us;\nand then every one retired to their own apartment. I was scarcely\ndressed next morning, when the other thirty-nine ladies came into\nmy chamber, all in other dresses than they had the day before:\nThey bid me good-morrow, and inquired after my health; after\nwhich they carried me into a bagnio*, where they washed me\nthemselves, and, whether I would or not, served me in every thing\nI stood in need of; and when I came out of the bath, they made me\nput on another suit much richer that the former.\n\nWe passed the whole day almost constantly at table; and when it\nwas bed-time, they prayed me again to make choice of one of them\nto keep me company. In short, madam, not to weary you with\nrepetitions, I must tell you, that I continued a whole year among\nthose forty ladies, and received them into my bed one after\nanother: And during all the time of this voluptuous life, we met\nnot with the least kind of trouble. When the year was expired, I\nwas strangely surprised that these forty ladies, instead of\nappearing, with their usual cheerfulness, to ask how I did,\nentered one morning into my chamber all in tears: They embraced\nme with great tenderness one after another, saying, Adieu, dear\nprince, adieu! for we must leave you. Their tears affected me; I\nprayed them to tell me the reason of their grief, and of the\nseparation they spoke of. For God's sake, fair ladies, let me\nknow, said I, if it be in my power to comfort you, or if my\nassistance can be any way useful to you. Instead of returning a\ndirect answer, Would to God, said they, we had never seen nor\nknown you. Several gentlemen have honoured us with their company\nbefore you, but never one of them had that comeliness, that\nsweetness, that pleasantness of humour, and merit, which you\nhave; we know not how to live without you. After they had spoken\nthese words, they began to weep bitterly. My dear ladies, said I,\nbe so kind as not to keep me in suspense any more: Tell me the\ncause of your sorrow. Alas! said they, what other thing could be\ncapable of grieving us, but the necessity of parting from you? It\nmay so happen that we shall never see you again; but if you be so\nminded, and have command enough over yourself, it is not\nimpossible for us to meet again. Ladies, said I, I understand not\nyour meaning; pray explain yourselves more clearly. Oh, then,\nsaid one of them, to satisfy you, we must acquaint you, that we\nare all princesses, daughters of kings; we live here together in\nsuch a manner as; you have seen, but, at the end of every year,\nwe are obliged to be absent forty days upon indispensable duties,\nwhich we are not permitted to reveal; and afterwards we return\nagain to this castle. Yesterday was the last day of the year, and\nwe must leave you this day, which is the cause of our grief.\nBefore we depart, we will leave you the keys to every thing;\nespecially those belonging to the hundred doors, where you will\nhave enough to satisfy your curiosity, and to sweeten your\nsolitude during our absence: But, for your own welfare, and our\nparticular concern in you, we recommend unto you to forbear\nopening the golden door; for, if you do, we shall never see you\nagain; and the fear of this augments our grief. We hope,\nnevertheless, that you will follow the advice we give you, as you\ntender your own quiet, and the happiness of your life; therefore\ntake heed that you do not give way to indiscreet curiosity, for\nyou will do yourself a considerable prejudice. We conjure you,\ntherefore, not to commit this fault, but to let us have the\ncomfort of finding you here again after forty days. We would\nwillingly carry the key of the golden door along with us; but it\nwould be an affront to a prince like you to question your\ndiscretion and modesty.\n\nThis discourse of the fair princesses made me extremely\nsorrowful. I omitted not to make them sensible how much their\nabsence would afflict me: I thanked them for their good advice,\nand assured them that I would follow it, and willingly do what\nwas much more difficult, in order to be so happy as to pass the\nrest of my days with ladies of such rare qualifications. We took\nleave of one another with a great deal of tenderness; and having\nembraced them all, they at last departed, and I was left alone in\nthe castle. Their agreeable company, the good cheer, the concert\nof music, and other pleasures, had so much diverted me during the\nwhole year, that I neither had time, nor the least desire, to see\nthe wonderful things contained in this enchanted palace. Nay, I\ndid not so much as take notice of a. thousand rare objects that\nwere every day in my sight; for I was so taken with the charming\nbeauty of those ladies, and took so much pleasure in seeing them\nwholly employed to oblige me, that their departure afflicted me\nvery sensibly; and though their absence was to be only forty\ndays, it seemed to be an age to live without them. I promised\nmyself not to forget the important advice they had given me, not\nto open the golden door; but as I was permitted to satisfy my\ncuriosity in every thing I took the first of the keys of the\nother doors, which were hung in good order. I opened the first\ndoor, and came into an orchard, which I believe the universe\ncould not equal; I could not imagine that any thing could surpass\nit, but that which our religion promises us after death; the\nsymmetry, the neatness, the admirable order of the trees, the\nabundance and diversity of a thousand sorts of unknown fruits,\ntheir freshness and beauty, ravished my sight.\n\nI ought not to forget, madam, to acquaint you, that this\ndelicious orchard was watered after a very particular manner;\nthere were channels so artificially and proportionably digged,\nthat they carried water in abundance to the roots of such trees\nas wanted it for making them produce their leaves and flowers.\nSome carried it to those that had their fruit budded;* Others\ncarried it in lesser quantities to those whose fruit was growing\nbig; and others carried only so much as was just requisite to\nwater those which had their fruit come to perfection, and only\nwanted to be ripened. They exceeded the ordinary fruits of our\ngardens very much in bigness; and, lastly, those channels that\nwatered the trees whose fruits were ripe, had no more moisture\nthan what would just preserve them from withering. I could never\nbe weary to look at and admire so sweet a place; and I should\nnever have left it, had I not conceived a greater idea of the\nother things which I had not seen. I went out at last with my\nmind filled with those wonders; I shut that door, and opened the\nnext. Instead of an orchard, I found a flower-garden, which was\nno less extraordinary of its kind; it contained a spacious plot,\nnot watered so profusely as the former, but with greater\nniceness, furnishing no more water than just what each flower\nrequired. The roses, jessamines, violets, dills, hyacinths,\nwind-flowers, tulips, crowsfoots, pinks, lilies, and an infinite\nnumber of other flowers, which do not grow in other places but at\ncertain times, were there flourishing all at once; and nothing\ncould be more delicious than the fragrant smell of this garden.\n\nI opened the third door, where I found a large volary, paved with\nmarble of several fine colours that were not common. The cage was\nmade of sanders and wood of aloes: it contained a vast number of\nnightingales, goldfinches, canary birds, larks, and other rare\nsinging-birds which I never heard of; and the vessels that held\ntheir seed and water were of the most precious jasper or agate.\nBesides, this volary was so exceedingly neat, that, considering\nits extent, one would think there could not be less than an\nhundred persons to keep it so clean as it was; but all this while\nnot one soul appeared, either here or in the gardens where I had\nbeen, and yet I could not perceive a weed or any superfluous\nthing there. The sun went down, and I retired, being perfectly\ncharmed with the chirping notes of the multitude of birds, which\nthen began to perch upon such places as were convenient for them\nto repose on during the night. I went to my chamber, resolving to\nopen all the rest of the doors the day following, except the\ngolden one.\n\nI failed not to open a fourth door next day, and if what I had\nseen before was capable of surprising me, that which I saw then\nput me into a perfect ecstasy. I went into a large court,\nsurrounded with buildings of an admirable structure, the\ndescription of which I shall pass by to avoid prolixity. This\nbuilding had forty doors, wide open, and through each of them\nthere was an entrance into a treasury, several of which were of\ngreater value than the largest kingdoms. The first contained\nheaps of pearls; and, what is almost incredible, the number of\nthese stones, which are most precious, and as large as pigeons'\neggs, exceeded the number of those of the ordinary size: in the\nsecond treasury there were diamonds, carbuncles, and rubies: in\nthe third there were emeralds: in the fourth there were ingots of\ngold: in the fifth, money: in the sixth, ingots of silver: in the\ntwo following there was also money. The rest contained amethysts,\nchrysolites, topazes, opals, turkoises, and hyacinths, with all\nthe other stones unknown to us, without mentioning agate, jasper,\ncornelian, and coral, of which there was a storehouse filled, not\nonly with branches, but whole trees. Being filled with amazement\nand admiration, I cried out to myself, after having seen all\nthese riches, Now, if all the treasures of the kings of the\nuniverse were gathered together in one place, they could not come\nnear this. What good fortune have I to possess all this wealth,\nwith so many admirable princesses!\n\nI shall not stay, madam, to tell you the particulars of all the\nother rare and precious things I saw the days following: I shall\nonly tell you, that thirty-nine days afforded me but just as much\ntime as was necessary to open ninety-nine doors, and to admire\nall that presented itself to my view, so that there was only the\nhundredth door left, the opening of which was forbidden. I was\ncome to the fortieth day after the departure of those charming\nprincesses, and had I but retained so much power over myself as I\nought to have had, I should have been this day the happiest of\nall mankind, whereas now I am the most unfortunate. They were to\nreturn the next day, and the pleasure of seeing them again ought\nto have restrained my curiosity; but, through my weakness, which\nI shall ever repent, I yielded to the temptations of the evil\nspirit, who gave me no rest till I had thrown myself into those\nmisfortunes that I have since undergone. I opened that fatal\ndoor, which I promised not to meddle with, and had not moved my\nfoot to go in, when a smell that was pleasant enough, but\ncontrary to my constitution, made me faint away: Nevertheless, I\ncame to myself again, and instead of taking this warning to shut\nthe door, and forbear satisfying my curiosity, I went in, after I\nhad stood some time in the air to carry off the scent, which did\nnot incommode me any more. I found a large place, very well\nvaulted, the pavement strewed over with saffron; several\ncandlesticks of massy gold, with lighted tapers that smelled of\naloes and ambergris, lighted the place; and this light was\naugmented by lamps of gold and silver, that burned with oil made\nof several sorts of sweet-scented materials.\n\nAmong a great many objects that engaged my attention, I perceived\na black horse, of the handsomest and best shape that ever was\nseen. I went nearer the better to observe him, and found he had a\nsaddle and a bridle of massy gold, curiously wrought. The one\nside of his trough was filled with clean barley and sessems, and\nthe other with rose water; I took him by the bridle, and led him\nforth to view him by the light; I got on his back, and would have\nhad him move; but he not stirring, I whipped him with a switch I\nhad taken up in his magnificent stable; and he had no sooner felt\nthe stroke, than he began to neigh with a horrible noise, and\nextending his wings, which I had not seen before, he flew up with\nme into the air quite out of sight. I thought on nothing then but\nto sit fast; and, considering the fear that had seized upon me, I\nsat very well. He afterwards flew down again towards the earth,\nand lighting upon the terrace of a castle, without giving me any\ntime to get off, he shook me out of the saddle with such force,\nthat he made me fall behind him, and with the end of his tail\nstruck out my right eye. Thus I became blind of one eye, and then\nI began to remember the predictions of the ten young gentlemen.\nThe horse flew again out of sight. I got up very much troubled at\nthe misfortune I had brought upon myself: I walked upon the\nterrace, covering my eye with one of my hands, for it pained me\nexceedingly, and then came down and entered into the hall, which\nI knew presently by the ten sofas in a circle, and the eleventh\nin the middle, lower than the rest, to be the same castle from\nwhence I was taken by the roc. The ten half-blind gentlemen were\nnot in the hall when I came in, but came soon after with the old\nman; they were not at all surprised to see me again, nor at the\nloss of my eye; but said, We are sorry that we cannot\ncongratulate you upon your return as we could have desired; but\nwe are not the cause of your misfortune. I should be in the wrong\nto accuse you, said I, for I have drawn it upon myself, and I can\ncharge the fault upon no other person. If it be a consolation to\nthe unfortunate, said they, to have fellows, this example may\nafford us a subject of rejoicing; all that has happened to you,\nwe also have undergone: we tasted all sorts of pleasure during a\nyear successively; and we had continued to enjoy the same\nhappiness still, had we not opened the golden door when the\nprincesses were absent: You have been no wiser than we, and you\nhad likewise the same punishment; we would gladly receive you\namong us, to do such penance as we do, though we know not how\nlong it may continue: But we have already declared the reasons\nthat hinder us; therefore depart from hence, and go to the court\nof Bagdad, where you will meet with him that can decide your\ndestiny. They told me the way I was to travel, and so I left\nthem. On the road I caused my beard and eye-brows to be shaved,\nand took on a calender's habit. I have had a long journey; but at\nlast arrived this evening in this city, where I met these my\nbrother calenders at the gate, being strangers as well as myself.\nWe wondered much at one another, to see all three blind, of the\nsame eye; but we had not leisure to discourse long of our common\ncalamities, having only so much time as to come hither to implore\nthose favours which you have been generously pleased to grant us.\n\nThe third calender having finished this relation of his\nadventures, Zobeide addressed her speech to him and his\nfellow-calenders thus: Go wherever you think fit; you are all\nthree at liberty. But one of them answered, madam, we beg you to\npardon our curiosity, and permit us to hear those gentlemen's\nstories who have not yet spoken. Then the lady turned to that\nside where stood the caliph, the vizier Giafar, and Mesrour, whom\nshe knew not; but said to them, It is now your turn to tell me\nyour adventures; therefore speak.\n\nThe grand vizier Giafar, who had always been the spokesman,\nanswered Zobeide thus: Madam, in order to obey you, we need only\nrepeat what we have said already, before we entered your house.\nWe are merchants of Moussol, that came to Bagdad to sell our\nmerchandise, which lies in the khan where we lodge. We dined\nto-day, with several other persons of our profession, at a\nmerchant's house in this city; who, after he had treated us with\nchoice dainties and excellent wines, sent for men and women\ndancers and musicians. The great noise we made brought in the\nwatch, who arrested some of the company, but we had the good\nfortune to escape; and it being already late, and the door of our\nkhan shut up, we knew not whither to retire. It was our hap, as\nwe passed along this street, to hear mirth at your house, which\nmade us determine to knock at your gate. This is all the account\nthat we can give you in obedience to your commands.\n\nZobeide, having heard this discourse, seemed to hesitate as to\nwhat she should say; which the calenders perceiving, prayed her\nto grant the same favour to the three Moussol merchants as she\nhad done to them. Well, then, said she, I give my consent, for\nyou shall be all equally obliged to me; I pardon you all,\nprovided you depart immediately out of this house, and go whither\nyou please. Zobeide haying given this command in a tone that\nsignified she would be obeyed, the caliph, the vizier, Mesrour,\nthe three calenders, and the porter, departed without saying one\nword; for the presence of the seven slaves with their weapons\nkept them in awe. When they were out of the house, and the door\nshut, the caliph said to the calenders, without making himself\nknown, You gentlemen strangers, that are newly come to town,\nwhich way do you design to go, since it is not yet day? It is\nthat which perplexes us, sir, said they. Follow us, replies the\ncaliph, and we shall bring you out of danger. After saying these\nwords, he whispered to the vizier, Take them along with you, and\nto-morrow morning bring them to me; I will cause their history to\nbe put in writing, for it deserves a place in the annals of my\nreign. The vizier Giafar took the three calenders along with him;\nthe porter went to his quarters, and the caliph and Mesrour\nreturned to the palace. The caliph went to bed, but could not get\na wink of sleep, his spirits being perplexed by the extraordinary\nthings he had seen and heard; But, above all, he was most\nconcerned to know who Zobeide was, what reason she could have to\nbe so severe to the two black bitches, and why Amine had her\nbosom so mortified. Day began to appear whilst he was thinking\nupon these things: he arose and went to his council-chamber,\nwhere he used to give audience, and sat upon his throne.\n\nThe grand vizier came in a little after, and paid his respects as\nusual. Vizier, said the caliph, the affairs we have to consider\nat present are not very pressing; that of the three ladies and\nthe two black bitches is much more so. My mind cannot be at ease\ntill I be thoroughly satisfied in all those matters that have\nsurprised me so much. Go, bring these ladies and the calenders at\nthe same time; make haste, and remember that I do impatiently\nexpect your return. The vizier, who knew his master's quick and\nfiery temper, made haste to obey, and went to the ladies, to whom\nhe communicated, in a civil way, the orders he had to bring them\nbefore the caliph, without taking any notice of what had passed\nthe night before at their house. The ladies put on their veils,\nand went with the vizier; as he passed by his own house, he took\nthe three calenders along with him, and they, in the mean time,\nhad got notice that they had both seen and spoken with the caliph\nwithout knowing him. The vizier brought them to the palace with\nso much diligence, that the caliph was mightily pleased at it.\nThis prince, that he might keep a good decorum before all the\nofficers of his court who were then present, made those ladies be\nplaced behind the hanging of the door of the room that was next\nhis bedchamber, and kept by him the three calenders; who, by\ntheir respectful behaviour, gave sufficient proof that they were\nnot ignorant before whom they had the honour to appear. When the\nladies were placed, the caliph turned towards them, and said,\nWhen I shall acquaint you, that I came last night, disguised in a\nmerchant's habit, into your house, it will certainly alarm you,\nand make you fear that you have offended me; and perhaps you\nbelieve that I have sent for you to no other end but to show some\nmarks of my resentment: But be not afraid; you may rest assured\nthat I have forgotten all that has passed, and am very well\nsatisfied with your conduct. I wish that all the ladies of Bagdad\nhad as much discretion as you have given proof of before me. I\nshall always remember the moderation you made use of, after the\nincivility we had committed. I was then a merchant of Moussol,\nbut am at present Haroun Alraschid, the seventh caliph of the\nglorious house of Abbas, who holds the place of our great\nprophet. I have only sent for you to know who you are, and to ask\nfor what reason one of you, after severely whipping the two black\nbitches, did weep with them? and I am no less curious to know why\nanother of you has her bosom full of scars? Though the caliph\npronounced these words very distinctly, so that the three ladies\nheard them well enough, yet the vizier Giafar did, out of\nceremony, repeat them over again.\n\nZobeide, after the caliph by his discourse encouraged her,\nsatisfied his curiosity in this manner.\n\n\n\n\n\n                     THE STORY OF ZOBEIDE.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, says she, the relation I am about to\ngive to your majesty is one of the strangest that ever was heard.\nThe two black bitches and myself are sisters by the same father\nand mother; and I shall acquaint you by what strange accident\nthey came to be metamorphosed. The two ladies that live with me,\nand are now here, are also my sisters by the father's side, but\nby another mother; she that has the scars on her breast is Amine,\nthe other is Safie, and mine is Zobeide.\n\nAfter our father's death, the estate that he left us was equally\ndivided among us; and so soon as those two sisters received their\nportions, they went from me to live with their mother. My other\ntwo sisters and myself staid with our mother, who was then alive,\nand, when she died, left each of us a thousand sequins. As soon\nas we received our portions, the two elder (for I am the\nyoungest) being married, followed their husbands, and left me\nalone. Some time after, my eldest sister's husband sold all that\nhe had; and with that money, and my sister's portion, they both\nwent into Africa, where her husband, by riotous living and\ndebauchery, spent all; when, finding himself reduced to poverty,\nhe found a pretext for divorcing my sister, and put her away. She\nreturned to this city, and having suffered incredible hardships\nby the way, came to me in so lamentable a condition, as would\nhave moved the hardest heart to compassion. I received her with\nall the tenderness she could expect; and inquiring into the cause\nof her sad condition, she told me, with tears, how inhumanly her\nhusband had dealt by her. I was so much concerned at her\nmisfortune, that tears flowed from my eyes: I put her into a\nbagnio, and clothed her with my own apparel, and spoke to her\nthus: Sister, you are the elder, and I esteem you as my mother:\nDuring your absence, God has blessed the portion that fell to my\nshare, and the employment I follow to feed and bring up\nsilk-worms. Assure yourself that there is nothing I have but what\nis at your service and as much at your disposal as my own.\n\nWe lived very comfortably together for some months; and as we\nwere often discoursing together about our third sister, and\nwondering we heard no news of her, she came in as bad a condition\nas the elder; her husband had treated her after the same manner,\nand I received her with the same affection as I had done the\nformer. Some time after, my two sisters, on pretence that they\nwould not be chargeable to me, told me they had thoughts to marry\nagain. I answered them, that if their putting me to charge was\nthe only reason, they might lay those thoughts aside, and be very\nwelcome to stay with me; for what I had would be sufficient to\nmaintain us all three, answerably to our condition: But, said I,\nI rather believe you have a mind to marry again; which if you\nhave, I am sure it will very much surprise me: After the\nexperience you have had of the small satisfaction there is in\nwedlock, is it possible you dare venture a second time? You know\nhow rare it is to meet with a husband that is a real honest man.\nBelieve what I say, and let us stay together, and live as\ncomfortably as we can. All my persuasion was in vain; they were\nresolved to marry, and so they did; but, after some months were\npast, they came back again, and begged my pardon a thousand times\nfor not following my advice. You are our youngest sister, said\nthey, and abundantly more wise than we; but if you will vouchsafe\nto receive us once more into your house, and account us your\nslaves, we shall never commit such a fault again. My answer was,\nDear sisters, I have not altered my mind with respect to you\nsince we last parted from one another; come again, and take part\nof what I have. Upon this, I embraced them cordially, and we\nlived together as formerly.\n\nWe continued thus a whole year in perfect love and tranquillity;\nand seeing that God had increased my small stock, I projected a\nvoyage by sea to hazard somewhat in trade. To this end, I went\nwith my two sisters to Balsora, where I bought a ship ready\nfitted for sea, and loaded her with such merchandise as I brought\nfrom Bagdad. We set sail with a fair wind, and soon got through\nthe Persian gulph; and when got into the ocean, we steered our\ncourse for the Indies, and saw land the twentieth day. It was a\nvery high mountain, at the bottom of which we saw a great town;\nand having a fresh gale, we soon reached the harbour, where we\ncast anchor. I had not patience to stay till my sisters were\ndressed to go along with me, but went ashore in the boat myself;\nand making directly to the gate of the town, I saw there a great\nnumber of men upon guard, some sitting and others standing, with\nbatons in their hands; and they had all such dreadful\ncountenances that they frightened me; but perceiving that they\nhad no motion, nay not so much as with their eyes, I took\ncourage, and went nearer, and then found they were all turned\ninto stones. I entered the town, and passed through the several\nstreets, where there stood every where men in several postures,\nbut all immovable and petrified. On that side where the merchants\nlived, I found most of the shops shut, and, in such as were open,\nI likewise found the people petrified. I looked up to the\nchimnies, but saw no smoke; which made me conjecture that those\nwithin, as well as those without, were turned into stones. Being\ncome into a vast square in the heart of the city, I perceived a\ngreat gate covered with plates of gold, the two leaves of which\nstood open, and a curtain of silk stuff seemed to be drawn before\nit; I also saw a lamp hanging over the gate. After I had well\nconsidered the fabric, I made no doubt but it was the palace of\nthe prince who reigned over that country; and being very much\nastonished that I had not met with one living creature, I went\nthither in hopes to find some: I entered the gate, and was still\nmore surprised when I saw none but the guards in the porches all\npetrified; some standing, some sitting, and others lying. I\ncrossed over a large court, where I saw just before me a stately\nbuilding, the windows of which were enclosed with gates of massy\ngold: I looked upon it to be the queen's apartment, and went into\na large hall, where stood several black eunuchs turned into\nstone. I went from thence in to a room richly hung and furnished,\nwhere I perceived a lady in the same manner. I knew it to be the\nqueen, by the crown of gold that hung over her head, and a\nnecklace of pearl about her neck, each of them as big as a nut:\nI, went up close to her to view it, and never saw any thing\nfiner, I stood some time, and admired the richness and\nmagnificence of the room; but, above all, the foot-cloth, the\ncushions, and the sofas, which were all lined with Indian stuff\nof gold, with pictures of men and beasts in silver, drawn to\nadmiration. I went out of the chamber where the petrified queen\nwas, and came through several other apartments and closets richly\nfurnished, and at last came into a vast large room, where there\nwas a throne of massy gold raised several steps above the floor,\nand enriched with large enchased emeralds, and a bed upon the\nthrone of rich stuff embroidered with pearls. That which\nsurprised me more than all the rest was a sparkling light which\ncame from above the bed: Being curious to know from whence it\ncame, I mounted the steps, and lifting up my head, I saw a\ndiamond, as big as the egg of an ostrich, lying upon a low stool:\nIt was so pure, that I could not find the least blemish in it;\nand it sparkled so bright, that I could not endure its lustre\nwhen I saw it by day. On each side of the bed-head there stood a\nlighted flambeau, but for what use I could not apprehend;\nhowever, it made me imagine that there was some living creature\nin this place; for I could not believe that these torches\ncontinued burning of themselves. Several other rarities detained\nme in this room, which was inestimable, were it only for the\ndiamond I mentioned.\n\nThe doors being all open, or but half shut, I surveyed some other\napartments as fine as those I had already seen. I looked into the\noffices and store-rooms, which were full of infinite riches; and\nI was so much taken with the sight of all these wonderful things,\nthat I forgot myself, and did not think on my ship or my sisters,\nmy whole design being to satisfy my curiosity: Meantime night\ncame on, which put me in mind that it was time to retire. I was\nfor returning by the same way I came in, but could not find it; I\nlost myself among the apartments; and finding I was come back\nagain to that large room where the throne, the couch, the large\ndiamond, and the torches stood, I resolved to make my night's\nlodging there, and to depart the next morning betimes, in order\nto get on board my ship. I laid myself down upon the couch, not\nwithout some dread to be alone in a wild place, and this fear\nhindered my sleep.\n\nAbout midnight I heard a voice like that of a man reading the\nalcoran, after the same manner, and in the same tone, as we used\nto read it in our mosques. Being extremely glad to hear it, I got\nup immediately, and, taking a torch in my hand to light me, I\npassed from one chamber to another, on that side whence the voice\nissued; I came to the closet-door, where I stood still, not\ndoubting that it came from thence. I set down my torch upon the\nground, and looking through a window, I found it to be an\noratory. In short, it had, as we have in our mosques, a niche,\nwhich shows where we must turn to say our prayers. There were\nalso lamps hung up, and two candlesticks with large tapers ef\nwhite wax burning. I saw a little carpet laid down like those we\nkneel upon when we say our prayers, and a comely young man sat\nupon this carpet reading the alcoran, which lay before him upon a\ndesk, with great devotion. At the sight of this I was transported\nwith admiration; I wondered how it came to pass that he should be\nthe only living creature in a town where all the people were\nturned into stones, and did not doubt but that there was\nsomething in it very extraordinary. The door being only half\nshut, I opened it, and went in, and, standing upright before the\nniche, said this prayer aloud: 'Praise be to God, who has\nfavoured us with a happy voyage; and may he be graciously pleased\nto protect us in the same manner, until we arrive again in our\nown country. Hear me, O Lord, and grant my request.' The young\nman cast his eyes upon me, and said, My good lady, pray let me\nknow who you are, and what has brought you to this desolate city?\nIn requital I will tell you who I am, what happened to me, why\nthe inhabitants of this city are reduced to the state you see\nthem in, and why I alone am safe and sound in the midst of such a\nterrible disaster. I told him in few words from whence I came,\nwhat made me undertake the voyage, and how I safely arrived at\nthis port, after twenty days sailing; and when I had done, prayed\nhim to perform his promise, and told him how much I was struck by\nthe frightful desolation which I had seen in all places as I came\nalong.\n\nMy dear lady, says the young man, have patience for a moment. At\nthose words he shut the alcoran, put it into a rich case, and\nlaid it in the niche. I took that opportunity to observe him, and\nperceived so much good nature and beauty in him, that I felt very\nstrange emotions. He made me sit down by him, and, before he\nbegan his discourse, I could not forbear saying to him, with an\nair that discovered the sentiments I was inspired with, Amiable\nsir, dear object of my soul, I can scarcely have patience to wait\nfor an account of all those wonderful things that I have seen\nsince the first time I came into your city, and my curiosity\ncannot be satisfied too soon; therefore, pray, sir, let me know\nby what miracle you alone are left alive among so many persons\nwho have died in so strange a manner.\n\nMadam, says the young man, you have given me to understand you\nhave the knowledge of a true God, by the prayer you have just now\naddressed to him. I will acquaint you with a most remarkable\neffect of his greatness and power. You must know that this city\nwas the metropolis of a mighty kingdom, over which the king my\nfather reigned. That prince, his whole court, the inhabitants of\nthe city, and all his other subjects, were magi, worshippers of\nfire, and of Nardoun, the ancient king of the giants, who\nrebelled against God. Though I was begotten and born of an\nadulterous father and mother, I had the good fortune in my youth\nto have a woman-governess who was a good Mussulman; I had the\nalcoran by heart, and understood the explanation of it perfectly\nwell. Dear prince, would she oftentimes say, there is but one\ntrue God; take heed that you do not acknowledge or adore any\nother. She learned me to read Arabic, and the book she gave me to\nexercise upon was the alcoran. As soon as I was capable of\nunderstanding it, she explained to me all the heads of this\nexcellent book, and infused piety into my mind, unknown to my\nfather or any body else. She happened to die, but not before she\nhad perfectly instructed me in all that was necessary to convince\nme of the Mussulman religion. After her death, I persisted with\nconstancy in the belief I was in; and I abhor the false god\nNardoun, as well as the adoration of fire.\n\nAbout three years and some months ago, a thundering voice was\nheard, all of a sudden, so distinctly through the whole city,\nthat nobody could miss hearing it. The words were these:\n'Inhabitants, abandon the worship of Nardoun and of fire, and\nworship the only God that shows mercy.' This voice was heard\nthree years successively, but nobody was converted: So the last\nday of the year, at four o'clock in the morning, all the\ninhabitants were changed in an instant into stone, every one in\nthe same condition and posture in which he then happened to be.\nThe king my father had the same fate, for he was metamorphosed\ninto a black stone, as may be seen in this palace; and the queen\nmy mother had the like destiny. I am the only person that did not\nsuffer under that heavy judgment; and ever since I have continued\nto serve God with more fervency than before. I am persuaded, dear\nlady, that he has sent you hither for my comfort, for which I\nrender him infinite thanks; for I must own that this solitary\nlife is very uneasy.\n\nAll these expressions, and particularly the last, increased my\nlove to him extremely. Prince, said I, there is no doubt that\nProvidence hath brought me into your port to present you with an\nopportunity of withdrawing from this dismal place; the ship that\nI am come in may in some measure persuade you that I am in some\nesteem at Bagdad, where I have left also a considerable estate;\nand I dare engage to promise you sanctuary there, until the\nmighty commander of the faithful, who is vice regent to our\nprophet, whom you acknowledge, do you the honour that is due to\nyour merit. This renowned prince lives at Bagdad; and as soon as\nhe is informed of your arrival in his capital, you will find that\nit is not in vain to implore his assistance. It is impossible you\ncan stay any longer in a city where all the objects you see must\nrenew your grief: My vessel is at your service, where you may\nabsolutely command as you shall think fit. He accepted the offer,\nand we discoursed the remaining part of the night about our\nembarkation. As soon as it was day, we left the palace, and came\non board my ship, where we found my sisters, the captain, and the\nslaves, all very much troubled about my absence. After I had\npresented my sisters to the prince, I told them what had hindered\nmy return to the vessel the day before; how I had met with the\nyoung prince; his story, and the cause of the desolation of so\nfine a city.\n\nThe seamen were taken up several days in unloading the\nmerchandise I brought along with me, and embarking, instead of\nthat, all the precious things in the palace, as jewels, gold, and\nmoney. We left the furniture and goods, which consisted of an\ninfinite quantity of plate, etc., because our vessel could not\ncarry it; for it would have required several vessels more to\ncarry all the riches to Bagdad which it was in our option to take\nwith us. After we had loaded the vessel with what we thought fit,\nwe took such provisions and water on board as were necessary for\nour voyage, (for we had still a great deal of those provisions\nleft that we had taken in at Balsora;) and at last set sail with\na favourable wind.\n\nThe young prince, my sisters, and myself, enjoyed ourselves for\nsome time very agreeably. But, alas! this good understanding did\nnot last long; for my sisters grew jealous of the friendship\nbetween the prince and me, and maliciously asked me one day, What\nwe should do with him when we came to Bagdad? I perceived\nimmediately that they put this question to me on purpose to\ndiscover my inclinations; therefore resolving to put it off with\na jest, I answered them, I will take him for my husband; and upon\nthat, turning myself to the prince, Sir, I humbly beg of you to\ngive your consent; for, as soon as we come to Bagdad, I design to\noffer you my person to be your slave, to do you all the service\nthat is in my power, and to resign myself wholly to your\ncommands. The prince answered, I know not, madam, whether you are\nin jest or not; but, for my own part, I seriously declare before\nthese ladies, your sisters, that from this moment I heartily\naccept your offer, not with any intention to have you as a slave,\nbut as my lady and mistress; nor will I pretend to have any power\nover your actions. At these words my sisters changed colour, and\nI could easily perceive that afterwards they did not love me as\nformerly.\n\nWe were come into the Persian gulph, and not far from Balsora,\nwhere I hoped, considering the fair wind, we might have arrived\nthe day following; but in the night, when I was asleep, my\nsisters watched their time, and threw me overboard. They did the\nsame to the prince, who was drowned. I swam some minutes on the\nwater; but by good fortune, or rather miracle, I felt ground. I\nwent towards a black place, which, by what I could discern in the\ndark, seemed to be land, and actually was a flat on the coast:\nwhen day came, I found it to be a desert island, lying about\ntwenty miles from Balsora. I soon dried my clothes in the sun;\nand as I walked along, found several sorts of fruit, and likewise\nfresh water, which gave me some hopes of preserving my life. I\nlaid myself down in a shade, and soon after I saw a winged\nserpent, very large and long, coming towards me wriggling to the\nright and to the left, and hanging out his tongue, which made me\nthink he had got some hurt. I rose, and saw a serpent still\nlarger following, holding him by the tail, and endeavouring to\ndevour him, I had compassion on him, and, instead of flying away,\nhad the boldness and courage to take up a stone that by chance\nlay by me, and threw it at the great serpent with all my\nstrength, whom I hit on the head and killed. The other, finding\nhimself at liberty, took to his wings and flew away. I looked a\nlong while after him in the air, as being an extraordinary thing;\nbut he flew out of sight, and I lay down again in another place\nin the shade, and fell asleep. When I awaked, judge how I was\nsurprised to see a black woman by me, of a lively and agreeable\ncomplexion, who held two bitches tied together in her hand, of\nthe same colour. I sat up, and asked her who she was? I am, said\nshe, the serpent whom you delivered not long since from my mortal\nenemy. I know not how to acknowledge the great kindness you did\nme, except by doing what I have done. I know the treachery of\nyour sisters, and, to revenge you as soon as I was set at liberty\nby your generous assistance, I called several of my companions\ntogether, fairies like myself. We have carried the loading that\nwas in your vessel into your storehouses at Bagdad, and\nafterwards sunk it. These two black bitches are your sisters,\nwhom I have transformed into this shape: but this punishment is\nnot sufficient, for I will have you to treat them after such a\nmanner as I shall direct.\n\nAt these words, the fairy took me fast under one of her arms, and\nthe two bitches in the other, and carried me to my house at\nBagdad, where I found all the riches, which were loaded on board\nmy vessel, in my store-houses. Before she left me, she delivered\nme the two bitches, and told me, If you wish not to be changed\ninto a bitch, as they are, I ordain you, in the name of him that\ngoverns the sea, to give each of your sisters every night a\nhundred lashes with a rod, for the punishment of the crime they\nhave committed against your person, and the young prince whom\nthey have drowned. I was forced to promise that I would obey her\norder. Since that time I have whipped them every night, though\nwith regret, whereof your majesty has been a witness. I give\nevidence, by my tears, with how much sorrow and reluctance I must\nperform this cruel duty; and in this your majesty may see I am\nmore to be pitied than blamed. If there be any thing else, with\nrelation to myself, that you desire to be informed of, my sister\nAmine will give you the full discovery of it by the relation of\nher story.\n\nThe caliph heard Zobride with a great deal of astonishment, and\ndesired his grand vizier to pray fair Amine to acquaint him\nwherefore her breast was marked with so many scars. Upon this,\nAmine addressed herself to the caliph, and began her story after\nthis manner:\n\n\n\n\n\n                      THE STORY OF AMINE.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, says she, to avoid repeating what your\nmajesty has already heard from my sister's story, I shall only\nadd, that after my mother had taken a house for herself to live\nin during her widowhood, she gave me in marriage, with the\nportion my father left me, to a gentleman that had one of the\nbest estates in this city. I had scarcely been a year married\nwhen I became a widow, and was left in possession of all my\nhusband's estate, which amounted to ninety thousand sequins. The\ninterest of this money was sufficient to maintain me very\nhonourably. In the mean time, when my first six months' mourning\nwas over, I caused to be made me ten suits of clothes, very rich,\nso that each suit came to a thousand sequins; and, when the year\nwas past, I began to wear them.\n\nOne day, as I was busy all alone about my private affairs, one\ncame to tell me that a lady desired to speak with me. I ordered\nthat she should be brought in: She was a person well stricken in\nyears; she saluted me by kissing the ground, and told me,\nkneeling, Dear lady, pray excuse the freedom I take; the\nconfidence I have in your charity makes me thus bold: I must\nacquaint your ladyship that I have a daughter, an orphan, who is\nto be married this day; she and I are both strangers, and have no\nacquaintances at all in this town: this puts me in a perplexity,\nfor we would have the numerous family with whom we are going to\nally ourselves to think we are not, altogether strangers, and\nwithout credit: Therefore, most beautiful lady, if you would\nvouchsafe to honour the wedding with your presence, we shall be\ninfinitely obliged to you; because the ladies of your country\nwill then know that we are not looked upon here as despicable\nwretches, when they shall come to understand that a lady of your\nquality did us that honour. But, alas! madam, if you refuse this\nrequest, we shall be altogether disgraced, and dare not address\nourselves to any other.\n\nThe poor woman's discourse, mingled with tears, moved my\ncompassion. Good woman, said I, do not afflict yourself; I am\nwilling to grant you the favour you desire; tell me what place I\nmust come to, and I will meet you as soon as I am dressed. The\nold woman was so transported with joy at my answer, that she\nkissed my feet, without my being able to hinder her. Good\ncharitable lady, said she, rising up, God will reward the\nkindness you have shown to your servants, and make your heart as\njoyful as you have made theirs. It is too soon yet to give\nyourself that trouble; it will be time enough when I come to call\nyou in the evening: So farewell, madam, said she, until I have\nthe honour to see you again. As soon as she was gone, I took the\nsuit I liked best, with a necklace of large pearls, bracelets,\npendents in my ears, and rings set with the finest and most\nsparkling diamonds; for my mind presaged what would befall me.\nWhen night drew on, the old woman came to call me with a\ncountenance full of joy; she kissed my hands, and said, My dear\nlady, the relations of my son-in-law, who are the principal\nladies of the town, are now met together; you may come when you\nplease, I am ready to wait on you. We went immediately, she going\nbefore, and I followed her with a good number of my maids and\nslaves, very well dressed. We stopped in a large street, newly\nswept and watered, at a large gate, with a lantern before it, by\nthe light of which I could read this inscription over the gate in\ngolden letters: 'Here is the abode of everlasting pleasures and\ncontent.' The old woman knocked, and the gate was opened\nimmediately. They brought me to the lower end of the court into a\nlarge hall, where I was received by a young lady of admirable\nbeauty; she came up to me, and after having embraced me, and made\nme sit down by her upon a sofa, where there was a throne of\nprecious wood beset with diamonds, Madam, said she, you are\nbrought hither to assist at a wedding; but I hope this marriage\nwill prove otherwise than you expect. I have a brother, one of\nthe handsomest men in the world; he has fallen so much in love\nwith your beauty, that his fate depends wholly upon you, and he\nwill be the unhappiest of men, if you do not take pity on him. He\nknows your quality, and I can assure you he is not unworthy of\nyour alliance. If my prayers, madam, can prevail, I shall join\nthem with his, and humbly beg you will not refuse the offer of\nbeing his wife.\n\nAfter the death of my husband, I had no thoughts of marrying\nagain; but I had not power to refuse the offer made by so\ncharming a lady. As soon as I had given consent by silence,\naccompanied with a blush, the young lady clapped her hands, and\nimmediately a closet-door opened, out of which came a young man\nof a majestic air, and of so graceful a behaviour, that I thought\nmyself happy to have made so great a conquest. He sat down by me,\nand, by the discourse we had together, I found that his merits\nfar exceeded the account his sister had given me of him. When she\nsaw that we were satisfied one with another, she clapped her\nhands a second time, and out came a cadi, or scrivener, who wrote\nour contract of marriage, signed it himself, and caused it to be\nattested by four witnesses he brought along with him. The only\nthing that my new spouse made me promise was, that I should not\nbe seen nor speak with any other man but himself; and he vowed to\nme, upon that condition, that I should have no reason to complain\nof him. Our marriage was concluded and finished after this\nmanner; so I became the principal actress in a wedding to which I\nwas invited only as a guest.\n\nAfter we bad been married about a month, I had occasion for some\nstuffs; I asked my husband's leave to go out to buy them which he\ngranted; and I took that old woman along with me of whom I spoke\nbefore, she being one of the family, with two of my own female\nslaves. When we came to the street where the merchants dwell, the\nold woman told me, Dear mistress, since you want silk stuffs, I\nmust carry you to a young merchant of my acquaintance who has of\nall sorts, which will prevent your wearying yourself by going\nfrom one shop to another. I can assure you that he is able to\nfurnish you with that which nobody else can. I was easily\npersuaded, and we entered into a shop belonging to a young\nmerchant. I sat down and bid the old woman desire him to show me\nthe finest silk stuffs he had: The woman bid me speak myself;\nbut, I told her it was one of the articles of my\nmarriage-contract not to speak to any man but my husband, and\nthat I must keep to it. The merchant showed me several stuffs, of\nwhich one pleased me better than the rest. I bid her ask the\nprice. He answered the old woman, I will not sell it for gold or\nmoney, but I will make her a present of it, if she will give me\nleave to kiss her cheek. I bid the old woman tell him that he was\nvery rude to propose such a thing. But, instead of obeying me,\nshe said, What the merchant desires of you is no such great\nmatter; you need not speak, but only present him your cheek, and\nthe business will soon be done. The stuff pleased me so much,\nthat I was foolish enough to take her advice. The old woman and\nmy slaves stood up, that nobody might see, and I put up my veil;\nbut, instead of a kiss, the merchant bit me till the blood came.\nThe pain and surprise were so great, that I fell down in a swoon,\nand continued in it so long, that the merchant had time to shut\nhis shop, and fly for it. When I came to myself, I found my cheek\nall bloody: The old woman and my slaves took care to cover it\nwith my veil, lest the people who cams about us should perceive;\nbut they supposed it only a fainting-fit. The old woman that was\nwith me, being extremely troubled at the accident, endeavoured to\ncomfort me: My dear mistress, said she, I beg your pardon, for I\nam the cause of this misfortune, having brought you to this\nmerchant because he is my countryman; but I never thought he\ncould be capable of so vile an action. But do not grieve; let us\nmake haste to go home. I will give you a medicine that will\nperfectly cure you in three days time, so that the least mark\nwill not be seen. The fit had made me so weak, that I was\nscarcely able to walk; but at last I got home, where I had a\nsecond fit as I went into my chamber. Meanwhile the old woman\napplied her remedy, so that I came to myself, and went to bed.\n\nMy husband came to me at night, and seeing my head bound up,\nasked the reason. I told him I had the headache, and hoped he\nwould inquire no further; but he took a candle, and saw that my\ncheek was hurt: How comes this wound? said he. Though I was not\nvery guilty, yet I could not think of owning the thing: besides,\nto make such confession to a husband, was somewhat indecent;\ntherefore I told him, that as I was going to seek for that stuff\nyou gave me leave to buy, a porter carrying a load of wood came\nso close by me, as I went through a narrow street, that one of\nthe sticks gave me a rub on my cheek; but it is not much hurt.\nThis put my husband into such a passion, that he vowed it should\nnot go unpunished; for he should to-morrow give orders to the\nlieutenant of the police to seize upon all those brutes of\nporters, and cause them to be hanged. Being afraid to occasion\nthe death of so many innocent persons, I told him, Sir, I should\nbe sorry that so great a piece of injustice should be committed.\nPray, do not do it; for I should judge myself unpardonable, if I\nwere the cause of so much mischief. Then tell me sincerely, said\nhe, how you came by this wound? I answered, that it came through\nthe inadvertency of a broom-seller upon an ass, who coming behind\nme, and looking another way, his ass gave me such a push, that I\nfell down, and hurt my cheek upon some glass. Is it so? said my\nhusband, then to-morrow morning, before sun-rise, the grand\nvizier Giafar shall have an account of this insolence, and he\nshall cause all the broom-sellers to be put to death. For the\nlove of God, sir, said I, let me beg of you to pardon them, for\nthey are not guilty. How, madam, said he, what is it I must\nbelieve? Speak, for I am absolutely resolved to know the truth\nfrom your own mouth. Sir, said I, I was taken with a giddiness,\nand fell down; and that is the whole matter. At these last words,\nmy husband lost all patience. Oh! cried he, I have given ear to\nyour lies too long. With that, clapping his hands, in came three\nslaves: Pull her out of bed, said he, and lay her in the middle\nof the floor. The slaves obeyed his orders, one holding me by the\nhead, and another by the feet: he commanded the third to fetch\nhim a scimitar, and when he had brought it, Strike, said he, cut\nher in two in the middle, and then throw her into the Tigris to\nfeed the fishes. This is the punishment I give to those to whom I\nhave given my heart, if they falsify their promise. When he saw\nthat the slave made no haste to obey his orders, Why do not you\nstrike? said he; who is it that holds you? what art thou waiting\nfor?\n\nMadam, then, said the slave, as you are near the last moment of\nyour life, consider if you have, any thing to dispose of before\nyou die. I begged to be allowed to speak one word, which was\ngranted me. I lifted up my head, and looking wistfully to my\nhusband, Alas, said I, to what condition am I reduced? must I\nthen die in the prime of my youth? I could say no more, for my\ntears and sighs prevented me. My husband was not at all. moved,\nbut to the contrary, went on to reproach me; so that to have made\nan answer would have been in vain. I had recourse to entreaties\nand prayers; but he had no regard to them, and commanded the\nslaves to proceed to execution. The old woman that had been his\nnurse came in just at that moment, fell down upon her knees, and\nendeavoured to appease his wrath: My son, said she, since I have\nbeen your nurse, and brought you up, let me beg the favour of you\nto grant me her life; consider that he who kills shall be killed,\nthat you will stain your reputation, and lose the esteem of\nmankind. What will not the world say of such a bloody rage? She\nspoke these words in such a taking away, accompanied with tears,\nthat she gained upon him at last. Well, then, says he to his\nnurse, for your sake I will spare her life; but she shall carry\nsome marks along with her, to make her remember her crime. With\nthat, one of the slaves, by his order, gave me so many blows, as\nhard as he could strike, with a little cane, upon my sides and\nbreast, that he fetched both skin and flesh away, so that I lay\nsenseless: after that he caused the same slaves, the executioners\nof his fury, to carry me into a house, where the old woman took\ncare of me. I kept my bed four months; at last I recovered; but\nthe scars you saw yesterday have remained ever since.\n\nAs soon as I was able to walk and go abroad, I resolved to go to\nthe house which was my own by my first husband, but I could not\nfind the place. My second husband, in the heat of his wrath, was\nnot content to have it razed to the ground, but caused all the\nstreet where it stood to be pulled down. I believe such a violent\nproceeding was never heard of before; but against whom should I\nmake my complaint? The author had taken such care, that he was\nnot to be found, neither could I know him again if I saw him; and\nsuppose I had known him, is it not easily seen that the treatment\nI met with proceeded from absolute power? How then dared I make\nany complaints.\n\nBeing destitute and unprovided of every thing, I had recourse to\nmy dear sister Zobeide, who gave your majesty just now an account\nof her adventures; to her I made known my misfortune; she\nreceived me with her accustomed goodness, and advised me to bear\nit with patience. This is the way of the world, said she, which\neither robs us of our means, our friends, or our lovers, and\noftentimes of all at once; and at the same time, to confirm what\nshe had said, she gave me an account of the loss of the young\nprince, occasioned by the jealousy of her two sisters; she told\nme also by what accident they were transformed into bitches; and,\nin the last place, after a thousand testimonials of her love\ntowards me, she showed me my youngest sister, who had likewise\ntaken sanctuary wish her after the death of her mother.\n\nThus we gave God thanks, who had brought us together again,\nresolving to live a single life, and never to separate any more,\nfor we have enjoyed this peaceable way of living many years; and\nas it was my business to mind the affairs of the house, I always\ntook pleasure to go myself, and buy in what we wanted. I happened\nto go abroad yesterday, and the things I bought I caused to be\nbrought home by a porter, who proved to be a sensible and jocose\nfellow, and we kept him by us for a little diversion. Three\ncalenders happened to come to our door as it began to grow dark,\nand prayed us to giye them shelter until next morning: we gave\nthem entrance upon certain conditions, to which they agreed; and\nafter we had made them sit down at the table by us, they gave us\na concert of music after their fashion, and at the same time we\nheard a knocking at our gate. These were the three merchants of\nMoussol, men of a very good mien, who begged the same favour\nwhich the calenders had obtained before: we consented upon the\nsame conditions, but neither of them kept their promise; and\nthough we had power as well as justice on our side to punish\nthem, yet we contented ourselves with demanding from them the\nhistory of their lives, and consequently bounded our revenge with\ndismissing them after they had done, and depriving them of the\nlodging they demanded.\n\nThe caliph Haroun Alraschid was very well satisfied with these\nstrange stories, and declared publicly his astonishment at what\nhe had heard. Having satisfied his curiosity, he thought himself\nobliged to give some marks of grandeur and generosity to the\ncalender princes, and also to give the three ladies some proofs\nof his bounty. He himself, without making use of his minister the\ngrand vizier, said to Zobeide, Madam, did not this fairy, that\nshowed herself to you in the shape of a serpent, and imposed such\na rigorous command upon you, tell you where her place of abode\nwas? or rather did she not promise to see you, and restore those\nbitches to their natural shape? Commander of the faithful,\nanswered Zobeide, I forgot to tell your majesty, that the fairy\nleft with me a bundle of hair, saying withal that her presence\nwould one day stand me in stead; and then, if I only burnt two\ntufts of this hair, she would be with me in a moment, though she\nwere beyond mount Caucasus. Madam, says the caliph, where is the\nbundle of hair? She answered, Ever since that time, I have had\nsuch a particular care of it, that I always carry it about with\nme: Upon which she pulled it out, opened the case a little where\nit was, and showed it him. Well, then, said the caliph, let us\nmake the fairy come hither; you could not call her in a better\ntime, for I long to see her. Zobeide having consented to it, fire\nwas brought in, and she threw the whole bundle of hair into it.\nThe Palace began to shake at that very instant, and the fairy\nappeared before the caliph in the shape of a lady very richly\ndressed. Commander of the faithful, said she to the prince, you\nsee I am ready to come and receive your commands. The lady that\ngave me this call by your order, did me a particular piece of\nservice: to make my gratitude appear, I revenged her of her\nsisters' inhumanity by changing them into bitches; but, if your\nmajesty command, I shall restore them to their former shape.\nHandsome fairy, said the caliph, you cannot do me a greater\npleasure; vouchsafe them that favour, and after that I will find\nout some means to comfort them for their hard penance; But,\nbesides, I have another boon to ask in favour of this lady who\nhas had such cruel usage from an unknown husband; and as you\nundoubtedly know a great many things, we have reason to believe\nyou cannot, be ignorant of this; oblige me with the name of this\nunfeeling fellow, who could not be contented to exercise his\ncruelty upon her person, but has also most unjustly taken from\nher all the substance she had I only wonder that such an unjust\nand inhuman action could be performed in spite of my authority,\nand not come to my ears. To serve your majesty, answered the\nfairy, I will restore the two bitches to their former state, and\ncure the lady of her scars, so that it will never appear she was\nso beaten; after which I will tell you who it was that did it.\nThe caliph sent for the two bitches from Zobeide's house, and\nwhen they came, a glass of water was brought to the fairy at her\ndesire: she pronounced some words over it which nobody\nunderstood; then throwing some part of it upon Amine, and the\nrest upon the bitches, the latter became two ladies of surprising\nbeauty, and the scars that were upon Amine vanished away. After\nwhich the fairy said to the caliph, Commander of the faithful, I\nmust now discover to you, the unknown husband you inquire after:\nhe is very nearly related to yourself; for it is Prince Amin,\nyour eldest son, who, falling passionately in love with this lady\nby the fame he had heard of her beauty, by an intrigue got her\nbrought to his house, where he married her. As to the strokes he\ncaused to be given her, he is in some measure excusable; for his\nspouse had been a little too easy, and the excuses she made were\ncalculated to make him believe that she was more faulty than she\nreally was. This is all I can say to satisfy your curiosity. At\nthese words she saluted the caliph, and vanished.\n\nThe prince, being filled with admiration, and having much\nsatisfaction the changes that had happened through his means, did\nsuch things as will perpetuate his memory to future ages. First,\nhe sent for his son Amin, and told him that he was informed of\nhis secret marriage, and how he had wounded Amine upon a very\nslight cause; upon which the prince did not wait for his father's\ncommands, but received her again immediately. After this, the\ncaliph declared that he would give his own heart and hand to\nZobeide, and offered the other three sisters to the calenders,\nwho accepted them with a great deal of joy. The caliph assigned\nto each a magnificent palace in the city of Bagdad, promoted them\nto the highest dignities, and admitted them to his councils. The\ntown-clerk of Bagdad, being called with witnesses, wrote the\ncontracts of marriage; and the famous caliph Haroun Alraschid, by\nmaking the fortunes of so many persons who had undergone such\nincredible misfortunes, drew a thousand blessings upon himself.\n\n\n\n\n\n                THE STORY OF SINDBAD THE SAlLOR.\n\n\n\nDinarzade having awaked her sister the sultaness as usual, prayed\nher to tell her another story. Scheherazade asked leave of the\nsultan, and having obtained it, began thus: Sir, in the reign of\nthe same caliph Haroun Alraschid, whom I formerly mentioned,\nthere lived at Bagdad a poor porter called Hindbad. One day, when\nthe weather was very hot, he was employed to carry a heavy burden\nfrom one end of the town to the other. Being very weary, and\nhaving still a great way to go, he came into a street, where the\ndelicate western breeze blew on his face, and the pavement of the\nstreet being sprinkled with rose water, he could not desire a\nbetter place to rest in; therefore, laying off his burden, he sat\ndown by it near a great house. He was mightily pleased that he\nhad stopped in this place, for an agreeable smell of wood of\naloes and of pastils, that came from the house, mixing with the\nscent of the rose water, did completely perfume the air. Besides,\nhe heard from within a concert of several sorts of instrumental\nmusic, accompanied with the harmonies of nightingales, and other\nbirds peculiar to that climate. This charming melody, and the\nsmell of several sorts of victuals, made the porter think there\nwas a feast, with great rejoicings within. His occasions leading\nhim seldom that way, he knew not who dwelt in the house; but, to\nsatisfy his curiosity, he went to some of the servants, whom he\nsaw standing at the gate in magnificent apparel, and asked the\nname of the master of the house. How, replied one of them, do you\nlive in Bagdad, and know not that this is the house of Signior\nSindbad, the sailor, that famous traveller who has sailed round\nthe world? The porter, who had heard of Sindbad's riches, could\nnot but envy a man whose condition he thought to be as happy as\nhis own was deplorable; and his mind being fretted with these\nreflections, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and says, loud\nenough to be heard, Almighty Creator of all things, consider the\ndifference between Sindbad and me. I am every day exposed to\nfatigues and calamities, and can scarcely get coarse barley bread\nfor myself and family, whilst happy Sindbad profusely expends\nimmense riches, and leads a life of continual pleasure. What has\nhe done to obtain from thee a lot so agreeable, and what have I\ndone to deserve one so miserable? Having finished this\nexpostulation, he struck his foot against the ground, like a man\noverwhelmed with grief and despair. While the porter was thus\nindulging his melancholy, a servant came out of the house, and\ntaking him by the arm, bid him follow him, for Signior Sindbad,\nhis master, wanted to speak with him.\n\nYour majesty may easily imagine that poor Hindbad was not a\nlittle surprised at this compliment; for, considering what he had\nsaid, he was afraid Sindbad had sent for him to punish him;\ntherefore he would have excused himself, alleging that he could\nnot leave his burden in the middle of the street. But Sindbad's\nservants assured him they would look to it, and pressed the\nporter so that he was obliged to yield. The servants brought him\ninto a large hall, where a number of people sat round a table\ncovered with all sorts of fine dishes. At the upper end there sat\na grave, comely, venerable gentleman, with a long white beard,\nand behind him stood officers and domestics ready to serve him;\nthis grave gentleman was Sindbad. The porter, whose fear was\nincreased at the sight of so many people, and of a banquet so\nsumptuous, saluted the company tremblingly. Sindbad bid him draw\nnear, and setting him down at his right hand, served him himself,\nand gave him excellent wine, of which there was good store upon\nthe side-board.\n\nWhen dinner was over, Sindbad began his discourse to Hindbad; and\ncalling him brother, according to the manner of the Arabians when\nthey are familiar one to another, he asked him his name and\nemployment. Signior, answered he, my name is Hindbad. I am very\nglad to see you, replies Sindbad; and I dare to say the same for\nall the company: but I would be glad to hear, from your own\nmouth, what it was you said a while ago in the street; for\nSindbad had heard it himself through the window before he sat\ndown to table; and that occasioned his calling for him. Hindbad,\nbeing surprised at the question, hung down his head, and replied,\nSignior, I confess that my weariness put me out of humour, and\noccasioned me to speak some indiscreet words, which I beg you to\npardon. Oh, do not you think I am so unjust, replies Sindbad, to\nresent such a thing as that; I consider your condition, and,\ninstead of upbraiding you with your complaints, I am sorry for\nyou; but I must rectify your mistake concerning myself. You\nthink, no doubt, that I have acquired, without labour or trouble,\nthe ease and conveniency which I now enjoy. But do not mistake\nyourself; I did not attain to this happy condition without\nenduring more trouble of body and mind for several years than can\nwell be imagined. Yes, gentleman, adds he, speaking to the\ncompany, I can assure you my troubles were so extraordinary, that\nthey were capable of discouraging the most covetous men from\nundertaking such voyages as I did to acquire riches. Perhaps you\nhave never heard a distinct account of the wonderful adventures\nand dangers I met with in my seven voyages; and, since I have\nthis opportunity, I am willing to give you a faithful account of\nthem, not doubting that it will be acceptable. And because\nSindbad was to tell this story particularly on the porter's\naccount, he ordered his burden to be carried to the place\nappointed, and began thus:\n\n\n\n\n\n                THE STORY OF SINDBAD THE SAILOR.\n\n\n\nHis First Voyage.\n\n\n\nMy father left me a considerable estate, most part of which I\nspent in debauches during my youth; but I perceived my error, and\ncalled to mind that riches were perishable, and quickly\nconsidered, that by my irregular way of living, I wretchedly\nmisspent my time, which is the most valuable thing in the world.\nI remembered the saying of the great Solomon, which I frequently\nheard from my father, that death is more tolerable than poverty.\nBeing struck with those reflections, I gathered together the\nruins of my estate, and sold all my moveables in the public\nmarket to the highest bidder. Then I entered into a contract with\nsome merchants that traded by sea, took the advice of those whom\nI thought most capable to give it, and resolving to improve what\nmoney I had, went to Balsora, a port in the Persian gulph, and\nembarked with several merchants, who joined with me in fitting\nout a ship on purpose.\n\nWe set sail, steering our course towards the East Indies through\nthe Persian gulph, which is formed by the coasts of Arabia Felix\non the right, by those of Persia on the left, and, according to\ncommon account, is seventy leagues in the broadest place. The\neastern sea, like that of the Indies, is very spacious. It is\nbounded on one side by the coast of Abyssinia, and 4500 leagues\nin length to the isles of Vakvak[Footnote: These islands,\naccording; to the Arabians, are beyond China: and are so called\nfrom a tree which bears a fruit of that name. They are, without\ndoubt, the isles of Japan; but they are not, however, so far from\nAbyssinia.]. At first I was troubled with sea-sickness, but\nspeedily recovered, and was not afterwards troubled with that\ndisease.\n\nIn our voyage we touched at several islands, where we sold or\nexchanged our goods. One day, whilst under sail, we were becalmed\nnear a little island, even almost with the surface of the water,\nwhich resembled a green meadow. The captain ordered his sails to\nbe furled, and suffered such persons as had a mind to land upon\nthe island, amongst whom I was one. But while we were diverting\nourselves with eating and drinking, and refreshing ourselves from\nthe fatigue of the sea, the island trembled all of a sudden, and\nshook us terribly. They perceived the trembling of the island on\nboard the ship, and called to us to re-embark speedily, else we\nshould be all lost; for what we took for an island was only the\nback of a whale. The nimblest got into the sloop, others betook\nthemselves to swimming; but, for my part, I was still upon the\nback of the whale, when he dived into the sea, and I had time\nonly to catch hold of a piece of wood that we had brought out of\nthe ship to make a fire. Meanwhile the captain, having received\nthose on board who were in the sloop, and taken up some of those\nthat swam, resolved to improve the favourable gale that was just\nrisen, and, hoisting his sails, pursued his voyage, so that it\nwas impossible to recover the ship. Thus was I exposed to the\nmercy of the waves, and struggled for my life all the rest of the\nday and the following night. Next morning I found my strength\ngone, and despaired of saving my life, when a wave threw me\nhappily against an island. The bank was high and rugged, so that\nI should scarcely have got up, had it not been for some roots of\ntrees which fortune seemed to have preserved in this place for my\nsafety. Being got up, I lay down upon the ground half dead, until\nsuch time as the sun appeared. Then, though I was very feeble,\nboth by reason of my hard labour and want of victuals, I crept\nalong to seek for some herbs fit to eat, and had not only the\ngood luck to find some, but likewise a spring of excellent water,\nwhich contributed much to recover me. After this I advanced\nfurther into the island, and came at last into a fine plain,\nwhere I perceived a horse feeding at a great distance. I went\ntowards him between hope and fear, not knowing whether I was\ngoing to lose my life or to save it. When I came near, I\nperceived it to be a very fine mare tied to a stake. Whilst I\nlooked upon her, I heard the voice of a man from under ground,\nwho immediately appeared to me, and asked who I was? I gave him\nan account of my adventure; after which, taking me by the hand,\nhe led me into a cave, where there were several other people, no\nless amazed to see me than I was to see them. I ate some victuals\nwhich they offered me; and then, having asked them what they did\nin such a desert place, they answered, that they were grooms\nbelonging to King Mihrage, sovereign of the island; and that\nevery year, at the same season, they brought thither the king's\nmares, and fastened them as I saw that mare, until they were\ncovered by a horse that came out of the sea, who, after he had\ndone so, endeavoured to destroy the mares, but they hindered him\nby their noise, and obliged him to return to the sea; after which\nthey carried home the mares, whose foals were kept for the king's\nuse, and called sea-horses. They added, that we were to get home\nto-morrow, and had I been one day later, I must have perished,\nbecause the inhabited part of the island was at a great distance,\nand it would have been impossible for me to have got thither\nwithout a guide.\n\nWhilst they entertained me thus, the horse came out of the sea,\nas they had told me, covered the mare, and afterwards would have\ndevoured her; but, upon a great noise made by the grooms, he left\nher, and went back to the sea.\n\nNext morning they returned with their mares to the capital of the\nisland, took me with them, and presented me to King Mihrage. He\nasked me who I was, and by what adventure I came into his\ndominions? After I had satisfied him, he told me he was much\nconcerned for my misfortune, and at the same time ordered that I\nshould want nothing; which his officers were so generous and\ncareful as to see exactly fulfilled.\n\nBeing a merchant, I frequented men of my own profession, and\nparticularly inquired for those who were strangers, if perhaps I\nmight hear any news from Bagdad, or find an opportunity to return\nthither; for King Mihrage's capital is situate on the bank of the\nsea, and has a fine harbour, where ships arrive daily from\ndifferent quarters of the world. I frequented also the society of\nthe learned Indians, and took delight to hear them discourse; but\nwithal I took care to make my court regularly to the king, and\nconversed with the governors and petty kings, his tributaries,\nthat were about him. They asked me a thousand questions about my\ncountry; and being willing to inform myself as to their laws and\ncustoms, I asked them every thing which I thought worth knowing.\nThere belongs to this king an island named Cassel; they assured\nme, that every night a noise of drums was heard there, whence the\nmariners fancied that it was the residence of Degial [Footnote:\nDegial, to the Mahometans, is the same with antichrist to us.\nAccording to them, he is to appear about the end of the world,\nand will conquer all the earth, except Mecca, Medina, Tarsus, and\nJerusalem, which are to be preserved by angels, whom he shall set\nround them.]. I had a great mind to see this wonderful place, and\nin my way thither saw fishes of an hundred and two hundred cubits\nlong, that occasion more fear than hurt; for they are so fearful,\nthat they will fly upon the rattling of two sticks or boards. I\nsaw likewise other fishes about a cubit in length, that had heads\nlike owls.\n\nAs I was one day at the port after my return, a ship arrived. As\nsoon as she cast anchor, they began to unload her, and the\nmerchants on board ordered their goods to be carried into the\nmagazine. As I cast my eye upon some bales, and looked to the\nname I found my own, and perceived the bales to be the same that\nI had embarked at Balsora. I also knew the captain; but, being\npersuaded that he believed me to be drowned, I went and asked him\nwhose bales these were? He replied, that they belonged to a\nmerchant of Bagdad, called Sindbad, who came to sea with him; but\none day, being near an island, as we thought, he went ashore,\nwith several other passengers, upon this supposed island, which\nwas only a monstrous whale that lay asleep upon the surface of\nthe water; but as soon as he felt the heat of the fire they had\nkindled upon his back to dress some victuals, he began to move,\nand dived under water, when most of the persons who were upon him\nperished, and among them the unfortunate Sindbad. These bales\nbelong to him, and I am resolved to trade with them, until I meet\nwith some of his family, to whom I may return the profit.\nCaptain, says I, I am that Sindbad whom you thought to be dead,\nand these bales are mine. When the captain heard me speak thus, O\nheaven, says he, whom can we ever trust now-a-days? There is no\nfaith left among men. I saw Sindbad perish with my own eyes, and\nthe passengers on board saw it as well as I, and yet you tell me\nthat you are that Sindbad? What impudence is this? To look on\nyou, one would take you to be a man of probity; and yet you tell\na horrible falsehood, in order to possess yourself of what does\nnot belong to you. Have patience, captain, replied I; do me the\nfavour to hear what I have to say. Very well, says he, speak; I\nam ready to hear you. Then I told him how I escaped, and by what\nadventure I met with the grooms of King Mihrage, who brought me\nto his court.\n\nThe captain began to abate of his confidence upon my discourse,\nand was soon persuaded that I was no cheat; for there came people\nfrom his ship who knew me, made me great compliments, and\ntestified a great deal of joy to see me alive. At last he knew me\nhimself, and embracing me, Heaven be praised, says he, for your\nhappy escape! I cannot enough express my joy for it; there are\nyour goods, take and do with them what you will. I thanked him,\nacknowledged his probity, and in requital offered him part of my\ngoods as a present, which he generously refused. I took out what\nwas most valuable in my bales, and presented it to King Mihrage,\nwho, knowing my misfortune, asked me how I came by such rarities?\nI acquainted him with the whole story. He was mightily pleased at\nmy good luck, accepted my present, and gave me one much more\nconsiderable in return. Upon this, I took leave of him, and went\non board the same ship, after I had exchanged my goods for the\ncommodities of the country. I carried with me the wood of aloes,\nsanders, camphire, nutmegs, cloves, pepper, and ginger. We passed\nby several islands, and at last arrived at Balsora, from whence I\ncame to this city, with the value of one hundred thousand\nsequins[Footnote: The Turkish sequin is about nine shillings\nsterling.]. My family and I received one another with all the\ntransport that can arise from true and sincere friendship. I\nbought slaves of both sexes, fine lands, and built me a great\nhouse. Thus I settled myself, resolving to forget the miseries I\nhad suffered, and to enjoy the pleasures of life.\n\nSindbad stopped here, and ordered the musicians to go on with\ntheir concert, which his story had interrupted. The company\ncontinued to eat and drink until the evening, when it was time to\nretire. Sindbad sent for a purse of one hundred sequins, and,\ngiving it to the porter, says, Take this, Hindbad, return to your\nhome, and come back to-morrow to hear some more of my adventures.\nThe porter went home, astonished at the honour done him, and the\npresent made him. The relation of it was very agreeable to his\nwife and children, who did not fail to return God thanks for what\nhe had sent them by the hands of Sindbad. Hindbad put on his best\nclothes next day, and returned to the bountiful traveller, who\nreceived him with a pleasant air, and caressed him mightily. When\nall the guests were come, dinner was set upon the table, and\ncontinued a long time. When it was ended, Sindbad, addressing\nhimself to the company, says, Gentlemen, be pleased to give me\naudience, and listen to the adventures of my second voyage; they\nbetter deserve your attention than the first. Upon this, every\none held his peace, and Sindbad proceeded:\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Second Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\nI intended, after my first voyage, to spend the rest of my days\nat Bagdad, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday; but it was\nnot long ere I grew weary of a quiet life. My inclination to\ntravel revived. I bought goods proper for the commerce I\ndesigned, and put to sea a second time with merchants of known\nprobity. We embarked on board a good ship, and, after\nrecommending ourselves to God, set sail: We traded from island to\nisland, and exchanged commodities with great profit. One day we\nlanded upon an isle covered with several sorts of fruit-trees,\nbut so deserted that we could see neither man nor horse upon it.\nWe went to take a little fresh air in the meadows, and along the\nstreams that watered them. Whilst some diverted themselves with\ngathering flowers, and others with gathering fruits, I took my\nwine and provisions, and sat down by a stream betwixt two great\ntrees which formed a curious shade. I made a very good meal, and\nafterwards fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but, when\nI awaked, the ship was gone. I was very much surprised, but got\nup, looking about every where, and could not see one of the\nmerchants who landed with me. At last I perceived the ship under\nsail, but at such a distance, that I lost sight of her in a very\nlittle time.\n\nI leave you to guess at my melancholy reflections in this sad\ncondition, I was like to die of grief, cried out sadly, beat my\nhead and breast, and threw myself down upon the ground, where I\nlay some time in terrible agony, one afflicting thought being\nsucceeded by another still more afflicting. I upbraided myself an\nhundred times for not being content with the product of my first\nvoyage, that might very well have served me all my life. But all\nthis was vain, and my repentance out of season. At last I\nresigned myself to the will of God; and, not knowing what to do,\nI climbed to the top of a great tree, from whence I looked about\non all sides to see if there were any thing that could give me\nhopes. When I looked towards the sea, I could see nothing but sky\nand water; but, on looking towards the land, I saw something\nwhite; coming down from the tree I took up what provisions I had\nleft, and went towards it, the distance being so great that I\ncould not distinguish what it was.\n\nWhen I came nearer, I thought it to be a white bowl, of a\nprodigious height and bigness; and when I came up to it, I\ntouched it, and found it to be very smooth. I went round to see\nif it was open on any side, but saw it was not, and it was so\nsmooth that there was no climbing to the top of it. It was at\nleast fifty paces round.\n\nBy this time the sun was ready to set, and all of a sudden the\nsky became as dark as if it had been covered with a thick cloud.\nI was much astonished at this sudden darkness, but much more when\nI found it occasioned by a bird of monstrous size, that came\nflying towards me. I remembered a fowl called *roc, that I had\noften heard mariners speak of, and conceived that the great bowl,\nwhich I so much admired, must needs be its egg. In short, the\nbird lighted, and sat over the egg to hatch it. As I perceived\nher coming, I crept close to the egg, so that I had before me one\nof the legs of the bird, that was as big as the trunk of a tree;\nI tied myself strongly to it with the cloth that went round my\nturban, in hopes that when the roc[Footnote: Mark Paul in his\nTravels, and Father Martini in his History of China, speak each\nof this bird, and say it will take up an elephant and a\nrhinoceros.] flew away next morning, she would carry me with her\nout of this desert island. After having passed the night in this\ncondition, the bird actually flew away next morning as soon as it\nwas day, and carried me so high that I could not see the earth;\nshe afterwards descended all of a sudden, and with so much\nrapidity, that I lost my senses. But when the roc was sat, and I\nfound myself on the ground, I speedily untied the knot, and had\nscarcely done so, when the bird, having taken up a serpent of a\nmonstrous length in her bill, flew straight away. The place where\nit left me was a very deep valley, encompassed on all sides with\nmountains so high, that they seemed to reach above the clouds,\nand so full of steep rocks, that there was no possibility to get\nout of the valley. This was a new perplexity upon me; so that,\nwhen I compared this place with the desert island the roc brought\nme from, I found that I had gained nothing by the change.\n\nAs I walked through this valley, I perceived that it was strewed\nwith diamonds, some of which were of a surprising bigness. I took\na great deal of pleasure to look upon them, but speedily saw at a\ndistance such objects as very much diminished my satisfaction,\nand which I could not look upon without terror; there were a\ngreat number of serpents, so big, and so long, that the least of\nthem was capable of swallowing an elephant. They retired in the\nday-time to their dens, where they hid themselves from the roc,\ntheir enemy, and did not come out but in the night-time. I spent\nthe day in walking about the valley, resting myself at times, in\nsuch places as I thought most commodious. When night came on, I\nwent into a cave, where I thought I might be in safety; I stopped\nthe mouth of it, which was low and straight, with a great stone,\nto preserve me from the serpents, but not so exactly fitted as to\nhinder light from coming in. I supped on part of my provisions;\nbut the serpents, which began to appear, hissing about in the\nmean time, put me into such extreme fear, that you may easily\nimagine I did not sleep. When day appeared, the serpents retired,\nand I came out of the cave trembling; I can truly say, that I\nwalked a long time upon diamonds, without having a mind to touch\nany of them. At last I sat down, and, notwithstanding my\nuneasiness, not having shut my eyes during the night, I fell\nasleep, after having ate a little more of my provisions. But I\nhad scarcely shut my eyes, when something that fell by me with a\ngreat noise awakened me, and this was a great piece of fresh\nmeat; at the same time I saw several others fall down from the\nrocks in different places.\n\nI always looked upon it to be a fable, when I heard mariners and\nothers discourse of the valley of diamonds, and of the stratagems\nmade use of by some merchants to get jewels from thence; but I\nfound it to be true; for, in reality, those merchants come to the\nneighbourhood of this valley when the eagles have young ones, and\nthrowing great joints of meat into it, the diamonds upon whose\npoints they fall stick to them: The eagles, which are stronger in\nthis country than any where else, fall down with great force upon\nthese pieces of meat, and carry them to their nests upon the top\nof the rocks, to feed their young ones with; at which time the\nmerchants, running to these nests, frighten the eagles by their\nnoise, and take away the diamonds that stick to the meat. And\nthis stratagem they made use of to get the diamonds out of the\nvalley, which is surrounded with such precipices that nobody can\nenter it. I believed, till then, that it was not possible for me\nto get out of this abyss,which I looked upon as my grave; but\nthen I changed my mind, for the falling in of those pieces of\nmeat put me in hopes of a way to save my life. I began to gather\ntogether the greatest diamonds I could see, and put them into a\nleather bag in which I used to carry my provisions. I afterwards\ntook the largest piece of meat I could find, tied it close round\nme with the cloth of my turban, and then laid myself upon the\nground with my face downward, the bag of diamonds being tied fast\nto my girdle, so that it could not possibly drop off. I had\nscarcely laid me down when the eagles came; each of them seized a\npiece of meat, and one of the strongest having taken me up with\nthe piece of meat on my back, carried me to his nest on the top\nof the mountain. The merchants fell straightway a-shooting to\nfrighten the eagles; and when they had forced them to quit their\nprey, one of them came up to the nest where I was: He was very\nmuch afraid when he saw me; but recovering himself, instead of\ninquiring how I came hither, he began to quarrel with me, and\nasked why I stole his goods? You will treat me, replied I, with\nmore civility, when you know me better. Do not trouble yourself;\nI have diamonds enough for you and me too, more than all the\nmerchants together. If they have any, it is by chance; but I\nchose myself, in the bottom of the valley, all those which you\nsee in this bag; and, having spoken these words, I showed him\nthem. I had scarcely done speaking, when the other merchants came\ntrooping about us, very much astonished to see me; but they were\nmuch more surprised when I told them my story; yet they did not\nso much admire my stratagem to save myself, as my courage to\nattempt it. They carried me to the place where they staid all\ntogether, and there having opened my bag, they were surprised at\nthe largeness of my diamonds, and confessed, that in all the\ncourts where they had been, they never saw any that came near\nthem. I prayed the merchant, to whom the nest belonged whither I\nwas carried, (for every merchant had his own,) to take as many\nfor his share as he pleased: He contented himself with one, and\nthat too the least of them; and when I pressed him to take more\nwithout fear of doing me any injury, No, says he, I am very well\nsatisfied with this, which is valuable enough to save me the\ntrouble of making any more voyages, and to raise as great a\nfortune as I desire.\n\nI spent the night with these merchants, to whom I told my story a\nsecond time, for the satisfaction of those who had not heard it.\nI could not moderate my joy, when I found myself delivered from\nthe danger I have mentioned; I thought myself to be in a dream,\nand could scarcely believe myself to be out of danger. The\nmerchants had thrown their pieces of meat into the valley for\nseveral days; and each of them being satisfied with the diamonds\nthat had fallen to his lot, we left the place next morning all\ntogether, and travelled near high mountains, where there were\nserpents of a prodigious length, which we had the good fortune to\nescape. We took the first port, and came to the isle of Ropha,\nwhere trees grow that yield camphire. This tree is so large, and\nits branches so thick, that a hundred men may easily sit under\nits shade. The juice, of which the camphire is made, runs out\nfrom a hole bored in the upper part of the tree, is received in a\nvessel, where it grows to a consistency, and becomes what we call\ncamphire; and the juice being thus drawn out, the tree withers\nand dies. There is here also the rhinoceros, a creature less than\nthe elephant, but greater than the buffalo: it has a horn upon\nits nose about a cubit long; which is solid, and cleft in the\nmiddle from one end to the other, and there are upon it white\ndraughts, representing the figure of a man. The rhinoceros fights\nwith the elephant, runs his horn into his belly, and carries him\noff upon his head; but the blood and the fat of the elephant\nrunning into his eyes, and making him blind, he falls to the\nground; and, what is astonishing, the roc comes and carries them\nboth away in her claws, to be meat for her young ones.\n\nI pass over many other things peculiar to this island, lest I\nshould be troublesome to you. Here I exchanged some of my\ndiamonds for good merchandise. From thence we went to other\nisles; and at last, having traded at several trading towns off\nthe firm land, we lauded at Balsora, from whence I went to\nBagdad. There I immediately gave great alms to the poor, and\nlived honourably upon the vast riches I had brought, and gained\nwith so much fatigue. Thus Sindbad ended the story of his second\nvoyage, gave Hindbad another hundred sequins, and invited him to\ncome next day to hear the story of the third. The rest of the\nguests returned to their homes, and came again the next day\nat--the same hour; and certainly the porter did not fail, having\nalmost forgotten his former poverty. When dinner was over,\nSindbad demanded attention, and gave them the following account\nof his third voyage.\n\n\n\n\n\nSindbad the Sailor's Third Voyage.\n\n\n\nThe pleasures of the life which I then led soon made me forget\nthe risks I had run in my two former voyages; but being then in\nthe flower of my age, I grew weary of living without business;\nand hardening myself against the thoughts of any danger I might\nincur, I went from Bagdad with the richest commodities of the\ncountry to Balsora. There I embarked again with other merchants.\nWe made a long navigation, and touched at several ports, where we\ndrove a considerable commerce. One day being out in the main\nocean, we were attacked by a horrible tempest, which made us lose\nour course. The tempest continued several days, and brought us\nbefore the port of an island, which the captain was very\nunwilling to enter; but we were obliged to cast anchor there.\nWhen we had furled our sails, the captain told us, that this and\nsome other neighbouring islands were inhabited by hairy savages,\nwho would speedily attack us; and though they were but dwarfs,\nyet our misfortune was such, that we must make no resistance, for\nthey were more in number than the locusts; and if we happened to\nkill one of them, they would all fall upon us and destroy us.\nThis discourse of the captain put the whole equipage into a great\nconsternation, and we found very soon, to our cost, that what he\nhad told us was too true; an innumerable multitude of frightful\nsavages, covered over with red hair, and about two feet high,\ncame swimming towards us, and encompassed our ship in a little\ntime. They spoke to us as they came near, but we understood not\ntheir language; they climbed up the sides of the ship with so\nmuch agility as surprised us. We beheld all this with fear,\nwithout daring to offer at defending ourselves, or to speak one\nword to divert them from their mischievous design. In short, they\ntook down our sails, cut the cable, and, hauling to the shore,\nmade us all get out, and afterwards carried the ship into another\nisland from whence they came. All travellers carefully avoided\nthat island where they left us, it being very dangerous to stay\nthere, for a reason you shall hear anon; but we were forced to\nbear our affliction with patience. We went forward into the\nisland, where we found some fruits and herbs to prolong our lives\nas long as we could; but we expected nothing but death. As we\nwent on, we perceived at a distance a great pile of building, and\nmade towards it. We found it to be a palace, well built and very\nhigh, with a gate of ebony of two leaves, which we thrust open.\nWe entered the court, where we saw before us a vast apartment,\nwith a porch, having on one side a heap of men's bones, and on\nthe other a vast number of roasting spits. We trembled at this\nspectacle, and being weary with travelling, our legs failed under\nus, we fell to the ground, and lay a long time immoveable. The\nsun was set, and whilst we were in this lamentable condition the\ngate of the apartment opened with a great noise, and there came\nout the horrible figure of a black man, as high as a palm-tree.\nHe had but one eye, and that in the middle of his forehead, where\nit looked as red as burning coal. His foreteeth were very long\nand sharp, and came without his mouth, which was deep like that\nof a horse. His upper lip hung down upon his breast. His ears\nresembled those of an elephant, and covered his shoulders; and\nhis nails were as long and crooked as the talons of the greatest\nbirds.\n\nAt last we came to ourselves, and saw him sitting in the porch\nlooking at us: when he had considered us well, he advanced\ntowards us, and laying his hand upon me, he took me up by the\nnape of the neck, turned me round as a butcher would do a sheep's\nhead; and, after having viewed me well, and perceiving me to be\nso lean that I had nothing but skin and bone, he let me go. He\ntook up all the rest one by one, viewing them in the same manner:\nand the captain being the fattest, he held him with one hand, as\nI would do a sparrow, and thrusting a spit through him, kindled a\ngreat fire, and roasted him in his apartment for supper; which\nbeing done, he returned to the porch, where he lay and fell\nasleep, snoring louder than thunder: he slept thus till morning;\nfor our parts, it was not possible for us to enjoy any rest, so\nthat we passed the night in the most cruel fear that can be\nimagined. Day being come, the giant awaked, got up, went out, and\nleft us in the palace. When we thought him at a distance, we\nbroke the melancholy silence we had kept all night; and, every\none grieving more than another, we made the palace resound with\nour complaints and groans. Though there were a great many of us,\nand we had but one enemy, we had not at first the presence of\nmind to think of delivering ourselves from him by his death. This\nenterprise, however, though hard to put in execution, was the\nonly design we ought naturally to have formed. We thought upon\nseveral other things, but determined nothing; so that, submitting\nto what it should please God to order concerning us, we spent the\nday in running about the island for fruit and herbs to sustain\nour lives. When evening came, we sought for a place to lie in,\nbut found none; so that we were forced, whether we would or not,\nto return to the palace.\n\nThe giant failed not to come back, and supped once more upon one\nof our companions; after which he slept and snored till day, and\nthen went out and left us as formerly. Our condition was so very\nterrible, that some of my comrades designed to throw themselves\ninto the sea, rather than die so strange a death; and those who\nwere of this mind argued with the rest to follow their example.\nUpon this, one of the company answered, that we were forbidden to\ndestroy ourselves; but, allowing it to be lawful, it was more\nreasonable to think of a way to rid ourselves of the barbarous\ntyrant who designed so cruel a death for us. Having thought of a\nproject for that end, I communicated the same to my comrades, who\napproved it. Brethren, said I, you know there is a great deal of\ntimber floating upon the coast; if you will be advised by me, let\nus make several floats of it that may carry us, and, when they\nare done, leave them there till we think fit to make use of them.\nIn the mean time we will execute the design to deliver ourselves\nfrom the giant; and, if it succeed, we may stay here with\npatience till some ship pass by that may carry us out of this\nfatal island; but, if it happen to miscarry, we may speedily get\nto our floats, and put to sea. I confess, that, by exposing\nourselves to the fury of the waves, we run a risk of losing our\nlives; but, if we do, is it not better to be buried in the sea\nthan in the entrails of this monster, who has already devoured\ntwo of us? My advice was relished, and we made floats capable of\ncarrying three persons each.\n\nWe returned to the palace towards evening, and the giant arrived\na little while after. We were forced to submit to see a number of\nour comrades roasted; but at last revenged ourselves on the\nbrutish giant thus. After he had made an end of his cursed\nsupper, he lay down on his back, and fell asleep. As soon as we\nheard him snore[Footnote: It would seem the Arabian author has\ntaken this story from Homer's Odyssey.] according to his custom,\nnine of the boldest among us, with myself, took each a spit, and\nputting the points of them into the fire till they were burning\nhot, we thrust them into his eye all at once, and blinded him.\nThe pain occasioned him to make a frightful cry, and to get up\nand stretch out his hands, in order to sacrifice some of us to\nhis rage; but we ran to such places as he could not find us; and,\nafter having sought for us in vain, he groped for the gate, and\nwent out howling dreadfully. We went out of the palace after the\ngiant, and came to the shore, where we had left our floats, and\nput them immediately into the sea. We waited till day, in order\nto get upon them, in case the giant came towards us with any\nguide of his own species; but we hoped, if he did not appear by\nsun-rise, and give over his howling which we still heard, that he\nwould die; and if that happened to be the case, we resolved to\nstay in the island, and not to risk our lives upon the floats.\nBut day had scarcely appeared when we perceived our cruel enemy,\naccompanied with two others, almost of the same size, leading\nhim; and a great number more coming before him with a very quick\npace. When we saw this, we made no delay, but got immediately\nupon our floats, and rowed off from the shore. The giants, who\nperceived this, took up great stones, and running to the shore,\nentered the water up to the middle, and threw so exactly, that\nthey sunk all the floats but that I was upon; and all my\ncompanions, except the two with me, were drowned. We rowed with\nall our might, and got out of the reach of the giants. When we\ngot to sea, however, we were exposed to the mercy of the waves\nand the winds, tossed about sometimes on one side and sometimes\non another, and spent that night and the following day under a\ncruel uncertainty as to our fate; but next morning we had the\ngood luck to be thrown upon an island, where we landed with much\njoy. We found excellent fruit there that gave us great relief, so\nthat we pretty well recovered our strength. In the evening we\nfell asleep on the bank of the sea, but were awaked by the noise\nof a serpent as long as a palmtree, whose scales made a rustling\nas he creeped along. He swallowed up one of my comrades,\nnotwithstanding his loud cries, and the efforts he made to rid\nhimself of the serpent; which, shaking him several times against\nthe ground, crushed him, and we could hear him gnaw and tear the\npoor wretch's bones, when we had fled at a great distance from\nhim. Next day we saw the serpent again, to our great terror, when\nI cried out, O Heaven, to what dangers are we exposed! We\nrejoiced yesterday at our having escaped from the cruelty of a\ngiant, and the rage of the waves, and now are fallen into another\ndanger equally as terrible.\n\nAs we walked about, we saw a large tall tree, upon which we\nintended to pass the following night for our security; and,\nhaving satisfied our hunger with fruit, we mounted it\naccordingly. A little while after, the serpent came hissing to\nthe root of the tree, raised itself up against the trunk of it,\nand meeting with my comrade, who sat lower than I, swallowed him\nat once, and went off; I staid upon the tree till it was day, and\nthen came down, more like a dead man than one alive, expecting\nthe same fate with my two companions. This filled me with horror,\nso that I was going to throw myself into the sea; but as nature\nprompts us to a desire to live as long as we can, I withstood\nthis temptation to despair, and submitted myself to the will of\nGod, who disposes of our lives at pleasure.\n\nIn the mean time I gathered together a quantity of small wood,\nbrambles, and dry thorns, and making them up into faggots, made a\ngreat circle with them round the tree, and tied some of them to\nthe branches over my head. Having done this, when the evening\ncame, I shut myself up within the circle, with this melancholy\npiece of satisfaction, that I had neglected nothing which could\npreserve me from the cruel destiny with which I was threatened.\nThe serpent failed not to come at the usual hour, and went round\nthe tree, seeking for an opportunity to devour me, but was\nprevented by the rampart I had made; so that he sat till day,\nlike a cat watching in vain for a mouse, that has retired to a\nplace of safety. When day appeared, he retired, but I dared not\nleave my fort until the sun rose. I was fatigued with the toil he\nhad put me to, and suffered so much by his poisonous breath, that\ndeath seemed more eligible to me than the horror of such a\ncondition. I came down from the tree and, not thinking on the\nresignation I had made to the will of God the preceding day, I\nran towards the sea with a design to throw myself headlong into\nit. God took compassion on my desperate state; for, just as I was\ngoing to throw myself, into the sea, I perceived a ship at a\nconsiderable distance. I called as loud as I could, and taking\nthe linen from my turban, displayed it so as they might observe\nme. This had the desired effect; the crew perceived me, and the\ncaptain sent me his boat. As soon as I came on board, the\nmerchants and seamen flocked about me to learn how I came into\nthat desert island; and after I had told them all that befell me,\nthe oldest among them said to me, they had several times heard of\nthe giants that dwelt in that island; that they were cannibals,\nand ate men raw as well as roasted. As to the serpents, they\nadded, that there were abundance in the isle, that they hid\nthemselves by day, and came abroad at night.\n\nAfter having testified their joy at my escaping so many dangers,\nthey brought me the best of what they had to eat; and the\ncaptain, seeing that I was in rags, was so generous as to give me\none of his own suits. We were at sea for some time, touched at\nseveral islands, and at last landed at that of Salabat, where\ngrows sanders, a wood of great use in physic. We entered the\nport, and came to anchor. The merchants began to unload their\ngoods, in order to sell or exchange them. In the meantime the\ncaptain came to me, and said, Brother, I have here a parcel of\ngoods that belonged to a merchant, who sailed some time on board\nthis ship; and he being dead, I design to dispose of them for the\nbenefit of his heirs, when I know them. The bales he spoke of lay\non the deck; and showing them to me, he says, There are the\ngoods; I hope you will take care to sell them, and you shall have\nfactorage. I thanked him for giving me an opportunity to employ\nmyself, because I hated to be idle. The clerk of the ship took an\naccount of all the bales, with the names of the merchants to whom\nthey belonged; and when he asked the captain in whose name he\nshould enter those he gave me the charge of, Enter them, says the\ncaptain, in the name of Sindbad the sailor. I could not hear\nmyself named without some emotion; and looking steadfastly on the\ncaptain, I knew him to be the person who, in my second voyage,\nhad left me in the island, where I fell asleep by a brook, and\nset sail without me, or sending to see for me. But I could not\nremember him at first, he being so much altered since I saw him.\nAs for him, who believed me to be dead, I could not wonder at his\nnot knowing me. But captain, says I, was the merchant's name, to\nwhom those bales belonged, Sindbad? Yes, replies he, that was his\nname; he came from Bagdad, and embarked on board my ship at\nBalsora. One day when we landed at an island to take in water and\nother refreshments, I know not by what mistake, I set sail\nwithout observing that he did not re- embark with us; neither I\nnor the merchants perceived it till four hours after. We had the\nwind in our stern, and so fresh a gale, that it was not then\npossible for us to tack about for him. You believe him then to be\ndead, said I? Certainly answered he. No, captain, said I; look\nupon me, and you may know that I am Sindbad, whom you left in the\ndesert island: I fell asleep by a brook, and, when I awaked, I\nfound all the company gone. At these words the captain looked\nsteadfastly upon me; and, having considered me attentively, knew\nme at last, embraced me, and said, God be praised that fortune\nhas supplied my defect. There are your goods, which I always took\ncare to preserve, and to make the best of them at every port\nwhere I touched. I restore them to you, with the profit I have\nmade on them. I took them from him, and at the same time\nacknowledged how much I owed to him.\n\nFrom the isle of Salabat we went to another, where I furnished\nmyself with cloves, cinnamon, and other spices. As we sailed from\nthe island, we saw a tortoise that was twenty cubits in length\nand breadth. We observed also a fish which looked like a crow,\nand gave milk, and its skin is so hard that they usually make\nbucklers of it. I saw another which had the shape and colour of a\ncamel. In short, after a long voyage, I arrived at Balsora, and\nfrom thence returned to this city of Bagdad, with so great\nriches, that I knew not what I had. I gave a great deal to the\npoor, and added another great estate to those I had already.\n\nThus Sindbad finished the history of his third voyage; gave\nanother hundred sequins to Hindbad, and invited him to dinner\nnext day, to hear the history of his fourth voyage. Hindbad and\nthe company retired: and next day when they returned, Sindbad,\nafter dinner, continued the relation of his adventures.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Fourth Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\nThe pleasure, says he, and the divertisements I took after my\nthird voyage, had not charms enough to divert me from another. I\nwas again prevailed upon by my passion for traffic, and curiosity\nto see new things. I therefore put my affairs in order, and\nhaving provided a stock of goods fit for the places I designed to\ntrade, I set out on my journey. I took the way of Persia, of\nwhich I travelled several provinces, and then arrived at a port,\nwhere I embarked. We set sail, and having touched at several\nports of Terra Firma, and some of the eastern islands, we put out\nto sea, and were seized by such a sudden gust of wind, as obliged\nthe captain to furl his sails, and to take all other necessary\nprecautions, to prevent the danger that threatened us; but all\nwas in vain; our endeavours took no effect; the sails were torn\nin a thousand pieces, and the ship was stranded, so that a great\nmany of the merchants and seamen were drowned, and the cargo\nlost. I had the good fortune, with several of the merchants and\nmariners, to get a plank, and we were carried by the current to\nan island which lay before us. There we found fruit and fountain\nwater, which preserved our lives. We staid all night near the\nplace where the sea cast us ashore, without consulting what we\nshould do, our misfortune having dispirited us so much.\n\nNext morning, as soon as, the sun was up, we walked from the\nshore, and, advancing into the island, saw some houses to which\nwe went; and as soon as we came thither, we were encompassed by a\ngreat number of blacks, who seized us, shared us amongst them,\nand carried us to their respective habitations. I, and five of my\ncomrades, were carried to one place: they made us sit down\nimmediately, and gave us a certain herb, which they made signs\nfor us to eat. My comrades, not taking notice that the blacks ate\nnone of it themselves, consulted only the satisfying their own\nhunger, and fell to eating with greediness. But I, suspecting\nsome trick, would not so much as taste it, which happened well\nfor me; for in a little time after I perceived my companions had\nlost their senses, and that when they spoke to me, they knew not\nwhat they said. The blacks filled us afterwards with rice,\nprepared with oil of cocoas; and my comrades, who had lost their\nreason, ate of it greedily. I ate of it also, but very sparingly.\nThe blacks gave us that herb at first on purpose to deprive us of\nour senses, that we might not be aware of the sad destiny\nprepared for us; and they gave us rice on purpose to fatten us;\nfor, being cannibals, their design was to eat us as soon as we\ngrew fat. They accordingly ate my comrades, who were not sensible\nof their condition; but my senses being entire, you may easily\nguess, gentlemen, that instead of growing fat, like the rest, I\ngrew leaner every day. The fear of death, under which I laboured,\nturned all my food into poison. I fell into a languishing\ndistemper, which proved my safety; for the blacks having killed\nand eaten my companions, seeing me to be withered, lean, and\nsick, deferred my death till another time.\n\nMeanwhile I had a great deal of liberty, so that there was\nscarcely any notice taken of what I did; and this gave me an\nopportunity one day to get at a distance from the houses, and to\nmake my escape. An old man who saw me, and suspected my design,\ncalled to me as loud as he could to return; but, instead of\nobeying him, I redoubled my pace, and, quickly got out of sight.\nAt that time there was none but an old man about the houses, the\nrest being abroad, and not to come home till night, which was\npretty usual with them. Therefore, being sure that they could not\ncome time enough to pursue me, I went on till night, when I\nstopped to rest a little, and to eat some of the provisions I had\ntaken care of; but I speedily set forward again, and travelled\nseven days, avoiding those places which seemed to be inhabited,\nand lived for the most part upon cocoa nuts, which served me both\nfor meat and drink. On the eighth day I came near the sea, and\nsaw all of a sudden white people like myself gathering pepper, of\nwhich there was great plenty in that place; this I took to be a\ngood omen, and went to them without any scruple. The people who\ngathered pepper came to meet me, and, as soon as they saw me,\nasked me in Arabic, who I was, and whence I came? I was overjoyed\nto hear them speak in my own language, and willingly satisfied\ntheir curiosity by giving them an account of my shipwreck, and\nhow I fell into the hands of the blacks. Those blacks, replied\nthey, eat men; but by what miracle did you escape their cruelty?\nI told them the same story I now told you, at which they were\nwonderfully surprised. I staid with them till they had gathered\ntheir quantity of pepper, and then sailed with them to the island\nfrom whence they came. They presented me to their king, who was a\ngood prince: He had the patience to hear the relation of my\nadventures, which surprised him; and he afterwards gave me\nclothes, and commanded care to be taken of me. The island was\nvery well peopled, plentiful of everything, and the capital was a\nplace of great trade. This agreeable place of retreat was very\ncomfortable to me after my misfortune, and the kindness of this\ngenerous prince towards me completed my satisfaction. In a word,\nthere was not a person more in favour with him than myself, and\nby consequence every man in court and city sought how to oblige\nme; so that in a very little time I was looked upon rather as a\nnative than a stranger. I observed one thing which to me appeared\nvery extraordinary; all the people, the king himself not\nexcepted, rode their horses without bridles or stirrups. This\nmade me one day take the liberty to ask the king how that came to\npass. His majesty answered, that I talked to him of things which\nnobody knew the use of in his dominions. I went immediately to a\nworkman, and gave him a model for making the stock of a saddle.\nWhen that was done, I covered it myself with velvet and leather,\nand embroidered it with gold. I afterwards went to a locksmith,\nwho made me a bridle according to the pattern I showed him, and\nthen he also made me some stirrups. When I had all things\ncompleted, I presented them to the king, and put them upon one of\nhis horses. His majesty mounted immediately, and was so mightily\npleased with them, that he testified his satisfaction by large\npresents to me. I could not avoid making several others for his\nministers and principal officers of his household, who all of\nthem made me presents that enriched me in a little time. I also\nmade for the people of quality in the city, so that I gained\ngreat reputation and regard from everybody.\n\nAs I made my court very exactly to the king, he says to me one\nday, Sindbad, I love thee; and all my subjects, who know thee,\ntreat thee according to my example. I have one thing to demand of\nthee, which thou must grant. Sir, answered I, there is nothing\nbut what I will do as a mark of my obedience to your majesty,\nwhose power over me is absolute. I have a mind thou shouldst\nmarry, replies he, that thou mayst stay in my dominions, and\nthink no more of thy own country. I dared not resist the prince's\nwill, and he gave me one of the ladies of his court, a noble,\nbeautiful, chaste, and rich lady. The ceremonies of marriage\nbeing over, I went and dwelt with the lady, and for some time we\nlived in perfect harmony. I was not, however, very well satisfied\nwith my condition, and therefore designed to make my escape on\nthe first occasion, and to return to Bagdad, winch my present\nestablishment, however advantageous, could not make me forget.\nWhile I was thinking on this, the wife of one of my neighbours,\nwith whom I had contracted a very strict friendship, fell sick\nand died. I went to see and comfort him in his affliction; and\nfinding him swallowed up with sorrow, I said to him as soon as I\nsaw him, God preserve you, and grant you a long life. Alas!\nreplies he, how do you think I should obtain that favour you wish\nme? I have not above an hour to live. Pray, says I, do not\nentertain such a melancholy thought; I hope it will not be so,\nbut that I shall enjoy your company for many years. I wish you,\nsays he, a long life; but for me, my days are at an end, for I\nmust be buried this day with my wife. This is a law which our\nancestors established in this land, and always observed it\ninviolably. The living husband is interred with the dead wife,\nand the living wife with the dead husband. Nothing can save me;\nevery one must submit to this law. While he was entertaining me\nwith an account of this barbarous custom, the very hearing of\nwhich frightened me cruelly, his kindred, friends, and\nneighbours, came in a body to assist at the funeral. They put on\nthe corpse the woman's richest apparel, as if it had been her\nwedding-day, and dressed her with all her jewels; then they put\nher into an open coffin, and, lifting it up, began their march to\nthe place of burial. The husband walked at the head of the\ncompany, and followed the corpse. They went up to an high\nmountain, and, when they came thither, took up a great stone,\nwhich covered the mouth of a very deep pit, and let down the\ncorpse with all its apparel and jewels. Then the husband,\nembracing his kindred and friends, suffered himself to be put\ninto another open coffin without resistance, with a pot of water\nand seven little loaves, and was let down in the same manner as\nhis wife. The mountain was pretty long, and reached to the sea.\nThe ceremony being ever, they covered the hole again with the\nstone, and returned.\n\nIt is needless, gentlemen, for me to tell you that I was the only\nmelancholy spectator of this funeral; whereas the rest were\nscarcely moved at it, the thing being customary to them. I could\nnot forbear speaking my thoughts of this matter to the king: Sir,\nsays I, I cannot enough admire the strange custom in this country\nof burying the living with the dead. I have been a great\ntraveller, and seen many countries, but never heard of so cruel a\nlaw. What do you mean, Sindbad? says the king; it is a common\nlaw. I shall be interred with the queen my wife, if she die\nfirst. But, sir, says I, may I presume to demand of your majesty,\nif strangers be obliged to observe this law? Without doubt,\nreplies the king, (smiling at the occasion of my question,) they\nare not exempted, if they be married in this island. I went home\nvery melancholy at this answer, from fear of my wife dying first,\nand lest I should be interred alive with her, which occasioned me\nvery mortifying reflections. But there was no remedy; I must have\npatience, and submit to the will of God. I trembled, however, at\nevery little indisposition of my wife: but, alas! in a little\ntime my fears came upon me all at once; for she fell sick, and\ndied in a few days. You may judge of my sorrow: to be interred\nalive seemed to me as deplorable an end as to be devoured by\ncannibals. But I must submit; the king and all his court would\nhonour the funeral with their presence, and the most considerable\npeople of the city would do the like. When all was ready for the\nceremony, the corpse was put into a coffin, with all the jewels\nand magnificent apparel. The cavalcade was begun; and, as second\nactor in this doleful tragedy, I went next the corpse, with my\neyes full of tears, bewailing my deplorable fate. Before I came\nto the mountain, I made an essay on the minds of the spectators;\nI addressed myself to the king in the first place, and then to\nall those who were round me, and, bowing before them to the earth\nto kiss the border of their garments, I prayed them to have\ncompassion upon me. Consider, said I, that I am a stranger, and\nought not to be subject to this rigorous law, and that I have\nanother wife and children in my own country[Footnote: He was a\nMahometan, and this sect allows polygamy.]. It was to no purpose\nfor me to speak thus, for no soul was moved at it; on the\ncontrary, they made haste to let down my wife's corpse into the\npit, and put me down the next moment in an open coffin, with a\nvessel full of water, and seven loaves. In short, the fatal\nceremony being performed, they covered up the mouth of the pit,\nnotwithstanding the excess of my grief, and my lamentable cries.\nAs I came near the bottom, I discovered, by help of the little\nlight that came from above, the nature of this subterraneous\nplace; it was a vast long cave, and might be about fifty fathoms\ndeep. I immediately felt an insufferable stench, proceeding from\nthe multitude of dead corpses which I saw on the right and left;\nnay, I fancied that I heard some of them sigh out their last.\nHowever, when I got down, I immediately left my coffin, and\ngetting at a distance from the corpse, held my nose, and lay down\nupon the ground, where I staid a long time, bathed in tears. Then\nreflecting upon my sad lot, It is true, said I, that God disposes\nall things according to the decrees of his providence; but, poor\nSindbad, art not thou thyself the cause of being brought to die\nso strange a death? Would to God thou hadst perished in some of\nthose tempests which thou hast escaped; then thy death would not\nhave been so lingering and terrible in all its circumstances. But\nthou hast drawn all this upon thyself by thy cursed avarice. Ah,\nunfortunate wretch! shouldst thou not rather have staid at home,\nand quietly enjoyed the fruits of thy labour?\n\nSuch were the vain complaints with which I made the cave to echo,\nbeating my head and stomach out of rage and despair, and\nabandoning myself to the most afflicting thoughts. Nevertheless,\nI must tell you, that instead of calling death to my assistance\nin that miserable condition, I felt still an inclination to live,\nand to do all I could to prolong my days. I went groping about,\nwith my nose stopped, for the bread and water that was in my\ncoffin, and took some of it. Though the darkness of the cave was\nso great that I could not distinguish day and night, yet I always\nfound my coffin again, and the cave seemed to be more spacious\nand fuller of corpses than it appeared to be at first. I lived\nfor some days upon my bread and water; which being all spent, at\nlast I prepared for death. As I was thinking of death, I heard\nthe stone lifted from the mouth of the cave, and immediately the\ncorpse of a man was let down. When men are reduced to necessity,\nit is natural for them to come to extreme resolutions. While they\nlet down the woman, I approached the place where her coffin was\nto be put, and as soon as I perceived they were covering the\nmouth of the cave, I gave the unfortunate wretch two or three\ngreat blows over the head with a large bone that I found; which\nstunned, or, to say the truth, killed her. I committed this\nhorrid action merely for the sake of the bread and water that\nwere in her coffin, and thus I had provisions for some days more.\nWhen that was spent, they let down another dead woman, and a\nliving man; I killed the man in the same manner; and, as good\nluck would have it for me, there was then a sort of mortality in\nthe town, so that by this means I did not want for provisions.\n\nOne day, as I had despatched another woman, I heard something\nwalking, and blowing or panting as it walked. I advanced towards\nthat side from whence I heard the noise, and, upon my approach,\nthe thing puffed and blew harder, as if it had been running away\nfrom me. I followed the noise, and the thing seemed to stop\nsometimes, but always fled and blew as I approached. I followed\nit so long and so far, that at last I perceived a light\nresembling a star: I went on towards the light, and sometimes\nlost sight of it, but always found it again; and at last\ndiscovered that it came through a hole in the rock, large enough\nfor a man to get out at. Upon this, I stopped for some time to\nrest myself, being much fatigued with pursuing this discovery so\nfast: Afterwards coming up to the hole, I went out at it, and\nfound my self upon the banks of the sea. I leave you to guess at\nthe excess of my joy; it was such, that I could scarcely persuade\nmyself of its being real. But when I recovered from my surprise,\nand was convinced of the truth of the matter, I found the thing\nwhich I had followed, and heard puff and blow, to be a creature\nwhich came out of the sea, and was accustomed to enter at that\nhole to feed upon the dead carcases. I considered the mountain,\nand perceived it to be situate betwixt the sea and the town, but\nwithout any passage or way to communicate with the latter, the\nrocks on the side of the sea being rugged and steep. I fell down\nupon the shore to thank God for his mercy, and afterwards entered\nthe cave again to fetch bread and water, which I did by daylight,\nwith a better appetite than I had done since my interment in the\ndark hole. I returned thither again, and groped about among the\nbiers for all the diamonds, rubies, pearls, gold, bracelets, and\nrich stuffs I could find; these I brought to the shore, and tying\nthem up neatly into bales with the cords that let down the\ncoffins, I laid them together upon the bank, waiting till some\nship passed by, without any fear of rain, for it was not then the\nseason. After two or three days, I perceived a ship that had but\njust come out of the harbour, and passed near the place where I\nwas. I made signs with the linen of my turban, and called to them\nas loud as I could: they heard me, and sent a boat to bring me on\nboard. When the mariners asked by what misfortune I came thither,\nI told them that I suffered shipwreck two days ago, and made\nshift to get ashore with the goods they saw. It was happy for me\nthat these people did not consider the place where I was, nor\ninquire into the probability of what I told them, but, without\nany more ado, took me on board with my goods. When I came to the\nship, the captain was so well pleased to have saved me, and so\nmuch taken up with his own affairs, that he also took the story\nof my pretended shipwreck upon trust, and generously refused some\njewels which I offered him.\n\nWe passed by several islands, and, among others, that called the\nisle of Bells, about ten days sail from Serendib, with a regular\nwind, and six from that of Kela, where we landed. This island\nproduces lead mines, Indian canes, and excellent camphire. The\nking of the isle of Kela is very rich and potent, and the isle of\nBells[Footnote: Now Ceylon.], which is about two days journey in\nextent, is also subject to him. The inhabitants are so barbarous,\nthat they still eat human flesh. After we had finished our\ncommerce in that island, we put to sea again, and touched at\nseveral other ports, and at last arrived happily at Bagdad with\ninfinite riches, of which it is needless to trouble you with the\ndetail. Out of thankfulness to God for his mercies, I gave great\nalms for the entertainment of several mosques, and for the\nsubsistence of the poor, and employed myself wholly in enjoying\nmy kindred and friends, making good cheer with them.\n\nHere Sindbad finished the relation of his fourth voyage, which\nwas more surprising to the company than all the three former. He\ngave a new present of a hundred sequins to Hindbad, whom he\nprayed to return next day at the same hour to dine with him, and\nto hear the story of his fifth voyage. Hindbad and the rest of\nhis guests took leave of him, and retired. Next day, when all\nmet, they sat down at table; and when dinner was over, Sindbad\nbegan the relation of his fifth voyage.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Fifth Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\nThe pleasures I enjoyed had charms enough again to make me forget\nall the troubles and calamities I had undergone, without curing\nme of my inclination to make new voyages; therefore I bought\ngoods, ordered them to be packed and loaded, and set out with\nthem for the best sea-ports; and there, that I might not be\nobliged to depend upon a captain, but have a ship at my own\ncommand, I staid till one was built on purpose at my own charge.\nWhen the ship was ready, I went on board with my goods; but, not\nhaving enough to load her, I took on board several merchants of\ndifferent nations with their merchandise. We sailed with the\nfirst fair wind, and, after a long navigation, the first place we\ntouched at was a desert island, where we found the egg of a roc,\nequal in bigness to that I formerly mentioned. There was a young\nroc in it just ready to be hatched, and the bill of it began to\nappear. The merchants whom I had taken on board my ship, and who\nlanded with me, broke the egg with hatches, and made a hole in\nit, from whence they pulled out the young roc, piece after piece,\nand roasted it. I had earnestly dissuaded them from meddling with\nthe egg, but they would not listen to me. Scarcely had they made\nan end of their treat, when there appeared in the air, at a\nconsiderable distance from us, two great clouds. The captain,\nwhom I hired to sail my ship, knowing by experience what it\nmeant, cried that it was the he and the she roc that belonged to\nthe young one, and pressed us to re-embark with all speed, to\nprevent the misfortune which he saw would otherwise befall us. We\nmade haste to do so, and set sail with all possible diligence. In\nthe mean time the two rocs approached with a frightful noise,\nwhich they redoubled when they saw the egg broken, and their\nyoung one gone. But, having a mind to avenge themselves, they\nflew back towards the place from whence they came; and\ndisappeared for some time, while we made all the sail we could to\nprevent that which unhappily befell us. They returned, and we\nobserved that each of them carried between their talons stones,\nor rather rocks, of a monstrous size. When they came directly\nover my ship, they hovered, and one of them let fall a stone;\nbut, by the dexterity of the steersman, who turned the ship with\nthe rudder, it missed us, and falling by the side of the ship\ninto the sea, divided the water so that we could almost see to\nthe bottom. The other roc, to our misfortune, threw the stone so\nexactly upon the middle of the ship, that it split it in a\nthousand pieces. The mariners and passengers were all killed by\nthe stone, or sunk. I myself had the last fate; but as I came up\nagain, I caught hold, by good fortune, of a piece of the wreck;\nand swimming sometimes with one hand, and sometimes with the\nother, but always holding fast my board, the wind and the tide\nbeing for me, I came to an island whose banks were very steep; I\novercame that difficulty, however, and got ashore. I sat down\nupon the grass to recover myself a little from my fatigue, after\nwhich I got up, and went into the island to view it. It seemed to\nbe a delicious garden. I found trees everywhere, some of them\nbearing green, and others ripe fruits, and streams of fresh pure\nwater, with pleasant windings and turnings. I ate the fruits,\nwhich I found excellent, and drank of the water, which was very\npleasant.\n\nNight being come, I lay down upon the grass, in a place\nconvenient enough; but I could not sleep an hour at a time, my\nmind being disturbed with the fear of being alone in so desert a\nplace. Thus I spent the best part of the night in fretting and\nreproaching myself for my imprudence in not staying at home,\nrather than undertake this last voyage. These reflections carried\nme so far, that I began to form a design against my own life; but\ndaylight dispersed those melancholy thoughts, and I got up and\nwalked among the trees, but not without apprehensions of danger.\nWhen I was a little advanced into the island, I saw an old man,\nwho seemed very weak and feeble. He sat upon the banks of a\nstream, and at first I took him to be one who had been\nshipwrecked like myself. I went towards him, and saluted him; but\nhe only bowed his head a little. I asked him what he did there;\nbut instead of answering me, he made a sign for me to take him\nupon my back, and carry him over the brook, signifying that it\nwas to gather fruit. I believed him really to stand in need of\nhelp; so I took him upon my back, and having carried him over,\nbid him get down, and, for that end, stooped, that he might get\noff with ease; but, instead of that, he, who to me appeared very\ndecrepit, clasped his legs nimbly about my neck, when I perceived\nhis skin to be like that of a cow. He sat astride me upon my\nshoulders, and held my throat so strait, that I thought he would\nhave strangled me, the fright of which made me faint away and\nfall down. Notwithstanding my fainting, the ill-natured old\nfellow kept fast about my neck, but opened his legs a little to\ngive me some time to recover my breath. When I had done so, he\nthrust one of his feet against my stomach, and struck me so\nrudely on the side with the other, that he forced me to rise up\nagainst my will. Having got up, he made me walk up under the\ntrees, and forced me now and then to stop to gather and eat such\nfruits as we found. He never left me all day; and when I lay down\nto rest me by night, he laid himself down by me, holding always\nfast about my neck. Every morning he pushed me to make me awake;\nand afterwards obliged me to get up and walk, and pressed me with\nhis feet. You may judge then, gentlemen, what trouble I was in,\nto be charged with such a burden as I could no ways rid myself\nfrom.\n\nOne day I found in my way several dry calabashes that had fallen\nfrom a tree: I took a large one, and, after cleaning it, pressed\ninto it some juice of grapes, which abounded in the island;\nhaving filled the calabash, I set it in a convenient place, and,\ncoming hither again some days after, I took up the calabash, and,\nsetting it to my mouth, found the wine to be so good, that it\nmade me presently not only forget my sorrow, but I grew vigorous,\nand was so light-hearted, that I began to sing and dance as I\nwalked along. The old man, perceiving the effect which this drink\nhad upon me, and that I carried him with more ease than I did\nbefore, made a sign for me to give him the calabash; and the\nliquor pleasing his palate, he drank it all off. There being\nenough of it to stupify him, he became drunk immediately; and the\nfumes getting into his head, he began to sing after his manner,\nand to dance with his breech upon my shoulders. His jolting made\nhim vomit, and he loosened his legs from me by degrees; so that,\nfinding he did not press me as before, I threw him upon the\nground, where he lay without motion, when I took up a great\nstone, with which I crushed his head to pieces.\n\nI was extremely rejoiced to be freed thus for ever from this\ncursed old fellow, and walked upon the bank of the sea, where I\nmet the crew of a ship that had cast anchor to take in water and\nrefresh themselves. They were extremely surprised to see me, and\nto hear the particulars of my adventures. You fell, said they,\ninto the hands of the old man of the sea, and are the first that\never escaped strangling by him. He never left those he had once\nmade himself master of till he destroyed them; and he has made\nthis island famous by the number of men he has slain, so that the\nmerchants and mariners who landed upon it dared not to advance\ninto the island but in numbers together. After having informed me\nof those things, they carried me with them to the ship; the\ncaptain received me with great satisfaction when they told him\nwhat had befallen me. He put out again to sea; and, after some\ndays sail, we arrived at the harbour of a great city, the houses\nof which were built with good stone.\n\nOne of the merchants of the ship, who had taken me into his\nfriendship, obliged me to go along with him, and carried me to a\nplace appointed as a retreat for foreign merchants. He gave me a\ngreat bag, and having recommended me to some people of the town\nwho used to gather cocoas, he desired them to take me with them\nto do the like. Go, says he, follow them, and do as you see them\ndo, and do not separate from them, otherwise you endanger your\nlife. Having thus spoken, he gave me provisions for the journey,\nand I went with them. We came to a great forest of trees,\nextremely straight and tall, the trunks of which were so smooth\nthat it was not possible for any man to climb up the branches\nthat bore the fruit. All the trees were cocoa ones; and when we\nentered the forest, we saw a great number of apes of several\nsizes, that fled as soon as they perceived us, climbing up to the\ntops of the trees with surprising swiftness. The merchants with\nwhom I was, gathered stones, and threw them at the apes on the\ntops of the trees. I did the same, and the apes, out of revenge,\nthrew cocoa nuts at us so fast, and with such gestures, as\nsufficiently testified their anger and resentment: we gathered up\nthe cocoas, and from time to time threw stones to provoke the\napes; so that, by this stratagem, we filled our bags with cocoa\nnuts, which it had been impossible for us to have done otherwise.\nWhen we had gathered our number, we returned to the city, where\nthe merchant who sent me to the forest gave me the value of the\ncocoas I brought: Go on, says he, and do the like every day,\nuntil you have got money enough to carry you home. I thanked him\nfor his good advice, and insensibly gathered together as many\ncocoas as amounted to a considerable sum.\n\nThe vessel in which I arrived sailed with the merchants, who\nloaded her with cocoas. I expected the arrival of another, which\nlanded speedily for the like loading. I embarked on board the\nsame all the cocoas that belonged to me, and when she was ready\nto sail, I went and took leave of the merchant who had been so\nkind to me; but he could not embark with me, because he had not\nfinished his affairs. We set sail towards those islands where\npepper grows in great plenty. From thence we went to the isle of\nComari[Footnote: This island, or peninsula, ends at the cape\nwhich we now call Cape Comorin. It is also called Comar and\nComor.], where the best kind of wood of aloes grows, and whose\ninhabitants have made it an inviolable law to themselves to drink\nno wine, nor to suffer any place of debauch. I exchanged my\ncocoas in these two islands for pepper and wood of aloes, and\nwent with other merchants a pearl-fishing. I hired divers, who\nfetched me up those that were very large and pure. I embarked\njoyfully in a vessel that happily arrived at Balsora; from thence\nI returned to Bagdad, where I made vast sums of my pepper, wood\nof aloes, and pearls. I gave the tenth of my gains in alms, as I\nhad done upon my return from other voyages, and endeavoured to\nease myself from my fatigues by diversions of all sorts.\n\nWhen Sindbad had finished his story, he ordered one hundred\nsequins to Hindbad, who retired with all the other guests; but\nnext day the same company returned to dine with rich Sindbad,\nwho, after having treated them as formerly, demanded audience,\nand gave the following account of his sixth voyage.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Sixth Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\nGentlemen, says he, you long, without doubt, to know how, after\nbeing shipwrecked five times, and escaping so many dangers, I\ncould resolve again to try my fortune, and expose myself to new\nhardships. I am astonished at it myself when I think on it, and\nmust certainly have been induced to it by my stars. But, be that\nas it will, after a year's rest I prepared for a sixth voyage,\nnotwithstanding the prayers of my kindred and friends, who did\nall that was possible to prevent me. Instead of taking my way by\nthe Persian gulph, I travelled once more through several\nprovinces of Persia and the Indies, and arrived at a sea-port,\nwhere I embarked on board a ship, the captain of which was\nresolved on a long voyage. It was very long, indeed, but at the\nsame time so unfortunate, that the captain and pilot lost their\ncourse, so that they knew not where they were. They found it at\nlast, but we had no ground to rejoice. We were all seized with\nextraordinary fear, when we saw the captain quit his post, and\ncry out. He threw off his turban, pulled the hair off his beard,\nand beat his head like a madman. We asked him the reason, and he\nanswered, that he was in the most dangerous place in all the sea:\na rapid current carries the ship along with it, and we shall all\nperish in less than a quarter of an hour. Pray to God to deliver\nus from this danger; we cannot escape it, if he do not take pity\non us. At these words he ordered the sails to be changed; but all\nthe ropes broke, and the ship, without any possibility of helping\nit, was carried by the current to the foot of an inaccessible\nmountain, where she was run ashore, and broken to pieces, yet so\nas we saved our lives, our provisions, and the best of our goods.\nThis being over, the captain says to us, God has now done what he\npleased; we may every man dig our grave here, and bid the world\nadieu; for we are all in so fatal a place, that none shipwrecked\nhere did ever return to their homes again. His discourse\nafflicted us mortally, and we embraced one another with tears in\nour eyes, bewailing our deplorable lot.\n\nThe mountain at the foot of which we were cast, was the coast of\na very long and large island. This coast was covered over with\nwrecks: and, by the vast number of men's bones we saw every\nwhere, and which filled us with horror, we concluded that\nabundance of people had died there. It is also incredible to tell\nwhat a quantity of goods and riches we found cast ashore there.\nAll those objects served only to augment our grief. While, in all\nother places, rivers run from their channels into the sea, here a\ngreat river of fresh water runs out of the sea into a dark cave,\nwhose entrance is very high and large. What is most remarkable in\nthis place is, that the stones of the mountain are of crystal,\nrubies, or other precious stones. Here also is a sort of fountain\nof pitch or bitumen that runs into the sea, which the fishes\nswallow, and then vomit up again turned into ambergris; this the\nwaves throw upon the beach in great quantities. Here grow also\ntrees, most of which are wood of aloes, equal to those of Comari.\n\nTo finish the description of this place, which may well be called\nthe gulph, as nothing ever returns from it, it is not possible\nfor ships to get off from it, when once they come within ft\ncertain distance of it. If they be driven thither by a wind from\nthe sea, the wind and the current ruin them; and if they come\ninto it when a land wind blows, which might seem to favour their\ngetting out again, the height of the mountain stops the wind, and\noccasions a calm, so that the force of the current drives them\nashore, where they are broken in pieces, as ours was; and what\ncompletes the misfortune, there is no possibility of getting to\nthe top of the mountain, or getting out in any manner of way. We\ncontinued upon the shore like men out of their senses, and\nexpected death every day. At first we divided our provisions as\nequally as we could, so that every one lived a longer or shorter\ntime, according to his temperance, and the use he made of his\nprovisions. Those who died first were interred by the rest; and\nfor my part, I paid the last duty to all my companions. Nor need\nyou wonder at this; for, besides that I husbanded the provision\nthat fell to my share better than they, I had provisions of my\nown which I did not share with my comrades; yet, when I buried\nthe last, I had so little remaining, that I thought it could not\nhold out long: So I dug a grave, resolving to lie down in it,\nbecause there was none left alive to inter me. I must confess to\nyou, at the same time, that, while I was thus employed, I could\nnot but reflect upon myself as the cause of my own ruin, and\nrepented that I had ever undertaken this last voyage. Nor did I\nstop at reflections only, but had well nigh hastened my own\ndeath, and began to tear my hands with my teeth. But it pleased\nGod once more to take compassion on me, and put it in my mind to\ngo to the bank of the river which ran into the great cave, where,\nconsidering the river with great attention, I said to myself,\nThis river, which runs thus under the ground, must come out\nsomewhere or other. If I make a float, and leave myself to the\ncurrent, it will bring me to some inhabited country, or drown me.\nIf I be drowned, I lose nothing, but only change one kind of\ndeath for another; and if I get out of this fatal place, I shall\nnot only avoid the fate of my comrades, but perhaps find some new\noccasion of enriching myself. Who knows but fortune waits, upon\nmy getting off this dangerous shelve, to compensate my shipwreck\nwith usury? After this, I immediately went to work on a float. I\nmade it of good large pieces of timber and cables, for I had\nchoice of them, and tied them together so strong, that I had made\na very solid little float. When I had finished it, I loaded it\nwith some bales of rubies, emeralds, ambergris, rock crystal, and\nrich stuffs. Having balanced all my cargo exactly, and fastened\nthem well to the float. I went on board it with two little oars\nthat I had made: and leaving it to the course of the river, I\nresigned myself to the will of God.\n\nAs soon as I came into the cave, I lost all light, and the stream\ncarried me I knew not whither. Thus I sailed some days in perfect\ndarkness, and once found the arch so low, that it almost broke my\nhead, which made me very cautious afterwards to avoid the like\ndanger. All this while I ate nothing but what was just necessary\nto support nature; yet, notwithstanding this frugality, all my\nprovisions were spent. Then a pleasant sleep seized upon me: I\ncannot tell how long it continued; but when I awaked, I was\nsurprised to find myself in the middle of a vast country, on the\nbrink of a river, where my float was tied amidst a great number\nof negroes. I got up as soon as I saw them, and saluted them.\nThey spoke to me, but I did not understand their language. I was\nso transported with joy, that I knew not whether I was asleep or\nawake; but being persuaded that I was not asleep, I recited the\nfollowing words in Arabic aloud: Call upon the Almighty, and he\nwill help thee; thou needest not perplex thyself about any thing\nelse; shut thine eyes, and, while thou art asleep, God will\nchange thy bad fortune into good. One of the blacks who\nunderstood Arabic, hearing me speak thus, came towards me, and\nsaid, Brother, do not be surprised at us: we are inhabitants of\nthis country, and came hither to day to water our fields, by\ndigging little canals from this river, which comes out of the\nneighbouring mountain. We perceived something floating upon the\nwater, went speedily to see what it was, and perceiving your\nfloat, one of us swam into the river, and brought it hither,\nwhere we fastened it as you see until you should awake. Pray tell\nus your history, for it must be extraordinary; how did you\nventure yourself into this river, and whence did you come? I\nbegged of them first to give me something to eat, and then I\nwould satisfy their curiosity. They gave me several sorts of\nfood; and when I had satisfied my hunger, I gave them a true\naccount of all that had befallen me, which they listened to with\nadmiration. As soon as I had finished my discourse, they told me,\nby the person who spoke Arabic, and interpreted to them what I\nsaid, that it was one of the most surprising stories they ever\nheard, and that I must go along with them, and tell it to their\nking myself; for the thing was too extraordinary to be told by\nany other than the person to whom it happened. I told them I was\nready to do whatever they pleased. They immediately sent for a\nhorse, which was brought them in a little time; and having made\nme get up upon him, some of them walked before me to show me the\nway, and the rest took my float and cargo, and followed me. We\nmarched thus all together, till we came to the city of Serendib,\nfor it was in that island where I landed. The blacks presented me\nto their king. I approached his throne, and saluted him as I used\nto do the kings of the Indies; that is to say, I prostrated\nmyself at his feet, and kissed the earth. The prince ordered me\nto rise up, received me with an obliging air, and made me come\nand sit down near him. He first asked me my name: I answered,\nThey call me Sindbad the sailor, because of the many voyages I\nhad undertaken; and that I was a citizen of Bagdad. But, replies\nhe, how came you into my dominions, and from whence came you\nlast? I concealed nothing from the king; I told him all that I\nhave now told you; and his majesty was so surprised and charmed\nwith it, that he commanded my adventures to be written in letters\nof gold, and laid up in the archives of the kingdom. At last my\nfloat was brought to him, and the bales opened in his presence;\nhe admired the quantity of wood of aloes and ambergris, but,\nabove all, the rubies and emeralds; for he had none in his\ntreasury that came near them. Observing that he looked on my\njewels with pleasure, and viewed the most remarkable among them\none after another, I fell prostrate at his feet, and took the\nliberty to say to him, Sir, not only my person is at your\nmajesty's service, but the cargo of the float, and I would beg of\nyou to dispose of it as your own. He answered me with a smile,\nSindbad, I will take care not to covet any thing of yours, nor to\ntake any thing from you that God has given you; far from\nlessening your wealth, I design to augment it, and will not let\nyou go out of my dominions without marks of my liberality. All\nthe answer I returned was by praying for the prosperity of the\nprince, and commendations of his generosity and bounty. He\ncharged one of his officers to take care of me, and ordered\npeople to serve me at his own charge. The officer was very\nfaithful in the execution of his orders, and made all the goods\nto be carried to the lodgings provided for me. I went every day\nat a set hour to make my court to the king, and spent the rest of\nmy time in seeing the city, and what was most worthy of my\ncuriosity.\n\nThe isle of Serendib[Footnote: Geographers place it on this side\nof the line, in the first climate.] is situate just under the\nequinoctial line; so that the days and nights there are always\ntwelve hours each, and the island is eighty[Footnote: The eastern\ngeographers make a parasang longer than a French league.]\nparasangs in length, and as many in breadth. The capital city\nstands in the middle of a fine valley formed by a mountain, in\nthe middle of the island, which is the highest in the world. It\nis seen three days sail off at sea. There are rubies and several\nsorts of minerals in it, and all the rocks for the most part\nemerald, a metal line stone made use of to cut and smooth other\nprecious stones. Here grow all kinds of rare plants and trees,\nespecially cedars and cocoas. There is also pearl-fishing in the\nmouth of its river, and in some of its vallies there are found\ndiamonds. I made, by way of devotion, a pilgrimage to the place\nwhere Adam was confined after his banishment from Paradise, and\nhad the curiosity to go to the top of it.\n\nWhen I came back to the city, I prayed the king to allow me to\nreturn to my country, which he granted me in the most obliging\nand honourable manner. He would needs force a rich present upon\nme; and when I went to take leave of him, he gave me one much\nmore considerable, at the same time charging me with a letter for\nthe commander of the faithful, our sovereign, and said, I pray\nyou give this present from me, and this letter, to Caliph Haroun\nAlraschid, and assure him of my friendship. I took the present\nand letter in a very respectful manner, and promised his majesty\npunctually to execute the commission with which he was pleased to\nhonour me. Before I embarked, this prince sent to seek for the\ncaptain and the merchants who were to go with me, and ordered\nthem to treat me with all possible respect.\n\nThe letter from the king of Serendib was written on the skin of a\ncertain animal of great value, because of its being so scarce,\nand of a yellowish colour. The characters of this letter were of\nazure, and the contents thus: \"The King of the Indies, before\nwhom march 100 elephants, who lives in a palace that shines with\n100,000 rubies, and who has in his treasury 20,000 crowns\nenriched with diamonds, to Caliph Haroun Alraschid. Though the\npresent which we send you be inconsiderable, receive it, as a\nbrother and a friend, in consideration of the hearty friendship\nwhich we bear you, and of which we are willing to give you proof.\nWe desire the same part in your friendship, considering that we\nbelieve it to be our merit, being of the same dignity with\nyourself. We conjure you thus in the quality of a brother.\nAdieu.\" The present consisted, in the first place, of one single\nruby made into a cup, about half a foot high, an inch thick, and\nfilled with round pearls of half a dram each. 2. Of the skin of a\nserpent, whose scales were as large as an ordinary piece of gold,\nand had the virtue to preserve from sickness those who lay upon\nit. 3. In 50,000 drams of the best wood of aloes, with 30 grains\nof camphire as big as pistachios. And, 4. A female slave of\nravishing beauty, whose apparel was covered with jewels.\n\nThe ship set sail, and, after a very long and successful\nnavigation, we landed at Balsora, from whence I went to Bagdad,\nwhere the first thing I did was to acquit myself of my\ncommission. I took the king of Serendib's letter, continued\nSindbad, and went to present myself at the gate of the commander\nof the faithful, followed by the beautiful slave, and such of my\nown family as carried the presents. I gave an account of the\nreason of my coming, and was immediately conducted to the throne\nof the caliph. I made my reverence by prostration, and, after a\nshort speech, gave him the letter and present. When he had read\nwhat the king of Serendib wrote to him, he asked me if that\nprince was really so rich and potent as he had said in his\nletter? I prostrated myself a second time, and rising again,\nCommander of the faithful, says I, I can assure your majesty he\ndoes not exceed the truth on that head; I am witness of it. There\nis nothing more capable of raising a man's admiration than the\nmagnificence of his palace. When the prince appears in public, he\nhas a throne fixed on the back of an elephant, and marches\nbetwixt two ranks of his ministers, favourites, and other people\nof his court: Before him, upon the same elephant, an officer\ncarries a golden lance in his hand; and behind the throne there\nis another, who stands upright, with a column of gold, on the top\nof which there is an emerald half a foot long, and an inch thick;\nbefore him there marches a guard of one thousand men clad in\ncloth of gold and silk, and mounted on elephants richly\ncaparisoned. While the king is on his march, the officer who is\nbefore him on the same elephant cries, from time to time, with a\nloud voice, Behold the great monarch, the potent and redoubtable\nsultan of the Indies, whose palace is covered with 100,000\nrubies, and who possesses 20,000 crowns of diamonds. Behold the\ncrowned monarch, greater than the great Solima[Footnote:\nSolomon.] and the great Mihrage[Footnote: An ancient king of a\ngreat island, of the same name, in the Indies, and much famed\namong the Arabians for his power and wisdom.]. After he has\npronounced these words, the officer behind the throne cries in\nhis turn, This monarch, so great and so powerful, must die, must\ndie, must die. And the officer before replies, Praise be to him\nthat lives for ever. Further, the king of Serendib is so just,\nthat there are no judges in his dominions; his people have no\nneed of them; they understand and observe justice exactly of\nthemselves. The caliph was much pleased with my discourse. The\nwisdom of that king, says he, appears in his letter; and, after\nwhat you tell me, I must confess that his wisdom is worthy of his\npeople, and his people deserve so wise a prince. Having spoken\nthus, he discharged me, and sent me home with a rich present.\n\nSindbad left off speaking, and his company retired, Hindbad\nhaving first received one hundred sequins; and next day they\nreturned to hear the relation of his seventh and last voyage.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Seventh and last Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\nBeing returned from my sixth voyage, I absolutely laid aside all\nthoughts of travelling any further. For, besides that my years\ndid now require rest, I was resolved no more to expose myself to\nsuch risks as I had run: So that I thought of nothing but to pass\nthe rest of my days in quiet. One day, as I was treating some of\nmy friends, one of my servants came and told me that an officer\nof the caliph asked for me. I rose from the table, and went to\nhim. The caliph, says he, has sent me to tell you that he must\nspeak with you. I followed the officer to the palace; where being\npresented to the caliph, I saluted him by prostrating myself at\nhis feet. Sindbad, says he to me, I stand in need of you; you\nmust do me the service to carry my answer and present to the king\nof Serendib. It is but just I should return his civility. This\ncommand of the caliph to me was like a clap of thunder. Commander\nof the faithful, replied I, I am ready to do whatever your\nmajesty shall think fit to command me; but I beseech you most\nhumbly to consider what I have undergone; I have also made a vow\nnever to go out of Bagdad. Hence I took occasion to give him a\nlarge and particular account of all my adventures, which he had\nthe patience to hear out. As soon as I had finished, I confess,\nsays he, that the things you tell me are very extraordinary, yet\nyou must, for my sake, undertake this voyage which I propose to\nyou. You have nothing to do but to go to the isle of Serendib,\nand deliver the commission which I give you; after that, you are\nat liberty to return. But you must go; for you know it would be\nindecent, and not suitable to my dignity, to be indebted to the\nking of the island. Perceiving that the caliph insisted upon it,\nI submitted, and told him that I was willing to obey. He was very\nwell pleased at it, and ordered me a thousand sequins for the\ncharge of my journey.\n\nI prepared for my departure in a few days; and as soon as the\ncaliph's letter and present were delivered to me, I went to\nBalsora, where I embarked, and had a very happy voyage. I arrived\nat the isle of Serendib, where I acquainted the king's ministers\nwith my commission, and prayed them to get me a speedy audience.\nThey did so, and I was conducted to the palace in an honourable\nmanner, where I saluted the king by prostration, according to\ncustom. The prince knew me immediately, and testified very great\njoy to see me. O Sindbad, says he, you are welcome; I swear to\nyou I have many times thought of you since you went hence. I\nbless the day upon which we see one another once more. I made my\ncompliment to him; and, after having thanked him for his kindness\nto me, I delivered him the caliph's letter and present, which he\nreceived with all imaginable satisfaction.\n\nThe caliph's present was a complete set of cloth of gold, valued\nat a thousand sequins; fifty robes of rich stuff, a hundred\nothers of white cloth, the finest of Cairo, Suez[Footnote: A port\non the Red Sea.], Cusa[Footnote: A town of Arabia.], and\nAlexandria; a royal crimson bed, with a second of another\nfashion; a vessel of agate, broader than deep, of an inch thick,\nand half a foot wide, the bottom of which represented, in bass-\nrelief, a man with one knee on the ground, who held a bow and\narrow, ready to let fly at a lion. He sent him also a rich table,\nwhich, according to tradition, belonged to the great Solomon. The\ncaliph's letter was as follows: \"Greeting, in the name of the\nsovereign guide of the right way, to the potent and happy sultan\nfrom Abdallah Haroun Alraschid, whom God hath set in the place of\nhonour after his ancestors of happy memory. We received your\nletter with joy, and send you this from the council of our port,\nthe garden of superior wits. We hope, when you look upon it, you\nwill find our good intention, and be pleased with it. Adieu.\"\n\nThe king of Serendib was mightily pleased that the caliph\nanswered his friendship. A little time after this audience, I\nsolicited leave to depart, and obtained the same with much\ndifficulty. I got it, however, at last; and the king, when he\ndischarged me, made me a very considerable present. I embarked\nimmediately to return to Bagdad, but had not the good fortune to\narrive there as I hoped. God ordered it otherwise; for, three or\nfour days after my departure, we were attacked by corsairs, who\neasily seized upon our ship, because it was no vessel of force.\nSome of the crew offered resistance, which cost them their lives.\nBut for me and the rest, who were not so imprudent, the corsairs\nsaved us on purpose to make slaves of us. We were all stripped;\nand, instead of our own clothes, they gave us sorry rags, and\ncarried us into a remote island, where they sold us. I fell into\nthe hands of a rich merchant, who, as soon as he bought me,\ncarried me to his house, treated me well, and clad me handsomely\nfor a slave. Some days after, not knowing who I was, he asked me\nif I knew any trade? I answered, that I was no mechanic, but a\nmerchant; and that the corsairs, who sold me, robbed me of all I\nhad. But tell me, replies he, Can you shoot with a bow? I\nanswered, that the bow was one of the exercises of my youth, and\nI had not forgotten it. Then he gave me a bow and arrows, and\ntaking me behind him upon an elephant, carried me to a vast\nforest some leagues from the town. We went a great way into the\nforest, and when he thought to stop, he bid me alight: then\nshowing me a great tree, Climb up that tree, says he, and shoot\nat the elephants as you see them pass by; for there is a\nprodigious number of them in this forest, and if any of them\nfall, come and give me notice of it. Having spoken thus, he left\nme victuals, and returned to the town and I continued upon the\ntree all night, during which I saw no elephants, but next\nmorning, as soon as the sun was up, I saw a great number; I shot\nseveral arrows among them, and at last one of the elephants fell;\nthe rest retired immediately, and left me at liberty to go and\nacquaint my patron with my booty. When I had told him the news,\nhe gave me a good, meal, commended my dexterity, and caressed me\nmightily. We went afterwards together to the forest, where we dug\na hole for the elephant; my patron designing to return when it\nwas rotten, and to take his teeth, &c. to trade with. I continued\nthis game for two months, and killed an elephant every day,\ngetting sometimes upon one tree, sometimes upon another. One\nmorning, as I looked for the elephants, I perceived, with extreme\namazement, that, instead of passing by me across the forest, as\nusual, they stopped, and came to me, with a horrible noise, in\nsuch a number that the earth was covered with them, and shook\nunder them. They encompassed the tree where I was, with their\ntrunks extended, and their eyes all fixed upon me. At this\nfrightful spectacle I continued immovable, and was so much\nfrightened, that my bow and arrows fell out of my hands. My fears\nwere not vain; for, after the elephants had stared upon me some\ntime, one of the largest of them put his trunk round the root of\nthe tree, and pulled so strong, that he plucked it up, and threw\nit on the ground: I fell with the tree, and the elephant, taking\nme up with his trunk, laid me on his back, where I sat more like\none dead than alive, with my quiver on my shoulder. He put\nhimself afterwards at the head of the rest, who followed him in\ntroops, and carried me to a place where he laid me down on the\nground, and retired with all his companions. Conceive, if you\ncan, the condition I was in: I thought myself to be in a dream;\nat last, after having lain some time, and seeing the elephants\ngone, I got up, and found I was upon a long and broad hill,\ncovered all over with the bones and teeth of elephants. I confess\nto you that this object furnished me with abundance of\nreflections. I admired the instinct of those animals; I doubted\nnot but that was their burying-place, and they carried me thither\non purpose to tell me that I should forbear to persecute them,\nsince I did it only for their teeth. I did not stay on the hill,\nbut turned towards the city, and, after having travelled a day\nand a night, I came to my patron. I met no elephant in my way,\nwhich made me think they had retired further into the forest, to\nleave me at liberty to come back to the hill without any\nobstacle.\n\nAs soon as my patron saw me, Ah, poor Sindbad, says he, I was in\ngreat trouble to know what was become of you. I have been at the\nforest, where I found a tree newly pulled up, and a bow and\narrows on the ground; and, after having sought for you in vain, I\ndespaired of ever seeing you more. Pray tell me what befel you,\nand by what good hap thou art still alive. I satisfied his\ncuriosity; and going both of us next morning to the hill, he\nfound, to his great joy, that what I had told him was true. We\nloaded the elephant upon which we came with as many teeth as he\ncould carry; and when we were returned, Brother, says my patron,\n(for I will treat you no more as a slave, after having made such\na discovery as will enrich me,) God bless you with all happiness\nand prosperity. I declare before him, that I give you your\nliberty. I concealed from you what I am now going to tell you.\nThe elephants of our forest have every year killed us a great\nmany slaves whom we sent to seek ivory. For all the cautions we\ngave them, these crafty animals killed them one time or other.\nGod has delivered you from their fury, and has bestowed that\nfavour upon you only. It is a sign that he loves you, and has use\nfor your services in the world. You have procured me incredible\ngain. We could not have ivory formerly, but by exposing the lives\nof our slaves; and now our whole city is enriched by your means.\nDo not think I pretend to have rewarded you by giving you\nliberty; I will also give you considerable riches. I could engage\nall our city to contribute towards making your fortune, but will\nhave the glory of doing it myself.\n\nTo this obliging discourse, I replied, Patron, God preserve you.\nYour giving me liberty is enough to discharge what you owe me;\nand I desire no other reward for the service I have had the good\nfortune to do to you and your city, but leave to return to my own\ncountry. Very well, says he, the Mocon [Footnote: A regular wind\nthat comes six months from the east, and as many from the west.]\nwill in a little time bring ships for ivory. I will send you home\nthen, and give you wherewith to bear your charges. I thanked him\nfor my liberty, and his good intention towards me. I staid with\nhim, expecting the Mocon; and during that time we made so many\njournies to the hill, that we filled our warehouses with ivory.\nThe other merchants, who traded in it, did the same thing, for it\ncould not be long concealed from them. The ships arrived at last,\nand my patron himself, having made choice of the ship wherein I\nwas to embark, loaded half of it with ivory on my account; he\nlaid in provisions in abundance for my passage; and besides\nobliged me to accept a present of the curiosities of the country,\nof great value. After I had returned him a thousand thanks for\nall his favours, I went on board. We set sail; and as the\nadventure which procured me this liberty was very extraordinary,\nI had it continually in my thoughts. We stopped at some islands\nto take in fresh provisions; our vessel being come to a port on\nthe Terra Firma in the Indies, we touched there, and not being\nwilling to venture by sea to Balsora, I landed my proportion of\nthe ivory, resolving to proceed on my journey by land. I made\nvast sums of my ivory, bought several rarities which I intended\nfor presents, and, when my equipage was got ready, I set out in\ncompany with a large caravan of merchants. I was a long time on\nthe way, and suffered very much; but endured all with patience,\nwhen I considered that I had nothing to fear from the seas, from\npirates, from serpents, nor of the other perils I had undergone.\nAll these fatigues, however, ended at last, and I came safe to\nBagdad. I went immediately to call upon the caliph, and gave him\nan account of my embassy. That prince told me he had been uneasy\nbecause I was so long of returning, but he always hoped God would\npreserve me. When I told him the adventure of the elephants, he\nseemed to be much surprised at it, and would never have given any\ncredit to it, had he not known my sincerity. He reckoned this\nstory, and the other relations I had given him, to be so curious,\nthat he ordered one of his secretaries to write them in\ncharacters of gold, and lay them up in his treasury. I retired\nvery well satisfied with the honours I had received, and the\npresents which he gave me; and after that I gave myself up wholly\nto my family, kindred, and friends.\n\nSindbad here finished the relation of his seventh and last\nvoyage; and then addressing himself to Hindbad, Well, friend,\nsays he, did you ever hear of any person that suffered so much as\nI have done, or of any mortal that has gone through so many\nperplexities? Is it not reasonable, that, after all this, I\nshould enjoy a quiet and pleasant life? As he said this, Hindbad\ndrew near to him, and, kissing his hand, said, I must\nacknowledge, sir, that you have gone through terrible dangers; my\ntroubles are not comparable to yours; if they afflict me for a\ntime, I comfort myself with the thoughts of the profit I get by\nthem. You not only deserve a quiet life, but are worthy besides\nof all the riches you enjoy, because you make such a good use of\nthem. May you therefore continue to live in happiness and joy\ntill the day of your death. Sindbad gave him a hundred sequins\nmore, received him into the number of his friends, and desired\nhim to quit his porter's employment, and come and dine every day\nwith him, that he might all his days have reason to remember\nSindbad the sailor.\n\nScheherazade, perceiving it was not yet day, continued her\ndiscourse, and began another story.\n\n\n\n\n\n                       THE THREE APPLES.\n\n\n\nSir, said she, I have already had the honour to entertain your\nmajesty with a ramble which the Caliph Haroun Alraschid made one\nnight from his palace; I will give you an account of one more.\nThis prince one day commanded the grand vizier Giafar to come to\nhis palace the night following. Vizier, says he, I will take a\nwalk round the town, to inform myself what people say, and\nparticularly how they are pleased with my officers of justice. If\nthere be any against whom they have reason of just complaint, we\nwill turn them out, and put others in their stead, who may\nofficiate better: If, on the contrary, there be any that have\ngained their applause, we will have that esteem for them which\nthey deserve. The grand vizier being come to the palace at the\nhour appointed, the caliph, he, and Mesrour the chief of the\neunuchs, disguised themselves so as they could not be known, and\nwent out ail together. They passed through several places, and by\nseveral markets; and as they entered a small street, they\nperceived, by the light of the moon, a tall man, with a white\nbeard, who carried nets on his head; he had a folding basket of\npalm leaves on his arm, and a club in his hand. This old man,\nsays the caliph, does not seem to be rich; let us go to him, and\ninquire into his circumstances. Honest man, said the vizier, who\nart thou? The old man replied, Sir, I am a fisher, but one of the\npoorest and most miserable of the trade; I went from my house\nabout noon to go a-fishing, and from that time to this I have not\nbeen able to catch one fish; at the same time I have a wife and\nsmall children, and nothing to maintain them. The caliph, moved\nwith compassion, says to the fisherman, Hast thou the courage to\ngo back and cast thy nets once more? We will give thee a hundred\nsequins for what thou shall bring up. At this proposal, the\nfisherman, forgetting all his day's toil, took the caliph at his\nword, and with him, Giafar, and Mesrour, returned to the Tigris;\nhe saying to himself, These gentlemen seem to be too honest and\nreasonable not to reward my pains; and if they give me the\nhundredth part of what they promise me, it will be a great deal.\nThey came to the bank of the river; and the fisherman throwing in\nhis net, when he drew it again, brought up a trunk close shut,\nand very heavy. The caliph made the grand vizier pay him a\nhundred sequins immediately, and sent him away. Mesrour, by his\nmaster's order, carried the trunk on his shoulder; and the caliph\nwas so very eager to know what was in it, that he returned to the\npalace with all speed. When the trunk was opened, they found in\nit a large basket made of palm leaves, shut up, and the covering\nof it sewed with red thread. To satisfy the caliph's impatience,\nthey would not take time to unrip it, but cut the thread with a\nknife, and they took out of the basket a bundle wrapt up in a\nsorry piece of hanging, and bound round with a rope, which being\nuntied, and the bundle opened, they found, to their great\namazement, the corpse of a young lady, whiter than snow, all cut\nin pieces.\n\nYour majesty may imagine, a great deal better than I am able to\nexpress the astonishment of the caliph at this dreadful\nspectacle. His surprise was instantly changed into passion, and\ndarting an angry look at the vizier, Ah! thou wretch, said he, is\nthis your inspection into the actions of my people? Do they\ncommit such impious murders under thy ministry in my capital\ncity, and throw my subjects into the Tigris, that they may cry\nfor vengeance against me at the day of judgment? If thou dost not\nspeedily revenge the murder of this woman, by the death of her\nmurderer, I swear by Heaven, that I will cause thee to be hanged,\nand forty more of thy kindred. Commander of the faithful, replied\nthe grand vizier, I beg your majesty to grant me time to make\ninquiry. I will allow thee no more, said the caliph, than three\ndays; therefore thou must look to it. The vizier Giafar went home\nin great confusion of mind. Alas, said he, how is it possible\nthat, in such a vast and populous city as Bagdad, I should be\nable to detect a murderer, who undoubtedly committed the crime\nwithout witness, and perhaps may be already gone from hence? Any\nother person but me would take some wretched person out of\nprison, and cause him to die, to satisfy the caliph; but I will\nnot burden my conscience with such a barbarous action; I will\nrather die than save my life at this rate. He ordered the\nofficers of police and justice to make strict search for the\ncriminal: they sent their servants about, and they themselves\nwere not idle, for they were no less concerned in this matter\nthan the vizier. But all their endeavours turned to nothing; what\npains soever they took, they could not find out the murderer; so\nthat the vizier concluded his life to be gone, unless some\nremarkable providence hindered it. The third day being come, an\nofficer came to this unfortunate minister with a summons to\nfollow him, which the vizier obeyed. The caliph asked him for the\nmurderer. He answered, with tears in his eyes, Commander of the\nfaithful, I have not found any person that could give me the\nleast account of him. The caliph, full of fury and rage, gave him\nmany reproachful words, and ordered that he and forty\nBermecides[Footnote: The Bermecides were a family come out of\nPersia, and of them the grand Vizier was descended.] more should\nbe hanged up at the gate of the palace.\n\nIn the mean while the gibbets were preparing, and orders were\nsent to seize forty Bermecides more in their houses; a public\ncrier was sent about the city to cry thus, by the caliph's order,\nThose who have a desire to see the grand vizier Giafar hanged,\nand forty more Bermecides of his kindred, let them come to the\nsquare before the palace. When all things were ready, the judge\ncriminal, and a great many officers belonging to the palace,\nbrought out the grand vizier with forty Bermecides, and set each\nof them at the foot of the gibbet designed for them, and a rope\nwas put about each of their necks. The multitude of people that\nfilled the square could not, without grief and tears, behold this\ntragical sight; for the grand vizier and the Bermecides were\nloved and honoured on account of their probity, bounty, and\nimpartiality, not only in Bagdad, but through all the dominions\nof the caliph.\n\nNothing could prevent the execution of this prince's too severe\nand irrevocable sentence; and the lives of the most honest people\nin the city were just going to be taken away, when a young man,\nof handsome mien and good apparel, pressed through the crowd till\nhe came to the place where the grand vizier was; and after he had\nkissed his hand, said, Most excellent vizier, chief of the emirs\nof this court, and comforter of the poor, you are not guilty of\nthe crime for which you stand here. Withdraw, and let me expiate\nthe death of the lady who was thrown into the Tigris. It was I\nwho murdered her, and deserve to be punished for it. Though these\nwords occasioned great joy to the vizier, yet he could not but\npity the young man, in whose look he saw something that, instead\nof being ominous, was engaging; but as he was about to answer\nhim, a tall man, pretty well in years, who had likewise forced\nhis way through the crowd, came up to him, saying, Sir, do not\nbelieve what this young man tells you; I killed that lady who was\nfound in the trunk; and this punishment ought only to fall upon\nme. I conjure you, in the name of God, not to punish the innocent\nfor the guilty. Sir, says the young man to the vizier, I do\nprotest that I am he who committed this vile act, and nobody else\nhad any hand it. My son, said the old man, it is despair that\nbrought you hither, and you would anticipate your destiny. I have\nlived a long time in the world, and it is time for me to be gone;\nlet me therefore sacrifice my life for yours. Sir, said he again\nto the vizier, I tell you once more I am the murderer; let me die\nwithout any more ado. The controversy between the old man and the\nyoung one obliged the grand vizier Giafar to carry them both\nbefore the caliph, to which the criminal judge consented, being\nvery glad to serve the vizier. When he came before the prince, he\nkissed the ground seven times, and spoke after this manner:\nCommander of the faithful, I have brought here before your\nmajesty this old man, and this young one, who both confess\nthemselves to be the sole murderers of the lady. Then the caliph\nasked the criminals which of them it was that so cruelly murdered\nthe lady, and threw her into the Tigris? The young man assured\nhim it was he, but the old man maintained the contrary. Go, says\nthe caliph to the grand vizier, and cause them both to be hanged.\nBut, sir, says the vizier, if only one of them be guilty, it\nwould be unjust to take the lives of both. At these words the\nyoung man spoke again: I swear by the great God, who has raised\nthe heavens so high as they are, that I am the man who killed the\nlady, cut her in quarters, and threw her into the Tigris about\nfour days ago. I renounce my part of happiness among the just at\nthe day of judgment, if what I say be not truth; therefore I am\nhe that ought to suffer. The caliph, being surprised at this\noath, believed him, especially as the old man made no answer to\nthis. Whereupon, turning to the young man, Thou wretch, said he,\nwhat was it that made thee to commit that detestable crime, and\nwhat is it that moves thee to offer thyself voluntarily to die?\nCommander of the faithful, said he, if all that has passed\nbetween that lady and me were set down in writing, it would be a\nhistory that would be very useful to other men. I command you\nthen to relate it, said the caliph. The young man obeyed, and\nbegan.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE LADY THAT WAS MURDERED,\n               AND OF THE YOUNG MAN HER HUSBAND.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, your majesty may be pleased to know,\nthat this murdered lady was my wife, the daughter of this old man\nyou see here, who is my uncle by the father's side. She was not\nabove twelve years old when he gave her to me, and it is now\neleven years ago. I have three children by her, all boys, yet\nalive; and I must do her the justice to say, that she never gave\nme the least occasion of offence; she was chaste, of good\nbehaviour, and made it her whole business to please me. For my\npart, I loved her entirely, and rather prevented her, in granting\nany thing she desired, than opposed it. About two months ago she\nfell sick; I took all imaginable care of her, and spared nothing\nthat could procure a speedy recovery. After a month, she began to\ngrow better, and had a mind to go to the bagnio. Before she went\nout of the house, Cousin, said she, (for so she used to call me\nfrom familiarity), I long for some apples; if you could get me\nany, you would please me extremely; I have longed for them a\ngreat while, and I must own it is come to that height, that if I\nbe not satisfied very soon, I fear some misfortune will befal me.\nWith all my heart, said I, I will do all that is in my power to\nmake you easy, and went immediately round all the markets and\nshops in the town to seek for apples, but could not get one,\nthough I offered a sequin for each. I returned home very much\ndissatisfied at my disappointment. As for my wife, when she\nreturned from the bagnio, and saw no apples, she became so very\nuneasy, that she could not sleep all night: I rose betimes in the\nmorning, and went through all the gardens, but had no better\nsuccess than the day before; only I happened to meet an old\ngardener, who told me that all my pains would signify nothing,\nfor I could not expect to find apples any where but in your\nmajesty's garden at Balsora. As I loved my wife passionately, and\nwould not have any thing of neglect to satisfy her chargeable\nupon me, I put myself in a traveller's habit, and after I had\ntold her my design, I went to Balsora, and made my journey with\nso great diligence, that I returned at the end of fifteen days\nwith three apples, which cost me a sequin each; there were no\nmore left in the garden, so that the gardener would let me have\nthem no cheaper. As soon as I came home, I presented them to my\nwife, but her longing was over; so she satisfied herself with\nreceiving them, and laid them down by her. In the mean time she\ncontinued sickly, and I knew not what remedy to get for her.\n\nA few days after I returned from my journey, as I was sitting in\nmy shop, in the public place where all sorts of fine stuffs are\nsold, I saw an ugly tall black slave come in with an apple in his\nhand, which I knew to be one of those I had brought from Balsora.\nI had no reason to doubt it, because I was certain there was not\none to be had in all Bagdad, nor in any garden about it. I called\nto him, and said, Good slave, pray thee tell me where thou hadst\nthis apple? It is a present (said he, smiling) from my mistress.\nI was to see her to-day, but found her indisposed. I saw three\napples lying by her, and asked where she had them? She told me,\nthe good man her husband had made a fortnight's journey on\npurpose for them, and brought them to her. We had a collation\ntogether; and, when I took my leave of her, I brought away this\napple that you see. This discourse put me out of my senses; I\nrose, shut up my shop, ran home with all speed, and going to my\nwife's chamber, looked immediately for apples, and seeing only a\ncouple, asked what was become of the third? Then my wife turning\nher head to the place where the apples lay, and perceiving there\nwere but two, answered me coldly, Cousin, I know not what is\nbecome of it. At this answer I did verily believe what the slave\ntold me to be true; and at the same time giving myself up to\nmadness and jealousy, I drew my knife from my girdle, and thrust\nit into the unfortunate creature's throat; I afterwards cut off\nher head, and divided her body into four quarters, which I packed\nup in a bundle, and hiding it in a basket, sewed it up with a\nthread of red yarn, put all together in a trunk, and, when night\ncame, carried it on my shoulder down to the Tigris, where I sunk\nit.\n\nThe two youngest of my children were already put to bed, and\nasleep, the third being gone abroad; but, at my return, I found\nhim sitting by my gate, weeping very much. I asked him the\nreason: Father, said he, I took this morning from my mother,\nwithout her knowledge, one of those three apples you brought her,\nand I kept it a long while; but, as I was playing some time ago\nwith my little brother in the street, a tall slave that went by\nsnatched it out of my hands, and carried it with him: I ran after\nhim, demanding it back; and besides, told him that it belonged to\nmy mother, who was sick; and that you had made a fortnight's\njourney to fetch it; but all to no purpose, he would not restore\nit. And whereas I still followed him, crying out, he turned and\nbeat me, and then ran away as fast as ever he could from one lane\nto another, till at length I lost sight of him. I have since been\nwalking without the town, expecting your return, to pray you,\ndear father, not to tell my mother of it, lest it should make her\nworse. When he had said these words, he fell a weeping again more\nbitterly than before.\n\nMy son's discourse afflicted me beyond measure: I then found\nmyself guilty of an enormous crime, and repented too late of\nhaving so easily believed the calumnies of a wretched slave, who,\nfrom what he had learned of my son, invented that fatal lie. My\nuncle, here present, came just at the time to see his daughter;\nbut, instead of finding her alive, understood from me that she\nwas murdered, for I concealed nothing from him; and, without\nstaying for his censure, declared myself the greatest criminal in\nthe world. Upon this, instead of reproaching me, he joined his\ntears with mine, and we wept three days together without\nintermission; he for the loss of a daughter whom he always loved\ntenderly, and I for the loss of a dear wife, of whom I had\ndeprived myself after so cruel a manner, by giving too easy\ncredit to the report of a lying slave.\n\nThis, commander of the faithful, is the sincere confession your\nmajesty commanded from me. You have now heard all the\ncircumstances of my crime, and I most humbly beg of you to order\nthe punishment which it merits; and, however severe it may be, I\nshall not in the least complain, but esteem it too easy and\ngentle.\n\nThe caliph was very much astonished at the young man's relation;\nbut this just prince, finding he was to be pitied rather than\ncondemned, began to speak in his favour. This young man's crime,\nsaid he, is pardonable before God, and excusable with men. The\nwicked slave is the sole cause of this murder; it is he alone\nthat must be punished. Wherefore, said he, looking upon the grand\nvizier, I give you three days time to find him out; if you do not\nbring him within that space, you shall die in his stead. The\nunfortunate Giafar, who thought himself now out of danger, was\nterribly perplexed at this new order of the caliph; but not\ndaring to return any answer to the prince, whose hasty temper he\nwell knew, he departed from his presence, and retired to his\nhouse with tears in his eyes, persuading himself he had but three\ndays to live; for he was so fully convinced that he should not\nfind the slave, that he made not the least inquiry about him. Is\nit possible, said he, that in such a city as Bagdad, where there\nis such an infinite number of negro slaves, I should be able to\nfind out him who is guilty? So that, unless God be pleased to\nbring it about, as he has already detected the murderer, nothing\ncan possibly save my life! The vizier spent the two first days in\nmourning with his family, who sat round him weeping, and\ncomplaining of the caliph's cruelty. The third day being come, he\nprepared himself to die with courage, as an honest minister, and\none who had nothing to trouble his conscience with: he sent for\nnotaries and witnesses, who signed the last will he made in their\npresence; after which he took leave of his wife and children, and\nbade them the last farewell. All his family were drowned in\ntears, so that there never was a more sorrowful spectacle; At\nlast the messenger came from the caliph to tell him that he was\nout of all patience, having heard nothing from him, nor\nconcerning the negro slave, whom he had commanded him to search\nfor: I am therefore ordered, said he, to bring you before his\nthrone. The afflicted vizier made ready to follow the messenger;\nbut, as he was going but, they brought him his youngest daughter,\nwho was about five or six years of age. The nurses who attended\nher, presented her to her father to receive his last blessing.\nHaving a particular love to the child, he prayed the messenger to\ngive him leave to stop for a moment, and, taking his daughter in\nhis arms, kissed her several times; as he was embracing her the\nlast time, he perceived she had somewhat in her bosom that looked\nbulky, and a sweet scent. My dear little one, said he, what hast\nthou in thy bosom? My dear father, said she, it is an apple, upon\nwhich is written the name of our lord and master the caliph; our\nslave Rihan[Footnote: This word signifies, in Arabic, basilic, an\nodoriferous plant; and the Arabians call their slaves by this\nname, as the custom in France is to give the name of jessamin to\na footman.] sold it to me for two sequins.\n\nAt the words apple and slave, the grand vizier cried out with\nsurprise intermixed with joy, and, putting his hand into the\nchild's bosom, pulled out the apple. He caused the slave, who was\nnot far off, to be brought immediately; and when he came, Rascal!\nsaid he, where hadst thou this apple? My lord, said the slave, I\nswear to you that I neither stole it in your house, nor out of\nthe commander of the faithful's garden; but the other day, as I\nwas going through a street where three or four children were at\nplay, one of them having it in his hand, I snatched it from him,\nand carried it away. The child ran after me, telling me it was\nnone of his own, but belonged to his mother, who was sick; and\nthat his father, to save her longing, had made a long journey,\nand brought home three apples, whereof this was one, which he had\ntaken from his mother without her knowledge. He said what he\ncould to make me give it him back, but I would not; I brought it\nhome, and sold it for two sequins to the little lady your\ndaughter; and this is the whole truth of the matter.\n\nGiafar could not enough admire how the roguery of a slave had\nbeen the cause of an innocent woman's death, and almost of his\nown. He carried the slave along with him, and, when he came\nbefore the caliph, gave the prince an exact account of all that\nthe slave had told him, and the chance that brought him to the\ndiscovery of his crime. Never was any surprise so great as the\ncaliph's, yet he could not prevent himself from falling into\nexcessive fits of laughter. At last he recovered himself, and,\nwith a serious mien, told the vizier, That, since his slave had\nbeen the occasion of so strange an accident, he deserved an\nexemplary punishment. Sir, I must own it, said the vizier, but\nhis guilt is not irremissible; I remember a strange story of a\nvizier of Cairo, called Noureddin[Footnote: Noureddin signifies,\nin Arabic, the light of religion.] Ali and of his son\nBedreddin[Footnote: Bedreddin signifies the full moon of\nreligion.] Hassan of Balsora; and as your majesty delights to\nhear such things, I am ready to tell it on this condition, that\nif your majesty find it more astonishing than that which gives me\noccasion to tell it, you will be pleased to pardon my slave. I am\ncontent, said the caliph; but you undertake a hard task, for I do\nnot believe you can save your slave, the story of the apples\nbeing so very singular. Upon this Giafar began his story thus:\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF NOUREDDIN ALI AND BEDREDDIN\n                            HASSAN.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, there was in former days a sultan of\nEgypt, a strict observer of justice, gracious, merciful, and\nliberal; and his valour made him terrible to his neighbours. He\nloved the poor, and protected the learned, whom he advanced to\nthe highest dignities. This sultan had a vizier, who was prudent,\nwise, sagacious, and well versed in the sciences. This minister\nhad two sons, very handsome men, and who in every thing followed\nhis own footsteps. The eldest was called Schemseddin[Footnote:\nThat is to say, the sun of religion.] Mohammed, and the younger\nNoureddin Ali. The last especially was endowed with all the good\nqualities that any man could have. The vizier their father being\ndead, the sultan sent for them; and after he had caused them both\nto put on the usual robes of a vizier, I am as sorry, says he,\nfor the loss of your father as yourselves; and because I know you\nlive together, and love one another entirely, I will bestow his\ndignity upon you conjunctly; go and imitate your father's\nconduct. The two new viziers humbly thanked the sultan, and went\nhome to their house to make due preparation for their father's\ninterment. They did not go abroad for a month, and then went to\ncourt, where they appeared continually on council-days; when the\nsultan went a hunting, one of the brothers went along with him\nand this honour they had by turns. One evening, as they were\ntalking after supper, the next day being the elder brother's turn\nto go a hunting with the sultan, he said to his younger brother,\nsince neither of us is yet married, and as we live so lovingly\ntogether, a thought is come into my head; Let us both marry in\none day, and let us choose two sisters out of some family that\nmay suit our quality: What do you think of this fancy? I must\ntell you, brother, answered Noureddin, that it is very suitable\nto our friendship; there cannot be a better thought; for my part,\nI am ready to agree to any thing you shall think fit. But hold,\nthis is not all, says Schemseddin; my fancy carries me further.\nSuppose both our wives should conceive the first night of\nmarriage, and should happen to be brought to bed on one day,\nyours of a son and mine of a daughter, we will give them to one\nanother in marriage when they come of age. Nay, says Noureddin\naloud, I must acknowledge that this project is admirable; such a\nmarriage will perfect our union, and I willingly consent to it.\nBut then, brother, says he further, if this marriage should\nhappen, would you expect that my son should settle a jointure on\nyour daughter? There is no difficulty in that, replies the elder;\nfor I am persuaded, that, besides the usual articles of\nmarriage-contract, you will not fail to promise in his name at\nleast three thousand sequins, three good manors, and three\nslaves. No, said the younger, I will not consent to that; are we\nnot brethren, and equal in title and dignity? Do not you and I\nboth know what is just? The male being nobler than the female, it\nis your part to give a large dowry with your daughter. By what I\nperceive, you are a man that would have your business done at\nanother's charge.\n\nThough Noureddin spoke these words in jest, his brother, being of\nan ill temper, was offended; and falling into a passion, A\nmischief upon your son, said he, since you prefer him before my\ndaughter; I wonder you had so much confidence as to believe him\nworthy of her; you must needs have lost your judgment, to think\nthat you are my equal, and say we are colleagues: I would have\nyou to know, you fool, that, since you are so impudent, I would\nnot marry my daughter to your son, though you would give him more\nthan you are worth. This pleasant quarrel between two brothers,\nabout the marriage of their children before they were born, went\nso far, that Schemseddin concluded with threatening: Were I not\nto-morrow, says he, to attend the sultan, I would treat you as\nyou deserve; but, at my return, I shall make you sensible that it\ndoes not become a younger brother to speak so insolently to his\nelder brother as you have done to me. Upon this he retired to his\napartment, and his brother went to bed.\n\nSchemseddin rose very early next morning, and goes to the palace\nto attend the sultan, who went to hunt about Cairo, near the\npyramids. As for Noureddin, he was very uneasy all night, and\nconsidering that it would not be possible for him to live longer\nwith a brother who treated him with so much haughtiness, he\nprovided a good mule, furnished himself with money, jewels,\nprovisions, and victuals; and having told his people that he was\ngoing a private journey for two or three days, he departed. When\nhe was out of Cairo, he rode by the desert toward Arabia; but his\nmule happening to tire by the way, he was forced to pursue his\njourney on foot. A courier that was going to Balsora, by good\nfortune overtaking him, took him up behind him. As soon as the\ncourier came to Balsora, Noureddin alighted, and returned him\nthanks for his kindness. As he went about to seek for a lodging,\nhe saw a person of quality, with a great retinue, coming along,\nto whom all the people showed a mighty respect, and stood still\ntill he passed by, Noureddin stopping among the rest. This was\nthe grand vizier to the sultan of Balsora, who walked through the\ncity, to see that the inhabitants kept good order and discipline.\nThis minister, casting his eye by chance on Noureddin, and\nfinding something extraordinary in his aspect, looked very\nattentively upon him, and as he came near him, and saw him in a\ntraveller's habit, he stood still, asked him who he was, and from\nwhence he came? Sir, said Noureddin, I am an Egyptian, born at\nCairo, and have left my country, because of the unkindness of a\nnear relation, and am resolved to travel through the world, and\nrather to die than return home again. The grand vizier, who was a\nreverend old gentleman, after hearing those words, says to him,\nSon, beware, do not pursue your design; there is nothing but\nmisery in the world; you are not sensible of the hardships you\nmust endure; come follow me, I may perhaps make you forget the\nthing that has forced you to leave your own country. Noureddin\nfollowed the grand vizier, who soon perceived his good qualities,\nand fell so much in love with him, that one day he said to him in\nprivate, My son, I am, as you see, so far gone in years, that\nthere is no likelihood I shall live much longer. Heaven has\nbestowed only one daughter upon me, who is beautiful as you are\nhandsome, and now fit for marriage. Several people of the\ngreatest quality at this court have desired her for their sons,\nbut I could not grant their request. I have a love for you, and\nthink you so worthy to be received into my family, that,\npreferring you before all those that have sought her, I am ready\nto accept you for my son-in-law. If you like the proposal, I will\nacquaint the sultan my master that I have adopted you by this\nmarriage, and will pray him to grant you the reversion of my\ndignity of grand vizier in the kingdom, of Balsora. In the\nmeantime, nothing being more requisite for me than ease in my old\nage, I will not put you in possession of my estate, but leave the\nadministration of public affairs to your management. Having made\nan end of this kind and generous proposal, Noureddin fell at his\nfeet, and expressing himself in terms that demonstrated his joy\nand gratitude, told the vizier that he was at his command in\nevery thing. Upon this the vizier sent for his chief domestics,\nordered them to furnish the great hall of his palace, and to\nprepare a great feast. He afterwards sent to invite the nobility\nof the court and city to honour him with their company, and when\nthey were all met, (Noureddin having now told him who he was,) he\nsaid to those lords, for he thought it proper to speak thus on\npurpose to satisfy such of them to whom he had refused his\nalliance: I am now, my lords, to discover a thing to you which I\nhave hitherto kept a secret. I have a brother who is grand vizier\nto the sultan of Egypt, as I am to the sultan of this kingdom.\nThis brother has but one son, whom he would not marry in the\ncourt of Egypt, but sent him hither to marry my daughter, that\nboth our branches may be reunited. His son, whom I knew to be my\nnephew as soon as I saw him, is the young gentleman whom I here\npresent to you, and is to be my son-in-law. I hope you will do me\nthe honour to be present at his wedding, which I am resolved to\ncelebrate this day. The noblemen, who could not take it ill that\nhe preferred his nephew before all the great matches that had\nbeen proposed to him, said, that he had very good reasons, for\nwhat he did, were willing to be witnesses to the ceremony, and\nwished that God might prolong his days to enjoy the satisfaction\nof the happy match.\n\nThe lords met at the vizier's, having testified their\nsatisfaction at the marriage of his daughter with Noureddin, sat\ndown to dinner, which lasted a good while; and the latter course\nwas sweet-meats, of which every one, according to custom, took\nwhat he thought fit. The notaries came in with the\nmarriage-contract, when the chief lords signed it; and, after the\ncompany departed, the grand vizier ordered his servants to\nprepare a bagnio, and have every thing else provided for\nNoureddin in the best manner: When he had washed and dried\nhimself, he was going to put on his former apparel, but had an\nextraordinary rich suit brought him. Being dressed and perfumed\nwith the most odoriferous essence, he went to see the grand\nvizier, his father-in-law, who was exceedingly well pleased with\nhis genteel mien; and having made him sit down, My son, said he,\nyou have declared unto me who you are, and the quality you had at\nthe court of Egypt. You have also told me of a difference betwixt\nyou and your brother, which occasioned you to leave your country.\nI desire you to make me your entire confident, and to acquaint me\nwith the cause of your quarrel; for now you have no reason either\nto doubt me, or to conceal any thing from me. Noureddin\naccordingly gave him an account of every circumstance of the\nquarrel; at which the vizier burst out into a fit of laughter,\nand said, This is one of the oddest things that I ever heard: Is\nit possible, my son, that your quarrel should rise so high about\nan imaginary marriage? I am sorry you fell out with your elder\nbrother upon such a frivolous matter; but I find he is in the\nwrong to be angry at what you only spoke in jest, and I ought to\nthank Heaven for that difference which has procured me such a\nson-in-law. But, said the old gentleman, it is late, and time for\nyou to retire; go to your bride, my son; she expects you;\nto-morrow I will present you to the sultan, and hope he will\nreceive you in such a manner as shall satisfy us both. Noureddin\ntook leave of his father-in-law, and went to his spouse's\napartment. It is remarkable, continued Giafar, that Schemseddin\nhappened also to marry at Cairo the very same day that this\nmarriage was solemnized at Balsora; the particulars are as\nfollow. After Noureddin left Cairo, with an intention never to\nreturn, Schemseddin, who was gone a hunting with the sultan of\nEgypt, did not come back in a month; for the Sultan loved the\ngame extremely, and continued the sport all that while.\nSchemseddin, on his return, ran to Noureddin's apartment, but was\nmuch surprised when he understood, that, under pretence of taking\na journey of two or three days, he had gone away on a mule the\nsame day that the sultan went a hunting, and never appeared\nsince. This circumstance vexed him so much the more, beeause he\ndid not doubt that the hard words he had used were the cause of\nhis going away. He sent a messenger in search of him, who went to\nDamascus, and as far as Aleppo, but Noureddin was then at\nBalsora. When the courier returned, and brought word that he\nheard no news of him, Schemseddin intended to make further\ninquiry after him in other parts; but in the mean time had a\nfancy to marry, and obtained the daughter of one of the greatest\nlords in Cairo upon the same day that his brother married the\ndaughter of the grand vizier of Balsora.\n\nBut this is not all, said Giafar; at the end of nine months,\nSchemseddin's wife was delivered of a daughter at Cairo, and on\nthe same day Noureddin's wife had a son at Balsora, who was named\nBedreddin Hassan. The grand vizier of Balsora testified his joy\nfor the birth of his grandson by great gifts and public\nentertainments; and, to show his son-in-law the great esteem he\nhad for him, he went to the palace, and begged the sultan to\ngrant Noureddin his office, that he might have the comfort,\nbefore his death, to see his son-in-law made grand vizier his\nstead. The sultan, who had taken a great liking to Noureddin when\nhis father presented him after his marriage, and had ever since\nheard every body speak well of him, readily granted his\nfather-in-law's request, and caused Noureddin immediately to put\non the robe of a grand vizier. The next day, when the father saw\nhis son-in-law preside in council as he himself had done, and\nperform all the offices of grand vizier, his joy was complete.\nNoureddin behaved himself so well in every thing, that one would\nhave thought he had been all his lifetime employed in such\naffairs. He continued afterwards to assist in council every time\nwhen the infirmities of age would not permit his father-in-law to\nappear. The old gentleman died about four years after, and\nNoureddin performed the last duties to him with all possible love\nand gratitude. As soon as his son Bedreddin had attained to seven\nyears of age, he provided him a most excellent tutor, who taught\nhim as became his birth. The child had a ready wit, a genius\ncapable of receiving all the instructions that could be given,\nand, after having been two years under the tuition of his master,\nlearned the alcoran by heart. His father Noureddin put him\nafterwards to other tutors, by whom his mind was cultivated to\nsuch a degree, that, when he was twelve years of age, he had no\nmore occasion for them; and then, as his physiognomy promised\nwonders, he was admired by all.\n\nNoureddin had hitherto kept him to his studies, and had not yet\nbrought him into public; but now he carried him to the palace, on\npurpose to have the honour of kissing the hand of the sultan, who\nreceived him very graciously. The people who saw him in the\nstreets were charmed with his genteel mien, and gave him a\nthousand blessings. His father, purposing to make him capable of\nsupplying his place, spared no cost for that end, brought him up\nto business of the greatest moment, and in short omitted nothing\nto advance a son he loved so well. But as he began to enjoy the\nfruits of his labour, he was all of a sudden taken with a violent\nfit of sickness; and, finding himself past recovery, disposed\nhimself to die like a good Mussulman. In his last moments he\nforgot not his son Bedreddin, but called for him, and said, My\nson, you see this world is transitory; there is nothing durable\nbut that to which I shall speedily go. You must therefore from\nhenceforth begin to fit yourself for this change, as I have done;\nyou must prepare for it without murmuring, so as to have no\ntrouble of conscience for not acting the part of a really honest\nman. As for your religion, you are sufficiently instructed in it\nby what you have learned from your tutors, and by your own study.\nAs to what belongs to an honest man, I shall give you some\ninstructions, of which I hope you will make good use; and as it\nis a necessary thing to know one's self, and you cannot come to\nthat knowledge unless you first understand who I am, I shall now\ntell you. I am a native of Egypt; my father, your grandfather,\nwas first minister to the sultan of that kingdom. I myself had\nthe honour to be vizier to that same sultan, and so has my\nbrother, your uncle, who, I suppose, is yet alive; his name is\nSchemseddin. I was obliged to leave him, and come into this\ncountry, where I have raised myself to the high dignity which I\nnow enjoy. But you will understand all these matters more fully\nby a manuscript which I shall leave you. Noureddin pulled out his\npocket-book, which he had written with his own hand, and carried\nalways about him, and giving it to Bedreddin, Take it, says he,\nand read it at your leisure; you will find, among other things,\nthe day of my marriage, and that of your birth; these are such\ncircumstances as perhaps you may hereafter have occasion to know;\ntherefore you must keep it very carefully. Bedreddin, being most\nafflicted to see his father in that condition, and sensibly\ntouched with his discourse, could not but weep when he received\nthe pocket-book, and promised never to part with it.\n\nThat very moment Noureddin fainted, so that it was thought he\nwould have expired; but he came to himself again, and uttered\nthese words: My son, the first instruction I give you is, not to\nmake yourself familiar with all sorts of people. The way to live\nhappy is to keep your mind to yourself, and not tell your\nthoughts too freely. Secondly, Not to do violence to any body\nwhatever, for in that case you will draw every body's hatred upon\nyou. You ought to consider the world as a creditor, to whom you\nowe moderation, compassion, and forbearance. Thirdly, Not to say\na word when you are reproached; for, as the proverb says, he that\nkeeps silence is out of danger. In this case particularly you\nought to practise it. You also know what one of our poets says\nupon this subject, That silence is the ornament and safeguard of\nlife; and that our speech ought not to be like a storm of rain\nthat spoils all. Never did any man yet repent of having spoken\ntoo little, though many have been sorry that they spoke too much.\nFourthly, To drink no wine, for that is the source of all vices.\nFifthly, To be frugal in your way of living; if you do not\nsquander your estate away, it will maintain you in time of\nnecessity. I do not mean you should be either too liberal or too\nniggardly; for though you have but little, if you husband it\nwell, and lay it out upon proper occasions, you will have many\nfriends; but if, on the contrary, you have great riches, and make\na bad use of them, the world will forsake you, and leave you to\nyourself.\n\nIn short, Noureddin Ali continued, till the last moment of his\nbreath, to give good advice to his son, by whom he was\nmagnificently interred.\n\nBedreddin Hassan of Balsora, for so he was called because born in\nthat town, was so overwhelmed with grief for the death of his\nfather, that instead of a month's time to mourn, according to\ncustom, he kept himself closely shut up in tears and solitude\nabout two months without seeing any body, or so much as going\nabroad to pay his duty to the sultan of Balsora, who, being\ndispleased at his neglect, and regarding it as a slight put upon\nhis court and person, suffered his passion to prevail, and in his\nfury called for the new grand vizier, (for he had created a new\none as soon as Noureddin died,) commanded him to go to the house\nof the deceased, and seize upon it, with all his other houses,\nlands, and effects, without leaving any thing for Bedreddin\nHassan, and to bring him prisoner along with him. The new grand\nvizier, accompanied by a great many messengers belonging to the\npalace, justices and other officers, went immediately to execute\nhis commission; but one of Bedreddin's slaves, happening\naccidentally to come into the crowd, no sooner understood the\nvizier's errand, than he ran in all haste to give his master\nwarning. He found him sitting in the porch of his house, as\nmelancholy as if his father had been but newly dead. He fell down\nat his feet quite out of breath; and, after he had kissed the hem\nof his garment, cried out, My lord, save yourself immediately.\nBedreddin, lifting up his head, said, What is the matter? what\nnews dost thou bring? My lord, said he, there is no time to be\nlost; the sultan, horribly incensed against you, has sent people\nto take all you have, and to seize your person.\n\nThe words of this faithful and affectionate slave put Bedreddin\ninto great confusion. May not I have so much time, said he, as to\ntake some money and jewels along with me? No, sir, replied the\nslave; the grand vizier will be here this moment. Begone\nimmediately; save yourself. Bedreddin rose up from the sofa in\nhaste, put his feet in his sandals, and, after covering his head\nwith the tail of his gown, that his face might not be known, he\nfled, without knowing what way to go, in order to avoid the\nimpending danger.\n\nThe first thought that came into his head was to get out at the\nnext gate with all speed. He ran without stopping till he came to\nthe public church-yard; and, as it was growing dark, he resolved\nto pass the night on his father's tomb. It was a large edifice in\nthe form of a dome, which Noureddin Ali built when he was alive.\nBedreddin met by the way a very rich Jew, who was a banker and\nmerchant, and was returning to the city from a place where his\naffairs had called him. The Jew, knowing Bedreddin, halted, and\nsaluted him very courteously.\n\nThe caliph was very attentive to the discourse of the grand\nvizier, who went on after this manner. Isaac the Jew, after he\nhad paid his respects to Bedreddin Hassan by kissing his hand,\nsays, My lord, dare I be so bold as to ask whither you are going\nat this time of night alone, and so much troubled? Has any thing\ndisquieted you? Yes, said Bedreddin, a while ago I was asleep,\nand my father appeared to me in a dream, looking fiercely upon\nme, as if he were very angry; I started out of my sleep very much\nfrightened, and came out immediately to go and pray upon his\ntomb. My lord, said the Jew, who did not know the true reason why\nBedreddin left the town, your father of happy memory, and my good\nlord, had store of merchandise in several vessels which are yet\nat sea, and belong to you; I beg the favour of you to grant me\nthe first refusal of them before any other merchant. I am able to\nlay down ready money for all the goods that are in your ships;\nand to begin, if you will give me those that happen to come in\nthe first ship that arrives in safety, I will pay you down, in\npart payment, a thousand sequins. Drawing out a bag from under\nhis gown, he showed it him sealed up with one seal.\n\nBedreddin, banished from home, and dispossessed of all he had in\nthe world, looked upon this proposal of the Jew as a favour from\nHeaven, and therefore accepted it with a great deal of joy. My\nlord, said the Jew, then you sell unto me, for a thousand\nsequins, the lading of the first of your ships that shall arrive\nin port? Yes, answered Bedreddin, I sell it to you for a thousand\nsequins; it is done. Upon this, the Jew delivered him the bag of\na thousand sequins, and offered to count them; but Bedreddin\nsaved him the trouble, and said, he would trust his word. Since\nit is so, my lord, be pleased to favour me with a small note, in\nwriting, of the bargain we have made. Having said this, he pulled\nhis ink-horn from his girdle, and taking a small reed out of it,\nneatly cut for writing, he presented it to him, with a piece of\npaper he took out of his letter-case, and, whilst he held the\nink-horn, Bedreddin Hassan wrote these words: 'This writing is to\ntestify, that Bedreddin Hassan of Balsora has sold to Isaac the\nJew, for the sum of one thousand sequins, received in hand, the\nlading of the first of his ships that shall arrive in this port.'\nThis note he delivered to the Jew, who put it in his letter-case,\nand then took leave of him.\n\nWhile Isaac pursued his journey to the city, Bedreddin made the\nbest of his way to his father's tomb. When he came to it, he\nbowed his face to the ground, and, with his eyes full of tears,\ndeplored his miserable condition. Alas! said he, unfortunate\nBedreddin, what will become of thee? Whither canst thou fly for\nrefuge against the unjust prince who persecutes thee? Was it not\nenough to be afflicted for the death of so dear a father? Must\nfate add new misfortunes to just complaints? He continued a long\ntime in this posture; but at last rose up again, and, leaning his\nhead upon his father's sepulchre, his sorrows returned more\nviolently than before; so that he sighed and mourned, till,\novercome with heaviness, he stretched himself upon the floor, and\nfell asleep. He had not slept long when a genius, who had retired\nto the church-yard during the day, and was intending, according\nto custom, to range about the world at night, espying this young\nman in Noureddin's tomb, entered, and finding Bedreddin lying on\nhis back, was surprised at his beauty. When he had attentively\nconsidered Bedreddin, he said to himself, To judge of this\ncreature by his good mien, he seems to be an angel of the\nterrestrial paradise, whom God has sent to put the world in a\nflame with his beauty. At last, after he had satisfied himself\nwith looking upon him, he took a flight into the air, where\nmeeting by chance with a fairy, they saluted each other; after\nwhich he said to her, Descend with me into the church-yard where\nI stay, and I will show you a prodigious beauty, who is worthy of\nyour admiration as well as mine. The fairy consented, and both\ndescended in an instant; they came into the tomb: Look ye, said\nthe genius to the fairy, showing him Bedreddin, did you ever see\na young man of a better shape, and more beautiful than this? The\nfairy, having attentively observed Bedreddin, answered, I must\nconfess that he is a very handsome man, but I am just come from\nseeing an object at Cairo still more admirable; and if you hear\nme, I will tell you a strange story concerning her. You will very\nmuch oblige me by so doing, answered the genius. You must know\nthen, said the fairy, that the sultan of Egypt has a vizier\ncalled Schemseddin Mohammed, who has a daughter of about twenty\nyears of age, the most beautiful and complete person that ever\nwas known. The sultan having heard of this young lady's beauty,\nsent the other day for her father, and said, I understand you\nhave a daughter; I have a mind to marry her; will you consent to\nit? The vizer, who did not expect this proposal, was troubled at\nit; and, instead of accepting it joyfully, which another in his\nplace would certainly have done, he answered the sultan, May it\nplease your majesty, I am not worthy of the honour you confer\nupon me, and I most humbly beseech you to pardon me if I do not\nagree to your request. You know I had a brother called Noureddin\nAli, who had the honour, as well as myself, to be one of your\nviziers: We had some difference together, which was the cause of\nhis leaving me on a sudden, and since that time I have had no\naccount of him till within these four days, when I heard he died\nat Balsora, being grand vizier to the sultan of that kingdom. He\nhas left a son behind him; and there having been an agreement\nbetween us to match our children together, should we have any, I\nam persuaded he intended the match when he died. Being desirous\nto fulfil the promise on my part, I conjure your majesty to grant\nme leave; you have in your court many other lords who have\ndaughters on whom you may please to bestow that honour.\n\nThe sultan of Egypt was incensed against Schemseddin to the\nhighest degree, and said to him in a passion, which he could not\nrestrain, Is this the way you requite my condescension to stoop\nso low as to desire your alliance? I know how to revenge your\ndaring to prefer another to me, and I swear that your daughter\nshall be married to the most contemptible and ugly of all my\nslaves. Having spoken these words, he angrily bid the vizier\nbegone, who went home to his house full of confusion, and very\nsad. The same day the sultan sent for one of his grooms, who is\nhump-backed, big-bellied, crook-legged, and as ugly as a\nhobgoblin; and, after having commanded Schemseddin to consent to\nmarry his daughter to this ghastly slave, he caused the contract\nto be made out and signed by witnesses in his own presence. The\npreparations for this fantastical wedding, says the fairy, are\nall ready, and at this moment all the slaves belonging to the\nlords of the court of Egypt are waiting at the door of the\nbagnio, each with a flambeau in his hand, for the crook-backed\ngroom to go along with them to his bride, who is already dressed\nto receive him. When I departed from Cairo, the ladies, met for\nthat purpose, were going to conduct her, in all her nuptial\nattire, to the hall, where she is to receive her hump-backed\nbridegroom, and is this minute now expecting him; I have seen\nher, and do assure you that no person can look upon her without\nadmiration.\n\nWhen the fairy left off speaking, the genius says to her,\nWhatever you think or say, I cannot be persuaded that the girl's\nbeauty exceeds that of this young man. I will not dispute it with\nyou, answered the fairy, for I must confess he deserves to be\nmarried to that charming creature whom they design for Hump-back;\nand I think it were a deed worthy of us to obstruct the sultan of\nEgypt's injustice, and put this young gentleman in the room of\nthe slave. You are in the right, answered the genius; I am\nextremely obliged to you for so good a thought; let us deceive\nhim: I consent to your revenge upon the sultan of Egypt; let us\ncomfort a distressed father, and make his daughter as happy as\nshe thinks herself miserable; I shall do my utmost to make this\nproject take, and am persuaded you will not be backward; I shall\ncarry him to Cairo before he awake, and afterwards leave it to\nyou to carry him elsewhere when we have accomplished our design.\nThe plan being thus concerted, the genius lifted Bedreddin\ngently, carried him with an inconceivable swiftness through the\nair, and set him down at the door of a public-house next to the\nbagnio, whence Hump-back was to come with the train of slaves\nthat waited for him. Bedreddin awaked that very moment, and was\nmightily surprised to find himself in the middle of a city which\nhe knew not: He was going to cry out, and to ask where he was;\nbut the genius touched him gently on the shoulder, and forbade\nhim to speak a word. Then he put a torch in his hand, bid him mix\nwith the crowd at the bagnio door, and follow them till he came\ninto a hall, where they were to celebrate a marriage. The\nbridegroom is a hump-backed fellow, and by this description you\nwill easily know him. Place yourself at the right hand as you go\nin, then immediately open the purse of sequins you have in your\nbosom, and distribute them among the musicians and dancers as\nthey go along. When you have got into the hall, give money also\nto the female slaves you see about the bride, when they come near\nyou; but every time you put your hand in your purse, be sure to\ntake out a whole handful, and be not sparing. Observe to do every\nthing exactly as I have told you, with great presence of mind; be\nnot afraid of any person or thing, but leave the rest to a\nsuperior power, who will order matters as he thinks fit.\n\nYoung Bedreddin, thus instructed in all that he was to do,\nadvanced towards the door of the bagnio: the first thing he did\nwas to light his torch like a slave; then mixing among them, as\nif he belonged to some nobleman of Cairo, he marched along as\nthey did, following Hump-back, who came out of the bagnio, and\nmounted a horse from the sultan's own stable. Being come near the\nmusicians and men and women-dancers, who preceded the bridgroom,\nBedreddin pulled out, time after time, whole handfuls of sequins,\nwhich he distributed among them. As he gave his money with an\nunparalleled grace and engaging mien, those who received it cast\ntheir eyes upon him, and, after they had taken a full view of his\nface, found him so handsome and comely, that they could not look\noff again.\n\nAt last they came to Schemseddin's gate. Schemseddin was\nBedreddin's uncle, and little thought his nephew was so near. The\ndoor-keepers, to prevent any disorder, kept back all the slaves\nwho carried torches, and would not let them come in. Bedreddin\nwas likewise refused; but the musicians, who had free entrance,\nstood still, and protested they would not go in without him. He\nis not one of the slaves, said they; look upon him, and you will\nsoon be satisfied as to that; he is certainly a young stranger,\nwho is curious to see the ceremonies observed at weddings in this\ncity. Saying thus, they put him in the midst of them, and carried\nhim in; they took his torch out of his hand, and gave it to the\nfirst they met. Having brought him into the hall, they placed him\nat the right hand of the hump-backed bridegroom, who sat near the\nvizier's daughter on a throne most richly adorned. She appeared\nvery lovely in her dress, but in her face there was nothing to be\nseen but poignant grief. The cause was easy to be guessed at,\nwhen she had by her side a bridegroom so very deformed, and so\nunworthy of her love. The throne of that ill-matched couple was\nin the midst of a sofa. The ladies of the emirs, viziers, those\nof the sultan's bed-chamber, and several other ladies of the\ncourt and city, were placed on each side, a little lower, every\none according to rank, and all of them so fine and richly\ndressed, that it was one of the pleasantest sights that could be\nseen, each of them holding a large wax taper. As soon as they saw\nBedreddin come into the room, all fixed their eyes upon him,\nadmiring his shape, his behaviour, and the beauty of his face.\nWhen he was set down, they left their seats, and came near him,\nto have a full view of his face; and almost all of them, as they\nreturned to their seats, found themselves moved with tender\npassion.\n\nThe disparity between Bedreddin and the hump-backed groom, who\nmade such a horrible figure, occasioned a great murmuring among\nthe company, insomuch that the ladies cried out, We must give our\nbride to this handsome young gentleman, and not to this ugly\nhump-back. Nor did they rest here, but uttered imprecations\nagainst the sultan, who, abusing his absolute power, would unite\nugliness and beauty together. They also upbraided the bridegroom,\nand put him quite out of countenance, to the great satisfaction\nof the spectators, whose shouts for some time put a stop to the\nconcert of music in the hall. At last the musicians began again,\nand the women who had dressed the bride came round her. Each time\nshe changed her habit, she rose up from her seat, followed by her\nbride-women, and passed by Hump-back without giving him one look;\nbut went towards Bedreddin, before whom she presented herself in\nher new attire. On this occasion Bedreddin, according to the\ninstructions given him by the genius, failed not to put his hand\nin his purse, and pulled out handfuls of sequins, which he\ndistributed among the women that followed the bride; nor did he\nforget the players and dancers, but also threw money to them.\nThey showed themselves very thankful, and made signs that the\nyoung bride should be for him, and not for the hump-back fellow.\nThe women who attended her told her the same thing, and did not\ncare whether the groom heard them or not; for they put a thousand\ntricks upon him, which very much pleased the spectators.\n\nThe ceremony of changing habits being over, the musicians ceased\nand went away, but made a sign to Bedreddin Hassan to stay\nbehind. The ladies did the same, and went all home, except those\nbelonging to the house. The bride went into a closet, whither her\nwomen followed to undress her, and none remained in the hall but\nthe hump-back groom, Bedreddin, and some of the domestics.\nHump-back, who was furiously mad at Bedreddin, suspecting him to\nbe his rival, gave him a cross look, and said, And thou, what\ndost thou wait for? Why art thou not gone as well as the rest?\nBegone. Bedreddin, having no pretence to stay, withdrew, not\nknowing what to do with himself. But he had not got out of the\nporch, when the genius and the fairy met and stopped him. Whither\nart thou going? said the fairy; stay, for Hump-back is not in the\nhall, but has gone out about some business; you have nothing to\ndo but to return, and introduce yourself into the bride's\nchamber: As soon as you are alone with her, tell her boldly that\nyou are her husband; that the sultan's intention was only to make\nsport with the groom; and, to make this pretended bridegroom some\namends, you had caused to be prepared for him, in the stable, a\ngood dish of cream: Then tell her all the fine things you can\nthink of to persuade her, for, with your handsomeness, little\npersuasion will do, and she will think herself happy in being\ndeceived so agreeably. In the mean time we shall take care that\nHump-back return not, and let nothing hinder you from passing the\nnight with your bride, for she is yours.\n\nWhile the fairy thus encouraged Bedreddin, and instructed him how\nhe should behave himself, Hump-back was really gone out of the\nroom; for the genius went to him in the shape of a great cat,\nmiauling at a most fearful rate: The fellow called to the cat,\nand clapped his hands to make her flee; but, instead of that, the\ncat stood upon her hind feet, staring with her eyes like fire,\nlooking fiercely at him, miauling louder than she did at first,\nand growing bigger, till she was as large as an ass. At this\nsight Hump-back would have cried out for help, but his fear was\nso great that he stood gaping, and could not utter one word. That\nhe might have no time, however, to recover, the genius changed\nhimself immediately into a large buffalo, and in this shape\ncalled to him with a voice that redoubled his fear, Thou\nhump-backed villain! At these words the affrighted groom cast\nhimself on the ground, and covering his face with his gown, that\nhe might not see this dreadful beast, Sovereign prince of\nbuffaloes, said he, what is it you want with me? Woe be to thee,\nreplies the genius, hast thou the boldness to venture to marry my\nmistress? O my lord, said Hump-back, I pray you to pardon me; if\nI am guilty, it, is through ignorance; I did not know that this\nlady had a buffalo for her sweetheart: Command me in any thing\nyou please; I give you my oath that I am ready to obey you. By\ndeath, replied the genius, if thou goest out from hence, or\nspeakest a word till the sun rises, I will crush thy head to\npieces; but then I give thee leave to go from hence: I warn thee\nto hasten, and not to look back; but if thou hast the impudence\nto return, it shall cost thee thy life. When the genius had done\nspeaking, he transformed himself into the shape of a man, took\nHump-back by the legs, and after having set him against the wall,\nwith his head downwards, If thou stir, said he, before the sun\nrises, as I have told thee already, I will take thee by the heels\nagain, and dash thy head in a thousand pieces against the wall.\n\nTo return to Bedreddin: Being prompted by the genius and the\npresence of the fairy, he got into the hall again, from whence he\nslipped into the bride-chamber, where he sat down expecting the\nsuccess of his adventure. After a while the bride arrived,\nconducted by an old matron, who came no further than the door,\nexhorting the bridegroom to do his duty like a man, without\nlooking to see if it was Hump-back or another; she then locked\nthe door, and retired. The young bride was mightily surprised,\ninstead of Hump-back to find Bedreddin Hassan, who came up to her\nwith the best grace in the world. What! my dear friend, said she,\nby your being here at this time of night, you must be my\nhusband's comrade? No, madam, said Bedreddin, I am of another\nsort of quality than that ugly hump-back. But, said she, you do\nnot consider that you speak degradingly of my husband. He your\nhusband, madam? replied he; can you retain these thoughts so\nlong? Be convinced of your mistake, madam, for so much beauty\nmust never be sacrificed to the most contemptible of mankind: It\nis I, madam, that am the happy mortal for whom it is reserved.\nThe sultan had a mind to make himself merry by putting this trick\nupon the vizier your father, but he chose me to be your real\nhusband. You might have observed how the ladies, the musicians,\nthe dancers, your women, and all the servants of your family,\nwere pleased with this comedy. I have sent that hump-back fellow\nto his stable again, where he is just now eating a dish of cream;\nand you may rest assured that he will never appear any more\nbefore you.\n\nAt this discourse, the vizier's daughter, who was more like one\ndead than alive when she came into the bride-chamber, put on a\ngay air, which made her so handsome that Bedreddin was perfectly\ncharmed with her. I did not expect, said she, to meet with so\npleasing a surprise, and had condemned myself to live unhappy all\nmy days; but my good fortune is so much the greater, as I possess\nin you a man that is worthy of my tenderest affection. Having\nspoken thus, she undressed herself, and stepped into bed.\nBedreddin, overjoyed to see himself possessor of so many charms,\nmade haste to follow her, and laid his clothes upon a chair, with\na bag that he got from the Jew, which, notwithstanding all the\nmoney he pulled out, was still full. He likewise threw off his\nturban, and put on a night-cap that had been ordered for\nHump-back, and so went to bed in his shirt and drawers[Footnote:\nAll the eastern nations lie in their drawers; but this\ncircumstance will serve Bedreddin in the sequel.]; the latter\nwere of blue satin, tied with a lace of gold. Whilst the two\nlovers were asleep, the genius, who had met again with the fairy,\nsays to him, That it was high time to finish what was begun, and\nhitherto so successfully carried on; then let us not be overtaken\nby day-light, which will soon appear; go you, and bring off the\nyoung man again without awaking him. The fairy went into the\nbed-chamber where the two lovers were fast asleep, and took up\nBedreddin just as he was, that is to say, in his shirt and\ndrawers, and, in company with the genius, with a wonderful\nswiftness flew away with him to the gates of Damascus in Syria,\nwhere they arrived when the officer of the mosques, appointed for\nthat end, was calling the people to come to prayers at break of\nday. The fairy laid Bedreddin softly on the ground, and, leaving\nhim close by the gate, departed with the genius. The gate of the\ncity being opened, and a great many people assembled to get out,\nthey were mightily surprised to see Bedreddin lying in his shirt\nand drawers upon the ground. One said, He has been so hard put to\nit to get away from his mistress, that he had not time to put on\nhis clothes. Look ye, says another, how people expose themselves;\nsure enough he has spent the most part of the night in drinking\nwith his friends, till he has got drunk, and then perhaps, having\noccasion to go out, instead of returning, is come this length,\nand, not having his senses about him, was overtaken with sleep.\nOthers were of different opinions; but nobody could guess the\noccasion of his being there. A small puff of wind happening to\nblow at the time, uncovered his breast, which was whiter than\nsnow. Every one, being struck with admiration at the fineness of\nhis complexion, spoke so loud as to awake him. His surprise was\nas great as theirs, when he found himself at the gate of a city\nwhere he had never been before, and encompassed by a crowd of\npeople gazing at him. Gentlemen, said he, for God's sake tell me\nwhere I am, and what you would have of me. One of the crowd said\nto him, Young man, the gates of the city were just now opened,\nand, as we came out, we found you lying here in this condition,\nand stood to look on you: Have you lain here all night? and do\nyou not know that you are at one of the gates of Damascus? At one\nof the gates of Damascus! answered Bedreddin; sure you mock me:\nWhen I lay down to sleep last night, I was at Cairo. When he said\nthese words, some of the people, moved with compassion for him,\nsaid, It is a pity such a handsome young man should have lost his\nsenses; and so went away. My son, says an old gentleman to him,\nyou know not what you say: How is it possible that you, being\nthis morning at Damascus, could be last night at Cairo? It is\ntrue for all that, said Bedreddin; for I swear to you that I was\nall yesterday at Balsora. He had no sooner said these words, than\nall the people fell into a fit of laughter, and cried out, He is\na fool, he is a madman. There were some, however, who pitied him\nbecause of his youth; and one among the company said to him, My\nson, you must certainly be crazed; you do not consider what you\nsay; how is it possible that a man could yesterday be at Balsora,\nthe same night at Cairo, and next morning at Damascus? Sure you\nare asleep still; come, rouse up your spirits. What I say,\nanswered Bedreddin, is so true, that last night I was married in\nthe city of Cairo. All those that laughed before could not\nforbear laughing again when he said so. Recollect yourself, says\nthe same person that spoke before; you have dreamed all this, and\nthat fancy still possesses your brain. I am sensible of what I\nsay, answered the young man: Pray can you tell me how it was\npossible to go in a dream to Cairo, where I am very certain I was\nin person, and where my bride was seven times brought before me,\neach time dressed in a different habit, and where I saw an ugly\nhump-backed fellow to whom they intended to give her? Besides, I\nwant to know what is become of my gown, my turban, and the bag of\nsequins I had at Cairo. Though he assured them that all these\nthings were matters of fact, yet they could not forbear laughing\nat him, which put him into such confusion that he knew not well\nwhat to think.\n\nAfter Bedreddin had confidently affirmed all that he said to be\ntrue, he rose up to go into the town, and every one that followed\nhim called out, A madman, a fool. Upon this, some looked out at\ntheir windows, some came to their doors, and others joined with\nthose that were about him, calling out as they did, but not\nknowing for what. In this perplexity Bedreddin happened to reach\na pastry-cook's shop, and went into it to avoid the rabble. This\npastry-cook had formerly been captain of a troop of Arabian\nrobbers who plundered the caravans; and though he was become a\ncitizen of Damascus, where he behaved himself with decorum, yet\nhe was dreaded by all those who knew him; wherefore, as soon as\nhe came out to the rabble that followed Bedreddin, they\ndispersed. The pastry-cook, seeing them all gone, asked him what\nhe was, and who brought him hither? Bedredclin told him all, not\neven concealing his birth, nor the death of his father the grand\nvizier: He afterwards gave him an account why he left Balsora;\nhow, after he fell asleep the night following upon his father's\ntomb, he found himself, when he awaked, at Cairo, where he had\nmarried a lady; and, finally, in what amazement he was when he\nfound himself at Damascus, without being able to penetrate into\nall those wonderful events.\n\nYour history is one of the most surprising (said the\npastry-cook); but, if you follow my advice, you will let no man\nknow the matters yon have revealed to me, but patiently expect\ntill Heaven think fit to put an end to your misfortunes: You are\nfree to stay with me till then; and as I have no children, I will\nown you for my son, if you consent to it; and when you are so\nadopted, you may freely walk up and down the city, without being\nfurther exposed to the insults of the rabble. Though this\nadoption was below the son of a grand vizier, Bedreddin was glad\nto accept of the pastry-cook's proposal, judging it the best\nthing he could do in his then circumstances. The cook clothed\nhim, called witnesses, and sent for a notary, before whom he\nacknowledged him as his son. After this, Bedreddin staid with him\nby the name of Hassan, and learned the pastry trade. Whilst these\nthings passed at Damascus, Schemseddin Mohammed's daughter\nawaked, and, finding Bedreddin out of bed, supposed he had risen\nsoftly from a fear of disturbing her, but that he would soon\nreturn. As she was in expectation of him, her father the vizier,\nwho was mightily vexed at the affront put upon him by the sultan,\ncame and knocked at her chamber-door, with a resolution to bewail\nher sad destiny. He called her by her name, and she, knowing him\nby his voice, immediately got up and opened the door; she kissed\nhis hand, and received him with so much satisfaction in her\ncountenance as surprised the vizier, who expected to find her\ndrowned in tears, and as much grieved, as himself. Unhappy\nwretch! said he in a passion, do you appear before me thus? after\nthe hideous sacrifice you have just consummated, can you see me\nwith so much satisfaction? The new bride, seeing her father angry\nat her pleasant countenance, said to him, For God's sake, sir, do\nnot reproach me wrongfully: It is not the hump-back fellow, whom\nI abhor more than death, it is not that monster I have married;\nevery body laughed him so to scorn, and put him so out of\ncountenance, that he was forced to run away and hide himself, to\nmake room for a charming young gentleman who is my real husband.\nWhat fable do you tell me? said Schemseddin roughly? What! did\nnot Crook-back lie with you last night? No, sir, said she, it was\nthat young gentleman who has large eyes and black eye-brows. At\nthese words the vizier lost all patience, and fell into a\nterrible passion. Ah, wicked woman, says he, you will make me\ndistracted! It is you, father, said she, that puts me out of my\nsenses by your incredulity. So it is not true, replies the\nvizier, that Hump-back--Let us talk no more of Hump-back, said\nshe; a curse upon Hump-back, must I always have him cast in my\ndish? Father, said she, I tell you once more that I did not bed\nwith him, but with my dear spouse, who, I believe, is not very\nfar off. Schemseddin immediately went out to seek him; but,\ninstead of seeing him, was mightily surprised to find Hump-back\nwith his head on the ground, and his heels uppermost, as the\ngenius had placed him. What is the meaning of this? said he; who\nplaced you thus? Crook-back, knowing it to be the vizier,\nanswered, Alas! alas! it is you then that would marry me to the\nmistress of a buffalo, the sweetheart of an ugly genius; I will\nnot be your fool, you shall not put a trick upon me. Schemseddin,\non hearing Hump-back speak thus, thought he was raving, and bade\nhim move, and stand upon his legs. I will take care how I do\nthat, said Hump-back, unless the sun be risen. Know, sir, that\nwhen I came thither last night, on a sudden a black cat appeared\nto me, and in an instant grew as big as a buffalo: I have not\nforgotten what he said to me; therefore you may go about your\nbusiness, and leave me here. The vizier, instead of going away,\ntook Hump-back by the heels, and made him get up, after which he\nran as fast as he could, without looking behind him, and, coming\nto the palace, presented himself to the sultan, who laughed\nheartily when he told him how the genius had served him.\n\nSchemseddin returned to his daughter's chamber more astonished\nthan before. Well then, my abused daughter, said he, can you give\nme no further light into this matter? Sir, said she, I can give\nyou no other account than what I have done already. Here are my\nhusband's clothes, which he left upon the chair; perhaps you may\nfind somewhat that may solve your doubt. She then showed him\nBedreddin's turban, which he took and examined carefully on all\nsides. I should take this to be a vizier's turban, if it were not\nmade after the Moussol[Footnote: The town of Moussol is in\nMesopotamia, and built opposite to old Nineveh.] fashion; but,\nperceiving somewhat to be sewed between the stuff and the lining,\nhe called for scissars, and, having unripped it, found the paper\nwhich Noureddin Ali gave Bedreddin his son as he was dying, and\nhe had put it in his turban for more security. Schemseddin,\nhaving opened the paper, knew his brother Noureddin's hand, and\nfound this superscription, 'For my son Bedreddin Hassan.' Before\nhe could make any reflections, his daughter delivered him the bag\nthat lay under his clothes, which he likewise opened, and found\nfull of sequins; for, as before mentioned, notwithstanding all\nthe liberality of Bedreddin, it was still kept full by the genius\nand fairy. He read these words upon a note in the bag, 'A\nthousand sequins belonging to Isaac the Jew;' and these lines\nunderneath, which the Jew wrote before he departed from\nBedreddin: ' Delivered to Bedreddin Hassan, for the cargo of the\nfirst of those ships that formerly belonged to Noureddin Ali, his\nfather, of worthy memory, sold unto me upon its arrival in this\nplace.' He had scarcely read these words, when he gave a shout,\nand fainted. Being recovered, however, by the help of his\ndaughter, and the woman whom she called to her assistance,\nDaughter, said he, do not frighten yourself at this accident, the\nreason of which is such as you can scarcely believe: Your\nbridegoom is your cousin, the son of Noureddin Ali; the thousand\nsequins put me in mind of a quarrel I had with my dear brother;\nit is without doubt the dowry he gives you. God be praised for\nall things, and particularly for this, miraculous adventure,\nwhich demonstrates his almighty power. Then looking again upon\nhis brother's writing, he kissed it several times, shedding\nabundance of tears. Having looked over the book from one end to\nthe other, he found the date of his brother's arrival at Balsora,\nhis marriage, and the birth of Bedreddin Hasaan; and when he\ncompared the same with the day of his own marriage, and the birth\nof his daughter at Cairo, he wondered how every thing so exactly\nagreed. This happy discovery put him into such a transport of\njoy, that he took up the book, with the ticket of the bag, and\nshowed it to the sultan, who pardoned what was past, and was so\nmuch pleased with the relation of the adventure, that he caused\nit, with all its circumstances, to be put in writing for the use\nof posterity.\n\nMeanwhile Schemseddin could not comprehend why his nephew did not\nappear; he expected him every moment, and was impatient to have\nhim in his arms. After he had expected him seven days in vain, he\nsearched for him through all Cairo, but could hear no news of\nhim, which perplexed him very much. This is the strangest\nadventure, said he, that ever man met with. Not knowing what\nalteration might happen, he thought fit to draw up in writing,\nwith his own hand, after what manner the wedding had been\nsolemnized; how the hall and his daughter's bed-chamber were\nfurnished, and other circumstances. He likewise made the turban,\nthe bag, and the rest of Bedreddin's things, into a bundle, and\nlocked them up. After some weeks, the vizier's daughter perceived\nherself with child, and was delivered of a son at the end of nine\nmonths. A nurse was provided, besides women and slaves; and his\ngrandfather called him Agib[Footnote: This word, in Arabic,\nsignifies wonderful.]. When young Agib had attained the age of\nseven, the vizier, instead of teaching him to read at home, sent\nhim to a master who was in great esteem; and two slaves were\nordered to wait upon him. Agib used to play with his\nschool-fellows, and as they were all inferior to him in quality,\nthey showed him great respect, according to the example of their\nmaster, who often would excuse faults in him that he would not\npass by in the rest. This complaisance spoiled Agib so, that he\nbecame proud and insolent, would have his play-fellows bear all\nfrom him, and would bear nothing from them, but be master every\nwhere; and if any one took the liberty to thwart him, he would\ncall them a thousand names, and many times beat them. In short,\nall the scholars were weary of his company, and complained of him\nto the master, who answered, that they must have patience. But\nwhen he saw that Agib still grew more and more insolent, and\noccasioned him a great deal of trouble, Children, said he to his\nscholars, I find that Agib is a little insolent gentleman; I will\nshow you a way how to mortify him, so that he will never torment\nyou more; nay, I believe it will make him leave the school: When\nhe comes again to-morrow, and if you have a mind to play\ntogether, set yourselves round him, and do one of you call out,\nCome let us play, but upon condition, that he who desires to play\nshall tell his own name, and the names of his father and mother;\nand they who refuse it shall be esteemed bastards, and not\nsuffered to play in our company. Next day, accordingly, when they\nwere gathered together, they failed not to follow their master's\ninstructions: they placed themselves round Agib, and one of them\ncalled out, Let us begin a play, but on condition, that he who\ncannot tell his own name, with that of his father and mother,\nshall not play at all. They all cried out, and so did Agib, We\nconsent to it. Then he that spoke first asked every one the\nquestion, and all fulfilled the condition except Agib, who\nanswered, My name is Agib, my mother is called the lady of\nbeauty, and my father Schemseddih Mohammed, vizier to the sultan.\n\nAt these words the children cried out, Agib, What do you say?\nThat is not the name of your father, but of your grandfather. A\ncurse on you, said he in a passion: What! dare you say that the\nvizier Schemseddin is not my father? No, no, cried they, with\ngreat laughter, he is but your grandfather, and you shall not\nplay with us; nay, we will take care how we come into your\ncompany. Having spoken thus, they left him, scoffing and laughing\namong themselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept. The\nschoolmaster, who was near, and heard all that passed, came just\nat the nick of time, and speaking to Agib, says, Agib, do not you\nknow that the vizier Schemseddin is not your father, but your\ngrandfather, and the father of your mother, the lady of beauty?\nWe know not the name of your father any more than you do; but\nonly know that the sultan was going to marry your mother to one\nof his grooms, a hump-back fellow, but a genius lay with her.\nThis is hard upon you, and ought to teach you to treat your\nschool-fellows with less haughtiness than you have done hitherto.\nLittle Agib, being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the\nschool, and went home crying. He came straight to his mother's\nchamber, who, being alarmed to see him thus grieved, asked him\nthe reason. He could not answer for tears, and it was but now and\nthen he could speak plain enough to repeat what had been the\noccasion of his sorrow. Having come to himself, Mother, said he,\nfor the love of God, be pleased to tell me who is my father. My\nson, said she, Schemseddin Mohammed, that every day makes so much\nof you, is your father. You do not tell me truth, said he; he is\nyour father, not mine; but whose son am I? At this question, the\nlady of beauty, calling to mind her wedding-night, which had been\nsucceeded by a long widowhood, began to shed tears, repining\nbitterly at the loss of so lovely a husband as Bedreddin. Whilst\nshe and Agib were weeping, the vizier entered, and demanded the\nreason of their sorrow. The lady told him the shame Agib had\nundergone at school, which did so much afflict the vizier, that\nhe joined his tears with theirs; and judging that the misfortune\nthat had happened to his daughter was the common discourse of the\ntown, he was quite out of patience. In this state he went to the\nsultan's palace, and, falling at his feet, humbly prayed him to\ngive him leave to make a journey into the provinces of the\nLevant, and particularly to Balsora, in search of his nephew\nBedreddin, as he could not bear that the people of the city\nshould believe a genius had got his daughter with child. The\nsultan was much concerned at the vizier's affliction, commended\nhis resolution, gave him leave to go, and caused a passport also\nto be written for him, praying, in the most obliging terms, all\nkings and princes, in whose dominions the said Bedreddin might\nsojourn, to grant that the vizier might bring him along with him.\n\nSchemseddin, not knowing how to express his thankfulness to the\nsultan for this favour, thought it his duty to fall down before\nhim a second time, and the floods of tears he shed gave\nsufficient testimony of his gratitude. At last, having wished the\nsultan all manner of prosperity, he took leave, and went home to\nhis house, where he disposed every thing for his journey, the\npreparations for which were carried on with so much diligence,\nthat in four days he left the city, accompanied by his daughter\nand his grandson Agib.\n\nThey travelled nineteen days without stopping; but on the\ntwentieth, arriving in a very pleasant meadow at a small distance\nfrom Damascus, they stopped, and pitched their tents on the banks\nof a river that runs through the town, and affords a very\nagreeable prospect to its neighbourhood. Schemseddin Mohammed\ndeclared that he would stay in that pleasant place two days, and\npursue his journey on the third. In the mean time he granted\npermission to his retinue to go to Damascus; and almost all of\nthem made use of it--some influenced by curiosity to see a city\nof which they had heard much, and others by the opportunity of\nvending in it such Egyptian goods as they had brought with them,\nor of buying the stuffs and rarities of the country. The\nbeautiful lady, desirous that her son Agib might share in the\nsatisfaction of viewing that celebrated city, ordered the black\neunuch, who acted in the quality of his governor, to conduct him\nhither, and to take care that he came to no harm. Accordingly\nAgib, arrayed in magnificent apparel, went along with the eunuch,\nwho held a large cane in his hand. They had no sooner entered the\ncity than Agib, fair and glorious as the day, attracted the eyes\nof the people. Some left their houses in order to gain a nearer\nview of him, others looked out at their windows, and those who\npassed along the streets were not satisfied with stopping to view\nhim, but kept pace with him to prolong the pleasure of such an\nagreeable sight: in fine, every one admired him, and implored a\nthousand benedictions on the father and mother who had given\nbeing to so fine a child. By chance the eunuch and he passed by\nthe shop where Bedreddin Hassan was, and there the crowd was so\ngreat, that they were forced to halt.\n\nThe pastry-cook who had adopted Bedreddin, had died some years\nbefore, leaving him his shop and all his estate; and he now\nmanaged the pastry trade so dexterously, that he gained great\nreputation in Damascus. Bedreddin, seeing so great a crowd gazing\nattentively upon Agib and the black eunuch, stepped out to view\nthem himself. Having cast his eyes particularly on Agib, he\npresently found himself involuntarily moved. He was not struck\nlike the crowd, with the shining beauty of the boy; a very\ndifferent cause, unknown to him, gave rise to his commotion. It\nwas the force of the blood that worked in this tender father,\nwho, laying aside all business, made up to Agib, and, with an\nengaging air, said to him, My little lord, who hast won my soul,\nbe so kind as to come into my shop, and eat a bit of such fare as\nI have, that I may have the pleasure of admiring you at my ease.\nThese words he pronounced with such tenderness, that tears\ntrickled from his eyes. Little Agib himself was greatly moved;\nand, turning to the eunuch, said, This honest man's face pleases\nme much; he speaks in such an affectionate manner, that I cannot\navoid complying with his desire; let us step into his house, and\ntaste his pastry. Ah, by my troth! replied the slave, it would be\na fine thing to see the son of a vizier go into a pastry shop to\neat; do not you imagine that I will suffer any such thing. Alas,\nmy little lord, cried Bedreddin, it is an injustice to trust your\nconduct in the hands of a person who treats you so harshly. Then\napplying himself to the eunuch, My good friend, continued he,\npray do not himder this young lord to grant me the favour I ask;\ndo not put that piece of mortification on me; rather do me the\nhonour to walk in along with him; and, by so doing, you will give\nthe world to know, that, though your outside is brown like a\nchesnut, your inside is as white as his. Do you know, continued\nhe, that I am master of the secret to make you white, instead of\nbeing black as you are? This set the eunuch a laughing, and then\nhe asked Bedreddin what that secret was. I will tell you, replied\nBedreddin, repeating some verses in praise of black eunuchs,\nimplying, that by their ministry the honour of princes, and of\nall great men, was insured. The eunuch was so charmed with the\nverses, that, without further hesitation, he suffered Agib to go\ninto the shop, and also went in himself. Bedreddin was overjoyed\nat having obtained what he had so passionately desired; and\nfalling about the work he had discontinued, I was making, said\nhe, cream-tarts, and you must, with submission, eat of them, I am\npersuaded you will find them very good; for my own mother, who\nmakes them incomparably well, taught me; and people send to buy\nthem of me from all quarters of the town. This said, he took a\ncream-tart out of the oven, and, after strewing on it some\npomegranate kernels and sugar, set it before Agib, who pronounced\nit very delicious. Another was served up to the eunuch, who gave\nthe same judgment. While they were both eating, Bedreddin\nregarded Agib very attentively; and, after looking on him again\nand again, it occurred to him that, for any thing he knew, he\nmight have such a son by his charming wife, from whom he had been\nso soon and so cruelly separated; and the very thoughts drew\ntears from his eyes. He also intended to put some questions to\nlittle Agib about his journey to Damascus; but the child had no\ntime to gratify his curiosity; for the eunuch, pressing him to\nreturn to his grandfather's tent, took him away as soon as he had\ndone eating. Bedreddin, however, not contented with looking after\nhim, shut up his shop immediately, and followed him. The eunuch,\nperceiving that he followed them, was extremely surprised: You\nimpertinent fellow, said he, with an angry tone, what do you\nwant? My dear friend, replied Bedreddin, do not trouble yourself;\nI have a little business out of town that is just come into my\nhead, and I must needs go and look after it. This answer,\nhowever, did not at all appease the eunuch, who, turning to Agib,\nsaid, This is all owing to you; I foresaw that I should repent of\nmy complaisance; you would needs go into the man's shop; it was\nnot wise in me to give you leave. Perhaps, replied Agib, he has\nreal business out of town, and the road is free to every body.\n\nWhile this conversation passed, they kept walking together,\nwithout looking behind them, till they came near the vizier's\ntents, when they turned about to see if Bedreddin followed them.\nAgib, perceiving he was within two paces of him, grew red and\nwhite alternately, according to his different emotions; he was\nafraid that the grand vizier his grandfather should come to know\nthat he had been in the pastry-shop, and had eaten there. In this\ndread he took up a pretty large stone that lay at his foot, and\nthrowing it at Bedreddin, hit him on the forehead, which gave him\nsuch a wound, that his face was covered with blood; he then took\nto his heels, and ran under the eunuch's tent. The eunuch gave\nBedreddin to understand that he had no reason to complain of a\nmischance which he had merited and brought upon himself.\nBedreddin turned towards the city, staunching the blood with his\napron, which he had not put off. I was a fool, said he within\nhimself, for leaving my house, to take so much pains about this\nbrat; for doubtless he would never have used me after this\nmanner, if he had not thought I had some fatal design against\nhim; When he got home, he had his wound dressed, and softened the\nsense of his mischance by the reflection that there was an\ninfinite number of people yet more unfortunate than himself.\n\nBedreddin kept on the pastry trade at Damascus, whence his uncle\nSehemseddin departed three days after his arrival; he went by the\nway of Emaus, Hanah, and Halep; then crossed the Euphrates; and,\nafter passing through Mardin, Moussoul, Singier, Diarbeker, and\nseveral other towns, arrived at last at Balsora; and, immediately\nafter his arrival, desired audience of the sultan, who was no\nsooner informed of Schemseddin's quality, than he received him\nvery favourably, and asked him the occasion of his journey to\nBalsora. Sir, replied the vizier Schemseddin, I come to know what\nis become of the son of Noureddin Ali, my brother, who has had\nthe honour to serve your majesty. Noureddin, said the sultan, has\nbeen dead a long while: as to his son, all I can tell you of him\nis, that he disappeared very suddenly about two months after his\nfather's death, and nobody has seen him since, notwithstanding\nall the inquiry I ordered to be made; but his mother, who is the\ndaughter of one of my viziers, is still alive. Schemseddin\ndesired leave of the sultan to see her, and carry her to Egypt;\nand having obtained his request, without tarrying till next day\nfor the satisfaction of seeing her, inquired her place of abode,\nand that very hour went to her house, accompanied by his daughter\nand grandson.\n\nThe widow of Noureddin resided still in the same house where her\nhusband had lived: it was a very magnificent structure, adorned\nwith marble pillars; but Schemseddin did not stop to view it. At\nhis entry, he kissed the gate, and the piece of marble upon which\nhis brother's name was written in letters of gold. He desired to\nspeak with his sister-in-law, and was told by the servants that\nshe was then in a small edifice, in the form of a dome, which\nthey showed him, in the middle of a very spacious court. This\ntender mother used to spend the greater part of the day, as well\nas the night, in that room, which she had built in order to\nrepresent the tomb of Bedreddin, whom she supposed to be dead\nafter so long an absence. At this very instant she was shedding\ntears at the thoughts of her dear child; and Schemseddin\nentering, found her labouring under that affliction. He paid his\ncompliments, and, after beseeching her to suspend her tears and\ngroans, gave her to know that he had the honour to be her\nbrother-in-law, and acquainted her with the occasion of his\njourney from Cairo to Balsora. Schemseddin, after relating all\nthat had passed at Cairo on his daughter's wedding-night, and the\nsurprise occasioned by the discovery of the paper sewed up in\nBedreddin's turban, presented to her Agib and the beautiful lady.\n\nThe widow of Noureddin Ali, who had still continued sitting like\na woman moped and weaned from the affairs of this world, no\nsooner understood by his discourse that her dear son, whom she\nlamented so bitterly, might still be alive, than she rose, and\nrepeatedly embraced the beautiful lady and her grandchild Agib;\nand perceiving in the youth the features of Bedreddin, she shed\ntears very different from those to which she had been so long\naccustomed. She could not forbear kissing the youth, who, on his\npart, received her embraces with all the demonstrations of joy he\nwas capable of. Madam, said Schemseddin, it is time to wipe away\nyour tears, and cease your groans; you must now think of\naccompanying us to Egypt. The sultan of Balsora has given me\nleave to carry you thither, and I doubt not that you will agree\nto it. I am hopeful that we shall at last find out your son, my\nnephew; and if that should come to pass, the history of him, of\nyou, of my own daughter, and of my own adventures, will deserve\nto be committed to writing, and to be transmitted to posterity.\n\nThe widow of Noureddin Ali heard this proposal with pleasure, and\nfrom that very minute ordered preparations to be made for her\ndeparture. In the mean time Schemseddin desired a second\naudience; and, after taking leave of the sultan, who received him\nwith ample marks of respect, giving him a considerable present\nfor himself, and another of great value for the sultan of Egypt,\nhe set out from Balsora for the city of Damascus. When he arrived\nin its neighbourhood, he ordered his tents to be pitched without\nthe gate at which he designed to enter the city, and gave out\nthat he would tarry there three days in order to give his\nequipage rest, and buy up the best curiosities he could meet\nwith, in order to present them to the sultan of Egypt. While he\nwas thus employed in choosing the finest of the stuffs which the\nprincipal merchants had brought to his tents, Agib begged the\nblack eunuch, his governor, to carry him through the city, in\norder to see what he had not leisure to view as he passed before,\nand to know what was become of the pastry-cook whom he had\nwounded with a stone. The eunuch, complying with his request,\nwent with him towards the city, after leave obtained from his\nmother. They entered Damascus by the paradise-gate, which lay\nnext to the tents of the vizier Schemseddin. They walked through\nthe great squares and public places where the richest goods were\nsold, and viewed the ancient mosque of the Ommidae[Footnote: That\nis, of caliphs who reigned after the four first successors of\nMahomet, and were so called from one of their ancestors whose\nname was Ommiam.], at the hour of prayer, between noon and\nsunset[Footnote: This prayer is always repeated two hours and a\nhalf before sunset.]. After that they passed the shop of\nBedreddin, whom they found still employed in making cream-tarts:\nI salute you, sir, said Agib. Do you know me? Do you remember\never seeing me before? Bedreddin, hearing these words, cast his\neyes on him, and knowing him, (oh, the surprising effect of\npaternal love!) found the same emotions which he had experienced\nwhen he first saw him; he seemed much confused; and, instead of\nmaking an answer, continued a long time without uttering one\nword. But at last, recollecting himself, My little lord, said he,\nbe so kind as to come once more with your governor into my house,\nand taste a cream-tart. I beg your lordship's pardon for my\nimprudence in following you out of town; I was at that time not\nmyself, and scarcely knew what I did. You dragged me after you,\nand the violence of the pull was so soft, that I could not\nwithstand it. Agib, astonished at what Bedreddin said, replied\nthus: There is an excess in the kindness you express; and unless\nyou engage, on oath, not to follow me when I go from hence, I\nwill not enter your house. If you give me your promise, and prove\na man of your word, I will visit you again to-morrow, as the\nvizier my grand-father is still employed in buying up things for\na present to the sultan of Egypt. My little lord, replied\nBedreddin, I will do whatever you desire me. Accordingly Agib and\nthe eunuch went into the shop. Bedreddin set before them a\ncream-tart, fully as good as what they had eaten of when they saw\nhim before. Come, said Agib, addressing himself to Bedreddin, sit\ndown by me, and eat with us. Bedreddin sat down, and offered to\nembrace Agib, as a testimony of the joy he conceived on his\nsitting by him; but Agib, shoving him away, desired him to be\neasy, not to run his friendship too close, and to content bimself\nwith seeing and entertaining him. Bedreddin obeyed, and began to\nsing a song, the words of which he had composed extempore in\npraise of Agib: he did not eat himself, but busied himself in\nserving his guests. When they had done eating, he brought them\nwater to wash with[Footnote: The Mahometans having a custom of\nwashing their hands five times a day when they go to prayers,\nthey reckon that they have no occasion to wash before eating, but\nalways after it, because they eat without forks.], and a white\nnapkin to wipe their hands: he then filled a large china cup with\nsherbet, and put snow into it[Footnote: This is done all over the\nLevant, for the purpose of cooling liquor.]; and offering it to\nAgib, This, said he, is sherbet of roses, and the pleasantest you\nwill meet with in all Damascus; I am sure you never tasted\nbetter. Agib, having drunk of it with pleasure, Bedreddin Hassan\ntook the cup from him, and presented it to the eunuch, who drank\nthe contents at one pull. In short, Agib and his governor having\nfared sumptuously, returned thanks to the pastry-cook for their\ngood entertainment, and proceeded homewards, it being then pretty\nlate. Whew they arrived at the tents of Schemseddin, Agib's\ngrandmother received him with transports of joy: her son\nBedreddin ran always in her mind; and, in embracing Agib, the\nremembrance of him drew tears from her eyes. Ah, my child! said\nshe, my joy would be complete, had I the pleasure of embracing\nyour father Bedreddin Hassan as I now embrace you! Then sitting\ndown to supper, she made Agib sit by her, and put several\nquestions to him relating to the walk he had been taking along\nwith the eunuch; and, complaining of his want of appetite, gave\nhim a piece of a cream-tart that she had made herself, and was\nindeed very good; for I told you before that she could make them\nbetter than the best pastry-cooks. She likewise gave part of it\nto the eunuch; but they had eaten so heartily at Bedreddin's\nhouse, that they could not taste it.\n\nAgib no sooner touched the piece of cream-tart that had been set\nbefore him, than he pretended that he did not like it, and left\nit uncut. Schaban[Footnote: The Mahometans give this name\ngenerally to their black eunuchs.] (for such was the eunuch's\nname) did the same. The widow of Noureddin Ali observed, with\nregret, that her grandson did not like the tart. What! said she,\ndoes my child thus despise the work of my hands? Be it known to\nyou, that not one in the world can make such cream-tarts, except\nmyself and your father Bedreddin, whom I myself taught. My good\nmother, replied Agib, give me leave to tell you, that if you do\nnot know how to make them better, there is a pastry-cook in this\ntown who exceeds you. We were but just now at his shop, and ate\nof one that was much better than yours. The grandmother, frowning\non the eunuch, said, How now, Schaban? was the care of my\ngrandchild committed to you to carry him to eat at pastry-shops\nlike a beggar? Madam, replied the eunuch, it is true we did stop\na little while, and talked with the pastry-cook, but we did not\neat with him. Pardon me, said Agib; we went into his shop, and\nthere ate a cream-tart. Upon this, the lady, more incensed\nagainst the eunuch than before, rose in a passion from the table,\nand running to the tent of Schemseddin, informed him of the\neunuch's crime, and that in such terms as tended more to inflame\nthe vizier than to dispose him to excuse it. Schemseddin, who was\nnaturally passionate, did not fail on this occasion to display\nhis anger. He went forthwith to his sister-in-law's tent; and,\nmaking up to the eunuch, What! said he, you pitiful wretch, have\nyou the impudence to abuse the trust I repose in you? Schaban,\nthough sufficiently convicted by Agib's testimony, still denied\nthe fact. But the child persisted in what he had already\naffirmed: Grandfather, said he, I can assure you that we did not\nonly eat, but that both of us so much satisfied our appetites,\nthat we have no occasion for supper; besides, the pastry-cook\ntreated us with a large bowl of sherbet. Well, cried Schemseddin,\nturning to Schaban, after all this, will you continue to deny\nthat you entered the pastry-cook's house, and ate there? Schaban\nhad still the impudence to swear that it was not true. Then you\nare a liar! said the vizier; I will believe my grandchild rather\nthan you; but, after all, if you can eat up this cream-tart on\nthe table, I shall be persuaded that you have truth on your side.\n\nThough Schaban had crammed himself immoderately before, yet he\nagreed to stand the test, and accordingly took a piece of the\ntart; but his stomach rising against it, he was obliged to spit\nit out of his mouth: he still, however, pursued the lie,\npretending he had over-eaten himself the day before, so that his\nstomach was cloyed. The vizier, irritated by the eunuch's\nfrivolous pretences, and convinced of his guilt, ordered him to\nlie flat upon the ground, and to be soundly bastinadoed. In\nundergoing this punishment, the poor wretch shrieked out\nprodigiously, and at last confessed the truth: I own, cried he,\nthat we did eat a cream-tart at the pastry-cook's, and that it\nwas much better than that upon the table. The widow of Noureddin\nthought it was out of spite to her, and with a design to mortify\nher, that Schaban commended the pastry-cook's tart; and\naccordingly said, I cannot believe the cook's tarts are better\nthan mine, and am resolved to satisfy myself upon that head.\nWhere does he live? Go immediately, and buy me one of his tarts.\nThe eunuch having received of her the money necessary for the\npurchase, repaired to Bedreddin's shop, and, addressing him, Good\nMr. Pastry-cook, said he, take this money, and let me have one of\nyour cream-tarts; one of our ladies wants to taste them.\nBedreddin chose one of the best, and gave it to the eunuch. Take\nthis, said he, I will engage it is an excellent one, and can\nassure you that nobody is able to make the like unless it be my\nmother, who perhaps still lives. Schaban returned speedily to the\ntents, and gave the tart to Noureddin's widow, who snatched it\neagerly, and broke off a piece; but had no sooner put it to her\nmouth, than she screamed and swooned away, Schemseddin, being\npresent, was extremely surprised at the accident, threw water\nupon her face himself, and was very active in succouring her. As\nsoon as she recovered, My God! cried she, it must certainly be my\nson, my dear Bedreddin, who made this tart!\n\nWhen the vizier Schemseddin heard his sister-in-law say that the\nmaker of the tart brought by the eunuch must without doubt be\nBedreddin, he was overjoyed; but reflecting that his joy might\nprove groundless, and in all likelihood the conjecture of\nNoureddin's widow be false, Madam, said he, why are you of that\nmind? Do you think there may not be a pastry-cook in the world\nwho knows how to make cream-tarts as well as your son? I own,\nreplied she, there may be pastry-cooks who can make as good\ntarts; but as I make them after a peculiar manner, and nobody but\nmy son is let into the secret, it must absolutely be he who made\nthis. Come, my brother, added she in transport, let us call up\nmirth and joy; we have at last found what we have been so long\nlooking for! Madam, said the vizier, I entreat you to moderate\nyour impatience, for we shall quickly know the truth. All we have\nto do, is to bring the pastry-cook hither, and then you and my\ndaughter will readily distinguish whether it is Bedreddin or not;\nbut you must both be hidden, so as to have a view of him without\nhis seeing you; for my design is to delay the discovery till we\nreturn to Cairo, where I propose to regale you with very\nagreeable diversion. He then left the ladies in their tent, and\nretired to his own, where he called for fifty of his men, and\nsaid to them, Take each of you a stick in your hands, and follow\nSchaban, who will conduct you to a pastry-cook's in the city.\nWhen you arrive there, break and dash in pieces all you find in\nthe shop; if he asks you why you commit such disorder, only ask\nhim again if it was not he who made the cream-tart that was\nbrought from his house. If he owns himself the man, seine his\nperson, fetter him, and bring him along with you; but take care\nyou do not beat him, nor do him the least harm. Go, and lose no\ntime.\n\nThe vizier's orders were immediately executed. The detachment,\nconducted by the black eunuch, went with expedition to\nBedreddin's house, and broke in pieces the plates, kettles,\ncopper-pans, tables, and all the other moveables and utensils\nthey met with, and drowned the sherbet-shop with creams and\ncomfits. Bedreddin, astonished at the sight, said, with a pitiful\ntone, Pray, good people, why do you serve me so? What is the\nmatter? What have I done? Was it not you, said they, who sold\nthis eunuch the cream-tart? Yes, replied he, I am the man, and\nwho says any thing against it? I defy any one to make a better.\nInstead of giving him an answer, they continued to break all\nround them; even the oven was not spared. The neighbours in the\nmean time took the alarm; and, surprised to see fifty armed men\ncommit such a disorder, asked the reason of such violence.\nBedreddin said once more to the actors of it. Pray, tell me what\ncrime I am guilty of, to have deserved this usage? Was it not\nyou, replied they, who made the cream-tart you sold to the\neunuch? Yes, it was I, replied he; I maintain it is a good one,\nand I do not deserve the usage you give me. However, without\nlistening to him, they seized his person, and snatching the cloth\noff his turban, tied his hands with it behind his back; then\ndragging him by force out of his shop, they marched off with him.\nThe mob gathering, and taking compassion on Bedreddin, took his\npart, and offered opposition to Schemseddin's men; but that very\nminute up came some officers from the governor of the city, who\ndispersed the people, and favoured the carrying off of Bedreddin;\nfor Schemseddin had in the mean time gone to the governor's house\nto acquaint him with the order he had given, and to demand the\ninterposition of force to favour the execution. The governor, who\ncommanded all Syria in the name of the sultan of Egypt, was loath\nto refuse any thing to his master's vizier; so that Bedreddin was\ncarried off, notwithstanding his cries and tears. It was needless\nfor him to ask, by the way, those who forced him off, what fault\nhad been found with his cream-tart, as they gave him no answer.\nIn short, they carried him to the tents, and detained him till\nSchemseddin returned from the governor of Damascus's house.\n\nUpon the vizier's return, Bedreddin Hassan was brought before\nhim: My lord, said Bedreddin, with tears in his eyes, pray do me\nthe favour to let me know wherein I have displeased you. Why, you\nwretch! said the vizier, was it not you who made the cream-tart\nyou sent me? I own I am the man, replied Bedreddin; but pray what\ncrime is that? I will punish you according to your deserts, said\nSchemseddin: it shall cost you your life for sending me such a\nsorry tart. Good God, cried Bedreddin, what news is this? Is it a\ncapital crime to make a bad creamtart? Yes, said the vizier, and\nyou are to expect no mercy from me. While this interview lasted,\nthe ladies, who were hid, observed Bedreddin narrowly, and\nreadily knew him, though he had been so long absent. They were so\ntransported with joy, that they swooned away, and, when they\nrecovered, would fain have run and fallen upon Bedreddin's neck;\nbut the promise they had made to the vizier, not to discover\nthemselves, restrained the tender emotions of love and nature.\n\nSchemseddin, having resolved to set out that very night, ordered\nthe tents to be struck, and the necessary preparations to be made\nfor his journey. As for Bedreddin, he ordered him to be put into\na chest or box well locked, and laid on a camel. When every thing\nwas got ready, the vizier and his retinue began their march, and\ntravelled all that night and the next day without stopping. In\nthe evening they halted, when Bedreddin was taken out of his cage\nin order to be served with necessary refreshments, but still\ncarefully kept at a distance from his mother and wife; and,\nduring the whole expedition, which lasted twenty days, he was\nserved in the same manner. When they arrived at Cairo, and had\nencamped in the neighbourhood of that place, Schemaeddin called\nfor Bedreddin, gave orders in his presence to a carpenter to get\nsome wood with all expedition, and make a stake. Heyday! said\nBedreddin, what do you mean to do with a stake? Why, to nail you\nto it, replies Schemseddin; then to have you carried through all\nthe quarters of the town, that the people may have the spectacle\nof a worthless pastry-cook who makes cream-tarts without pepper!\nBedreddin cried out so comically, that Schemseddin could hardly\nkeep his countenance: Good God, cried he, must I suffer a death,\nas cruel as ignominious, for not putting pepper in a cream-tart?\nMust I be rifled, and have all the godds in my house broken in\npieces, imprisoned in a chest, and at last nailed to a stake? and\nall for not putting pepper in a cream-tart! Good God! who ever\nheard of such a thing? Are these the actions of Mussulmen, of\npersons who make professions of probity and justice, and practise\nall manner of good works? With these words he shed tears; and\nthen renewing his complaint, No, continued he, never was man used\nso unjustly, nor so severely. Is it possible they should be\ncapable of taking a man's life for not putting pepper in a\ncream-tart? Cursed be all cream-tarts, as well as the hour in\nwhich I was born! Would to God I had died that minute!\n\nThe disconsolate Bedreddin did not cease to pour forth his\nlamentations; and when the stake was brought, and the nails to\nnail him to it, he cried out bitterly at the horrid sight.\nHeaven! said he, canst thou suffer me to die an ignominious and\npainful death? And for what crime? Not for robbery or murder, or\nrenouncing my religion, but for not putting pepper in a cream-\ntart!\n\nNight being pretty far advanced, the vizier ordered Bedreddin to\nbe put up again in his cage, saying to him, Stay here till\nto-morrow; the day shall not be spent before I give orders for\nyour death. The chest or cage was then carried away, and laid\nupon the camel that had brought it from Damascus; at the same\ntime all the other camels were loaded again, and the vizier,\nmounting his horse, ordered the camel that carried his nephew to\nmarch before him, thus entering the city, with all his equipage\nfollowing. After passing through several streets, where nobody\nappeared, every one being in bed, he arrived at his house, where\nhe ordered the chest to be taken down, but not to be opened till\nfurther orders. While his retinue were unloading the other\ncamels, the vizier took Bedreddin's mother and his daughter\naside; and, addressing himself to the latter, said, God be\npraised, my child, for this happy occasion of meeting your cousin\nand your husband. You surely remember in what order your chamber\nwas on your wedding night; put every thing in the very same\nsituation; and, in the mean time, if your memory do not serve\nyou, I can supply you by a written account which I caused to be\ntaken upon that occasion; and leave the rest to me.\n\nThe beautiful lady went joyfully about the orders of her father,\nwho at the same time began to put things in the hall in the same\norder they were in when Bedreddin was there with the sultan of\nEgypt's hunch-backed groom. As he went over his manuscript, his\ndomestics placed every moveable accordingly. The throne was not\nforgotten, nor the lighted wax-candles. When every thing was put\nto rights in the hall, the vizier went into his daughter's\nchamber, and put Bedreddin's clothes, with the purse of sequins,\nin their proper place. This done, he said to the beautiful lady,\nUndress yourself, my child, and go to bed. As soon as Bedreddin\nenters the room, complain of his being from you so long, and tell\nhim, that when you awaked, you were astonished you did not find\nhim by you. Press him to come to bed again; and to-morrow morning\nyou will divert your mother-in-law and me by telling us what has\npassed between you and him. The vizier went from his daughter's\napartment, and left her to undress and go to bed.\n\nSchemseddin ordered all his domestics to leave the hall, except\ntwo or three, whom he ordered to remain. These he commanded to go\nand take Bedreddin out of the chest, to strip him to his shirt\nand drawers, conduct him in that condition to the hall, leave him\nthere all alone, and shut the door upon him. Bedreddin, though\noverwhelmed with grief, had been asleep all the while; insomuch\nthat the vizier's domestics had taken him put of the chest, and\nstripped him, before he awaked, and carried him so suddenly into\nthe hall, that they did not give him time to bethink himself\nwhere he was. When he found himself alone in the hall, he looked\nround, and the objects of his sight recalling to his memory the\ncircumstances of his marriage, he perceived with astonishment\nthat it was the same hall where he had seen the sultan's groom of\nthe stables. His surprise was still greater, when, approaching\nsoftly to the door of a chamber which he found open, he espied\nhis clothes in the very place where he remembered to have left\nthem on his wedding-night. My God! said he, rubbing his eyes, am\nI asleep or awake?\n\nHis wife, who in the mean time was diverting herself with his\nastonishment, suddenly opened the curtains of her bed; and,\nbending her head forward, My dear lord, said she, with a tender\nair, what do you there? Pr'ythee come to bed again; you have been\nout of it a long time. I was strangely surprised, when I awaked,\nat not finding you by me. Bedreddin's countenance changed when he\nperceived that the lady who spoke to him was the charming person\nhe had lain with before; he therefore entered the room; but,\ncalling to mind all that had passed for an interval of ten years,\nand not being able to persuade himself that it could have\nhappened in one night, he went to the place where his clothes and\nthe purse of sequins lay, and, after examining them very\ncarefully, By Heaven, cried he, these are things that I can by no\nmeans comprehend! The lady, who enjoyed his confusion, said, Once\nmore, I pray you, my lord, come to bed again; why do you stand?\nHe then stepped towards the bed, and said to her, Pray, madam,\ntell me, is it long since I left you? The question, answered she,\nsurprises me. Did you not rise from me but now? Your thoughts are\nsurely very busy. Madam, replied Bedreddin, I do assure you that\nmy thoughts are not very easy. I remember, indeed, to have been\nwith you; but I remember, at the same time, that I have since\nlived ten years at Damascus. Now, if I was actually in bed with\nyou this night, I cannot have been from you so long; these two\nthings are inconsistent. Pray tell me what to think; whether my\nmarriage with you be an illusion, or whether my absence from you\nbe only a dream, Yes, my lord, cried she; doubtless you were\nlight-headed when you thought you were at Damascus. Upon this\nBedreddin laughed heartily, and said, What a comical fancy is\nthis! I assure you, madam, this dream of mine will be very\npleasant to you. Do but imagine, if you please, that I was at the\ngate of Damascus in my shirt and drawers, as I am here now; that\nI entered the town with the halloo of a mob who followed and\ninsulted me; that I fled into a pastry-cook's, who adopted me,\ntaught me his trade, and left me all he had when he died; and\nthat after his death I kept a shop. In fine, madam, I had a great\nnumber of other adventures too tedious to recount; and all I can\nsay is, that it was not amiss that I awaked, for they were going\nto nail me to a stake. Oh, Lord, and for what (cried the lady,\nfeigning astonishment) would they have used you so cruelly? You\nmust certainly have committed some enormous crime. Not in the\nleast, replied Bedreddin; it was nothing in the world but a mere\ntrifle, the most ridiculous thing you can think of. All the crime\nI was charged with, was selling a cream-tart that had no pepper\nin it. As for that matter, said the beautiful lady, laughing\nheartily, I must say they did you great injustice. Ah, madam,\nreplied he, that was not all; for this cursed cream-tart was\nevery thing in my shop broken to pieces, and myself bound,\nfettered, and flung into a chest, where I lay so close, that\nmethinks I am there still. In fine, a carpenter was sent for, and\nhe was ordered to get ready a stake for me; but, thanks be to\nGod, all these things are no more than a dream.\n\nBedreddin was not easy all night; he awaked from time to time,\nand put the question to himself, whether he dreamed or was awake.\nHe distrusted his felicity; and to ascertain whether it was real\nor not, opened the curtains, and looked round the room. I am not\nmistaken, said he; this is the same chamber which I entered,\ninstead of the hunch-backed groom of the stables, and am now in\nbed with the fair lady who was designed for him. Day-light, which\nthen appeared, had not yet dispelled his uneasiness, when the\nvizier Schemseddin, his uncle, knocked at the door, and went to\nbid him good-morrow.\n\nBedreddin was extremely surprised to see, on a sudden, a man whom\nhe knew so well, and who now appeared with a quite different air\nfrom that with which he pronounced the terrible sentence of death\nagainst him. Ah! cried Bedreddin, it was you who condemned me so\nunjustly to a manner of death the thoughts of which make me\nshrink still; and all for a cream-tart without pepper. The vizier\nlaughed heartily; but, to put him out of suspense, told him how,\nby the ministry of a genius, (for Bossu's relation had made him\nsuspect the adventure) he had been at his house, and had married\nhis daughter instead of the sultan's groom of the stables; he\nthen acquainted him that he had discovered him to be his nephew\nby a book written by the hand of Noureddin Ali, and, pursuant to\nthat discovery, had gone from Cairo to Balsora in quest of him.\nMy dear nephew, added he, with embraces and all the marks of\ntenderness, I ask your pardon for all I have made you undergo\nsince I discovered you: I had a mind to bring you to my house\nbefore I told you your happiness, which ought now to be so much\nthe dearer to you as it has cost you so much perplexity. To atone\nfor all your afflictions, comfort yourself with the joy of being\nin the company of those who ought to be dearest to you. While you\nare dressing yourself, I shall acquaint your mother, who is\nbeyond measure impatient to see you; and will likewise bring to\nyou your son, whom you saw at Damascus, and for whom you showed\nso much affection without knowing him. No words are sufficient to\nexpress the joy of Bedreddin when he saw his mother and his son.\nThese three embraced, and showed all the transports which love\nand tenderness can inspire. The mother spoke to Bedreddin in the\nmost moving terms; she mentioned the grief she had felt for his\nlong absence, and the tears she had shed. Little Agib, instead of\nflying his father's embraces as at Damascus, received them with\nail the marks of pleasure; while his father, divided between two\nobjects so worthy of his love, thought he could not give\nsufficient proofs of his affection.\n\nIn the mean time Schemseddin went to the palace to give an\naccount of the happy success of his travels to the sultan, who\nwas so charmed with the recital, that he ordered it to be taken\ndown in writing, and to be preserved among the archives of his\nkingdom. After Schemseddin's return to his house, having prepared\na noble feast, he sat down at the table with his family, and all\nhis household passed the day in social conviviality.\n\nThe vizier Giafar having made an end of the story of Bedreddin\nHassan, told the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, that this was what he\nhad to relate to his majesty. The caliph found the story so\nsurprising, that, without further hesitation, he granted his\nslave Rihan's pardon, and to condole the young man for the grief\nof having unhappily deprived himself of a woman whom he loved so\ntenderly, he married him to one of his slaves, bestowed liberal\ngifts upon him, and entertained him until he died.\n\nBut, sir, said Scheherazade, observing that day began to appear,\nthough the story I have how told you be agreeable, I have one\nthat is even much more so. If your majesty will please to hear it\nthe next night, I am certain you will be of the same mind.\nSchahriar rose without giving any answer, and was in a quandary\nwhat to do. The good sultaness, said he within himself, tells\nvery long stories; and when once she begins one, there is no\nrefusing to hear it out. I cannot tell whether I shall put her to\ndeath to-day or not. No, surely not, I will do nothing rashly:\nthe story she promises is perhaps more diverting than those she\nhas yet told, and I will not deprive myself of the pleasure of\nhearing it. Dinarzade did not fail to awake the sultaness of the\nIndies, who thus commenced her story.\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF THE LITTLE HUNCH-BACK.\n\n\n\nThere was in former times at Casgar, upon the utmost borders of\nTartary, a tailor who had a pretty wife, whom he ardently loved,\nand by whom he was loved in return. One day, as he sat at work, a\nlittle hunch-back my lord came and sat down at the shop-door,\nbegan singing, at same time playing upon a tabor. The tailor was\npleased to hear him, and had a strong mind to take him to his\nhouse to make his wife merry: This little fellow, said he to his\nwife, will divert us both very agreeably. In fine, he invited my\nlord, who readily accepted of the invitation; the tailor then\nshut up his shop, and conducted him in. The little gentleman\nbeing arrived at the tailor's house, his wife covered the table,\nand they sat down to sup on a good large dish of fish; but as\nthey ate heartily, the little crooked gentleman unluckily\nswallowed a large bone, of which he died in a few minutes,\nnotwithstanding all the tailor and his wife could do to prevent\nit. Both were mightily frightened at the accident, especially as\nit happened in their house; and there was reason to fear, that if\nthe justiciary magistrates should hear of it, they would be\npunished as assassins. The husband, however, found an expedient\nto get rid of the corpse: recollecting that there was a Jewish\ndoctor who lived just by, he formed a project, to execute which,\nhis wife and he took the corpse, the one by the feet and the\nother by the head, and carried it to the physician's house. They\nknocked at the door, from which ascended a steep pair of stairs\nto his chamber. As soon as they bad knocked, the servant-maid\ncame down without any light; and, opening the door, asked what\nthey wanted. Pr'ythee, go up again, said the tailor, and tell\nyour master we have brought him a man that is very sick, and\nwants his advice. Here, putting a piece of money into her hand,\ngive him that beforehand, to convince him that we have no mind to\nmake him lose his labour. While the servant was gone up to\nacquaint her master with the welcome news, the tailor and his\nwife nimbly conveyed the hunch-backed corpse to the head of the\nstairs; and, leaving it there, ran off.\n\nIn the mean time, the maid, having told the doctor that a man and\na woman staid for him at the door, desiring he would come down\nand look upon a sick man they had brought with them, and the maid\nclapping the money she had received into his hand, the doctor was\ntransported with joy; being paid beforehand, he thought it was a\ngood job, and should not be neglected. Light, light! cried he to\nthe maid; follow me nimbly. However, without staying for the\nlight, he got to the stair-head in such haste, that stumbling\nagainst the corps, he gave it such a kick, as made it tumble down\nquiite to the stair-foot, and with difficulty saved himself. A\nlight, a light! cried he to the maid, quick, quick! at last the\nmaid came with a light, and he went down stairs with her; but\nwhen he gav that the stumbling-block he had kicked down was a\ndead man, he was so frightened, that he invoked Moses, Aaron,\nJoshua, and Esdras, and all the other prophets of his law.\nUnhappy man that I am! said he, what induced me to come down\nwithout a light? I have e'en made an end of the fellow who was\nbrought to me to be cured? I am undoubtedly the cause of his\ndeath, and unless, Esras's ass[Footnote: Here the Arabian author\nridicules the Jews: this ass is that which, as the Mahometans\nbelieve, Esdras rode upon when he came from the Babylonian\ncaptivity to Jerusalem.] comes to assist me, I nm ruined: mercy\non me, they will be here instantly, and drag me from my house as\na murderer! But, notwithstanding the perplexity and jeopardy he\nwas in, he had the precaution to shut his door, lest any one\npassing by in the street should observe the mischance, of which\nhe reckoned himself the author. He then took the corpse into his\nwife's chamber, upon which she swooned away. Alas! cried she, we\nare utterly ruined! undone! undone! unless we fall upon some\nexpedient or other to turn the corpse out of our house this\nnight! Beyond all question, if we harbour it till morning, our\nlives must pay for it. What a sad mischance is this! Why, how did\nyou kill this man? That is not the question, replied the Jew; our\nbusiness now is to find out a remedy for such a shocking\naccident. They then consulted together how to get rid of the\ncorpse that night. The doctor racked his brain in vain; he could\nnot think of any stratagem to get clear: but his wife, who was\nmore fertile in invention, said, there is a thought come into my\nhead; let us carry.the corpse to the leads of our house, and\ntumble it down the chimney into the house of the Mussulman, our\nnext neighbour. This Mussulman, or Turk, was one of the sultan's\npurveyors for furnishing oil, butter, and all sorts of fat,\ntallow, &c. and had a magazine in his house, in which the rats\nand mice made prodigious havoe.\n\nThe Jewish doctor approving the proposed expedient, his wife and\nhe took the little hunch-back up to the roof of the house; and,\nclapping ropes under his arm-pits, let him down the chimney into\nthe purveyor's chamber so softly and dexterously, that he stood\nupright against the wall as if he had been alive. When they found\nhe stood firm, they pulled up the ropes, and left the gentleman\nin that posture. They were scarcely got into their chamber, when\nthe purveyor went into his, being just come from a wedding feast,\nwith a lantern in his hand. He was mightily surprised, when, by\nthe light of his lantern, he descried a man standing upright in\nhis chimney; but being a stout man, and apprehending it was a\nthief or a robber, he took up a large cane; and, making straight\nup to the hunch-back, Ah, said he, I thought it was the rats and\nthe mice that ate my butter and tallow! and it is you that come\ndown the chimney to rob me, is it? I question if ever you come\nback again on the same errand? This said, he fell foul of the\nman, and gave him a good many swinging thwacks with his cane:\nupon which the corpse fell down, running its nose against the\nground, and the purveyor redoubled his blows: but, observing that\nthe body did not move, he stood to consider a little; when,\nperceiving it was a corpse, fear succeeded his anger. Wretched\nman that I am! said he; what have I done? I have killed a man!\nalas, I have carried my revenge too far! good God, unless thou\npityest me, my life is gone! Cursed, ten thousand times accursed,\nbe the fat and the oil that gave occasion to the commission of so\ncriminal an action. In fine, he stood pale and thunder-struck; he\nthought he saw the officers already come to drag him to condign\npunishment, and could not think what resolution to take.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor did not observe the little\ngentleman's hunch when he was beating him, but as soon as he did,\nhe threw out a thousand imprecations against him. Ah, you crooked\nhunch-back! cried he; would to God you had robbed me of all my\nfat, and I had not found you here! had it been so, I would not\nhave been now so much perplexed for the sake of you and your\nnasty hunch. Oh! the stars that twinkle in the heavens give light\nto none but me in this dangerous Juncture! As soon as he had\nuttered these words, he took the little crooked corpse upon his\nshoulders, and carried it out of doors to the end of the street,\nwhere he set it upright against a shop, and then trudged home\nagain without looking behind him.\n\nA few minutes before the break of day, a Christian merchant, who\nwas very rich, and furnished the sultan's palace with most things\nit wanted; this merchant, having sat up all night debauching,\nstepped out of his house to go to bathe. Though he was drunk, he\nwas sensible that the night was far spent, and that the people\nwould quickly be called to the morning prayers, which begin at\nbreak of day; he therefore quickened his pace to get in time to\nthe bath, lest a Turk, meeting him in his way to the mosque,\nshould carry him to prison for a drunkard. When he came to the\nend of the street, he stopped on some necessary occasion, and\nleaned against the shop where the sultan's purveyor had put the\nhunch-backed corpse; but the corpse being jostled, tumbled upon\nthe merchant's back. The merchant thinking it was a robber that\ncame to attack him, knocked him down with a hearty box on the\near, and, after redoubling his blows, cried out, Thieves! The\noutcry alarmed the watch, who came up immediately; and finding a\nChristian beating a Turk, (for crump-back was of our religion),\nWhat reason have you, said he, to abuse a Mussulman after this\nrate? He would have robbed me, replied the merchant, and jumped\nupon my back with intent to take me by the throat. If he did,\nsaid the watch, you have revenged yourself sufficiently; come,\nget off him. At the same time he stretched out his hand to help\nlittle crump-back up: but observing that he was dead, Ah!\nhey-day! said he, is it thus that a Christian dares to\nassassinate a Mussulman? So he laid hold of the Christian, and\ncarried him to the sheriff's house, where he was kept till the\njudge was up, and ready to examine him. In the mean time, the\nChristian merchant grew sober, and the more he reflected upon his\nadventure, the less could he conceive how such single fisty-cuffs\ncould kill the man. The judge having heard the report of the\nwatch, and viewed the corpse, which they had taken care to bring\nto his house, interrogated the Christian merchant, who could not\ndeny the crime, though he had not committed it. But the judge\nconsidering that little crump-back belonged to the sultan, (for\nhe was one of his buffoons) would not put the Christian to death\ntill he knew the sultan's pleasure. For this end he went to the\npalace, and acquainted the sultan with what had happened, and\nreceived from him this answer, I have no mercy to show to a\nChristian, who kills a Mussulman; go do your office. Upon this\nthe judge ordered a gibbet to be erected, and sent criers all\nover the city to proclaim that they were about to hang a\nChristian for killing a Mussulman.\n\nIn fine, the merchant was brought out of gaol to the foot of the\ngallows; and the hangman, having put the rope about his neck, was\ngoing to throw him off, when the sultan's purveyor pushed through\ndie crowd, made up to the gibbet, calling to the hangman to stop,\nfor that the Christian had not committed the murder, but himself.\nThe sheriff who attended the execution immediately put\ninterrogatories to the purveyor, who told him every circumstance\nof his killing the little crump-back, and conveying his corpse to\nthe place where the merchant found him. You were about, added he,\nto put to death an innocent person; for how can he be guilty of\nthe death of a man who was dead before he saw him? My burden is\nsufficient in having killed a Turk, without loading my conscience\nwith the additional charge of the death of a Christian who is not\nguilty.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor having publicly charged himself\nwith the death of the little hunch-backed man, the sheriff could\nnot avoid doing justice to the merchant. Let the Christian go,\nsaid he, and hang this man in his room, since it appears by his\nown confession that he is guilty. Whereupon the hangman released\nthe merchant, and clapped the rope round the purveyor's neck; but\njust as he was going to pull him up, he heard the voice of the\nJewish doctor, earnestly entreating him to suspend the execution,\nand make room for him to throw himself at the foot of the\ngallows. When he appeared before the judge, My lord, said he,\nthis Mussulman you are going to hang is not guilty: the crime\nrests with me. Last night a man and a woman, unknown to me, came\nto my house with a sick man they had brought along with them; and\nknocking at my door, my maid went and opened it without a light,\nand received from them a piece of money, with a commission to\ncome and desire me, in their names, to step down and look upon\nthe sick person. While she was delivering her message to me, they\nconveyed the sick person to the stair-head, and then disappeared.\nI went down, without staying for my servant to light a candle,\nand in the dark happened to stumble upon the sick person, and\nkicked him down stairs. In fine, I saw he was dead, and that it\nwas the crooked Mussulman, whose death you are now about to\navenge. So my wife and I took the corpse, and, after conveying it\nup to the leads of our house, moved it to the roof of the\npurveyor's house, our next neighbour, and let it down the chimney\ninto the chamber. The purveyor, finding it in his house, took the\nlittle man for a thief, and, after beating him, concluded he had\nkilled him; but that it was not so, you will be convinced by this\nmy deposition; so that I am the only author of the murder: and\nthough it was committed undesignedly, I have resolved to expiate\nmy crime by keeping clear of the charge of the death of two\nMussulmen, and hinder you from executing the sultan's purveyor,\nwhose innocence I have now revealed. So pray dismiss him, and put\nme in his place, for I alone am the cause of the death of the\nlittle man.\n\nThe chief justice being persuaded that the Jewish doctor was the\nmurderer, gave orders to the executioner to seize him, and\nrelease the purveyor. Accordingly the doctor was just going to be\nhung up, when the tailor appeared, crying to the executioner to\nhold his hand, and make room for him, that he might come and make\nhis confession to the lord justice; which being done, My lord,\nsaid he to the judge, you have narrowly escaped taking away the\nlives of three innocent persons, but if you will have patience to\nhear me, I will discover to you the real murderer of the\ncrook-backed man. If his death is to be expiated by another, that\nmust be mine. Yesterday evening, as I was at work in my shop, and\npretty merry, the little hunch-back came to my door half drunk,\nand sat down before it. He began to sing, so I invited him to\npass the evening at my house. Accordingly, he accepted of the\ninvitation, and went with me. We sat down to supper, and I gave\nhim a plate of fish; but, in eating, a bone stuck in his throat;\nand though my wife and I did our utmost to relieve him, he died\nin a few minutes. His death affected us extremely; and from fear\nof being charged with it, we carried the corpse to the Jewish\ndoctor's house, and knocked at the door. The maid coming down and\nopening it, I desired her to go up forthwith, and ask her master\nto come down and give his advice to a sick person that we had\nbrought along with us; and withal, to encourage him, I charged\nher to give him a piece of money, which I put into her hand. When\nshe was gone up, I carried hunch-back up stairs, laid him upon\nthe uppermost step, and then my wife and I made the best of our\nway home. The doctor, in coming down, kicked the corpse down\nstairs, and thereupon he supposed himself to be the author of his\ndeath. Now, this being the case, continued he, release the\ndoctor, and let me die in his room.\n\nThe chief justice, and all the spectators, could not sufficiently\nadmire the strange emergencies that ensued upon the death of the\nlittle crooked gentleman. Let the Jewish doctor go, said the\njudge, and hang up the tailor, since he confesses the crime. It\nis certain this history is very uncommon, and deserves to be\nrecorded in letters of gold. The executioner having dismissed the\ndoctor, made every thing ready to tie up the tailor. While the\nexecutioner was making ready to hang up the tailor, the sultan of\nCasgar, wanting the company of his crooked jester, asked where he\nwas. One of his officers answered, The hunch-back, sir, whom you\ninquire after, got drunk last night, and, contrary to his custom,\nslipped out of the palace, went a sauntering into the city, and\nwas this morning found dead. A man was brought before the chief\njustice, and charged with the murder of him; but as he was going\nto be hanged, up came a man, and after him another, who took the\ncharge upon themselves, and cleared each other. The examination\nhas continued a long while, and the judge is now interrogating a\nthird man who avows himself the real author of the murder.\n\nUpon this intelligence, the sultan of Casgar sent a hussar to the\nplace of execution. Go, said he to the messenger, make all the\nhaste you can, bring the arraigned persons before me immediately,\nwith the corpse of poor crump-back, that I may see him once more.\nAccordingly the hussar went, and happened to arrive at the place\nof execution at the time when the executioner was going to tie up\nthe tailor. He cried aloud to the executioner to suspend the\nexecution. The hangman, knowing the hussar, did not dare to\nproceed, but untied the tailor; and then the hussar acquainted\nthe judge with the sultan's pleasure. The judge obeyed, and went\nstraight to the palace, accompanied by the tailor, the Jewish\ndoctor, and the Christian merchant; causing four of his men to\ncarry the hunch corpse along with him. The judge, on appearing\nbefore the sultan, threw himself at the prince's feet, and, after\nrecovering himself, gave him a faithful relation of what he knew\nof the story of the crump-backed man. The sultan found the story\nso uncommon, that he ordered his private historians to write it\nwith all its circumstances. Then addressing himself to the\naudience, Did you ever hear, said he, such a surprising story as\nhas happened on account of my little crooked buffoon? The\nChristian merchant then, after falling down, and saluting the\nearth with his forehead, spoke in the following manner: Most\npuisant monarch, said he, I know a story even more astonishing\nthan that you have now spoken off; and if your majesty will give\nme leave, I will tell it you. The circumstances are such, that\nnobody can hear them without being moved. Well, said the sultan,\nI give you leave; and the merchant went on as follows.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY TOLD BY THE CHRISTIAN MERCHANT.\n\n\n\nSir, before I commence the recital of the story you have allowed\nme to tell, I beg leave to acquaint you, that I have not the\nhonour to be born in a place that pertains to your majesty's\nempire. I am a stranger, born at Cairo in Egypt, one of the\nCoptic nations, and a professor of the Christian religion: my\nfather was a broker, and got a good estate, which he left me at\nhis death: I followed his example, and took up the same\nemployment. One day at Cairo, as I was standing in the public\nresort for the corn-merchants, there came up to me a handsome\nyoung man, well clad, and mounted upon an ass. He saluted me, and\npulling out his handkerchief, where he had a sample of sesame and\nTurkey corn, asked me what a bushel of such sesame would fetch? I\nexamined the corn which the young man showed me, and told him it\nwas worth a hundred drams of silver per bushel. 'Pray, said he,\nlook out for some merchant to take it at that price, and come to\nme at the Victory-gate, where you will see a hut at a distance\nfrom the houses.' He then left me, and I showed the sample to\nseveral merchants, who told me they would take as much as I could\nspare at an hundred and ten drams per bushel; so that I made an\naccount to get ten drams per bushel for my brokerage. Full of the\nexpectation of this profit, I went forthwith to the Victory-gate,\nwhere I found the young merchant waiting for me, and he carried\nme into his granary, which was full of sesame. He had an hundred\nand fifty bushels of it, which I measured out, and, having\ncarried them off upon asses, sold them for five thousand drams of\nsilver. Now, out of this sum, said the young man, five hundred\ndrams fall to you, at the rate of ten drams per bushel. I order\nyou to take it, and apply it to your own use; and as for the\nrest, which is mine, do you take it out of the merchant's hand,\nand keep it till I call for it, as I nave no occasion for it at\npresent. I made answer, that it should be ready for him whenever\nhe pleased; and so took leave of him, with a grateful sense of\nhis generosity.\n\nIn a month after, he came and asked for his four thousand five\nhundred drams of silver. I told him they were ready, and should\nbe told down to him in a minute: he was mounted on his ass;, so I\ndesired him to alight, and do me the honour to eat a mouthful\nwith me before he received his money. No, said he, I cannot\nalight at present; I have urgent business that obliges me to be\nat a place hard by here; but I will return this way, and take the\nmoney, which I desire you would have in readiness. This said, he\ndisappeared; and I still expected his return, but it was a full\nmonth before he came again. I thought with myself, the young man\nreposes a great trust in me, leaving so great a sum in my hands\nwithout knowing me; another would have been afraid lest I should\nhave run away with it. To be short, he came again at the end of\nthe third month, and was still mounted on his ass, but finer in\nhis clothes than before. As soon as I saw him, I entreated him to\nalight, and asked him if he would not take his money? It is no\nmatter for that, said he, with a pleasant easy air, I know it is\nin good hands; I will come and take it when all my other money is\ngone: adieu, continued he, I will come again towards the latter\nend of the week. He then clapped spurs to his ass, and away he\nwent. Well, thought I to myself, he says he will see me towards\nthe latter end of the week, but it is likely I may not see him\nfor a great while; will go and make the most of his money, and\nget a good penny by it.\n\nAs it happened, I was not out of my conjecture, for it was a full\nyear before I saw my young merchant again. Then he appeared\nindeed with richer apparel than before, but very thoughtful. I\nasked him to do me the honour to walk into my house: for this\ntime, replied he, I will go in; but upon this condition, that you\nshall put yourself to no extraordinary charge upon my account.\nThat shall be as you please, said I; only do me the favour to\nalight and walk in. He accordingly complied, and I gave orders\nfor some sort of entertainment; and, while that was getting ready\nwe fell into discourse together. When the victuals were got\nready, we sat down at table. When he ate the first mouthful, I\nobserved he fed himself with the left hand, and not with the\nright; I could not tell what to think of it; I thought within\nmyself, ever since I knew this young man, he always appeared very\npolite: is it possible he can do this out of contempt? What can\nthe matter be that he does not make use of his right hand? After\nwe had done eating, and every thing was taken away, we sat down\nupon a sofa, when I presented him with a lozenge that was\nexcellent for giving a sweet breath, but he still took it with\nhis left hand. Then I accosted him in this manner: Sir, pray\npardon the liberty I take in asking you what reason you have for\nnot making use of your right hand; it is likely you have some\ndisorder in that hand. Instead of answering, he fetched a deep\nsigh, and pulling out his right arm, which he had hitherto kept\nunder his garment, showed me, to my great astonishment, that his\nhand had been cut off. Doubtless you were alarmed, said he, to\nsee me feed myself with the left hand; but I leave you to judge\nwhether it was in my power to do otherwise. May one ask you; said\nI, by what mischance it was that you lost your right hand? Upon\nthat he fell into tears, and, after wiping his eyes, gave me the\nfollowing relation.\n\nYou must know, said he, that I am a native of Bagdad, the son of\na rich father, the most noted man in that city both for quality\nand riches. I had scarcely launched into the world, when falling\ninto the company of travellers, and hearing wonders told of\nEgypt, especially of Grand Cairo, I was moved by their discourse,\nand took a longing desire to travel thither; but my father was\nthen alive, and had not given me leave. In fine, he died, and\nthereupon, being my own master, I resolved to take a journey to\nCairo. I laid out a large sum of money upon several sorts of fine\nstuffs of Bagdad and Moussol, and then undertook my journey.\n\nArriving at Cairo, I went to the khan called the khan of Mesrour,\nand there took lodgings, with a warehouse for my bales, which I\nbrought along upon camels: this done, I retired to my chamber to\nrest myself after the fatigue of my journey, after ordering my\nservants to buy some provisions, and dress them; After I had\neaten, I went and saw the castle, some mosques, public places,\nand other things that were curious. Next day I dressed myself\nhandsomely, and ordered some of the finest and richest of my\nbales to be selected, and carried by my slaves to the Circassian\nbezestein [Footnote: A bezestcin is a public place, where silk;\nstuffs and other precious things are exposed to sale.], whither I\nwent myself. I no sooner got thither than I was surrounded by\nbrokers and criers who had heard of my arrival. I gave patterns\nof my stuffs to several of the criers, who carried and showed\nthem all over the bezestein; but none of the merchants offered\nnearly so much as prime cost and carriage. This vexed me, and the\ncriers observing I was dissatisfied, If you will take our advice,\nsaid they, we will put you in a way of selling your stuffs\nwithout losing by them. The brokers and criers having thus\npromised to put me in a way of losing nothing by my goods, I\nasked them what course they would have me take? Divide your\ngoods, said they, among several merchants, and they will sell\nthem by retail; and twice a week, that is, on Mondays and\nTuesdays, you may receive what money they take: by this means you\nwill gain instead of losing, and the merchants will gain by you:\nin the mean time, you will have time to take your pleasure, and\nwalk up and down the town, or to go upon the Nile. I took their\nadvice, and carried them to my warehouse, from whence I brought\nall my goods to the bezestein, and divided them among the\nmerchants, whom they represented as most reputable and able to\npay: the merchants gave me a formal receipt before witnesses,\nstipulating withal that I should not make any demands upon them\nfor the first month.\n\nHaving thus regulated my affairs, my mind was taken up with other\nsort of things than ordinary pleasures. I contracted friendship\nwith divers persons of almost the same age with myself, who took\ncare I did not want company. The first month expired, I began to\nvisit my merchants twice a week, taking along with me a public\nofficer to inspect their books of sale, and a banker to see they\npaid me in good money, as well as to regulate the value of the\nseveral species; so that every pay-day I had a good sum of money\nto carry home to my lodging. I went nevertheless on the other\ndays to pass the morning, sometimes at a merchant's house, and\nsometimes at some other person's. In fine, I diverted myself in\nconversing with one or other, and seeing what passed in the\nbezestein.\n\nOne Monday, as I sat in the shop of a merchant whose name was\nBedreddin, a lady of quality, as one might easily perceive by her\nair, her habit, and her being attended by a female slave in neat\nclothes, came into the shop, and sat down by me: her external\nappearance, joined to a natural grace that shone through all she\ndid, inspired me with a longing desire to know her better. I was\nat a loss to know whether she observed that I took pleasure in\ngazing upon her, but she tucked up the crape that hung down over\nthe muslin which covered her face, and gave me an opportunity of\nseeing her large black eyes, which perfectly charmed me. In fine,\nshe screwed my love to its height by the agreeable sound of her\nvoice, her genteel graceful carriage in saluting the merchant,\nand asking him how he did since she saw him last. After\nentertaining him some time upon indifferent things, she informed\nhim that she wanted a sort of stuff with a ground of gold; that\nhe came to his shop as affording the best choice of any in all\nthe bezestein, and if he had what she asked for, he would oblige\nher by showing them. Bedreddin showed her several pieces, one of\nwhich she pitched upon, and he asked for it eleven hundred drams\nof silver. I agree, said she, to give you so much, but I have not\nmoney enough about me, so I hope you will give me credit till\nto-morrow, and in the mean time allow me to carry off the stuff.\nI shall not fail, added she, to send you to-morrow the eleven\nhundred drams I agreed for. Madam, said Bedreddin, I would give\nyou credit with all my heart, and allow you to carry off the\nstuff, if it were mine, but it belongs to that young man you see\nhere, and this is the day on which we state our accounts. Why,\nsaid the lady in a surprise, why do you offer to use me so? Am\nnot I a customer to your shop? and as often as I have bought of\nyou, and carried home the things without paying ready money for\nthem, did I ever fail to send you your money next morning? Madam,\nsaid the merchant, it is true, but this very day I have occasion\nfor money. There, said she, throwing the piece at him, take your\nstuff; may God confound you and all other merchants: you are all\nof you of one kidney; you respect nobody. She then rose up in a\npassion, and walked out.\n\nWhen I saw that the lady walked off, I found in my breast a great\nconcern for her; so I called her back, saying, Madam, do me the\nfavour to return; perhaps I can find a way to content you both.\nIn fine, back she came, saying, it was for the love of me that\nshe complied. Mr Bedreddin, said I to the merchant, what do you\nsay, you must have for this stuff that belongs to me? I must have\neleven hundred drams; I cannot take less. Give it to the lady\nthen, said I, let her take it home with her; I allow a hundred\ndrams profit to yourself, and shall now write you a note,\nempowering you to discount that sum upon the other goods you have\nof mine. In fine, I wrote, signed, and delivered the note, and\nthen handed the stuff to the lady: Madam said I, you may take the\nstuff with you, and as for the money, you may either send it\nto-morrow or next day; or, if you will, accept the stuff as a\npresent from me. I beg your pardon, sir, said she, I mean nothing\nof that; you use me so very civilly and obligingly, that I ought\nnever to show my face in the world again, if I did not show my\ngratitude to you. May God reward you in enlarging your fortune;\nmay you live many years when I am dead; may the gate of heaven be\nopened to you when you remove to the other world, and may all the\ncity proclaim your generosity.\n\nThese words inspired me with some assurance: Madam, said I, I\ndesire no other reward for any service I have done to you than\nthe happiness of seeing your face; that will repay me with\ninterest. I had no sooner spoken than she turned towards me, took\noff the muslin that covered her face, and discovered to my eyes a\nkilling beauty. I was so struck with the surprising sight, that I\ncould not express my thoughts to her. I could have looked upon\nher for ever without being cloyed; but fearing any one should\ntake notice, she quickly covered her face, and pulling down the\ncrape, took up the piece of stuff, and went away, leaving me in a\nquite different sort of temper from what I was in when I came to\nthe shop. I continued for some time in great disorder and\nperplexity. Before I took leave of the merchant, I asked him if\nhe knew the lady? Yes, said he, she is the daughter of an emir,\nwho left her an immense fortune at his death.\n\nI went home, and sat down to supper, but could not eat, neither\ncould I shut my eyes during the night; I thought it the longest\nnight in my lifetime. As soon as it was day, I got up in hopes to\nsee once more the object that disturbed my repose; and, to engage\nher affection, I dressed myself yet more nicely than I had done\nthe day before. I had but just got to Bedreddin's shop, when I\nsaw the lady coming in more magnificent apparel than before, and\nattended by her slave. When she came in, she did not regard the\nmerchant; but, addressing herself to me, Sir, said she, you see I\nam punctual to my word. I am come on purpose to pay the sum you\nwere so kind as to pass your word for yesterday, though you had\nno knowledge of me: such an uncommon piece of generosity I shall\nnever forget. Madam, said I, you had no occasion to be so hasty;\nI was well satisfied as to my money, and am sorry you should put\nyourself to so much trouble about it. I had been very unjust,\nanswered she, if I had abused your generosity. With these words,\nshe put the money into my hand, and sat down by me.\n\nHaving this opportunity of conversing with her, I made the best\nuse of it, and mentioned to her the love I had for her; but she\nrose and left me very abruptly, as if she had been angry with the\ndeclaration I had made. I followed her with my eyes as long as\nshe was in sight; and as soon as she was out of sight, I took\nleave of the merchant, and walked out of the bezestein, without\nknowing where I went. I was musing upon this adventure, when I\nfelt somebody pulling me behind, and turning about to see who it\nwas, I had the agreeable surprise to perceive it was the lady's\nslave. My mistress, said the slave, I mean the young lady you\njust spoke with in the merchant's shop, wants to speak one word\nwith you; so if you please to give yourself the trouble to follow\nme, I will conduct you. Accordingly I followed her, and found my\nmistress staying for me in a banker's shop. She made me sit down\nby her, and spoke to this purpose; Dear sir, said she, do not be\nsurprised that I left you so abruptly: I thought it not proper,\nbefore that merchant, to give a favourable answer to the\ndiscovery you made of your affection for me. But to speak the\ntruth, I was so far from being offended at it, that I was pleased\nwhen I heard it; and I account myself infinitely happy in having\na man of true merit for my lover. I do not know what impression\nthe first sight of me could make upon you; but I assure you that\nI no sooner saw you than I had tender thoughts of you. Since\nyesterday I have thought only of what you said to me; and the\nhaste I made to come and find you out this morning may convince\nyou that I have no small regard for you. Madam, said I,\ntransported with love and joy, nothing can be more agreeable to\nme than what I now hear; no passion can be greater than that with\nwhich I love you; since the happy moment I cast my eyes upon you,\nmy eyes were dazzled with so many charms, that my heart yielded\nwithout resistance. Do not let us trifle away the time in\nneedless discourse, said she, interrupting me: I make no doubt of\nyour sincerity, and you shall quickly be convinced of mine. Will\nyou do me the honour to come to my home? or, if you will, I will\ncome to yours. Madam, said I, I am a stranger, lodging in a khan,\nwhich is not a proper place for the reception of a lady of your\nquality and merit. It is more proper, madam, for me to come to\nyou at your home, if you will please to tell me where it is. The\nlady complying with this desire, I live, said she, in\nDevotion-street; come next Friday after noon prayers, and ask for\nthe house of Abbon Schamam, surnamed Bercount, late master of the\nemirs; there you will find me. This said, we parted, and I passed\nthe next day in great impatience.\n\nOn Friday I got up betimes, and put on my best clothes, with\nfifty pieces of gold in my pocket: thus prepared, I mounted an\nass, which I had bespoken the day before, and set out,\naccompanied by the man that lent me the ass. When we came to\nDevotion-street, I directed the owner of the ass to inquire for\nthe house I wanted: he accordingly inquired, and conducted me to\nit. I paid him liberally, and sent him back directing him to\nobserve narrowly where he left me, and not to fail to come back\nwith the ass to-morrow morning to carry me back again.\n\nI knocked at the door, and presently two little girl slaves,\nwhite as snow, and neatly dressed, came and opened it. Be pleased\nto come in, sir, said they, our mistress expects you impatiently;\nfor two days she has spoken of nothing but you. I entered the\ncourt, and saw a great pavilion raised upon seven steps, and\nsurrounded with iron rails that parted it from a very pleasant\ngarden. Besides the trees which embellished the prospect, and\nformed an agreeable shade, there was an infinite number of other\ntrees loaded with all manner of fruit. I was charmed with the\nwarbling of a great number of birds, which joined their notes to\nthe murmurings of a very high water-work in the middle of a\nground-plot enamelled with flowers. This water- work was a very\nagreeable sight; four large gilded dragons adorned the angles of\nthe bason, which was of a square form; and these dragons spouted\nout water clearer than rock crystal. This delicious place gave me\na charming idea of the conquest I had made. The two little slaves\nconducted me into a parlour magnificently furnished, and while\none of them went to acquaint her mistress with my arrival, the\nother tarried behind, and pointed out to me the ornaments of the\nhall.\n\nI did not tarry long in the hall, said the young man of Bagdad,\nere the lady I loved appeared, adorned with pearls and diamonds;\nbut the splendour of her eyes did far outshine that of her\njewels. Her shape, which was not now disguised by the habit usual\nin the streets, was extremely fine and charming. I need not\nmention with what joy we received one another; it leaves all\nexpression far behind it: I shall only tell you, that when the\nfirst compliments were over, we sat both down upon a sofa, and\nthere entertained one another with all imaginable satisfaction.\nAfter that, we had the most delicious messes served up to us,\nand, after eating, continued our discourse till night. At night\nwe had excellent wine brought up, and such fruit as is apt to\npromote drinking, and timed our cups to the sound of musical\ninstruments joined to the voices of the slaves. The lady of the\nhouse sung herself, and by her songs screwed up my passion to the\nheight. In fine, I passed the night in the full enjoyment of all\nmanner of pleasure.\n\nNext morning I slipped under the bolster of the bed the purse\nwith the fifty pieces of gold I had brought with me, and took\nleave of the lady, who asked me when I would see her again?\nMadam, said I, I give you my promise to return this night. She\nseemed transported with my answer, and, conducting me to the\ndoor, conjured me, at parting, to be mindful of my promise. The\nsame man that had carried me thither waited for me with his ass\nto carry me home again; so I mounted the ass, and went straight\nhome, ordering the man to come to me again in the afternoon at a\ncertain hour; to secure which, I would not pay him till the time\ncame. As soon as I arrived at my lodging, my first care was to\norder my folks to buy a good lamb and several sorts of cakes,\nwhich I sent by a porter as a present to the lady. When that was\ndone, I minded my serious affairs till the owner of the ass came;\nthen I went along with him to the lady's house, and was received\nby her with as much joy as before, and entertained with equal\nmagnificence.\n\nNext morning I took leave, and left her another purse with fifty\npieces of gold. I continued to visit the lady every day, and to\nleave her every time a purse of fifty pieces of gold, till the\nmerchants whom I employed to sell my cloth, and whom I visited\nregularly twice a week, owed me nothing: In this way I became\nmoneyless, and even hopeless of having any more.\n\nIn this desperate condition I walked out of my lodging, not\nknowing what course to take, and by chance steered towards the\ncastle, where there was a great crowd of people, to see the\nsultan of Egypt. As soon as I came up to them, I wedged in among\nthe crowd, and by chance happened to stand by a cavalier well\nmounted and handsomely clothed, who had upon the bow of his\nsaddle a bag half open, with a string of green silk hanging out\nof it, I clapped my hand into the bag, concluding the silk- twist\nmight be the string of a purse within the bag: in the mean time,\na porter, with a load of wood upon his back, passed by the other\nside of the horse, so near, that the gentleman on horse-* back\nwas forced to turn his head towards him to avoid being rubbed by\nthe wood. In that very moment did the devil tempt me; I took the\nstring in one hand, and with the other laid open the mouth of the\nbag, and pulled out the purse so dexterously that nobody\nperceived it. The purse was heavy, therefore I did not doubt that\nthere was gold or silver in it. As soon as the porter had passed,\nthe cavalier, who probably had some suspicion of what I had done\nwhile his head was turned, presently put his hand to his bag,\nand, finding his purse gone, gave me such a blow as knocked me\ndown. This violence shocked all who saw it; some took hold of the\nhorse's bridle to stop the gentleman, and inquire what reason he\nhad to beat me, or how he came to treat a Mussulman after that\nrate. Do not you trouble yourselves, said he, with a brisk tone;\nI had reason enough for what I did; this fellow is a thief. In\nfine, every one took my part, cried he was a liar, and that it\nwas incredible a young man like me should be guilty of so foul an\naction: but while they were holding his horse by the bridle to\nfavour my escape, unfortunately came by the justiciary judge,\nwho, seeing such a crowd about the gentleman on horseback and me,\ncame up and asked what the matter was? Everybody reflected on the\ngentleman for treating me so unjustly upon pretence of robbery.\nThe judge did not give ear to all that was said in my behalf, but\nasked the cayalier if he suspected anybody else besides me? The\ncavalier told him he did not, and gave his reasons why he\nbelieved his suspicion not to be groundless. Upon this, the judge\nordered his followers to seize and search me, which they\npresently did; and finding the purse upon me, exposed it to the\nview of all the people. The shame was so great, that I could not\nbear it, but swooned away; and in the meantime the judge called\nfor the purse. When he had got the purse in his hand, he asked\nthe horseman if it was his, and how much money was in it? The\ncavalier knew it to be his own, and assured the judge he had put\ntwenty sequins into it. Upon that the judge called me before him;\nCome, young man, said he, confess the truth. Was it you that took\nthe gentleman's purse from him? Do not put yourself to the\ntrouble of torture to extort confession. Then I looked down with\nmy eyes, thinking within myself, that if I denied the fact, they,\nfinding the purse about me, would convict me of a lie; so, to\navoid a double punishment, I looked up, and confessed the fact. I\nhad no sooner made this confession than the judge called people\nto witness it, and ordered my hand to be cut off. This hard\nsentence was put in execution immediately upon the spot, to the\ngreat regret of all the spectators; nay, I observed by the\ncavalier's countenance, that he was moved with pity as much as\nthe rest. The judge likewise would have ordered my foot to be cut\noff, but I begged the cavalier to intercede for my pardon, which\nhe did, and obtained it. The judge being gone, the cavalier came\nup to me, and holding out the purse, I see plainly, said he, that\nnecessity put you upon an action so disgraceful, and so unworthy\nof such a handsome young man as you are. Here, take that fatal\npurse, I freely give it you, and am heartily sorry for the\nmisfortune you have undergone. He then went away; and I being\nvery weak, by reason of the loss of blood, some of the good\npeople that lived that way had the kindness to carry me into one\nof their houses, and gave me a glass of wine; they likewise\ndressed my arm, and wrapped up the dismembered hand in a cloth.\n\nIf I had returned to the khan where I lodged, I should not have\nfound such relief as I wanted; and to offer to go to the young\nlady's was running a great hazard, it being likely she would not\nlook upon me after such an infamous thing had befallen me. I\nresolved, however, to put it to the trial; and, to tire out the\ncrowd that followed me, I turned down several by-streets, and at\nlast arrived at my lady's, very weak, and so much fatigued, that\nI presently threw myself down upon a sofa, keeping my right arm\nunder my coat, for I took great care to conceal my misfortune.\n\nThe lady hearing of my arrival, and that I was not well, came to\nme in all haste: My dear soul, said she, what is the matter with\nyou? Madam, said I, I have got a violent pain in my head. The\nlady seemed to be mightily afflicted with my pretended illness,\nand asked me to sit down, for I had got up to receive her. Tell\nme, said she, how your illness came; the last time I had the\npleasure of seeing you, you was very well; there must be\nsomething else that you conceal from me; pray, let me know what\nit is. I stood silent, and, instead of an answer, tears trickled\ndown my cheeks. I cannot conceive, said she, what it is that\nafflicts you. Have I given you any occasion to be uneasy? or do\nyou come on purpose to tell me you do not love me? It is not\nthat, madam, said I, fetching a deep sigh; your unjust suspicion\nis an addition to my evil. Still I could not think of discovering\nto her the true cause. When night came, supper was brought, and\nshe pressed me to eat; but considering I could only feed myself\nwith my left hand, I begged to be excused upon the plea of having\nno stomach. Your stomach will come to you, said she, if you would\nbut discover what you so obstinately hide from me. Your\ninappetency, without doubt, is only owing to the aversion you\nhave to a discovery. Alas! madam, said I, I find I must discover\nat last. I had no sooner spoken these words than she filled me a\ncup of wine: Drink that, said she, it will give you assurance. So\nI reached out my left hand, and took the cup. As soon as I took\nit, I redoubled my tears and sighs. Why do you sigh and cry so\nbitterly? said the lady; and why do you take the cup with your\nleft hand instead of your right? Ah, madam, said I, excuse me, I\nbeseech you, I have got a swelling in my right hand. Let me see\nthat swelling, said she; I will open it. I desired to be excused\nupon that head, alleging the tumour was not ripe enough for\nopening; and drank the cupful, which was very large. In fine, the\nsteams of the wine, joined to my weakness and weariness, set me\nasleep, and I slept very sound till next morning. In the mean\ntime, the lady, curious to know what ailment I had in my right\nhand, lifted up my coat that covered it, and saw, to her great\nastonishment, that it was cut off, and that I had brought it\nalong with me wrapt in a cloth. She presently apprehended my\nreason for declining a discovery, notwithstanding all the\npressing instances she made, and passed the whole night in the\ngreatest uneasiness upon my disgrace, which she concluded had\nbeen occasioned by the love I bore to her.\n\nWhen I awaked, I observed by her countenance that she was\nextremely grieved. That she might not, however, increase my\nuneasiness, she said not one word. She called for jelly broth of\nfowl, which she had ordered to be got ready, and made me eat and\ndrink to recruit my strength. After that, I offered to take leave\nof her, but she declared I should not go out of her doors; though\nyou tell me nothing of the matter, said she, I am persuaded I am\nthe cause of the misfortune that has befallen you: the grief that\nI feel upon that score will quickly make an end of me; but,\nbefore I die, I must do one thing that is designed for your\nadvantage. She had no sooner said these words, than she called\nfor a public notary and witnesses, and ordered a writing to be\ndrawn up, conveying to me her whole estate. After this was done,\nand the men despatched, she opened a large trunk, where lay all\nthe purses I had given her from the commencement of our amours.\nThere are they all entire, said she; I have not touched one of\nthem: here, take the key, the trunk is yours. After I had\nreturned her thanks for her generosity and bounty, What I do for\nyou, said she, is nothing at all; I shall not be satisfied unless\nI die, to show how much I love you. I conjured her, by all the\npowers of love, to drop such a fatal resolution; but all my\nremonstrances were ineffectual: she was so afflicted to see me\nhave but one hand, that she sickened and died, after five or six\nweeks' illness. After mourning for her death as long as was\ndecent, I took possession of her estate, a particular account of\nwhich she gave me before she died; and the corn you sold for me\nwas part of it.\n\nWhat I have now told you will induce you to excuse me for eating\nwith my left hand. I am greatly obliged to you for the trouble\nyou have given yourself on my account. I can never make\nsufficient acknowledgment of your fidelity. Since God has still\ngiven me a competent estate, notwithstanding I have spent a great\ndeal, I beg you to accept of the sum now in your hand as a\npresent from me. Over and above this, I have a proposal to make\nto you, which is this: for as much as, by reason of this fatal\naccident, I am obliged to depart from Cairo, I am resolved never\nto see it more. So, if you please to accompany me, we shall trade\ntogether as equal partners, and divide the profits.\n\nI thanked the young man, said, the Christian merchant, for the\npresent he made me; and as to the proposal of travelling with\nhim, I willingly embraced it, assuring him that his interest\nshould always be as dear to me as my own. We accordingly get a\nday for our departure, and set out upon our travels. We passed\nthrough Syria and Mesopotamia, travelled all over Persia, and,\nafter stopping at several cities, came at last, sir, to your\nmetropolis. Some time after our arrival in this place, the young\nman having formed a design of returning to Persia, and settling\nthere, we settled our accounts, and parted very good friends; so\nhe went from hence, and I continue here at your majesty's\nservice. This, sir, is the story I had to tell you: does not your\nmajesty find it yet more surprising than that of the crooked\nbuffoon?\n\nThe sultan of Casgar fell into a passion against the Christian\nmerchant: you are very bold, said he, to tell me a story so\nlittle worth my hearing, and then to compare it with that of my\njester. Can you flatter yourself so far as to believe that the\ntrifling adventures of a young rake can make such an impression\nupon me as those of my jester? Well, I am resolved to hang you\nall four to revenge his death.\n\nThis said, the purveyor fell down at the sultan's feet. Sir, said\nhe, I humbly beseech your majesty to suspend your just wrath, and\nhear my story; and if my story appears to your majesty to be\nprettier than that of your jester, to pardon us all four. The\nsultan having granted his request, the purveyor began his story.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY TOLD BY THE SULTAN OF CASGAR'S\n                           PURVEYOR.\n\n\n\nSir, a person of quality invited me yesterday to his daughter's\nwedding; I went accordingly to his house at the hour appointed,\nand found there a large company of doctors, ministers of justice,\nand others of the best quality in the city. After the ceremony\nwas over, we had a splendid treat; and, among other things set\nupon the table, there was a course with garlic sauce, which was\nvery delicious and palatable to everybody; but we observed that\none of the guests did not touch it, though it stood just before\nhim, and thereupon we invited him to do as we did: he conjured\nus, however, not to press him upon that head. I will take care,\nsaid he, not to touch any thing that has garlic in it; I remember\nwell what the tasting of such a thing cost me once before. We\nentreated him to tell us what was the occasion of his aversion to\ngarlic; but before he had time to make answer, Is it thus, said\nthe master of the house, that you honour my table? This ragoo is\nexcellent, therefore do not you pretend to be excused from eating\nof it; you must do me that favour as well as the rest. Sir, said\nthe gentleman, who was a Bagdad merchant, I hope you do not think\nthat I refuse to eat of it out of mistaken nicety; if you will\nhave me eat of it, I will do so; but upon this condition, that,\nafter eating of it, I may wash my hands, by your leave, forty\ntimes with alcali[Footnote: This in English is called salt\nwort.*], forty times more with the ashes of the same plant, and\nforty times again with soap, I hope you will not take it ill that\nI stipulate so, as it is in pursuance of an oath I have made\nnever to taste garlic without observing this rule. The master of\nthe house would not dispense with the merchant from eating of the\nragoo with garlic, and therefore ordered his servant to get ready\na bason of water together with alcali, the ashes of the same\nplant, and soap, that the merchant might wash as often as he\npleased. When every thing was got ready, Now, said he to the\nmerchant, I hope you will do as we. The merchant, displeased with\nthe violence that was offered him, reached out his hand to take a\nbit, which he put to his mouth trembling, and ate with a\nreluctance that surprised us all. But the greatest surprise was,\nthat he had only four fingers and no thumb, which none of us\nobserved before, though he had eaten of other dishes. You have\nlost your thumb, said the master of the house; how came that\nabout? It must have been occasioned by some extraordinary\naccident, a relation of which will be an agreeable entertainment\nto the company. Sir, replied the merchant, I have not a thumb on\neither the right or left hand. He then showed us his left hand,\nas well as his right. But this is not all, continued he, I have\nnot a great toe on either of my feet! I hope you will take my\nword for it. I was maimed in this manner by an unheard-of\naccident, which I am willing to relate to you, if you have the\npatience to hear me. The relation will equally astonish, and\naffect you with pity; but suffer me to wash my hands first. Upon\nthis he rose from the table, and, after washing his hands an\nhundred and twenty times, took his place again, and thus\nproceeded:\n\nYou must know, gentlemen, that, in the reign of the caliph Haroun\nAlrasehid, my father lived at Bagdad, the place of my nativity,\nand was reputed one of the richest merchants in the city; but,\nbeing a man too much addicted to pleasure, one that loved an\nirregular life, and neglected his private affairs, instead of\nleaving me a plentiful fortune at his death, he left me in such a\ncondition, that all my economy was scarcely sufficient to clear\nhis debts. With much ado, however, I paid them all, and, through\nindustry and care, my little fortune began to assume a smiling\ncountenance.\n\nOne morning as I opened my shop, a lady mounted upon a mule,\nattended by an eunuch and two women slaves, stopped near my\nshop-door, and, with the assistance of the eunuch, alighted.\nMadam, said the eunuch, I said you would be too soon, you see\nthere is nobody yet in the bezestein; if you had taken my advice,\nyou might have saved yourself the trouble of waiting here. The\nlady looked around her, and finding there was no shop open but\nmine, addressed herself to me, asking leave to sit in my shop\ntill the rest of the merchants came; of course I could do no less\nthan return a civil answer, and invite the lady into my shop. She\nsat down in my shop, and, observing there was nobody in the whole\nbezestein save the eunuch and me, uncovered her face to take the\nair; and I must say I never saw any thing so pretty in my\nlifetime. I had no sooner a sight of her face than I loved her;\nof course I fixed my eyes upon her, and perceived that she was\nnot displeased; for she gave me a full opportunity to look upon\nher, and did not cover her face till she was afraid of being\ntaken notice of. Having let down her veil, she told me that she\nwanted several sorts of the richest and finest stuffs, and asked\nme if I had them? Alas! madam, said I, I am but a young man, just\nbeginning the world, and have not stock enough for such great\nconcerns; and it is a mortification to me that I have nothing to\nshow you such as you want: but to save you the trouble of going\nfrom shop to shop, as soon as the merchants come, I will go, if\nyou please, and fetch from them what you want, with the lowest\nprices; and so you may do your business without going any\nfurther. She complied with my proposal, and entered into\ndiscourse, which continued so much the longer, that I still made\nher believe that the merchants who could furnish what she wanted\nwere not yet come.\n\nI was charmed no less with her wit than I had been before with\nthe beauty of her face; but there was a necessity for denying\nmyself the pleasure of her conversation: I ran out to seek for\nthe stuffs she wanted, and after she had pitched upon what she\nliked, we struck the price at five thousand drams of coined\nsilver; so I wrapped up the stuffs in a small bundle, and gave it\nto the eunuch, who put it under his arm; after which, she rose\nand took leave. I still continued to look after her, till she had\ngot to the bezestein gate; and mounted her mule again.\n\nThe lady had no sooner disappeared than I perceived that love was\nthe cause of great oversights; it had so engrossed all my\nthoughts; that I did not recollect she had gone off without\npaying the money; nor had I the consideration to ask who she was,\nor where she dwelt. However, I considered that I was accountable\nfor a large sum to the merchants, who, perhaps, would not have\nthe patience to stay for their money; so I went to them, and made\nthe best excuse I could, pretending that I knew the lady; but\ncame home equally affected with love, and with the burden of such\na heavy debt.\n\nI had desired my creditors to stay eight days for their money,\nand, when the eight days were past, they did not fail to dun me;\nthen I intreated them to give me eight days more, which they\nagreed to; and the very next day I saw the lady come to the\nbezestein, mounted on her mule, with the same attendants as\nbefore, and exactly at the same hour of the day. She came\nstraight to my shop. I have made you stay some time, said she,\nbut here is your money at last; carry it to a banker, and see\nthat it is all good. The eunuch, who brought me the money, went\nalong with me to the banker's, and we found it very right. I came\nback again, and had the happiness of conversing with the lady\ntill all the shops in the bezestein were open: though we talked\nof ordinary things, she gave them such a turn, that they appeared\nnew and uncommon, and convinced me that I was not mistaken in\nadmiring her wit.\n\nAs soon as the merchants were come, and had opened their shops, I\ncarried to the respective people the money due for their stuffs,\nand was readily intrusted with more which the lady had desired to\nsee. In short, the lady took stuffs to the value of an hundred\npieces of gold, and again carried them away without paying for\nthem: nay, without saying one word, or informing me where she\nwas. I was astonished when I considered that at this rate she\nleft me without any security of not being troubled, if she never\ncame back again. She has paid me, thinks I to myself, a good\nround sum, but she leaves me in the lurch for another that runs\nmuch deeper. Surely she cannot be a cheat; it is not possible she\ncan have any design to inveigle me: the merchants do not know\nher, and will all come upon me. In short, my love was not so\npowerful as to remove the uneasiness I felt when I reflected upon\nall circumstances. A whole month passed before I heard any thing\nof the lady again; and during that time the alarm grew higher and\nhigher every day. The merchants were impatient for their money;\nand, to satisfy them, I was even going to sell off all I had,\nwhen the lady returned one morning with the same equipage as\nbefore. Take your weights, said she, and weigh the gold I have\nbrought you. These words dispelled my fear, and inflamed my love.\nBefore we told down the money, she asked me several questions,\nand particularly if I was married? I made answer, I never was.\nThen reaching out the gold to the eunuch, let us have your\ninterposition, said she, to accommodate our matters: upon which\nthe eunuch fell a laughing, and, calling me aside, made me weigh\nthe gold. While I was weighing, the eunuch whispered in my ear, I\nknow by your eyes that you love this lady, and am surprised to\nfind you have not the assurance to disclose your love to her: she\nloves you more passionately than you do her. Do you imagine that\nshe has any real occasion for your stuffs? She only makes an\nerrand to come hither, because you have inspired her with a\nviolent passion. Do but ask her the question; it will be your\nfault if you do not marry her. It is true, said I, I have had a\nlove for her from the first moment I cast my eyes upon her; but I\ndid not aspire to the happiness of thinking my love acceptable to\nher. I am entirely hers, and shall not fail to retain a grateful\nsense of your good offices in that matter. In fine, I made an end\nof weighing the gold, and while I was putting it into the bag,\nthe eunuch turned to the lady, and told her I was satisfied, that\nbeing the word they had both agreed upon between themselves.\nPresently after that, the lady rose and took leave; telling me\nshe would send the eunuch to me, and that I should do what he\ndirected me to do in her name.\n\nI carried every one of the merchants their money, and waited some\ndays with impatience for the eunuch. At last he came. I\nentertained him very kindly, and asked him how his mistress did?\nYou are, said he, the happiest lover in the world; she is quite\nsick of love for you; she covets extremely to see you; and were\nshe mistress of her own conduct, would not fail to come to you,\nand willingly pass every moment of her life in your company. Her\nnoble mien and graceful carriage, said I, evinced that she was a\nlady beyond the common level. The judgement you have formed upon\nthat head, said the eunuch, is very just; she is the favourite of\nZobeide, the caliph's lady, who has brought her up from her\ninfancy, and intrusts her with all her affairs. Having a mind to\nmarry, she has declared to Zobeide that she has cast her eyes\nupon you, and desired her consent. Zobeide told her she agreed to\nit, only she had a mind to see you first, in order to judge\nwhether she had made a good choice: if she had, Zobeide meant to\ndefray the charges of the wedding. Thus you see your felicity is\ncertain; since you have pleased the favourite, you will be\nequally agreeable to the mistress, who seeks only to oblige her\nfavourite, and would by no means thwart her inclination. In fine,\nall you have to do is to come to the palace. I am sent hither to\ncall you, so you will please to come to a resolution. My\nresolution is formed already, said I; and I am ready to follow\nyou whithersoever you please to conduct me. Very well, said the\neunuch; but you know that men are not allowed to enter the\nladies' apartments in the palace, and so you must be introduced\nwith great secrecy: the favourite lady has contrived the matter\nvery well. Upon your side you are to act your part very\ndiscreetly; for if you do not, your life is at stake.\n\nI gave him repeated assurances of a punctual performance of\nwhatever should be enjoined me. Then, said he, in the evening you\nmust be at the mosque built by the caliph's lady on the banks of\nthe Tigris, and stay there till one comes to call you, I agreed\nto what he proposed; and, after passing the day in great\nimpatience, went in the evening to the prayer that is said in an\nhour and an half after sunset in the mosque, and there I staid\nafter the people were gone. Immediately I saw a boat making up to\nthe mosque, the rowers of which were all eunuchs, who came on\nshore, and put several large trunks into the mosque, and then\nretired; only one of them remained, whom I perceived to be the\nsame eunuch that had all along accompanied the lady, and had been\nwith me that morning. About the same time, I saw the lady enter\nthe mosque; and, making up to her, told her I was ready to obey\nher orders. Come, said she, we have no time to lose. With that\nshe opened one of the trunks, and bid me get into it, that being\nnecessary both for her safety and mine. Fear nothing, added she;\nleave the management of the rest to me. I considered that I had\ngone too far to look back, and so obeyed her orders; upon which\nshe locked the trunk. This done, the eunuch who was her\nconfident, called the other eunuchs who had brought in the\ntrunks, and ordered them to carry them on board again; after\nwhich the lady and eunuch re-embarked, and the boatmen rowed to\nZobeide's apartment. In the mean time, I reflected very seriously\nupon the danger to which I had exposed myself, and made vows and\nprayers, though it was then too late. The boat put into the\npalace-gate, and the trunks were carried into the apartment of\nthe officer of the eunuchs, who keeps the key of the ladies'\napartments, and suffers nothing to enter without a narrow\ninspection. The officer was then in bed, consequently there was a\nnecessity for calling him. He was angry that they should break\nhis rest, and chid the favourite lady severely for coming home so\nlate: You shall not come off so easily as you think; for, said\nhe, not one of these trunks shall pass till I have opened every\none of them. He then commanded the eunuchs to bring them before\nhim, and open them one by one. The first they began with was that\nin which I lay; so that I was in the last degree of\nconsternation.\n\nThe favourite lady, who had the key of the trunk, protested it\nshould not be opened. You know very well, said she, I bring\nnothing hither but what is to serve Zobeide, your mistress and\nmine. This trunk, continued she, is filled with rich goods I had\nfrom some merchants lately arrived, besides a number of bottles\nof Zemzem water [Footnote: There is a fountain at Mecca, which,\naccording to the Mahometans, is a spring that God showed to Hagar\nafter Abraham was obliged to put her away. The water of this\nspring is drank by way of devotion, and is sent in presents to\nthe princes and princesses.] sent from Mecca; if any of these\nshould happen to break, the goods will be spoiled, and you must\nanswer for them. Zobeide will take care, I warrant you, to resent\nyour insolence. In fine, she stood up so tight to the matter,\nthat the officer did not dare to take upon him to open any of the\ntrunks. Let me go then, said he, carry them off. Immediately the\nlady's apartment was opened, and the trunks were carried in. They\nwere scarcely got in, when all of a sudden I heard a cry, Here is\nthe caliph, here comes the caliph. This put me in such a fright,\nthat I wonder I did not die upon the spot, for it was actually\nthe caliph. What hast thou got in these trunks? said he to the\nfavourite. Some stuffs, said she, lately arrived, which your\nmajesty's lady had a mind to see. Open them, cried he, and let me\nsee them too. She pretended to excuse herself, alleging that the\nstuffs were only proper for ladies, and that by opening them his\nlady would be deprived of the pleasure of seeing them first. I\nsay, open them, cried the caliph; I have a mind to see them, and\nshall see them. She still represented that her mistress would be\nangry with her if she opened them. No, no, said he, I will engage\nshe shall not say a word to you for so doing; come, open them, I\ncannot stop. There was a necessity of obeying, which gave me such\nshocking alarms, that I trembled every time I thought on it. Down\nsat the caliph; and the favourite ordered all the trunks to be\nbrought before him, one after another. Then she opened them; and,\nto spin out the time, showed all the beauties of each particular\nstuff, thinking thereby to tire out his patience; but her\nstratagem did not take. Being as loath as I to have the trunk\nwhere I lay open, she left that till the last. So when all the\nrest were viewed, Come, says the caliph, make an end; let us see\nwhat is in that one. I am at a loss to tell you whether I was\ndead or alive at that moment, for I little thought of escaping so\ngreat a danger.\n\nWhen Zobeide's favourite saw that the caliph would needs have the\ntrunk opened where I lay, As for this trunk, says she, your\nmajesty will please to dispense with the opening of it; there are\nsome things in it which I cannot show you unless your lady be by.\nWell, well, says the caliph, since it is so, I am satisfied;\norder the trunks to be carried away. The word was no sooner\nspoken, than the trunks were removed into her chamber, where I\nbegan to come to life again.\n\nAs soon as the eunuchs who had brought them were gone, she\npresently opened the trunk where I was prisoner. Come out, said\nshe, go up these stairs that lead to an upper room, and stay\nthere till I come. The door which led to the stairs she locked\nafter I was in; and that was no sooner done than the caliph came\nand clapped him down upon the very trunk wherein I had been. The\noccasion of this visit was a motion of curiosity that did not\nrespect me. He had a mind to discourse the lady about what she\nhad seen or heard in the city. So they discoursed together a\npretty while, after which he left her, and retired to his\napartment. When she found the coast clear, she came to the\nchamber where I was, and made many apologies for the alarms she\nhad given me. My uneasiness, said she, was no less than yours;\nyou cannot well doubt of that, since I have run the same risk\nfrom love to you; perhaps another would not have had the presence\nof mind to manage matters so dexterously upon so tender an\noccasion; nothing less than the love I had for you could have\ninspired me with courage to do it. But come, take heart, now the\ndanger is over. After some tender discourse between us, she told\nme it was time to go to bed, and that she would not fail to\nintroduce me to Zobeide, her mistress, to-morrow, some hour of\nthe day; for the caliph never sees her, added she, but at nights.\nHeartened by these words, I slept very well; or at least,\nwhatever interruptions happened were agreeable disquietings,\ncaused by the hopes of enjoying a lady blessed with such\nsparkling wit and beauty.\n\nThe next day, before I was introduced to Zobeide, her favourite\ninstructed me how to behave, naming nearly the same questions as\nshe put to me, and dictating the answers I was to give. This\ndone, she carried me into a very magnificent and richly furnished\nhall: I had no sooner entered, than twenty female slaves, in rich\nand uniform habits, came out of Zobeide's apartment, and placed\nthemselves very modestly before the throne in two equal rows:\nthey were followed by twenty other ladies who looked younger, and\nwere clothed after the same manner, though their habits appeared\nsomewhat gayer. In the middle of these appeared Zobeide, with a\nmajestic air, and so loaded with jewels, that she could scarcely\nwalk. Zobeide then went and sat down on the throne, and the\nfavourite lady, who had accompanied her, just by her, on her\nright hand; the other ladies being placed at some distance on\neach side of the throne.\n\nThe caliph's lady having sat down, the slaves who came in first\nmade a sign for me to approach: I advanced between the rows they\nhad formed, and prostrated myself upon the tapestry under the\nprincess's feet. She ordered me to rise, and did me the honour to\nask my name, my family, and the condition of my fortune; to all\nwhich I gave her satisfactory answers, as I perceived not only by\nher countenance, but by her words. I am very glad, said she, that\nmy daughter (so she used to call the favourite lady, looking upon\nher as such, after the care she had taken of her education) has\nmade a choice that pleases me; I approve of it, and give consent\nto your marriage: I shall give orders myself for what is to be\ndone in solemnizing it, but I wish her to stay ten davs with me\nbefore the solemnity; and in that time I will speak to the\ncaliph, and obtain his consent; mean while do you stay here, you\nshall be taken care of. Accordingly I staid ten days in the\nladies' apartments, and during that time was deprived of the\npleasure of seeing the favourite lady; but was so well used, by\nher orders, that I had no reason to be dissatisfied.\n\nZobeide told the caliph her resolution of marrying the favourite\nlady; and he, leaving to her the liberty of doing upon that head\nas she pleased, granted the favourite a considerable sum to help\nher fortune. When the ten days were expired, Zobeide ordered the\ncontract of marriage to be drawn up; and the necessary\npreparations being made for the solemnity, the dancers, (both men\nand women) were called in, and rejoicings continued in the palace\nnine days. The tenth day being appointed for the last ceremony of\nthe marriage, the favourite lady was conducted to a bath, and I\nto another. At night I sat down at table, and had all manner of\nrarities served up to me, and, among other things ragoo with\ngarlic, such as you have now forced me to eat of. This ragoo I\nliked so well, that I scarcely touched any other of the dishes.\nBut such was my unhappiness, that when I rose from the table, I\nonly wiped my hands instead of washing them well; a piece of\nnegligence of which I had never before been guilty. Though it was\nnight, the whole apartment of the ladies was as light as day, by\nmeans of illuminations. Nothing was to be heard in the palace but\nmusic and acclamations of joy. My bride and I were introduced\ninto a great hall, where we were placed upon two thrones. The\nwomen who attended her made her shift herself several times, and\npainted her face with different sorts of colours, according to\nthe usual custom on wedding- days; and every time she changed her\nhabit, they exposed her to my view.\n\nAfter these ceremonies, we were conducted to the wedding- room,\nand, as soon as the company retired, I approached to embrace my\nmistress, but, instead of answering me with transports, she\nshoved me off, and cried out most fearfully; upon which all the\nladies of the apartment came running into the chamber to know\nwhat she cried for; and, for my own part, I was so thunderstruck,\nthat I stood, without the power of so much as asking what she\nmeant by it. Dear sister, said they to her, what is the matter?\nLet us know it, that we may try to relieve you. Take, said she,\nout of my sight that vile fellow. Why, madam, said I, wherein\nhave I deserved your displeasure? You are a villain, said she,\nfuriously: what, to eat garlic, and not wash your hands! Do you\nthink that I would suffer such a filthy fellow to touch me? Down\nwith him, down with him upon the ground, continued she,\naddressing herself to the ladies; and pray let me have a good\nbull's pizzle. In short, I was thrown down upon the ground, and\nwhile some held my hands, and others my feet, my wife, who was\npresently furnished with a weapon, laid on me most unmercifully,\ntill I could scarcely breathe: then she said to the ladies, Take\nhim, send him to the justiciary judge, and let the hand be cut\noff with which he fed upon the garlic ragoo. God bless my soul,\ncried I, must I be beat, bruised, unmercifully mauled, and, to\ncomplete my affliction, have my hand cut off, for eating of a\nragoo with garlic, and forgetting to wash my hands? What\nproportion is there between the punishment and the crime? Plague\non the ragoo, plague on the cook that dressed it, and may he be\nequally unhappy that served it up!\n\nAll the ladies that were by took pity on me, when they heard the\ncutting off of my hand spoken of. Dear madam, dear sister, said\nthey to the favourite lady, you carry your resentment too far. We\nown he is a man quite ignorant of the world, that he does not\nobserve your quality, and the regards that are due to you; but we\nbeseech you to overlook and pardon the fault he has committed. I\nhave not received suitable satisfaction, said she; I will teach\nhim to know the world, make him bear the sensible marks of his\nimpertinence, and be cautious hereafter how he tastes a garlic\nragoo without washing his hands. However, they still continued\ntheir solicitations, and fell down at her feet, and kissing her\nfair hand, Good madam, said they, in the name of God, moderate\nyour wrath, and grant the favour we request. She answered never a\nword, but got up, and, after throwing out a thousand hard words\nagainst me, walked out of the chamber, with the ladies, leaving\nme in inconceivable affliction.\n\nI continued here ten days, without seeing any body but an old\nwoman-slave who brought me victuals. I asked the old woman what\nwas become of the favourite lady? She is sick, said the old\nwoman, of the poisoned smell you infected her with. Why did you\nnot take care to wash your hands after eating of that cursed\nragoo? Is it possible, thought I to myself, that these ladies can\nbe so nice and vindictive for so small a fault? In the mean time\nI loved my wife, notwithstanding all her cruelty. One day the old\nwoman told me that my spouse was recovered and gone to bathe, and\nwould come to see me the next day; so, said she, I would have you\nto call up your patience, and endeavour to accommodate yourself\nto her humour. Besides, she is a woman of good sense and\ndiscretion, and entirely beloved by all the ladies about\nZobeide's court. Accordingly my wife came next night, and\naccosted me thus: You see I am too good in seeing you again,\nafter the affront you have offered me; but still I cannot stoop\nto be reconciled to you, till I have punished you according to\nyour demerit, in not washing your hands after eating the garlic\nragoo. This said, she called the ladies, who, by her order, threw\nme upon the ground, and, after binding me fast, had the barbarity\nto cut off my thumbs and great toes with a razor. One of the\nladies applied a certain root to staunch the blood; but by the\nbleeding and pain I swooned away. When I came to myself, they\ngave me wine to drink to recruit my strength. Ah! madam, said I\nto my wife, if ever I eat of garlic ragoo again, I solemnly swear\nto wash my hands an hundred and twenty times with the herb\nalcali, with the ashes of the same plant, and with soap. Well,\nreplied my wife, upon that condition I am willing to forget what\nis past, and live with you as my husband. This, continued the\nBagdad merchant, addressing himself to the company, is the reason\nwhy I refused to eat of the garlic ragoo now upon the table.\n\nTo make an end of the Bagdad merchant's story, the ladies, said\nhe, applied to my wounds, not only the root I mentioned to you\nbut likewise some balsam of Mecca, which they were morally\nassured was not adulterated, because they had it from the\ncaliph's own dispensatory; by virtue of that admirable balsam I\nwas perfectly cured in a few days, and my wife and I lived\ntogether as agreeably as if I had never eaten of the garlic\nragoo. But having been all my lifetime used to the liberty of\nranging abroad, I was very uneasy at being confined to the\ncaliph's palace, and yet said nothing of it to my wife, from a\nfear of displeasing her. She smelt it, however; and wanted\nnothing more herself than to get out, for it was gratitude alone\nthat made her continue with Zobeide. In fine, being a very witty\nwoman, she represented, in lively terms, to her mistress, the\nconstraint I was under in not living in the city with my\nfellow-companions, as I had always done: this she did so\neffectually, that the good princess chose rather to deprive\nherself of the pleasure of having her favourite about her, than\nnot to grant what she desired. Accordingly, about a month after\nour marriage, my wife came into my room with several eunuchs,\neach carrying a bag of silver. When the eunuchs were gone, You\nnever told me, said she, that you were uneasy in being confined\nto court, but I perceived it very well, and have happily found\nmeans to make you contented. My mistress Zobeide gives us leave\nto go out of the palace, and here are fifty thousand sequins, of\nwhich she has made us a present, in order to enable us to live\ncomfortable in the city. Take ten thousand of them, and go and\nbuy us a house, I soon purchased a house; and, after furnishing\nit richly, we went and lived in it, and kept a great many slaves\nof both sexes, with a very pretty equipage. In short, we began to\nlive in a very agreeable manner, which did not last long, for at\na year's end my wife fell sick and died. I might have married\nagain, and lived honourably at Bagdad; but ambition to see the\nworld put me upon other thoughts. I sold my house, and, after\nbuying up several sorts of goods, went with a caravan to Persia;\nfrom Persia I travelled to Samarcande, and from thence hither.\n\nThis, said the purveyor to the sultan of Casgar, is the story\nthat the Bagdad merchant told in a company where I was yesterday.\nThis story, said the sultan, has something extraordinary in it,\nbut it does not come near that of my little Hunchback. Then the\njewish physician prostrated himself before the sultan's throne,\nand rising again, addressed himself to that prince in the\nfollowing manner: Sir, if you will be so good as to hear me, I\nflatter myself you will be pleased with a story I have to tell\nyou. Well spoken, said the sultan; but if it is not more\nsurprising than that of little Hunch-back, do not you expect to\nlive. The physician, finding the sultan of Casgar disposed to\nhear him, gave the following relation:\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY TOLD BY THE JEWISH PHYSICIAN.\n\n\n\nSir, when I was a student of physic, and just beginning the\npractice of that noble profession with some reputation, a\nman-slave called me to see a patient in the city governor's\nfamily. I went accordingly, and was carried into a room, where I\nfound a very handsome young man mightily cast down with his\ncondition: I saluted him, and sat down by him, but he made no\nreturn to my compliments, except by a sign with his eyes that he\nheard me and thanked me. Pray, sir, said I, give me your hand,\nthat I may feel your pulse. But, instead of stretching out his\nright, he gave me his left hand, at which I was extremely\nsurprised. This, said I to myself, is a gross piece of ignorance,\nnot to know that people present their right hand, and not their\nleft, to a physician. However, I felt his pulse, wrote him a\nreceipt, and took leave.\n\nI continued my visits for nine days, and every time I felt his\npulse he still gave me the left hand: on the tenth day he seemed\nto be pretty well, and so I prescribed nothing for him but\nbathing. The governor of Damascus, who was by, did, in testimony\nof his being well satisfied with my service, invest me with a\nvery rich robe, saying, he made me a physician of the city\nhospital, and physician in ordinary to his house, where I might\nfreely eat at his table when I pleased. The young man likewise\nshowed me many civilities, and asked me to accompany him to the\nbath: accordingly we went together; and when his attendants had\nundressed him, I perceived he wanted the right hand, and that it\nhad not been long cut off, which had been the occasion of his\ndistemper, though concealed from me; for while the people about\nhim were applying proper medicines externally, they had called me\nto prevent the ill consequences of the fever he was then in. I\nwas very much surprised and concerned on seeing his misfortune,\nwhich he observed by my countenance. Doctor, cried he, do not be\nastonished to see that my hand is cut off; some day or other I\nwill tell you the occasion of it; and in that relation you will\nbe entertained with very surprising adventures.\n\nAfter bathing, we sat down and ate; and after we had some other\ndiscourse together, he asked me if it would be any prejudice to\nhis health, if he went to take a walk out of town in the\ngovernor's garden? I made answer, it would be so far from that,\nthat it would benefit his health. Since it is so, said he, if you\nwould let me have your company, I will tell you the history of my\nadventures, I replied, I was at his command for all that day.\nUpon which he presently called his servants, to bring something\nfor a collation; and so we went to the governor's garden. There\nwe took two or three turns, and then sat down upon a carpet that\nhis servants had spread under a tree, which gave a very pleasant\nshade. After we were set, the young man gave his history in the\nfollowing terms: I was born, said he, at Moussol, and come of one\nof the most considerable families in the city. My father was the\neldest of ten brothers that were all alive, and all married, when\nmy grandfather died. All the brothers were childless but my\nfather, and he had never a child but me. He took particular care\nof my education, and made me learn every thing that was proper\nfor a child of my quality.\n\nWhen I was grown pretty tall, and beginning to keep company with\nthe world, I happened one Friday to be at noon prayers with my\nfather and my uncles, in the great mosque at Moussol; and after\nprayers were over, the rest of the company going away, my father\nand my uncles continued sitting upon the best tapestry in the\nmosque, and I sat down by them. They discoursed of several\nthings, but they fell insensibly, I do not know how, upon the\nsubject of voyages. They extolled the beauties and peculiar\nrarities of some kingdoms, and of their principal cities. But one\nof my uncles said, that, according to the uniform report of an\ninfinite number of voyagers, there was not in the world a\npleasanter country than Egypt, nor river than the Nile; and the\naccount he gave of them infused into me such a charming idea of\nthem, that, from that very moment, I had a desire to travel.\nWhatever my other uncles said, by way of preference to Bagdad and\nthe Tigris, in calling Bagdad the true residence of the Mussulman\nreligion, and the metropolis of all the cities in the earth, all\nthis made no impression upon me. My father joined in his opinion\nwith those who had spoken on the behalf of Egypt, which gave me a\ngreat deal of joy. Say what you will, said he, he that has not\nseen Egypt, has not seen the greatest rarity in the world. All\nthe land there is golden, I mean, it is so fertile that it\nenriches its inhabitants: all the women of that country are\ncharming, either in their beauty or in their agreeable carriage.\nIf you speak of the Nile, pray where is there a more admirable\nriver? What water was ever lighter or more delicious? The very\nslime it carries along in its overflowing fattens a thousand\ntimes more than other countries that are cultivated with great\nlabour. Do but mind what a poet said of the Egyptians when lie\nwas obliged to depart Egypt: 'Your Nile loads you with good\noffices every day; it is for you only that it travels so far.\nAlas! in removing from you, my tears are going to run as\nabundantly as its water; you are to continue in the enjoyment of\nits sweetness, while I am condemned to rob myself of it against\nmy will.' If you look, added he, towards the island that is\nformed by the two great branches of the Nile, what variety of\nverdure have you there? What enamel of all sorts of flowers? What\na prodigious number of cities, villages, canals, and a thousand\nother agreeable objects? If you cast your eyes on the other side,\nsteering up towards Ethiopia, how many other objects of\nadmiration? I cannot compare the verdure of so many plains,\nwatered with the different canals of the island, better than to\nsparkling emeralds set in silver. Is not Grand Cairo the largest,\nthe most populous, and the richest city in the universe? What a\nprodigious number of magnificent edifices, both public and\nprivate! If you view the pyramids, you will be seized with\nastonishment: you will turn stiff and immoveable at the sight of\nthese masses of stone of an extravagant thickness, which rise to\nthe skies: and you will be obliged to confess, that the Pharaohs,\nwho employed such riches, and so many men in building them, must\nhave surpassed all the monarchs that have appeared since, not\nonly in Egypt, but all the world over, in magnificence and\ninvention; so transcendent are the monuments they have left\nworthy of their memory; monuments so ancient, that the learned\ncannot agree as to the time of their erection; and yet such as\nlast to this day, and will last while ages are. I silently pass\nover the maritime cities in the kingdom of Egypt, such as\nDamietta, Rosetta, Alexandria, &c. where the Lord knows how many\nnations come for a thousand sorts of grain, seeds, cloth, and an\ninfinite number of other things, calculated for the conveniency\nand the delight of men. What I speak of I have some occasion to\nknow.  I spent some years of my youth there, which, as long as I\nlive, I shall always reckon the most agreeable part of my life.\n\nMy uncles had no answer to give my father, and agreed to all he\nhad said of the Nile, of Cairo, and of the whole kingdom of\nEgypt; as for my own part, I was so taken with it, that I had\nnever a wink of sleep that night.  Soon after, my uncles declared\nthemselves how much they were touched with my father's discourse.\nThey made a proposal to him that they should travel all together\ninto Egypt. He accepted of the proposal; and, being rich\nmerchants, they resolved to carry with them such goods as would\ngo off there. I came to know that they were making preparations\nfor their departure; and thereupon went to my father, and begged\nof him, with tears in my eyes, that he would suffer me to go\nalong with him, and allow me some stock of goods to trade with by\nmyself; You are too young yet, said my father, to travel into\nEgypt; the fatigue is too great for you; and, besides, I am sure\nyou will come off a loser in your traffic. However, these words\ndid not cure me of the eager desire I had to travel. I made use\nof my uncle's interest with my father, who at last granted me\nleave to go as far as Damascus, where they would drop me, till\nthey went through their travels into Egypt. The city of Damascus,\nsaid my father, may likewise glory in its beauties, and it is\nvery well if my son get leave to go so far. Though my curiosity\nto see Egypt was very pressing, I considered he was my father,\nsubmitted to his will, and set out from Moussol with him and my\nuncles. We travelled through Mesopotamia, passed the Euphrates,\nand arrived at Halep, where we staid some days. From thence we\nwent to Damascus, the first sight of which was a very agreeable\nsurprise to me. We lodged in one khan; and I had the view of a\ncity that was large, populous, full of fine people, and very well\nfortified. We employed some days in walking up and down the\ndelicious gardens that surrounded it; and we all agreed that\nDamascus was justly said to be seated in a paradise. At last my\nuncles thought of pursuing their journey; but took care, before\nthey went, to seil my goods, which they did so advantageously for\nme, that I got five hundred per cent. This sale fetched me so\nconsiderable a sum, that I was transported to see myself\npossessor of it.\n\nMy father and my uncles left me in Damascus, and pursued their\njourney. After their departure, I used mighty caution not to lay\nout my money idly; but, at the same time, I took a stately house,\nall of marble, adorned with pictures of gold, and a pure branched\nwork, and excellent water-works. I furnished it, not so richly\nindeed as the magnificence of the place deserved, but at least\nhandsomely enough for a young man of my condition. It had\nformerly belonged to one of the principal lords of the city,\nwhose name was Modoun Adalraham; but then was the property of a\nrich jewel merchant, to whom I paid for it only two\nsherriffs[Footnote: A sherriff is the same with a sequin. This\nword is in the ancient authors.] a month. I had a good large\nnumber of domestics, and lived honourably; sometimes I gave\nentertainments to such people as I was acquainted with, and\nsometimes I went and was treated by them. Thus did i spend my\ntime at Damascus, waiting for my father's return; no passion\ndisturbed my repose, and my only employment was conversing with\npeople of credit.\n\nOne day as I sat taking the cool air at my gate, a very fine lady\ncame to me, and asked if I did not sell stuffs? but had no sooner\nspoken the words than she went into my house. When I saw that the\nlady had gone into the house, I rose, and having shut the gate,\ncarried her into a hall, and prayed her to sit down. Madam, said\nI, I have had stuffs that were fit to be shown to you, but I have\nthem not now, for which I am very sorry. She took off the veil\nthat covered her face, and made a beauty sparkle in my eyes,\nwhich affected me with such emotions as I never felt before. I\nhave no occasion for stuffs, said she; I only come to see you,\nand pass the evening with you: If you are pleased with it, all I\nask of you is a light collation.\n\nTransported with such happy luck, I ordered the folks to bring us\nseveral sorts of fruits, and some bottles of wine, They served us\nnimbly; and we ate and drank, and made merry, till midnight. In\nshort, I had not passed a night so agreeably all the while I had\nbeen there. Next morning I would have put ten sherriffs in the\nlady's hands, but she refused them: I am not come to see you,\nsaid she, from a design of interest; you affront me: I am so far\nfrom receiving money, that I desire you to take money of me, or\nelse I will see you no more. In speaking this, she put her hand\ninto her purse, took out ten sherriffs, and forced me to take\nthem, saying, You may expect me three days hence after sunset.\nThen she took leave of me, and I felt that when she went, she\ncarried my heart along with her.\n\nShe did not fail to return at the appointed hour three days\nafter; and I did not fail to receive her with all the joy of a\nperson that waited impatiently for her arrival. The evening and\nnight we spent as before; and next day at parting, she promised\nto return the third day after. She did not go, however, without\nforcing me to take ten sherriffs more.\n\nShe returned a third time; and, at that interview, when we were\nboth warm with wine, she spoke thus: My dear heart, what do you\nthink of me? Am I not handsome and agreeable? Madam, said I, all\nthe marks of love with which I entertain you ought to persuade\nyou that I love you: I am charmed with seeing you, and more so in\nenjoying you. You are my queen, my sultaness; in you lies all the\nfelicity of my life. Ah, sir, replied she, I am sure you would\nspeak otherwise, if you saw a certain lady of my acquaintance\nthat is younger and handsomer: she is a lady of such a pleasant\njocund temper as would make the most melancholy person merry. I\nmust bring her hither: I spoke of you to her, and, from the\naccount I have given of you, she dies of desire to see you. She\nentreated me to gain her that pleasure, but I did not dare to\nhumour her without speaking to you beforehand. Madam, said I, you\nshall do what you please; but whatever you may say of your\nfriend, I defy all her charms to tear my heart from you, to whom\nit is so inviolably tied, that nothing can disengage it. Do not\nbe too positive, said she; I now tell you I am about to put your\nheart to a strange trial.\n\nWe staid together all night, and next morning at parting, instead\nof ten sherriffs, she gave me fifteen, which I was forced to\naccept. Remember, said she, that in two days you are to have a\nnew guest; pray take care to give her a good reception: we come\nat the usual hour after sunset. I took care to have my hall in\ngreat order, and a nice collation prepared against they came. I\nwaited for the two ladies with impatience, and at last they\narrived. They both unveiled themselves, and as I had been\nsurprised with the beauty of the first, I had reason to be much\nmore so when I saw her friend: she had regular features, a lively\ncomplexion, and such sparkling eyes that I could hardly bear\ntheir splendour, I thanked her for the honour she did me, and\nentreated her to excuse me if I did not give her the reception\nshe deserved. No compliments said she; it should be my part to\nmake them to you for allowing my friend to bring me hither. But\nsince you are pleased to suffer it, let us lay aside all\nceremony, and think of nothing but making merry.\n\nAs soon as the ladies arrived, the collation was served up, and\nwe sat down to supper. I sat opposite to the stranger lady, and\nshe never left off looking upon me with a smile: I could not\nresist her conquering eyes, and she made herself mistress of my\nheart with such force, that I had not power to offer opposition.\nBut, by inspiring me, she took fire herself, and was equally\ntouched, and was so far from showing any thing of constraint in\nher carriage, that she told me many sensible moving things. The\nother lady did nothing at first but laugh at us. I told you, said\nshe, addressing herself to me, you would find my friend full of\ncharms; and I perceive you have already violated the oath you\nmade of being faithful to me. Madam, said I, laughing as well as\nshe, you would have reason to complain of me, if I were wanting\nin civility to a lady whom you brought hither, and one whom you\nare fond of; you might then upbraid me, both of you, for not\nknowing the measures of hospitality and entertainment.\n\nWe continued to drink on; but as the wine grew warm in our\nstomachs, the stranger lady and I ogled one another with so\nlittle reserve, that her friend grew jealous, and quickly gave us\na dismal proof of her jealousy. She rose from the table, and went\nout, saying she would be with us presently again; but a few\nmoments after, the lady that staid with me changed her\ncountenance, fell into violent convulsions, and, in fine, expired\nin my arms, while I was calling to the people to come and assist\nme in relieving her. Immediately I went out, and asked for the\nother lady; and my people told me she had opened the street-door,\nand gone out of doors. Then I suspected she had been the cause of\nher friend's death. In fine, she had the dexterity and the malice\nto put some strong poison into the last glass, which she gave her\nout of her own hand. I was afflicted to the last degree with the\naccident. What shall I do? thinks I within myself: What will\nbecome of me? I thought there was no time to lose, and so, it\nbeing then moon-light, made my servants quietly take up a great\npiece of marble, with which the yard of my house was paved; under\nthat I made them dig a hole presently, and there inter the corpse\nof the young lady. After replacing the stone, I put on a\ntravelling suit, and took what silver I had; and, having locked\nup every thing, affixed my own seal to the door of my house. This\ndone, I went to seek for the jewel merchant, my landlord, paid\nhim what rent I owed, with a year's rent more; and giving him the\nkey, prayed him to keep it for me: a very urgent affair, said I,\nobliges me to be absent for some time; I am under the necessity\nof going to find out my uncles at Cairo. I took my leave of him,\nand that very moment mounted my horse, and set out with my\nequipage.\n\nI had a good journey, and arrived at Cairo without any ill\naccident. There I met with my uncles, who were much surprised to\nsee me. To excuse myself, I pretended that I was tired staying\nfor them; and, hearing nothing of them, was so uneasy that I\ncould not be satisfied without coming to Cairo. They received me\nvery kindly, and promised my father should not be angry with me\nfor leaving Damascus without his permission. I lodged in the same\nkhan with them, and saw all the curiosities of Cairo. Having\nfinished their traffic, they began to speak of returning to\nMoussol, and to make preparations for their departure. But I,\nhaving yet a mind to see something in Egypt, left my uncles, and\nwent to lodge at a great distance from the khan, and did not\nappear till they were gone. They had sought for me all over the\ncity; but, not finding me, they judged the remorse of having come\nto Egypt without my father's consent, had induced me to return to\nDamascus, without saying any thing to them. So they began their\njourney, expecting to find me at Damascus, and there to take me\nup.\n\nI remained at Cairo, after their departure, three years, to give\nfull satisfaction to the curiosity I had of seeing all the\nwonders of Egypt, During that time, I took care to send money to\nthe jewel-merchant, ordering him to keep my house for me, for I\nhad a design to return to Damascus, and stay there for some\nyears. I had no adventure at Cairo worthy of your hearing; but\ndoubtless you will be surprised at that I met with after my\nreturn to Damascus. On my arrival in this place, I went to the\njewel-merchant's house, who received me joyfully, and went along\nwith me to my house, to show me that nobody had entered it whilst\nI was absent. The seal was still entire upon the lock; and, when\nI went in, I found every thing in the same order in which I left\nit.\n\nIn sweeping and cleaning out my hall, where I had used to eat,\none of my servants found a gold chain necklace, with ten very\nlarge and very perfect pearls placed upon it at certain\ndistances. He brought it to me, and I knew it to be the same I\nhad seen upon the lady's neck that was poisoned; and concluded it\nhad broken off, and fallen without my perceiving it. I could not\nlook upon it without shedding tears, when I called to mind the\nlovely creature I had seen die in so fatal a manner; so I wrapped\nit up, and put it in my bosom.\n\nI passed some days to work off the fatigues of my voyage; after\nwhich I began to visit my former acquaintances. I abandoned\nmyself to all manner of pleasure, insensibly squandered away all\nmy money, and in this condition, instead of selling my moveables,\nresolved to part with my necklace, but had so little skill in\npearls, that I took my measures very ill.\n\nI went to the bezestein, where I called a crier aside, and,\nshowing him the necklace, told him I had a mind to sell it, and\ndesired him to show it to the principal jewellers. The crier was\nsurprised to see such an ornament: What a pretty thing it is!\ntried he, staring upon it with admiration, never did our\nmerchants see any thing so rich; I am sure I shall oblige them by\nshowing it; and you need not doubt they will set a high price\nupon it from emulation. He carried me to a shop, which proved to\nbe my landlord's: Tarry here, says the crier; I will return\npresently, and bring you an answer.\n\nWhile he was running about to show the necklace, I sat with the\njeweller, who was glad to see me; and we discoursed on common\nsubjects. The crier returned, and calling me aside, instead of\ntelling me that the necklace was valued at two thousand\nsherriffs, he assured me nobody would give me more than fifty.\nThe reason is, added he, the pearls are false; so see if you can\npart with it at that price. I took the crier to be an honest\nfellow; and wanting money, Go, said I, I trust to what you say,\nand to those who know better than I; deliver it to them, and\nbring me the money immediately.\n\nThe crier had been ordered to offer me fifty sherriffs by one of\nthe richest jewellers in town, who had made that offer only to\nsound me, and try if I was acquainted with the value of the goods\nwhich I exposed to sale. He had no sooner received my answer,\nthan he carried the crier to the justiciary judge; and showing\nhim the necklace, Sir, said he, here is a necklace that was\nstolen from me, and the thief, under the character of a merchant,\nhas had the impudence to offer it to sale, and is this minute in\nthe bezestein. He is willing to take fifty sherriffs for a\nnecklace that is worth two thousand, which is a plain argument\nthat it is stolen.\n\nThe judge seat immediately to seize me, and, on coming before\nhim, he asked me if the necklace in his hand was not the one I\nhad exposed to sale in the bezestein? I told him it was. Is it\ntrue, said he, that you are willing to deliver it for fifty\nsherriffs? I answered in the affirmative. Well, said he, in a\nscoffing way, give him the bastinado; he will quickly tell us,\nwith all his fine merchant's clothes, that he is only a downright\nthief; let him be beaten till he confesses. The violence of the\nblows made me tell a lie: I confessed, though it was not true,\nthat I had stolen the necklace, and presently the judge ordered\nmy hand to be cut off.\n\nThis made a great noise in the bezestein, and I was scarcely\nreturned to my house, when my landlord came. My son, said, he,\nyou seem to be a young man well educated, and of good sense; how\nis it possible that you could be guilty of such an unworthy\naction? You gave me an account of your estate yourself, and I do\nnot doubt the correctness of it. Why did you not ask money of me,\nand I would have lent it you? Since, however, the thing has\nhappened, I cannot allow you to lodge longer in my house; you\nmust look out for other lodgings. I was extremely troubled, and\nentreated the jeweller, with tears in my eyes, to let me stay\nthree days longer in, his house, which he granted.\n\nAlas! said I to myself, this affront is insufferable; how shall I\ndare to return to Moussol? Nothing will persuade his father that\nI am innocent.\n\nThree hours after this fatal accident, my house was assaulted by\nthe judge's officers, accompanied by my landlord and the merchant\nwho had falsely accused me of having stolen the necklace. I asked\nthem what brought them there? But, instead of giving me an\nanswer, they bound me, calling me a thousand rogues, and told me\nthat the necklace belonged to the governor of Damascus, who had\nlost it about three years ago, and whose daughter had not been\nheard of since. Conceive my thoughts when I heard this news.\nHowever, I called all my resolution about me: I will tell, thinks\nI, the governor the truth; and so it will lie at his door either\nto put me to death, or to pardon me.\n\nWhen I was brought before him, I observed he looked upon me with\nan eye of compassion, from whence I prophesied good things. He\nordered me to be untied, and addressing himself to the jeweller\nwho accused me, and to my landlord, Is this the man, said he, who\nsold the pearl necklace? They had no sooner answered yes, than he\nsaid, I am sure he did not steal the necklace, and I am much\nastonished at the injustice that has been done him. These words\ngiving me courage, Sir, said I, I do assure you that I am really\ninnocent, and am likewise persuaded that the necklace never did\nbelong to my accuser, whose horrible perfidiousness is the cause\nof my unjust treatment. It is true, I made a confession as if I\nhad stolen it; but this was contrary to my conscience, through\nthe force of torture, and for another reason that I am ready to\ntell you, if you will be so good as hear me. I know enough of it\nalready, replied the governor, to do you one part of the justice\nthat is due to you: take from hence, continued he, the false\naccuser, and let him undergo the same punishment which he caused\nto be inflicted on this young man, whose innocence is known to\nme.\n\nThe governor's orders were immediately put in execution, and the\njeweller was punished according to his demerit. Then the\ngovernor, having ordered all the company to withdraw, said to me,\nMy child, tell me without fear how this necklace fell into your\nhands; conceal nothing of the matter from me. Then I told him\nplainly all that had passed, and declared I had chosen rather to\npass for a thief, than to reveal that tragical adventure. Good\nGod! said the governor, thy judgments are incomprehensible, and\nwe ought to submit to them without murmuring. I receive, with an\nentire submission, the stroke thou hast been pleased to inflict\nupon me. Then directing his discourse to me, My child, said he,\nhaving now heard the cause of your disgrace, for which I am much\nconcerned, I will give you an account of the disgrace that befel\nme. Know, then, that I am the father of those two young ladies of\nwhom you were just speaking. I know that the first lady, who had\nthe impudence to come to your house, was my eldest daughter. I\nhad given her in marriage to one of her cousins, my own brother's\nson, at Cairo. Her husband died, and she returned home corrupted\nwith all manner of wickedness, which she had learned in Egypt.\nBefore I took her home, her younger sister, who died in that\ndeplorable manner in your arms, was a very prudent young woman,\nand had never given me any occasion to complain of her conduct;\nbut, after that, the eldest sister grew very intimate with her,\nand insensibly made her as wicked as herself.\n\nThe day after the death of the youngest, not finding her at\ntable, I asked her eldest sister what was become of her? But she,\ninstead of answering, fell a-crying bitterly, from which I formed\na fatal presage. I pressed her to inform me of what I asked her.\nMy father, said she, with sobs, I can tell you no more than that\nmy sister put on her best clothes yesterday, and her fine\nnecklace, and went abroad, and has not been heard of since. I\nmade search of my daughter all over the town, but could learn\nnothing of her unhappy fate. In the mean time, the eldest, who\ndoubtless repented of her jealous fury, very much bewailed the\ndeath of her sister, and denied herself all manner of food, and\nso put an end to her deplorable days.\n\nSuch, continued the governor, is the state of mankind; such are\nthe unlucky accidents to which they are exposed; however, my\nchild, added he, since we are both of us equally unfortunate, let\nus unite our sorrow, and not abandon one another. I give you in\nmarriage a third daughter I have still left; she is younger than\nher sisters, and imitates their conduct in no manner of way;\nbesides, she is handsomer than they were, and I assure you is of\na humour fitted to make you happy: you shall have no other house\nbut mine; and, after my death, you and she shall be my heirs.\nSir, said I, I am ashamed of all your favours, and shall never be\nable to make a sufficient acknowledgment. That is enough, said\nhe, interrupting me; let us not waste time in idle words. He then\ncalled for witnesses, ordered the contract of marriage to be\ndrawn, and I married his daughter without further ceremony.\n\nHe was not satisfied with punishing the jeweller who had falsely\naccused me, but confiscated for my use all his goods, which were\nvery considerable. As for the rest, since you have been called to\nthe governor's house, you have seen what respect they pay me\nthere. I must tell you further, that a man, who was sent by my\nuncles to Egypt on purpose to inquire for me there, passing\nthrough this city, found me out, and came last night, and\ndelivered me a letter from them. They gave me notice of my\nfather's death, and invited me to come and take possession of his\nestate at Moussol; but as the alliance and friendship of the\ngovernor has fixed me with him, and will not suffer me to remove\nfrom him, I have sent back the express, with an order which will\nsecure to me what is my due. Now, after what you have heard, I\nhope you will pardon my incivility, during the course of my\nillness, in giving you my left hand.\n\nThis, said the Jewish physician, is the story I heard from the\nyoung man of Moussol. I continued at Damascus as long as the\ngovernor lived; after his death, being in the flower of my age, I\nhad the curiosity to travel. Accordingly, I went over Persia to\nthe Indies, and came at last to settle in your capital, where I\npractise physic with reputation and honour.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar was pretty well pleased with this last\nstory. I must say, said he to the Jew, your story is very odd;\nbut I declare freely, that little Humph's is yet more\nextraordinary, and much more comical; therefore yon are not to\nexpect that I will give you your life any more than the rest; I\nwill hang you all four. Pray, sir, stay a minute, said the\ntailor; and then prostrating himself at the sultan's feet. Since\nyour majesty loves pleasant stories, I have one to tell you that\nis very comical. Well, I will hear thee too, said the sultan: but\ndo not flatter thyself that I will suffer thee to live, unless\nthou tellest me some adventure that is yet more diverting than\nthat of the hump-bucked man. Upon this the tailor, as if he had\nbeen sure of his project, spoke very briskly to the following\npurpose:\n\n\n\n\n\n                 THE STORY TOLD BY THE TAILOR.\n\n\n\nA citizen of this city did me the honour, two days ago, to invite\nme to a treat, which he was to give to his friends yesterday\nmorning. Accordingly, I went pretty early, and found twenty\npersons waiting.\n\nThe master of the house was gone out upon some business, but in a\nvery little time came home, and brought with him a young man, a\nstranger, well dressed, and very handsome, but lame. When he came\nin, we all rose, and, out of respect to the master of the house,\ninvited the young gentleman to sit down with us upon the sofa. He\nwas going to sit down; but all on a sudden, spying a barber in\nour company, he flew backwards, and made towards the door. The\nmaster of the house being surprised, stopped him: Where are you\ngoing? said he; I brought you along with me to do me the honour\nof being my guest, and you are no sooner got into my house than\nyou run away again. Sir, said the young man, for God's sake do\nnot stop me, let me go; I cannot, without horror, look upon that\nabominable barber; though he was born in a country where all the\nnatives are whites, he resembles an Ethiopian; and when all is\ncome to all, his soul is yet blacker, and yet more horrible than\nhis face.\n\nWe were, continued the tailor, surprised to hear the young man\nspeak so, and began to have a very bad opinion of the barber,\nwithout knowing what ground the young man had for what he said.\nNay, we protested we would not suffer any one to remain in our\ncompany who bore so horrid a character. The master of the house\nentreated the stranger to tell us what reason he had for hating\nthe barber. Gentlemen, said the young man, you must know that\nthis cursed barber is the cause of my being lame, and of the most\ncruel accident that any one can imagine: for this reason, I have\nmade an oath to avoid every place where he dwells. It was for\nthis reason that I left Bagdad, where he then was, and travelled\nso far to settle in this city, in the heart of Great Tartary, a\nplace where I flattered myself I should never see him; and now,\nafter all, contrary to my expectations, I find him here. This\nobliges me, gentlemen, against my will, to deprive myself of the\nhonour of being merry with you. This very day I take leave of\nyour town, and will go, if possible, to hide me from him. This\nsaid, he would have left us, but the master entreated him to\nstop, and tell the cause of his aversion to the barber, who all\nthis while looked down, and said nothing. We joined with the\nmaster of the house in requesting him to stay; and at last the\nyoung man, yielding to our instances, sat down upon the sofa;\nand, after turning his back to the barber, that he might not see\nhim, gave us the following account.\n\nMy father's quality might have entitled him to the highest posts\nin the city of Bagdad, but he always preferred a quiet life to\nany honours he might deserve. I was his only child; and, when he\ndied, I was already educated, and of age to dispose of the\nplentiful fortune he had left me, which I did not squander away\nfoolishly, but applied to such uses, that every body respected\nme. I had never been in love, and was so far from being sensible\nof that passion, that I acknowledge, perhaps to my shame, that I\ncautiously avoided the conversation of women. One day, walking in\nthe streets, I saw a great company of ladies before me, and, that\nI might not meet them, turned down a narrow lane just by, and sat\ndown upon a bench by a door. I sat over against a window, where\nstood a pot with pretty flowers; and I had my eyes fixed upon\nthis, when, all on a sudden, the window opened, and a young lady\nappeared, whose beauty was dazzling. Immediately she cast her\neyes upon me; and, in watering the flower-pot with a hand whiter\nthan alabaster, looked upon me with a smile that inspired me with\nas much love for her as I had formerly an aversion for all women.\nAfter having watered all her flowers, and darting upon me a\nglance full of charms that quite pierced my heart, she shut up\nthe window again, and so left me in inconceivable trouble and\ndisorder.\n\nI had dwelt upon these thoughts long enough, had not a noise in\nthe streets brought me to myself: alarmed thus, I turned my head\nin a rising posture, and saw it was the upper cadi of the city,\nmounted on a mule, and attended by five or six servants. He\nalighted at the door of the house where the young lady had opened\nthe window, and went in there; so I concluded he was the young\nlady's father.\n\nI went home in a different sort of humour from that in which I\ncame, with a passion which was the mere violent as I had never\nfelt before its assaults. In fine, I went to bed in a violent\nfever, at which all the family was greatly concerned. My\nrelations, who had a great love for me, were so alarmed and moved\nat my sudden disorder, that they came about me, and importuned me\nto know the cause, which I took care not to reveal to them. My\nsilence created an uneasiness which the physicians could not\ndispel, because they knew nothing of my distemper, and rather\ninflamed than repaired it, by the medicines they exhibited. My\nrelations began to despair of my life, when a certain old lady of\nour acquaintance, learning my illness, came to see me. She\nconsidered and examined every thing with great attention, and\ndived, I do not know how, into the real cause of my illness. Then\nshe took my relations aside, and desired they would retire from\nthe room. When the room was clear, she sat down on the side of my\nbed: My child, said she, you are very obstinate in concealing\nhitherto the cause of your illness; but you have no occasion to\nreveal it to me, I have experience enough to penetrate into a\nsecret; you will not surely disown that it is love that makes you\nsick. I can find a way to cure you, if you but let me know who\nthe happy lady is that could move a heart so insensible as yours;\nfor you have the name of a woman-hater, and I was not the last\nthat perceived you to be of that temper; but, in short, what I\nforesaw has just come to pass, and am now glad of the opportunity\nto employ my talents in bringing you out of pain.\n\nThe old lady, having talked to me in this fashion, paused,\nexpecting my answer; but, though what she had said made a strong\nimpression upon me, I durst not lay open to her the bottom of my\nheart; I only turned to her, and fetched a deep sigh without\nsaying any thing. Is it bashfulness, said she, that keeps you\nfrom speaking? or is it want of confidence in me? Do not doubt\nthe effect of my promise. I could mention to you an infinite\nnumber of young men of your acquaintance, that have been in the\nsame condition with you, and have received relief from me. In\nfine, the good lady told me so many things more, that I broke\nsilence, declared to her my evil, pointed out to her the place\nwhere I had seen the object which caused it, and unravelled all\nthe circumstances of my adventure. If you succeed, said I, and\nprocure me the felicity of seeing that charming beauty, and\nrevealing to her the passion with which I burn for her, you may\ndepend upon it I will be grateful. My son, said the old woman, I\nknow the lady you speak of; she is, as you judged right, the\ndaughter of the first cadi of the city: I think it no wonder that\nyou are in love with her; she is the handsomest, comeliest lady\nin Bagdad; but what I most boggle at is, that she is very proud\nand of difficult access. You see how strict our judges are in\nenjoining the punctual observance of the severe laws that lay\nwomen under such a burdensome constraint; and they are yet more\nstrict in the observation of their own families: nay, the cadi\nyou saw is more rigid than all the other magistrates put\ntogether. They are always preaching to their daughters what a\nheinous crime it is to show themselves to men; and by this means\nthe girls themselves are so prepossessed with the notion, that\nthey make no other use of their own eyes than to conduct them\nalong the streets when necessity obliges them to go abroad. I do\nnot say absolutely that the cadi's daughter is of that humour;\nbut I still fear to meet with as great obstacles on her side as\non her father's. Would to God you had loved some other lady, then\nI had not had so many difficulties to surmount. However, I shall\nemploy all my wits to compass the thing; but time is required. In\nthe mean time, take heart, and trust to me.\n\nThe old woman took leave; and as I weighed within myself all the\nobstacles she had been talking of, the fear of her not succeeding\ninflamed my illness. Next day she came again, and I read in her\ncountenance that she had no favourable news to impart. She spoke\nthus: My child, I was not mistaken in the matter; I have somewhat\nelse to conquer besides the vigilance of a father; you love an\nindifferent, insensible girl, who takes pleasure in making those\nto burn with love that suffer themselves to be charmed by her;\nwhen she has once gained that point, she will not deign them the\nleast comfort. She heard me with pleasure, when I spoke of\nnothing but the torment she had made you undergo; but I had no\nsooner requested her to allow you to see, and converse with her,\nthan, with a terrible look, You are very bold, said she, to make\nsuch a proposal to me; I discharge you ever to see me again with\nsuch discourse in your mouth.\n\nDo not let this cast you down, continued she, I am not easily\ndisheartened; and if your patience does but hold out, I am\nhopeful I shall compass my end. To shorten my story, said the\nyoung man, this good procuress made several attempts on my behalf\nwith the proud enemy of my rest. The fret I thereby underwent\ninflamed my distemper to that degree that my physicians gave me\nquite over; so that I was looked on as a dead man, when the old\nwoman came to give me life.\n\nThat nobody might hear what was said, she whispered in my ear,\nRemember now you owe me a present for the good news I bring you.\nThese words produced a marvellous effect; I raised myself to sit\nup in the bed, and with transports made answer, You shall not be\nwithout a present: but what are the news you bring me? Dear sir,\nsaid she, you shall not die yet: I shall speedily have the\npleasure to see you in perfect health, and very well satisfied\nwith me. Yesterday being Monday, I went to see the lady you love,\nand found her in very good humour. I put on a sad countenance,\nand fetched many deep sighs, and began to squeeze out some tears:\nMy good mother, said she, what is the matter with you? Why are\nyou so cast down? Alas, my dear and honourable lady, said I, I\nhave been just now with the young gentleman I spoke to you of the\nother day; his business is done; he is giving up his life for the\nlove of you; it is a great injury, I assure you, and there is a\ngreat deal of cruelty on your side. I am at a loss to know,\nreplied she, how you suppose me to be the cause of his death. How\ncan I have contributed to it? How, replied I, did not you tell me\nthe other day that he sat down before your window when you opened\nit to water your flower-pot? He then saw that prodigy of beauty,\nthose charms that your looking-glass represents to you every day.\nFrom that moment he languished, and his disease is risen to that\nheight, that he is reduced to the deplorable condition I have\nmentioned.\n\nYou remember well, added I, how rigorously you treated me the\nlast time I was here, when I was offering to speak to you of his\nillness, and to propose means to rescue him from the danger he\nwas in; when I took leave of you, I went straight to his house,\nand he no sooner knew by my countenance that I had brought him no\nfavourable answer than his distemper increased. From that time,\nmadam, he is ready to die, and I do not know whether you can save\nhis life now, though you should take pity on him. This is just\nwhat I said to her, continued the old woman. The fear of your\ndeath shaked her, and I saw her face change colour. Is it true\nwhat you say? said she. Has he actually no other disease than\nwhat is occasioned by the love of me? Ah, madam, said I, that is\ntoo true; would to God it were false! Do you believe, said she,\nthat the hope of seeing me would contribute any thing to rescue\nhim from the danger he is in? Perhaps it may, said I, and if you\nwill give me orders, I will try the remedy. Well, said she,\nsighing, make him hope to see me; but he can pretend to no other\nfavours from me, unless he aspires to marry me, and my father\ngives his consent to it. Madam, replied I, your goodness\novercomes me: I will go and see for the young gentleman, and tell\nhim he is to have the pleasure of an interview with you: the most\nproper time I can think of, said she, for granting him that\nfavour, is next Friday, at the time of noon-prayers. Let him take\ncare to observe when my father goes out, and then come and plant\nhimself over against the house, if so be his health permits him\nto come abroad. When he comes, I shall see him through my window,\nand shall come down and open the door to him; we shall then\nconverse together during prayer-time, but he must be gone before\nmy father returns.\n\nIt is now Tuesday, continued the old gentlewoman, you have till\nFriday to recruit your strength, and make the necessary\ndispositions for the interview. While the good old gentlewoman\nwas telling her story, I felt my illness decrease, or rather, by\nthe time she had done, I found myself perfectly well. Here, take\nthis, said I, reaching out to her my purse, which was full, it is\nto you alone that I owe my cure. I reckon this money better\nemployed than what I gave to the physicians, who have done\nnothing but tormented me during the whole course of my illness.\nWhen the lady was gone, I found I had strength enough to get up;\nand my relations, finding me so well, complimented me and went\nhome.\n\nOn Friday morning the old woman came just when I was dressing\nmyself, and laying out the finest clothes I had; I do not ask\nyou, says she, how you do; what you are about is intimation\nenough of your health; but will you not bathe before you go to\nthe first cadi's house? That will take up too much time, said I;\nI will content myself with calling a barber to get my head and\nbeard shaved. Presently I ordered one of my slaves to call a\nbarber that could do his business cleverly and expeditiously. The\nslave brought me this wretch you see here, who came in, and after\nsaluting me, Sir, said he, you look as if you were not very well.\nI told him I was just recovered from a fit of sickness: I wish,\nsaid he, God may deliver you from all mischance; may his grace\nalways go along with you. I hope, said I, he will grant your\nwish, for which I am very much obliged to you. Since you are\nrecovering, said he, I pray God preserve your health; but now\npray let us know what service I am to do; I have brought my\nrazors and my lancets; do you desire to be shaved or to be bled?\nI replied, I am just recovered of a fit of sickness, and so you\nmay readily judge I only want to be shaved: come, make haste, do\nnot lose time in prattling, for I am in haste, and precisely at\nnoon must be at a certain place.\n\nThe barber spent much time in opening his case, and preparing his\nrazors: instead of putting water into the bason, he took a very\nhandsome astrolabe out of his budget, and went very gravely out\nof my room to the middle of the yard to take the height of the\nsun; then he returned with the same grave pace, and, entering my\nroom, Sir, said he, you will be pleased to know this day is\nFriday the 18th of the month Saffar, in the year 653, [Footnote:\nThis year 653 is one of the Hegira, the common epocha of the\nMahometans, and answers to the year 1255, from the nativity of\nChrist; from whence we may conjecture that these computations\nwere made in Arabia about that time.] from the retreat of our\ngreat prophet from Mecca to Medina, and in the year 7320\n[Footnote: As for the year 7320, the author is mistaken in that\ncomputation. The year 653 of the Hegira, and the 1255 of Christ,\ncoincide only with the 1557 of the aera or the epocha of the\nSelucides, which is the same with that of Alexander the Great,\nwho is called Iskender with two horns, according to the\nexpression of the Arabians.] of the epocha of the great Iskender\nwith two horns; and that the conjunction of Mars and Mercury\nsignifies you cannot choose a better time than this very day for\nbeing shaved. But, on the other hand, the same conjunction is a\nbad presage to you. I learn from thence, that this day you run a\ngreat risk, not indeed of losing your life, but of an\ninconvenience which will attend you while you live. You are\nobliged to me for the advice I now give you to take care to avoid\nit; I should be sorry if it befel you.\n\nYou may guess, gentlemen, how sorry I was for having fallen into\nthe hands of such a prattling impertinent barber; what an\nunseasonable adventure it was for a lover preparing for an\ninterview! I was quite angry. I do not trouble my head, said I,\nin anger, with your advice and predictions, nor did I call you to\nconsult your astrology; you came here to shave me, so pray do it,\nor be gone, and I will call another barber. Sir, said he, with a\ndulness that put me out of all patience, what reason have you to\nbe angry with me? You do not know that all barbers are not like\nme, and that you could scarcely find such another, if you made it\nyour business to search. You only sent for a barber: but here, in\nmy person, you have the best barber in Bagdad; an experienced\nphysician, a very profound chemist, an infallible astrologer, a\nfinished grammarian, a complete orator, a subtle logician, a\nmathematician perfectly conversant in geometry, arithmetic,\nastronomy, and all the divisions of algebra; an historian fully\nmaster of the histories of all the kingdoms of the universe;\nbesides, I know all parts of philosophy, and have all the\ntraditions upon my finger ends. I am a poet, an architect, nay,\nwhat is it I am not? there is nothing in nature hidden from me.\nYour deceased father, to whose memory I pay a tribute of tears\nevery time I think of him, was fully convinced of my merit; he\nwas fond of me, and spoke of me in all companies as the greatest\nman in the world. Out of gratitude and friendship for him, I am\nwilling to take you into my protection, and guard you from all\nthe evils that your stars may threaten.\n\nAt hearing this stuff, I could not forbear laughing,\nnotwithstanding my anger. You impertinent prattler, said I, will\nyou have done, and begin to shave me?\n\nSir, replied the barber to me, you affront me in calling me a\nprattler; on the contrary, all the world gives me the honourable\ntitle of Silent. I had six brothers that you might justly have\ncalled prattlers; and that you may know them the better, the name\nof the first was Bacbouc, of the second Backbarah of the third\nBackback, of the fourth Barbarak, of the fifth Alnaschar, of the\nsixth Schacabac. These indeed were impertinent noisy fellows; but\nas for me, who am a younger brother, I am grave and concise in my\ndiscourses.\n\nFor God's sake, gentlemen, do but suppose you had been in my\nplace. What could I say when I felt myself so cruelly tortured?\nGive him three pieces of gold, said I to the slave that was my\nhousekeeper, and send him away, that he may disturb me no more; I\nwill not be shaved this day. Sir, said the barber, what do you\nmean by that? I did not come to seek for you, it was you that\nsent for me; and since it is so, I swear by the faith of a\nMussulman, I will not stir out of these doors till I have shaved\nyou: if you do not know my value, that is not my fault. Your\ndeceased father did me more justice. Every time he sent for me to\nlet blood, he made me sit down by him, and was charmed to hear\nthe fine things I talked of. I kept him in a continual strain of\nadmiration, and ravished him; when I had finished my discourses,\nMy God, would he cry, you are an inexhaustible source of\nsciences; no man can reach the depth of your knowledge. My dear\nsir, said I again, you do me more honour than I deserve: If I say\nany thing that is fine, it is owing to the favourable audience\nyou vouchsafe me; it is your liberality that inspires me with the\nsublime thoughts that have the happiness to please you. One day,\nwhen he was charmed with an admirable discourse I had made, Give\nhim, says he, an hundred pieces of gold, and invest him with one\nof my richest robes. I received the present upon the spot, and\npresently I drew his horoscope, and found it the happiest in the\nworld. Nay, I was grateful still, and bled him with cupping\nglasses.\n\nThis was not all: The barber spinned out, besides, another\nharangue that was a half hour long. Fatigued with hearing him,\nand fretted at the time which was spent before I was half ready,\nI did not know what to say. No, said I, it is impossible there\nshould be such another man in the world, that takes pleasure, as\nyou do, in making people mad.\n\nI thought that I should succeed better if I dealt mildly with my\nbarber. In the name of God, said I, leave off all your fine\ndiscourses, and despatch me presently; I am called to attend an\naffair of the last importance, as I have told you already. Then\nhe fell a laughing: It would be a laudable thing, said he, if our\nminds were always in the same strain; if we were wise and\nprudent: however, I am willing to believe, that if you are angry\nwith me, it is your distemper which has caused that change in\nyour humour; and, for that reason, you stand in need of some\ninstructions, and you cannot do better than follow the example of\nyour father and grandfather. They came and consulted me upon all\noccasions; and I can say, without vanity, that they always\nextolled my council. Pray, recollect, sir, men never succeed in\ntheir enterprises without having recourse to the advice of\nquick-sightedmen. The proverb tells you, a man cannot be wise\nwithout receiving advice from the wise. I am entirely at your\nservice, and you have nothing to do but command me.\n\nWhat! cannot I prevail with you then? said I, interrupting him.\nLeave off these long discourses which tend to nothing but to\nsplit my head to pieces, and to detain me from the place where my\nbusiness lies. Shave me, I say, or be gone; with that I started\nup in a huff, stamping my foot against the ground.\n\nWhen he saw I was angry in earnest; Sir, said he, do not be\nangry, we are going to begin soon. He washed my head, and fell a\nshaving me; but he had not given me four sweeps of his razor,\nwhen he stopped, saying, Sir, you are hasty, you should avoid\nthese transports that come only from the devil. Besides, my merit\nspeaks that you ought to have some more consideration for me,\nwith respect to my age, my knowledge, and my shining virtues.\n\nGo on and shave me, said I, interrupting him again, and do not\nspeak. That is to say, replies he, you have some urgent business\nto go about; I will lay you a wager I guess right. Why, I told\nyou so these two hours, said I, you ought to have done before\nnow. Moderate your passion, replied he, perhaps you have not\nmaturely weighed what you are going about: when things are done\nprecipitately, they are generally repented of. I wish you would\ntell me what mighty business this is you are so earnest upon: I\nwould tell you my opinion of it: besides, you have time enough,\nsince your appointment is not till noon, and it wants three hours\nof that yet. I do not mind that, said I; persons of honour, and\nof their word, are rather before their time than after. But I\nforget that, in amusing myself by reasoning with you, I give into\nthe faults of you prattling barbers: have done, have done, shave\nme.\n\nThe more haste I was in, the less haste he made: he laid down the\nrazor, and took up his astrolabe; this done, he even laid down\nthe astrolabe, and took up his razor again. The barber quitted\nhis razor again, and took up his astrolabe, a second time; and so\nleft me, half shaved, to go and see precisely what o'clock it\nwas. Back he came, and then, Sir, said he, I knew I was not\nmistaken, it wants three hours of noon, I am sure of it, or else\nall the rules of astronomy are false. Just Heaven! cried I, my\npatience is at an end, I can forbear no longer. You cursed\nbarber, you barber of mischief, I do not know what holds me from\nfalling upon you, and strangling you. Softly, sir, said he, very\ncalmly, without being moved by my passion: you are not afraid of\na relapse: do not be in a passion, I am going to serve you this\nminute. On speaking these words, he clapped his astrolabe in his\ncase, took up his razor, which he had fixed to his belt, and fell\na shaving again: but, all the while he shaved me, the dog could\nnot forbear prattling. If you please, sir, said he, to tell me\nwhat business it is you are going about, I could give you some\nadvice that may be of use to you. To satisfy the fellow, I told\nhim I was going to meet some friends who were to regale me at\nnoon, and make merry with me upon the recovery of my health.\n\nWhen the barber heard me talk of regaling, God bless you this day\nas well as all other days, cried he: you put me in mind that\nyesterday I invited four or five friends to come and eat with me\nthis day: indeed I had forgot it, and I have as yet made no\npreparation for them. Do not let that trouble you. said I; though\nI dine abroad, my house is always well provided. I make you a\npresent of what is in it; nay, besides, I will order you as much\nwine as you may have occasion for, for I have excellent wine in\nmy cellar; only despatch the shaving of me presently, and pray do\nnot mind it; whereas my father made you presents to encourage you\nto speak, I give you mine to make you hold your peace.\n\nHe was not satisfied with the promise I made him: God reward you,\nsir, said he, for your kindness; but pray show me these\nprovisions now, that I may see if there will be enough to\nentertain my friends: I would have them satisfied with the good\nfare I make them. I have, said I, a lamb, six capons, a dozen of\npullets, and enough to make four services of. I ordered a slave\nto bring them all before him, with four great pitchers of wine.\nIt is very well, said the barber, but we shall want fruit, and\nsauce for the meat: that I ordered likewise; but then he gave\nover shaving to look over every thing one after another; and this\nsurvey lasted almost half an hour. I raged, and stormed, and went\nmad, but it signified nothing, the coxcomb never troubled\nhimself. He, however, took up his razor again, and shaved me for\nsome moments; then stopping all on a sudden, I could not have\nbelieved, sir, that you would have been so liberal; I begin to\nperceive that your deceased father lives again in you: most\ncertainly I do not deserve the favours with which you have loaded\nme; and I assure you I shall have them in perpetual remembrance:\nfor, sir, to let you know it, I have nothing but what comes from\nthe generosity of honest gentlemen, such as you; in which point I\nam like to Zantout that rubs the people in bathing; to Sali that\ncries boiled pease in the streets: to Salout that sells beans; to\nAkerscha that sells greens; to Amboumecarez that sprinkles the\nstreets to lay the dust, and to Cassem the caliph's life-guard\nman. Of all these persons, not one is apt to be made melancholy;\nthey are neither peevish nor quarrelsome; they are more contented\nwith their lot than the caliph in the midst of his court; they\nare always gay, ready to dance and to sing, and have each of them\ntheir peculiar song and dance, with which they divert the city of\nBagdad: but what I esteem most in them is, that they are no great\ntalkers, no more than your slave that has now the honour to speak\nto you. Here, sir, that is the song and dance of Zantout, who\nrubs the people in baths: mind me, pray, and see if I do not\nimitate it exactly.\n\nThe barber sung the song and danced the dance of Zantout; and\nthough I did what I could to make an end to his buffoonery, he\ndid not give over till he had imitated, in like manner, the songs\nand dances of the other people he had named. After that,\naddressing himself to me, I am going, says he, to invite all\nthese honest persons to my house: if you take my advice, you will\njoin with us, and balk your friends yonder, who perhaps are noisy\nprattlers, that will only teaze you to death with their nauseous\ndiscourses, and make you fall into a distemper worse than that\nyou so lately recovered of; whereas, at my house, you shall have\nnothing but pleasure.\n\nNotwithstanding my anger, I could not forbear laughing at the\nfellow's impertinence. I wish I had no business upon my hands,\nsaid I; if I had not, I would accept of the proposal you make me;\nI would go with all my heart to be merry with you, but I beg to\nbe excused, I am too much engaged this day; another day I shall\nbe more at leisure, and then we shall make up that company. Come,\nhave done shaving me, and make haste to return home; perhaps your\nfriends are already come to your house. Sir, said he, do not\nrefuse me the favour I ask of you; come and be merry with the\ngood company I am to have; if you were but once in our company,\nyou would be so well pleased with it, you would forsake your\nfriends to come to us: let us talk no more of that, said I, I\ncannot be your guest.\n\nI found I gained no ground upon him by mild terms. Since you will\nnot come to my house, replied the barber, then pray let me go\nalong with you; I will go and carry these things to my house,\nwhere my friends may eat of them if they like them, and I will\nreturn immediately; I would not be so uncivil as to leave you\nalone; you deserve this complaisance at my hands. Heavens! cried\nI, then I shall not get clear of this troublesome man this day.\nIn the name of the living God, said I, leave off your\nunreasonable jargon: go to your friends, drink, eat, and be merry\nwith them, and leave me at liberty to go to mine. I have a mind\nto go alone, I have no occasion for company: besides, I must\nneeds tell you, the place to which I go is not a place where you\ncan be received; nobody must come there but me. You jest, sir,\nsaid he; if your friends have invited you to a feast, why should\nyou hinder me to accompany you? You will please them, I am sure,\nby carrying thither a man that can speak comically like me, and\nknows how to divert company agreeably: but, say what you will,\nthe thing is resolved upon; I will go along with you in spite of\nyour teeth.\n\nThese words, gentlemen, made me very uneasy. How shall I get rid\nof this cursed barber? thought I to myself. If I do not snub him\nroundly, we shall never have done contesting. Besides, I heard\nthen the first call to noon-prayers, and it was time for me to\ngo. In fine, I resolved to say nothing at all, and to make as if\nI consented to his proposal. By that time he had done shaving me;\nthen said I to him, Take some of my servants to carry these\nprovisions along with you, and return hither; I will stay for\nyou, and shall not go without you. At last he went, and I dressed\nmyself nimbly. I heard the last call to prayers; and made haste\nto set out: but the malicious barber, jealous of my intention,\nwent with my servants only within sight of the house, and stood\nthere till he saw them enter his house; having hid himself upon\nthe turning of a street, with intent to observe and follow me. In\nfine, when I arrived at the cadi's door, I looked back and saw\nhim at the head of the street, which fretted me to the last\ndegree.\n\nThe cadi's door was half open, and as I went in, I saw an old\nwoman waiting for me, who, after she had shut the door, conducted\nme to the chamber of the young lady I was in love with: but we\nhad scarcely begun our interview, when we heard a noise in the\nstreet. The young lady put her head to the window, and saw\nthrough the grate that it was the cadi, her father, returning\nalready from prayers. At the same time, I looked through the\nwindow, and saw the barber sitting over against the house in the\nsame place where I had before seen the young lady.\n\nI had then two things to fear, the arrival of the cadi, and the\npresence of the barber. The young lady mitigated my fear of the\nfirst, by assuring me the cadi came but very seldom to her\nchamber; and, as she had foreseen that this misadventure might\nhappen, she had contrived a way to convey me out safe; but the\nindiscretion of the accursed barber made me very uneasy; and you\nshall hear that this my uneasiness was not without ground.\n\nAs soon as the cadi came in, he caned one of his slaves that\ndeserved it. The slave made horrid shouts, which were heard in\nthe streets; the barber thought it was I that cried out, and that\nI was maltreated. Prepossessed with this thought, he screamed out\nmost fearfully, rent his clothes, threw dust upon his head, and\ncalled the neighbourhood to his assistance. The neighbourhood\ncame, and asked what ailed him, and what relief he wanted that\nthey could give? Alas! cried he, they are assassinating my\nmaster, my dear patron: and, without saying any other thing, he\nran all the way to my house with the very same cry in his mouth.\nFrom thence he returned, followed by all my domestics, armed with\nbatoons. They knocked with inconceivable fury at the cadi's door,\nand the cadi sent a slave to see what was the matter; but the\nslave being frightened, returned to his master, crying, Sir,\nabove ten thousand men are going to break into your house by\nforce.\n\nImmediately the cadi ran himself, opened the door, and asked what\nthey wanted? His venerable presence could not inspire them with\nrespect: they insolently said to him, You cursed cadi, you dog of\na cadi, what reason have you to assassinate our master? What has\nhe done to you? Good people, replied the cadi, for what should I\nassassinate your master, whom I do not know, and who has done no\noffence? My house is open to you, come see and search. You\nbastinadoed him, said the barber; I heard his cries not above a\nminute ago. But pray, replies the cadi, what offence could your\nmaster do to me, to oblige me to use him after that rate? Is he\nin my house? If he is, how came he in, or who could have\nintroduced him? Ah! wretched cadi cried the barber, you and your\nlong beard shall never make me believe what you say. What I say I\nknow to be true; your daughter is in love with our master, and\ngave him a meeting during the time of noon-prayers; you, without\ndoubt, have had notice of it; you returned home, and surprised\nhim, and made your slave bastinado him: but this your wicked\naction shall not pass with impunity; the caliph shall be\nacquainted with it, and he shall give true and brief justice. Let\nhim come out; deliver him to us immediately: or if you do not, we\nwill go in and take him from you, to your shame. There is no\noccasion for so many words, replied the cadi, nor to make so\ngreat a noise: if what you say is true, go in and find him out, I\ngive you free liberty. Thereupon the barber and my domestics\nrushed into the house like furies, and looked for me all about.\n\nWhen I heard all that the barber said to the cadi, I sought for a\nplace to hide myself, and could find nothing but a great empty\ntrunk, in which I lay down, and shut it upon me. The barber,\nafter he had searched every where, came into the chamber where I\nwas, and opening the trunk, as soon as he saw me, he took it upon\nhis head, and carried it away. He came down a high stair-case\ninto a court, which he went through very speedily, and got to the\nstreet. While he carried me, the trunk unhappily opened, and I,\nnot being able to endure to be exposed to the view and shouts of\nthe mob that followed us, leaped out into the street with so much\nhaste that I hurt my leg, so as I have been lame ever since. I\nwas not sensible how bad it was at first, and therefore got up\nquickly to get away from the people, who laughed at me; nay, I\nthrew handfuls of gold and silver among them, and, whilst they\nwere gathering it up, I made my escape by cross streets and\nalleys. But the cursed barber, improving the stratagem that I\nmade use of to get away from the mob, followed me close, crying,\nStay, sir, why do you run so fast? If you knew how much I am\nafflicted at the ill treatment you received from the cadi, you\nwho are so generous a person, and to whom I and my friends are so\nmuch obliged! Did not I tell you truly that you would expose your\nlife by your obstinate refusal to let me go with you? See now\nwhat has happened to you by your own fault; and if I had not\nresolutely followed you to see whither you went, what would have\nbecome of you? Whither do you go then, sir? stay for me.\n\nThus the wretched barber cried aloud in the streets; it was not\nenough for him to have occasioned so great a scandal in the\nquarter of the cadi, but he would have it be known through the\nwhole town. I was in such a rage that I had a great mind to have\nstaid and cut his throat; but considering that would have\nperplexed me further, I chose another course; for perceiving that\nhis calling after me exposed me to vast numbers of people, who\ncrowded to the doors or windows, or stopped in the streets, to\ngaze on me, I entered into a khan or inn, the chamberlain of\nwhich knew me; and finding him at the gate, whither the noise had\nbrought him, I prayed him, for the sake of Heaven, to hinder that\nmadman from coming in after me. He promised to do so, and was as\ngood as his word, but not without a great deal of trouble, for\nthe obstinate barber would go in, in spite of him, and did not\nretire without calling him a thousand ill names; and after the\nchamberlain shut the gate, the barber continued telling the mob\nwhat great service he had done me. Thus I rid myself of that\ntroublesome fellow.\n\nAfter that, the chamberlain prayed me to tell him my adventure,\nwhich I did, and then desired him to let me have an apartment\nuntil I was cured: But, sir, says he, would it not be more\nconvenient for you to go home? I will not return thither, said I;\nfor the detestable barber will continue plaguing me there, and I\nshall die of vexation to be continually teazed with him. Besides,\nafter what has befallen me to-day, I cannot think of staying any\nlonger in this town; I must go whither my ill fortune leads me.\nAnd actually, when I was cured, I took all the money I thought\nnecessary for my travels, and divided the remainder of my estate\namong my kindred.\n\nThus, gentlemen, I left Bagdad, and came hither. I had ground to\nhope that I should not meet this pernicious barber in a country\nso far from my own, and yet I found him amongst you. Do not be\nsurprised, then, at my haste to be gone; you may easily judge how\ndisgusting to me the sight of a man is who was the occasion of my\nlameness, and of my being reduced to the melancholy necessity of\nliving at so great a distance from my kindred, friends, and\ncountry.\n\nWhen the lame young man had spoken these words, he rose, and went\nout: the master of the house conducted him to the gate, and told\nhim he was sorry that he had given him, though innocently, so\ngreat a subject of mortification.\n\nWhen the young man was gone, continued the tailor, we were all\nastonished at the story; and turning to the barber, told him he\nwas very much in the wrong, if what we had just now heard was\ntrue. Gentlemen, answered he, raising up his head, which till\nthen he had held down, my silence during the young man's\ndiscourse is enough to testify that he advanced nothing but what\nwas really true; but, notwithstanding all that he has said to\nyou, I maintain that I ought to have done what I did; I leave\nyourselves to be judges of it. Did not he throw himself into\ndanger, and could he have come off so well without my assistance?\nHe was too happy to escape with a lame leg. Did not I expose\nmyself to a greater danger in getting him out of a house where I\nthought he was ill-treated? Has he any reason to complain of me,\nand to give me so many bad words? This is what one gets by\nserving unthankful people. He accuses me of being a prattling\nfellow, which is a mere slander. Of seven brothers, I am he who\nspeaks the least, and have most wit for my share; and, to\nconvince you of it, gentlemen, I need only tell my own story and\ntheirs. Honour me, I beseech you, with your attention.\n\n\n\n\n\n                    THE STORY OF THE BARBER.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Moustancer Billah [Footnote: He was\nraised to this dignity in the year of the Hegira 623, and Anno\nDom. 1226; and was the thirty-sixth caliph of the race of the\nAbassides.], continued he, a prince famous for his vast\nliberality towards the poor, ten highwaymen infested the roads\nabout Bagdad, who had for a long time committed unheard-of\nrobberies and cruelties. The caliph having notice of this, sent\nfor the judge of the police some days before the feast of Bairam,\nand ordered him, on pain of death, to bring all the ten to him.\n\nThe judge of the police, continued the barber, used so much\ndiligence, and sent so many people in pursuit of the ten robbers,\nthat they were taken on the day of Bairam. I was then walking on\nthe banks of the Tigris, and saw ten men, richly apparelled, go\ninto a boat. I might have known they were robbers, had I observed\nthe guards that were with them; but I looked only to them; and,\nthinking they were people who had a mind to spend the\nfestival-day in jollity, I entered the boat with them, without\nsaying one word, in hopes they would allow me to be one of the\ncompany. We went down the Tigris, and landed before the caliph's\npalace; and I then had time to consider with myself, and to find\nout my mistake. When we came out of the boat, we were surrounded\nby a new troop of the judge of the police's guard, who tied us\nall, and carried us before the caliph. I suffered myself to be\ntied as well as the rest, without speaking one word: for to what\npurpose should I have spoken, or made any resistance? That would\nhave been the way to have been ill treated by the guards, who\nwould not have listened to me, for they are brutish fellows, who\nwill hear no reason: I was with the robbers, which was sufficient\nto make them believe me to be one.\n\nWhen we came before the caliph, he ordered the ten highwaymen's\nheads to be cut off immediately. The executioner drew us up in a\nfile within the reach of his arm, and by good fortune I was the\nlast. He cut off the heads of the ten highwaymen, beginning with\nthe first; and when he came to me he stopped. The caliph,\nperceiving that he did not meddle with me, grew angry: Did not I\ncommand thee, said he, to cut off the heads of ten highwaymen?\nWhy, then, hast thou cut off but nine? Commander of the faithful,\nsaid he, Heaven preserve me from disobeying your majesty's\norders! Here are ten corpses upon the ground, and as many heads\nwhich I cut off; your majesty may count them.\n\nWhen the caliph saw himself that what the executioner said was\ntrue, he looked upon me with astonishment; and, perceiving that I\nhad not the face of a highwayman, said to me, Good old man, how\ncame you to be among those wretches, who have deserved a thousand\ndeaths? I answered, Commander of the faithful, I shall make a\ntrue confession. This morning I saw those ten persons, whose\nunhappy fate is a proof of your majesty's justice, take boat; and\nI embarked with them, thinking they were men going to an\nentertainment to celebrate this day, which is the most remarkable\nin our religion.\n\nThe caliph, who could not forbear laughing at my adventure,\ninstead of treating me as a prattling fellow, as the lame young\nman did, admired my discretion and constant silence. Commander of\nthe faithful, said I, your majesty need not wonder at my keeping\nsilence on such an occasion, which would have made another apt to\nspeak. I make a particular profession of holding my peace; and on\nthat account I have acquired the title of Silent. Thus I am\ncalled, to distinguish me from my six brothers. This is the\neffect of my philosophy; and, in a word, in this virtue consists\nmy glory and happiness. I am very glad, said the caliph, smiling,\nthat they gave you a title which you so well deserve, and know\nhow to make such good use of. But tell me what sort of men your\nbrothers are: were they like you? By no means, said I; they were\nall of them given to prating, one more than another; and as to\ntheir persons, there was still a greater difference betwixt them\nand me. The first was hump-backed; the second had rotten teeth;\nthe third had but one eye; the fourth was blind; the fifth had\nhis ears cut; and the sixth had hare-lips. They had such\nadventures as would inform you of their characters, had I the\nhonour of telling them to your majesty. Accordingly, the caliph\nexpressing a desire to hear a relation of their stories, I began\nthus:\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE BARBER'S ELDEST BROTHER.\n\n\n\nSir, said I, my eldest brother, whose name was Bacbouc the\nHump-back, was a tailor by trade: when his apprenticeship\nexpired, he hired a shop just opposite a mill; and, having but\nvery little business, could scarcely maintain himself. The\nmiller, on the contrary, was wealthy, and had a very handsome\nwife. One day, as my brother was at work in his shop, he lifted\nup his head, and saw the miller's wife looking out of the window,\nand was charmed with her beauty. The woman took no notice of him,\nbut shut the window, and came no more to it all that day; while\nthe poor tailor did nothing but lift up his eyes towards the mill\nall day long. He pricked his fingers more than once; and his work\nthat day was not very regular. At night, when he was to shut up\nhis shop, he could scarcely tell how to do it, because he still\nhoped the miller's wife would come to the window once more; but\nat last he was forced to shut it up, and go home to his little\nhouse, where he passed the night in great uneasiness. He rose\nvery early the next morning, and ran to his shop, in hopes of\nseeing his mistress again; but he was no happier than the day\nbefore, for the miller's wife did not appear at the window above\none moment all the day; but that moment made the tailor the most\namorous that ever lived. The third day he had some more ground of\nsatisfaction; for the miller's wife cast her eyes upon him by\nchance, and surprised him as he was gazing at her, of which she\npresently knew the reason.\n\nNo sooner did the miller's wife perceive my brother's mind,\ncontinued the barber, but, instead of being vexed at it, she\nresolved to make it her diversion. She looked upon him with a\nsmiling countenance, and my brother looked upon her in the same\nmanner; but his looks were so very whimsical and singular, that\nthe miller's wife was obliged to shut her window, lest her loud\nlaughter should have made him sensible that she only ridiculed\nhim. Poor Bacbouc interpreted her behaviour on this occasion to\nhis own advantage, and flattered himself that she had looked upon\nhim with pleasure.\n\nThe miller's wife resolved to make sport with my brother. She had\na piece of very fine stuff, with which she had for a long time\ndesigned to make herself a suit; she therefore wrapped it up in a\nfine embroidered silk handkerchief, and sent it to him by a young\nslave; who, having been first taught her lesson, came to the\ntailor's shop, and said, My mistress gives you her service; and\nprays you to make her a suit with this stuff according to the\npattern: she changes her clothes often, so that her custom will\nbe profitable to you. My brother doubted not but the miller's\nwife loved him, and therefore concluded that she sent him work so\nsoon after what had passed betwixt them only to signify that she\nknew his mind, and to convince him that he had obtained her\nfavour. Confirmed in this opinion, my brother charged the slave\nto tell her mistress that he would lay aside all other work for\nher's, and that the suit should be ready by next morning. In\neffect, he laboured at it with so much diligence, that he\nfinished it the same day.\n\nNext morning, the young slave coming to see if the suit was\nready, Bacbouc gave it to her neatly folded up; and said, I am\ntoo anxious to please your mistress to neglect her suit: I would\nengage her by my diligence to employ no other but myself for the\nfuture. The young slave went some steps, as if she had intended\nto go away; and then coming back, whispered to my brother, I had\nforgot part of my commission; my mistress charged me to\ncompliment you in her name, and to ask you how you passed the\nnight: for her part, poor woman, she loves you so mightily, that\nshe could not sleep. Tell her, answered my silly brother, that I\nhave so violent a passion for her, that I have not closed my eyes\nin sleep these four nights. After such a compliment from the\nmiller's wife, my brother thought she would not let him languish\nin expectation of her favour.\n\nAbout a quarter of an hour after, the slave returned to my\nbrother with a piece of satin. My mistress, said she, is very\nwell pleased with her suit; nothing in the world can fit her\nbetter: and as it is very fine, she would not wear it without a\nnew petticoat; and she prays you to make her one, as soon as you\ncan, of this piece of satin. It is enough, said Bacbouc; I will\ndo it before I leave my shop; you shall have it in the evening.\nThe miller's wife showed herself often at her window; was very\nprodigal of her charms; and, to encourage my brother, she feigned\nto take pleasure in seeing him work. The petticoat was soon made;\nand the slave came for it, but brought the tailor no money,\nneither for the trimming he had bought for the suit, nor for his\nlabour. In the mean time, this unfortunate lover, whom they only\namused, though he could not perceive it, had eat nothing all that\nday, and was under the necessity of borrowing money to purchase\nhimself a supper. Next morning, as soon as it was day, the young\nslave came to tell him that the miller wanted to speak with him.\nMy mistress, said she, has told him so much good of you, when she\nshowed him your work, that he has a mind you should work also for\nhim; she does it on purpose, that the friendship she designs to\nform betwixt you and him may make you succeed in what you both\nequally desire. My brother was easily persuaded, and went to the\nmill with the slave. The miller received him very kindly, and\nshowed him a piece of cloth, told him he wanted shirts, bid him\nmake twenty of that cloth, and return to him what he should not\nmake use of.\n\nMy brother, said the barber, had work enough for five or six days\nto make twenty shirts for the miller; who afterwards gave him\nanother piece of cloth to make him as many pair of drawers. When,\nthey were finished, Bacbouc carried them to the miller, who asked\nhim what he must have for his pains. My brother answered, that he\nwould be content with twenty drams of silver. The miller\nimmediately called the young slave, and bid her bring him his\nweights, that he might see if his money was right. The slave who\nhad her lesson, looked upon my brother with an angry countenance,\nto signify to him that their project would be frustrated if he\ntook any money. He knew her meaning, and refused to take any,\nthough he wanted it so much that he was forced to borrow money to\nbuy the thread with which he sewed the shirts and drawers. When\nhe left the miller, he came to me to borrow money to live on, and\ntold me they did not pay him. I gave him some copper-money that I\nhad in my pocket, on which he subsisted for some days. It is\ntrue, indeed, he lived upon nothing but broth; nor had he a\nsufficiency of that.\n\nOne day he went to the miller, who was busy at his work; and,\nthinking that my brother came for money, he offered him some; but\nthe young slave being present, made him another sign not to take\nit, with which he complied, and told the miller he did not come\nfor his money, but only to know how he did. The miller thanked\nhim, and gave him an upper garment to make. Bacbouc carried it to\nhim the next day; and when the miller drew out his purse, the\nyoung slave gave my brother the usual sign; on which he said to\nthe miller, Neighbour, there is no haste; we will reckon another\ntime. The poor simpleton then returned again to his shop, with\nthe three terrible distempers of love, hunger, and want of money,\nupon him.\n\nThe miller's wife was not only avaricious, but very ill-natured;\nfor, not content with having cheated my brother of what was due\nto him, she provoked her husband to revenge himself upon him for\nmaking love to her; which they accomplished thus. The miller\ninvited Bacbouc one night to supper; and, after having\nentertained him in a very indifferent manner, addressed himself\nto him in this way: Brother, it is too late for you to go home;\nyou had better stay here all night: and then he took him to a\nplace in the mill, in which was a bed, where he left him, and\nwent to bed with his wife. About the middle of the might, the\nmiller came to my brother, and said, Neighbour, are you asleep?\nMy mule is ill, and I have a great deal of corn to grind; you\nwill do me a mighty kindness if you will turn the mill in her\nstead. Bacbouc, to show his good-nature, told him that he was\nready to do him such a piece of service, if he would first\ninstruct him. The miller then tied him by the middle to the\nmule's place; and whipping him over the back, cried, Go\nneighbour! Ho! said my brother, why do you beat me? It is to make\nyou brisk, said the miller; for without a whip my mule will not\ngo. Bacbouc was amazed at this sort of treatment, but durst not\ncomplain. When he had gone five or six rounds he would fain have\nrested; but the miller gave him a dozen of sound lashes, saying,\nCourage, neighbour! do not stop, pray; you must go on without\ntaking your breath, otherwise you will spoil my meal.\n\nThe miller obliged my brother, continued the barber, thus to turn\nthe mill all night; about break of day he left him, without\nuntying him, and went to his wife's chamber. Bacbouc continued\nthere for some time; and at last the young slave came and untied\nhim. Ah! said the treacherous wretch, how my mistress and I\nbemoaned you! We had no hand in this wicked trick which her\nhusband has put upon you. Unhappy Bacbouc answered her not a\nword, he was so much fatigued with labour and blows: but,\ncreeping to his own house, resolved never more to think on the\nmiller's wife.\n\nThe telling of this story, said the barber, made the caliph\nlaugh. Go home, said he to me, I have ordered something to be\ngiven you instead of the good dinner you expected. Commander of\nthe faithful, said I, I pray your majesty to stay till I have\nrelated the story of my other brothers. The caliph having\nsignified by his silence that he was willing to hear me, I\nproceeded thus:\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE BARBER'S SECOND BROTHER.\n\n\n\nMy second brother, who was called Backbarah the Toothless, going\none day through the city, met an old woman in an out-street, who\ncame to him presently, and said, I want one word with you, pray\nstop one moment. He did so, and asked her what she would have. If\nyou will come along with me, said she, I will bring you into a\nstately palace, where you shall see a lady as fair as the day.\nShe will receive you with abundance of pleasure, and give you a\ntreat with excellent wine. I need say no more to you. But is what\nyou say true? replied my brother. I am no lying hussy, replied\nthe old woman; I say nothing to you but what is true. But hark, I\nhave something to ask of you. You must be wise, you must speak\nbut little, and you must be mighty complaisant. Backbarah agreed\nto all this. The old woman went before, and he followed after.\nThey came to the gate of a great palace, where there was a great\nnumber of officers and domestics. Some of them would have stopped\nmy brother, but no sooner did the old woman speak to them, than\nthey let him pass. Then turning to my brother, she said to him,\nYou must remember that the young lady I bring you to loves\ngood-nature and modesty, and cannot endure to be contradicted; if\nyou please her in that, you may be sure to obtain of her what you\nwish. Backbarah thanked her for this advice, and promised to\nfollow it.\n\nShe brought him into a fine apartment, which was a great square\nbuilding, answerable to the magnificence of the palace. There was\na gallery round it, and a very fine garden in the middle. The old\nwoman made him sit down upon a sofa very well trimmed, and bid\nhim stay a moment, till she went to tell the young lady of his\nbeing come.\n\nMy brother, who had never been before in such a stately palace,\ngazed upon the fine things that he saw; and, judging of his good\nfortune by the magnificence of the palace, he was scarcely able\nto contain himself for joy. By and by he heard a great noise,\noccasioned by a troop of merry slaves, who came towards him with\nloud fits of laughter, and in the middle of them he perceived a\nyoung lady of extraordinary beauty, who was easily known to be\ntheir mistress by the respect they paid her. Backbarah, who\nexpected private conversation with the lady, was extremely\nsurprised when he saw so much company with her. In the mean time,\nthe slaves put on a grave countenance when they drew near; and\nwhen the young lady came up to the sofa, my brother rose up and\nmade her a low bow. She took the upper-hand, prayed him to sit\ndown, and with a smiling countenance, said to him, I am mighty\nglad to see you, and wish you all the happiness you can desire.\nMadam, replied Backbarah, I cannot desire a greater happiness\nthan to be in your company. You seem to be of a good-humour, said\nshe, and to have a mind that we should pass the time pleasantly\ntogether.\n\nShe forthwith commanded a collation to be brought; and\nimmediately a table was covered with several baskets of fruit and\nconfections. The lady sat down at the table with the slaves and\nmy brother, and he being placed just over against her, when he\nopened his mouth to eat, she perceived he had no teeth; and\ntaking notice of it to her slaves, she and they laughed at him\nheartily. Backbarah, from time to time, lifted up his head to\nlook at her, and perceiving her laugh, thought it was for joy of\nhis company, and flattered himself that she would speedily send\naway her slaves, and be with him alone. She judged what was his\nmind; and, pleasing herself to flatter him in his mistake, she\ngave him abundance of sweet words, and presented him the best of\nevery thing with her own hand. The treat being done, they rose\nfrom the table, when ten slaves took musical instruments, and\nbegan to play and sing, and others went to dance. My brother, to\nmake them sport, did likewise dance, and the lady danced with\nthem. After they had danced some time, they sat down to take\nbreath; and the young lady, calling for a glass of wine, looked\nupon my brother with a smiling countenance, to signify that she\nwas going to drink his health. He rose up, and stood while she\ndrank. When she had done, instead of giving back the glass, she\nordered it to be filled, and presented it to my brother, that he\nmight pledge her. My brother took the glass from the young lady's\nhand, which he at the same time kissed, and stood and drank to\nher, in acknowledgment of the favour she had done him. Then the\nyoung lady made him sit down by her, and began to caress him. She\nput her hand behind his head, and gave him some tips from time to\ntime with her fingers: ravished with those favours, he thought\nhimself the happiest man in the world, and had a great mind to\ntoy also with the charming lady, but durst not take that liberty\nbefore so many slaves, who had their eyes upon him, and laughed\nat their lady's wanton tricks. The young lady continued to tip\nhim with her fingers, but at last gave him such a sound box on\nthe ear, that he grew angry at it; the colour came in his face,\nand he rose up to sit at a greater distance from such a rude\nplay-fellow. Then the old woman who brought him thither gave him\na look, to let him know he was in the wrong, and that he had\nforgot the advice she gave him to be very complaisant. He owned\nhis fault; and, in order to make amends, he went near the young\nlady again, pretending that he did not go away out of any bad\nhumour. She drew him by the arm, made him sit down by her again,\nand gave him a thousand malicious hugs. Her slaves came in for a\npart of the diversion: one gave poor Backbarah a fillip on the\nnose with all her strength; another pulled him by the ears, as if\nshe would have plucked them off; and others boxed him so, as\nmight show they were not in jest. My brother suffered all this\nwith admirable patience, affected a gay air, and, looking to the\nold woman, said to her, with a forced smile, You told me, indeed,\nthat I should find the lady very good, very pleasant, and very\ncharming; I must own I am mightily obliged to you! All this is\nnothing, replied the old woman: let her go on; you will see\nanother thing by and by. Then the young lady said to him,\nBrother, you are a brave man, I am glad to find you are of so\ngood an humour, and so complaisant, as to bear with my little\ncaprices; your humour is exactly like mine. Madam, replied\nBackbarah, who was charmed with this discourse, I am no more my\nown man, I am wholly yours; you may dipose of me as you please.\nOh, how you oblige me! said the lady, by so much submission! I am\nvery well satisfied with you, and will have you to be so with me.\nBring him perfume, said she, and rose-water. Upon this, two\nslaves went out, and returned speedily; one with a silver\nperfume-box, with the best wood-aloes, with which she perfumed\nhim; and the other with rose-water, which she threw on his hands\nand face. My brother was quite beside himself at this honourable\ntreatment. After this ceremony, the young lady commanded the\nslaves, who had already played on their instruments and sung, to\nrenew their concerts. They obeyed; and, in the mean time, the\nlady called another slave, and ordered her to carry my brother\nwith her, and do what she knew, and bring him back to her again.\nBackbarah, who heard this order, got up quickly, and going to the\nold woman, who also rose up to go along with him and the slave,\nprayed her to tell him what they were to do with him. My mistress\nis only curious, replied the old woman softly; she has a mind to\nsee how you look in a woman's dress; and this slave who has\norders to carry you with her, is instructed to paint your\neye-brows, to cut off your whiskers, and to dress you like a\nwoman. You may paint my brows as much as you please, said my\nbrother; I agree to that, because I can wash it off again: but to\nshave me, you know I must not allow that. How can I appear abroad\nagain without mustachos? Beware of refusing what is asked of you,\nsaid the old woman: you will spoil your affairs, which go on now\nas well as heart can wish. The lady loves you, and has a mind to\nmake you happy: and will you, for a nasty whisker, renounce the\nmost delicious favour that man can obtain. Backbarah listened to\nthe old woman, and without saying one word, went to a chamber\nwith the slave, where they painted his eye-brows with red, cut\noff his whisker, and went to do the like with his beard. My\nbrother's patience began to wear out; O! said he, I will never\npart with my beard. The slave told him, that it was to no purpose\nto have parted with his whiskers, if he would not also part with\nhis beard, which could never agree with a woman's dress; and she\nwondered that a man, who was on the point of enjoying the finest\nlady in Bagdad, should have any regard to his beard. The old\nwoman threatened him with the loss of the young lady's favour, so\nthat at last he let them do what they would. When he was dressed\nlike a woman, they brought him before the young lady, who laughed\nso heartily when she saw him, that she fell backward on the sofa\nwhere she sat. The slaves laughed and clapped their hands, so\nthat my brother was quite out of countenance. The young lady got\nup, and still laughing, said to him, After so much complaisance\nfor me, I should be very much in the wrong not to love you with\nall my heart: but there is one thing more you must do for me; and\nthat is, to dance as we do. He obeyed; and the young lady and her\nslaves danced with him, laughing as if they had been mad. After\nthey had danced some time with him, they all fell upon the poor\nwretch, and did so box and kick him, that he fell down like one\nout of his senses. The old woman helped him up again; and that he\nmight not have time to think of his ill treatment, she bid him\ntake courage, and whispered in his ear that all his sufferings\nwere at an end, and that he was just about to receive his reward.\n\nYou have only one thing more to do, and that is but a small one.\nYou must know that my mistress has a custom, when she has drank a\nlittle, as you see she has done to-day, to let nobody that she\nloves come near her, except they are stripped to their shirt; and\nwhen they have done so, she takes a little advantage of them, and\nsets a running before them through the gallery, and from chamber\nto chamber, till they catch her. This is one more of her humours:\nwhat advantage soever she takes of you, considering your\nnimbleness, and inclination to the work, you will soon overtake\nher; strip yourself, then, to the shirt, and undress yourself\nwithout delay.\n\nMy silly brother, said the barber, had done too much to stick at\nany thing now. He undressed himself; and, in the mean time, the\nyoung lady was stripped to her shift and under-petticoat, that\nshe might run the more nimbly. When they were ready to run, the\nyoung lady took the advantage of twenty paces, and then fell a\nrunning with surprising swiftness: my brother followed her as\nfast as he could, the slaves in the mean time laughing aloud and\nclapping their hands. The young lady, instead of losing ground,\ngained upon my brother: she made him run three or four times\nround the gallery, and then running into a long dark entry, got\naway by a passage which she knew. Backbarah, who still followed\nher, having lost sight of her in the entry, was obliged to\nslacken his pace, because of the darkness of the place: at last\nperceiving a light, he ran towards it, and went out at a door,\nwhich was immediately shut upon him. You may imagine he was\nmightily surprised to find himself in a street inhabited by\ncurriers, and they were no less surprised to see him in his\nshirt, his eye-brows painted red, and without beard or mustachos;\nthey began to clap their hands and shout at him, some of them\neven ran after him, and lashed his buttocks with pieces of\nleather. Then they stopped, and set him upon an ass, which they\nmet by chance, and carried him through the town exposed to the\nlaughter of the people.\n\nTo complete his misfortune, as he went by the house of a justice\nof peace, he would needs know the cause of the tumult. The\ncurriers told him, that they saw him come out in that condition\nat the gate of the apartment of the grand vizier's lady, which\nopened into their street; upon which the justice ordered\nunfortunate Backbarah to have an hundred blows with a cane on the\nsoles of his feet, and sent him out of the town, with orders\nnever to return again.\n\nThus, commander of the faithful, said I to the caliph Monstancer\nBillah, I have given an account of the adventure of my second\nbrother, who did not know that our greatest ladies divert\nthemselves sometimes by putting such tricks upon young people\nthat are foolish enough to be caught in their snares.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE BARBER'S THIRD BROTHER.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, said he to the caliph, my third\nbrother, whose name was Backback, was blind, and his ill destiny\nreduced him to beg from door to door. He had been so long\naccustomed to walk through the streets alone, that he had no need\nof one to lead him: he had a custom to knock at people's doors,\nand apt to answer till they opened to him. One day he knocked\nthus at a door, and the master of the house, who was alone,\ncried, Who is there? My brother gave no answer, and knocked a\nsecond time: the master of the house asked again, Who is there?\nbut to no purpose; my brother did not answer: upon which the man\nof the house came down, opened the door, and asked my brother\nwhat he wanted. That you would give me something, for heaven's\nsake! said Backback. You seem to be blind, replied the master of\nthe house. Yes, to my sorrow, said my brother. Give me your hand,\nsaid the master of the house. My brother did so, thinking he was\ngoing to give him alms; but he only took him by the hand, to lead\nhim up to his chamber: Backback thought he had been carrying him\nto dinner with him, as several other people had done. When they\ncame up to the chamber, the man loosed his hand out of my\nbrother's, and sitting down, asked again what he wanted. I have\nalready told you, said Backback, that I want something for God's\nsake. Good blind man, replied the master of the house, all that I\ncan do for you is to wish that God may restore you your sight.\nYou might have told me that at the door, said my brother, and not\nhave given me the trouble to come up. And why, fool, said the man\nof the house, do you not answer at first, when people ask you who\nis there? Why do you give any body the trouble to come and open\nthe door when they speak to you? What will you do with me, then?\nsaid my brother. I tell you again, said the man of the house, I\nhave nothing to give you. Help me down stairs, then, replied\nBackback, as you helped me up. The stairs are before you, said\nthe man of the house, and you may go down alone if you will. My\nbrother went to go down, but missing a step about the middle of\nthe stairs, he fell down and hurt his head and his back: he got\nup again with a great deal of difficulty, and complained heavily\nof the master of the house, who only laughed at his fall.\n\nAs my brother went out of the house, two blind men, his\ncompanions, going by, knew him by his voice, and asked him what\nwas the matter. He told them what had happened to him, and\nafterwards said, I have eaten nothing to-day; I conjure you to go\nalong with me to my house, that I may take some of the money that\nwe three have in common, to buy me something for supper. The two\nblind men agreed to it, and they went home with him.\n\nYou must know that the master of the house where my brother was\nso ill used, was a highwayman, and naturally cunning and\nmalicious. He heard at his window what Backback had said to his\ncompanions, and therefore came down and followed them to my\nbrother's house. The blind men being seated, Backback said to\nthem, brethren, we must shut the door, and take care there be no\nstrangers with us. At this the highwayman was much perplexed, but\nperceiving a rope hanging down from a beam, he caught hold of it,\nand hung by it, while the blind men shut the door, and felt about\nthe room with their sticks. When they had done this, and sat down\nagain in their places, the highwayman left his rope, and sat down\nsoftly by my brother, who thinking himself alone with his blind\ncomrades, said to them, Brothers, since you have trusted me with\nthe money, which we all three have gathered a long time, I will\nshow you that I am not unworthy of the trust that you repose in\nme. The last time we reckoned, you know we had ten thousand\ndrams, and that we put them into ten bags; I will show you that I\nhave not touched one of them. Having said so, he put his hand\namong some old lumber, and taking out the bags, one after\nanother, gave them to his comrades, saying, There they are; you\nmay judge by their weight that they are whole, or you may tell\nthem if you please. His comrades answered, there was no occasion,\nthey did not mistrust him; so opened one of the bags, and took\nout ten drams, and each of the other blind men did the like.\n\nMy brother put the bags into their place again; after which one\nof them said to him, There is no need to lay out any thing for\nsupper, for I have got as much provision from good people as will\nserve us all three. At the same time he took out of his bag bread\nand cheese, and some fruit; and, putting them all upon the table,\nthey began to eat. The highwayman, who sat at my brother's right\nhand, picked out the best, and ate with them; but, whatever care\nhe took to make no noise, Backback heard his jaws going, and\ncried out immediately, We are undone! there is a stranger among\nus! and having said so, he stretched out his hand, and catching\nhold of the highwayman by the arm, cried out, Thieves! fell upon\nhim, and boxed him. The other blind men fell upon him in like\nmanner, and the highwayman defended himself as well as he could;\nbut being young and vigorous, and having the advantage of his\neyes, he gave furious blows, sometimes to one, sometimes to\nanother, as he could come at them, and cried out Thieves! louder\nthan they did. The neighbours came running at the noise, broke\nopen the door, and had much ado to separate the combatants; but,\nhaving at last done it, they asked the cause of their quarrel. My\nbrother, who still had hold of the highwayman, cried out,\nGentlemen, this man I have hold of is a thief, and stole in with\nus on purpose to rob us of the little money we have. The thief,\nwho shut his eyes as soon as the neighbours came, feigned himself\nalso to be blind, and cried out, Gentlemen, he is a liar. I swear\nto you by Heaven, and by the life of the caliph, that I am their\ncompanion, and they refuse to give me my just share! They have\nall three fallen upon me, and I demand justice. The neighbours\nwould not meddle with their quarrel, but carried them all before\na judge.\n\nWhen they came before the magistrate, the highwayman, without\nstaying to be examined, cried out, still feigning himself to be\nblind, Sir, since you are deputed to administer justice by the\ncaliph, whom God prosper, I declare to you that we are equally\ncriminal, my three comrades and I; but we have all engaged upon\noath to confess nothing unless we be bastinadoed; so that if you\nwould know our crime, you need only order us to be bastinadoed,\nand begin with me. My brother would have spoken, but was not\nallowed to do so; and the highwayman was put under the bastinado.\n\nThe robber, being under the bastinado, had the courage to bear\ntwenty or thirty blows; when, seeming to be overcome with pain he\nfirst opened one eye, and then the other; and, crying out for\nmercy, begged the judge would put a stop to the blows, The judge,\nperceiving that he looked upon him with his eyes open, was much\nsurprised, and said to him, Rogue! what is the meaning of this\nmiracle? Sir, replied the highwayman, I will discover to you an\nimportant secret, if you pardon me, and give me, as a pledge that\nyou will keep your word, the seal-ring which you have on your\nfinger. The judge agreed to it, gave him his ring, and promised\nhim pardon. Upon this, said the highwayman, I must confess to\nyou, Sir, that I and my three comrades do all see very well: we\nfeigned ourselves to be blind, that we might more freely enter\npeople's houses, and into women's apartments, where we abuse\ntheir frailty. I must further, confess to you, that by this trick\nwe have gained together ten thousand drams. This day I demanded\nof my partners two thousand five hundred that belong to me as my\nshare, but they refused, because I told them I would leave them;\nand they were afraid I should accuse them. Upon pressing still to\nhave my share, they all three fell upon me; for the truth of\nwhich I appeal to those people who brought us before you, I\nexpect from your justice, that you will make them deliver to me\nthe two thousand five hundred drams which are my due; and if you\nhave a mind to make my comrades confess the truth, you must order\nthem three times as many blows as I have had, and you will find\nthey will open their eyes as well as I did.\n\nMy brother and the other two blind men would have cleared\nthemselves of this horrid cheat, but the judge would not hear\nthem: Villains! said he, do you feign yourselves blind then, and\nunder that pretext cheat people, by begging their charity, and\nabusing poor women? He is a cheat, cried my brother; we take God\nto witness that none of us can see!\n\nAll that my brother could say was in vain; his comrades and he\nreceived each of them two hundred blows. The judge looked always\nwhen they should have opened their eyes, and ascribed to their\nobstinacy what really they could not do. All the while the\nhighwayman said to the blind men, Poor fools that you are, open\nyour eyes, and do not suffer yourselves to be killed with blows.\nThen addressing himself to the judge, said, I perceive, sir, that\nthey will be maliciously obstinate to the last, and will never\nopen their eyes: they have a mind certainly to avoid the shame of\nreading their own condemnation in the face of every one who looks\nupon them; it were better, if you think fit, to pardon them, and\nto send some person along with me for the ten thousand drams they\nhave hid.\n\nThe judge did so, gave the highwayman two thousand five hundred\ndrams, and kept the rest to himself; and as for my brother and\nhis two companions, he thought he showed them a great deal of\npity by sentencing them only to be banished. As soon as I heard\nwhat befel my brother, I ran after him; he told me his\nmisfortune, and I brought him back secretly to the town. I could\neasily have justified him to the judge, and have got the\nhighwayman punished as he deserved, but durst not attempt it, for\nfear of bringing myself into trouble. Thus I finished the sad\nadventure of my honest blind brother. The caliph laughed at it,\nas much as at those he had heard before, and ordered again that\nsomething should be given me; but, without staying for it, I\nbegan the story of my fourth brother.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE BARBER'S FOURTH BROTHER.\n\n\n\nAlcouz was the name of my fourth brother, who came to lose one of\nhis eyes upon an occasion that I shall by and by acquaint your\nmajesty with. He was a butcher by profession, and had a\nparticular way of teaching rams to fight by which he procured the\nacquaintance and friendship of the chief lords of the country,\nwho loved that sport, and for that end kept rams about their\nhouses: he had, besides, a very good trade, and had his shop\nalways full of the best meat, because he was very rich, and\nspared no cost for the best of every sort. One day, when he was\nin his shop, an old man with a long white beard came and bought\nsix pounds of meat, gave him money for it, and went his way. My\nbrother thought the money so fine, so white, and so well coined,\nthat he put it apart by itself: the same old man came every day\nfor five months together, bought a like quantity of meat, and\npaid for it in the same sort of money, which my brother continued\nto lay apart by itself.\n\nAt the end of five months, Alcouz having a mind to buy some\nsheep, and to pay for them with this fine money, opened his\ntrunk; but, instead of finding money, was extremely surprised to\nsee nothing but a parcel of leaves clipped round in the place\nwhere he had laid it: he beat his head, and cried out aloud,\nwhich presently brought the neighbours about him, who were as\nmuch surprised as he, when he told them the story. O! cried my\nbrother, weeping, that this treacherous old fellow would come now\nwith his hypocritical looks! He had scarce done speaking, when\nseeing him coming at a distance, he ran to him, and laid hands on\nhim, Mussulman, cried he, as loud as he could, help! hear what a\ncheat this wicked fellow has put upon me! and at the same time\ntold a great crowd of people, who came about him, what he had\nformerly told his neighbours. When he had done, the old man,\nwithout any passion, said to him very gravely, You would do well\nto let me go, and by that means make amends for the affront you\nhave put upon me before so many people, for fear I should put a\ngreater affront upon you, which I am not willing to do. How! said\nmy brother, what have you to say against me? I am an honest man\nin my business, and fear not you nor any body. You would have me\nto tell it then, said the old man; and turning to the people,\nsaid, Know, good people, that this fellow, instead of selling\nmutton as he ought, sells man's flesh. You are a cheat, said my\nbrother. No! no! said the old man: Good people, this very minute\nthat I am speaking, there is a man with his throat cut hung up in\nhis shop like a sheep; do any of you go thither, and see if what\nI say be not true.\n\nBefore my brother had opened his trunk, he had just killed a\nsheep, dressed it, and exposed it in his shop, according to\ncustom: he protested that what the old man said was false; but,\nnotwithstanding all his protestations, the mob, being prejudiced\nagainst a man accused of such a heinous crime, would go to see\nwhether the matter was true. They obliged my brother to quit the\nold man, laid hold of him, and ran like madmen into his shop,\nwhere they saw a man murdered and hung up, as the old man had\ntold them; for he was a magician, and deceived the eyes of all\npeople, as he did my brother's, when he made him take leaves\ninstead of money. At this spectacle, one of those who held Alcouz\ngave him a great blow with his fist, and said to him, Thou wicked\nvillain, dost thou make us eat man's flesh instead of mutton? At\nthe same time the old man gave him another blow, which beat out\none of his eyes, and every body that could get near him beat him;\nand, not content with that, they carried him before a judge, with\nthe pretended carcase of the man, to be evidence against him.\nSir, said the old magician to the judge, we have brought you a\nman, who is so barbarous as to murder people, and to sell their\nflesh instead of mutton; the public expect that you should punish\nhim in an exemplary manner. The judge heard my brother with\npatience, but would believe nothing of the story of the money\nexchanged into leaves; called my brother a cheat, told him he\nwould believe his own eyes, and ordered him to have five hundred\nblows. He afterwards made him tell where his money was, took it\nall from him, and banished him for ever, after having made him\nride three days through the town upon a camel, exposed to the\ninsults of the people.\n\nI was not at Bagdad when this tragical adventure befel my fourth\nbrother. He retired into a remote place, where he lay concealed\ntill he was cured of the blows with which his back was terribly\ngored. When able to walk, he went by night to a certain town\nwhere nobody knew him, and there he took a lodging, from whence\nhe seldom went out; but, being at last weary of his life, he took\na walk into one of the suburbs, where he was suddenly alarmed\nwith the noise of horsemen coming behind him. He was then by\nchance near the gate of a great house; and fearing, after what\nhad befallen him, that these horsemen were pursuing him, he\nopened the gate in order to hide himself; and, after shutting it\nagain, he came into a wide court, where two servants immediately\ncame and took him by the neck, and said, Heaven be praised that\nyou are come voluntarily to surrender yourself up to us! You have\nfrightened us so much these three last nights, that we could not\nsleep; nor would you have spared our lives, if you could have\ncome at us! You may very well imagine that my brother was much\nsurprised at this compliment. Good people, said he, I know not\nwhat you mean; you certainly take me for another! No, no, replied\nthey; you and your comrades are great robbers: you were not\ncontented with robbing our master of all that he had, and thereby\nreducing him to beggary, but you were also going to take his\nlife; let us examine whether you have not a knife about you,\nwhich you had in your hand when you pursued us last night. Having\nsaid this, they searched him, and found that he had a knife. Ho!\nho! cried they, laying hold of him; and dare you say that you are\nnot a robber? Why, said my brother, cannot a man carry a knife\nwithout being a highwayman? If you will be attentive to my story,\ncontinued he, instead of having so bad an opinion of me, you will\nbe touched with compassion at my misfortunes. But, far from\nhearkening to him, they fell upon him, trod him underfoot, took\naway his clothes, and tore his shirt. Then observing the scars on\nhis back, O you dog! cried they, redoubling their blows, would\nyou have us to believe you are an honest man, when your back\nconvinces us to the contrary? Alas! said my brother, my faults\nmust be very great, since, after having been abused already so\nunjustly, I am ill treated a second time without being more\nculpable!\n\nThe two servants, no way moved with his complaint, carried him\nbefore the judge, who asked him how he durst be so bold as to go\ninto their house, and pursue them with a drawn knife. Sir,\nreplied poor Alcouz, I am the most innocent man in the world, and\nam undone if you will not hear me patiently: nobody deserves more\ncompassion. Sir, replied one of the domestics, will you listen to\na robber, who enters people's houses to plunder and murder them?\nif you will not believe us, only look upon his back. Upon which\nthey showed it to the judge, who, without any other information,\nimmediately commanded one hundred lashes to be given him with a\nbull's pizzle over his shoulders, and caused him afterwards to be\ncarried through the town on a camel, with one crying before him,\nThus are such men punished as enter people's houses by force!\nAfter treating him thus, they banished him from the town, and\nforbade him ever to return to it. Some people, who met him after\nthe second misfortune, brought me word where he was; and I went\nand fetched him to Bagdad privately, and gave him all the\nassistance I could.\n\nThe caliph, continued the barber, did not laugh so much at this\nstory as at the other: he was pleased to bewail the unfortunate\nAlcouz, and ordered something to be given me. But, without giving\nhis servants time to obey his orders, I continued my discourse,\nand said to him, My sovereign lord and master, you see that I do\nnot speak much; and since your majesty has been pleased to do me\nthe favour to listen to me so far, I beg you would likewise hear\nthe adventures of my two other brothers; I hope they will be as\ndiverting as those of the former. You may make a complete history\nof them, which will not be unworthy of your library. I do myself\nthe honour, then, to acquaint you that my fifth brother was\ncalled Alnaschar.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE BARBER'S FIFTH BROTHER.\n\n\n\nAlnaschar, as long as our father lived, was very lazy; instead of\nworking for his living, he used to go a begging in the evening,\nand to live upon what he got the next day. Our father died in a\nvery old age, and left among us seven hundred drams of silver,\nwhich we equally divided; so that each of us had one hundred to\nhis share. Alnaschar, who never had so much money before in his\npossession, was very much perplexed to know what he should do\nwith it; he consulted a long time with himself, and at last\nresolved to lay it out in glasses, bottles, and other glass-work,\nwhich he bought of a great merchant, He put them all in an open\nbasket, and chose a very little shop, where he sat with the\nbasket before him, and his back against the wall, expecting that\nsomebody would come and buy his ware. In this posture he sat with\nhis eyes fixed on his basket; and beginning to rave, spoke the\nfollowing words loud enough to be heard by a neighbour tailor:\nThis basket, said he, cost me one hundred drams, which are all I\nhave in the world; I shall make two hundred of it by retailing my\nglass; and of these two hundred drams, which I will again lay out\nin glass, I shall make four hundred; and, going on thus, I shall\nmake at last make four thousand drams; of four thousand I shall\neasily make eight thousand; and when I come to ten thousand, I\nwill leave off selling glass, turn jeweller and trade in\ndiamonds, pearls, and all sorts of precious stones. Then, when I\nam as rich as I can wish, I will buy a fine house, a great\nestate, slaves, eunuchs, and horses: I will keep a good house,\nmake a great figure in the world, and will send for all the\nmusicians and dancers of both sexes in town. Nor will I stop\nhere; I will, by the favour of Heaven, go on till I get a hundred\nthousand drams; and when I have got so much, I will think myself\nas great as a prince, send to demand the grand vizier's daughter\nin marriage, and represent to that minister that I have heard\nvery much of the wonderful beauty, modesty, wit, and all the\nother qualities of his daughter; in a word, that I will give him\none thousand pieces of gold the first night we are married; and\nif the vizier be so uncivil as to refuse his daughter, which\ncannot be, I will go and take her before his face, and carry her\nto my house, whether he will or no. As soon as I have married the\ngrand vizier's daughter, I will buy her ten young black eunuchs,\nthe handsomest that can be had; I will clothe myself like a\nprince, and ride upon a fine horse, with a saddle of rich gold,\nand housings of cloth, of gold, elegantly embroidered with\ndiamonds and pearls. I will march through the city, attended both\nbefore and behind; and I will go to the vizier's palace, in the\nview of all sorts of people, who will show me profound reverence.\nWhen I alight at the foot of the vizier's stair-case, I will\nascend it in the presence of all my people, ranged in files on\nthe right and left; and the grand vizier, receiving me as his\nson-in-law, shall give me his right hand, and set me above him,\nto do me the more honour. If this comes to pass, as I hope it\nwill, two of my people shall have each of them a purse of a\nthousand pieces of gold, which they shall carry with them. I will\ntake one, and presenting it to the grand vizier, will tell him,\nThere are the thousand pieces that I promised the first night of\nmarriage; and I will offer him the other, and say to him, there\nare as many more, to show you that I am a man of my word, and\nthat I am better than my promise. After such an action as this,\nall the world will speak of my generosity, and I will return to\nmy own house in the same pomp. My wife shall send to compliment\nme by some officer, on account of the visit I made to her father:\nI will honour the officer with a fine robe, and send him back\nwith a rich present. If she thinks to send me one, I will not\naccept of it, but dismiss the bearer. I will not suffer her to go\nout of her apartment, on any account whatever, without giving me\nnotice; and when I have a mind to go to her apartment, it shall\nbe in such a manner as to make her respect me. In short, no house\nshall be better ordered than mine. I shall be always richly clad.\nWhen I retire with my wife in the evening, I will sit on the\nupper hand; I will assume a grave air, without turning my head to\nthe one side or to the other; I will speak little; and whilst my\nwife, as beautiful as the full moon, stands before me in all her\nornaments, will feign as if I did not notice her. The women about\nher will say to me, Our dear lord and master, here is your\nspouse, your humble servant, before you; she expects you will\ncaress her, and is very much mortified that you do not so much as\nvouchsafe to look upon her: she is wearied with standing so long;\nbid her at least sit down. I will give no answer to this\ndiscourse, which will increase their surprise and grief; they\nwill lay themselves at my feet; and, after they have done so a\nconsiderable time, begging me to relent, I will at last lift up\nmy head, and give her a careless look. Afterwards I will return\nto my former posture; and then will they think that my wife is\nnot well enough, nor handsome enough dressed, and will take her\nto her closet to change her apparel. At the same time I will get\nup and put on a more magnificent suit than before: they will\nreturn and hold the discourse with me as before; and I shall have\nthe pleasure not so much as to look upon my wife, till they have\nprayed and entreated as long as they did at first. Thus I will\nbegin, on the first day of marriage, to teach her what she is to\nexpect during the rest of her life.\n\nAfter the ceremonies of the marriage are over, said Alnaschar, I\nwill take from one of my servants, who shall be about me, a purse\nof five hundred pieces of gold, which I will give to the\ntire-women, that they may leave me alone with my spouse. \"When\nthey are retired, my wife shall go to bed first, and then I will\nlie down beside her, with my back towards her, and will not speak\neven one word to her the whole night. The next morning she will\ncertainly complain of my contempt of her, and of my pride, to her\nmother, the grand vizier's wife, which will rejoice me extremely.\nHer mother will then wait upon me, respectfully kiss my hands,\nand say to me, Sir, (for she will not dare to call me her\nson-in-law, for fear of provoking me by such familiarity), I pray\nyou not to disdain my daughter, by refusing to approach her: I\nassure you that her chief study is to please you; and that she\nloves you with all her heart. But my mother-in-law might as well\nhold her peace; I will not make her the least answer, but keep my\ngravity. Then she will prostrate herself at my feet, kiss them,\nand say to me, Sir, is it possible that you can suspect my\ndaughter's chastity? I assure you that I never let her go out of\nmy sight. You are the first man that ever saw her face; do not,\nthen, mortify her so much. Do her the favour to look upon her, to\nspeak to her, and confirm her in her good intentions to satisfy\nyou in every thing. But nothing of this shall prevail; upon which\nmy mother-in-law will take a glass of wine, and, putting it into\nthe hand of her daughter, will say, Go, present him with this\nglass of wine yourself; perhaps he will not be so cruel as to\nrefuse it from so fair a hand. My wife will come with the glass,\nand stand trembling before me; and when she finds that I do not\nlook towards her, and that I continue my disdain, she will say to\nme, with tears in her eyes, My heart! my dear soul! my amiable\nlord! I conjure you, by the favours which Heaven bestows upon\nyou, to receive this glass of wine from the hand of your most\nhumble servant! But I will not look upon her still, nor answer\nher. My charming spouse! she will then say, redoubling her tears,\nand putting the glass to my mouth, I will never leave off till I\nprevail with you to drink! Then, being fatigued with her\nentreaties, I will dart a terrible look at her, give her a good\nbox on the cheek, and such a kick with my foot, as will throw her\nquite off the alcove.\n\nMy brother was so full of these chimerical visions, that he acted\nwith his foot as if she had been really before him; and\nunfortunately gave such a push against the basket and glasses,\nthat they were thrown down in the street, and broken in a\nthousand pieces.\n\nA tailor, who was his neighbour, and who had heard his\nextravagant discourse, fell into a fit of laughter when he saw\nthe basket fall. O what an unworthy fellow art thou! said he to\nmy brother; ought you not to be ashamed to abuse thus a young\nspouse, who gave you no cause to complain? You must be a very\nbrutish fellow to despise the tears and charms of such a\nbeautiful lady! Were I the vizier your father-in-law, I would\norder you a hundred lashes with a bull's pizzle, and send you\nthrough the town with your character written on your forehead. My\nbrother, on this fatal accident, came to himself; and perceiving\nthat he had brought this misfortune upon himself by his\nunsupportable pride, beat his face, tore his clothes, and cried\nso loud, that the neighbours came about him; and the people who\nwere going to their noon-prayers stopped to know what was the\nmatter. It being on a Friday, a greater number of people was\ngoing to prayers than usual; some of them took pity on Alnaschar,\nwhile others only laughed at his extravagance. In the mean time,\nhis vanity being dispersed, as well as his glasses, he bitterly\nlamented his loss; and a lady of distinction passing by on a mule\nwith rich caparisons, my brother's condition excited her\ncompassion; she asked who he was, and what was the matter with\nhim; they told her that he was a poor man, who had laid out a\nlittle money in buying a basket of glasses, and that the basket\nfalling, all his glasses were broken. The lady immediately turned\nto an eunuch who attended her, and said to him, Give the poor man\nwhat money you have about you. The eunuch obeying, put into my\nbrother's hand five hundred pieces of gold. Alnaschar was\ntransported with excess of joy on receiving them; he bestowed a\nthousand blessings upon the lady, and shutting up his shop, where\nhe had no longer occasion to sit, he returned to his house.\n\nWhilst he was seriously reflecting upon his good fortune, he\nheard a knocking at the door; but, before he opened it, he\nthought it prudent first to inquire who it was; when knowing it\nto be a woman by her voice, he instantly admitted her. My son,\nsaid she, I have a favour to beg of you: the hour of prayer is\ncome; be pleased, therefore, to let me wash myself, that I may be\nfit to say my prayers. My brother looked at her, and saw that she\nwas a woman far advanced in years: though he knew her not, he\ngranted what she required, and then sat down again, being still\nfull of his new adventure. He put his gold into a long strait\npurse, proper to carry at his girdle. The old woman, in the mean\ntime, said her prayers, and, when she had done, came to my\nbrother, and bowed twice to the ground, so low that she almost\ntouched it with her forehead; then raising herself up, she wished\nmy brother all manner of happiness, and thanked him for his\ncivility. Being meanly clad, and very humble to him, he thought\nshe asked alms, upon which he offered her two pieces of gold. The\nold woman stepped back in a sort of surprise, as if my brother\nhad done her an injury. Heavens! said she, what is the meaning of\nthis? Is it possible, sir, said she, that you take me for an\nimpudent beggar? Did you think I came so boldly into your house\nto ask alms? Take back your money; I have no need of it, thanks\nto Heaven! I belong to a young lady of this city, who is a\ncharming beauty, and very rich; she does not let me want for any\nthing.\n\nMy brother was not cunning enough to perceive the craft of the\nold woman, who only refused the two pieces of gold that she might\ncatch more. He asked her if she could not procure him the honour\nof seeing her lady. With all my heart, replied she, she will be\nvery well satisfied to marry, and to put you in possession of her\nestate, by making you master of her person. Take up your money,\nand follow me. My brother being ravished with his good luck of\nfinding so great a sum of money, and almost at the same time a\nbeautiful and rich wife, his eyes were shut to all other\nconsiderations; so that he took his five hundred pieces of gold,\nand followed the old woman. She walked before him, and he\nfollowed at a distance, to the gate of a great house, where she\nknocked. He came up to her just as a young Greek slave opened the\ngate. The old woman made him enter first, went across a court\nvery well paved, and introduced him into a hall, the furniture of\nwhich confirmed him in the good opinion he had conceived of the\nmistress of the house. While the old woman went to acquaint the\nlady, he sat down, and, the weather being hot, pulled off his\nturban, and laid it by him. He speedily saw the young lady come\nin, whose beauty and rich apparel perfectly surprised him. He got\nup as soon as he saw her. The lady, with a smiling countenance,\nprayed him to sit down again, and placed herself by him. She told\nhim she was very glad to see him; and, after having spoken some\nengaging words, said, We do not sit here at our conveniency.\nCome, give me your hand. At these words, she presented her's, and\ncarried him into an inner chamber, where she entertained him for\nsome time; then she left him, bidding him stay, and she would be\nwith him in a moment. He expected her; but, instead of the lady,\ncame in a great black slave, with a scimitar in his hand; and\nlooking upon my brother with a terrible aspect, said to him\nfiercely, What have you to do here? Alnaschar was so full of fear\nat the sight of the slave, that he had no power to answer. The\nblack stripped him, carried off his gold, and gave him several\ncuts with his scimitar. My unhappy brother fell to the ground,\nwhere he lay without motion, though he had still the use of his\nsenses. The black, thinking him to be dead, asked for salt; the\nGreek slave brought him a basin full; they rubbed my brother's\nwounds with it; who had so much command of himself,\nnotwithstanding the intolerable pain it put him to, that he lay\nstill without showing any sign of life. The black and the Greek\nslave having retired, the old woman who drew my brother into the\nsnare, came and dragged him by the feet to a trap-door, which she\nopened, and threw him into a place under ground, among the\ncorpses of several other people who had been murdered. He\nperceived this as soon as he came to himself; for the violence of\nhis fall had taken away his senses. The salt rubbed into his\nwounds preserved his life, and he recovered strength by degrees,\nso as to be able to walk. After two days he opened the trap-door\nduring the night; and, finding a proper place in the court to\nhide himself, continued there till break of day, when he saw the\ncursed old woman open the gate, and go out to seek another prey.\nHe staid in the place some time after she went out, that she\nmight not see him, and then came to me for shelter, when he told\nme of his adventures.\n\nIn a month he was perfectly cured of his wounds by medicines that\nI gave him, and resolved to avenge himself of the old woman who\nhad put upon him such a barbarous cheat. To this end, he took a\nbag, large enough to contain five hundred pieces of gold, and\nfilled it with pieces of glass.\n\nMy brother, continued the barber, one morning fastened the bag of\nglass about him, disguised himself like an old woman, and took a\nscimitar under his gown. He met the old woman walking through the\ntown to seek her prey: he went up to her, and, counterfeiting a\nwoman's voice, said, Cannot you lend me a pair of scales? I am a\nwoman newly come from Persia, have brought five hundred pieces of\ngold with me, and would know if they will hold out according to\nyour weights. Good woman, answered the old hag, you could not\nhave applied to a more proper person. Follow me; I will bring you\nto my son, who changes money, and will weigh them himself, to\nsave you the trouble. Let us make haste, for fear he be gone to\nhis shop. My brother followed her to the house where she carried\nhim the first time, and the Greek slave opened the door.\n\nThe old woman carried my brother to the hall, where she bid him\nstay a moment till she called her son. The pretended son came,\nand proved to be the villanous black slave. Come, old woman, said\nhe to my brother, rise and follow me. Having spoken thus, he went\nbefore to bring him to the place where he designed to murder him.\nAlnaschar got up, followed him, and, drawing his scimitar, gave\nhim such a dexterous blow on the neck, as to cut off his head,\nwhich he took in one hand, and dragging the body with the other,\nthrew them both into the place under ground before mentioned. The\nGreek slave, who was accustomed to the trade, came presently with\na basin of salt; but when she saw Alnaschar with the scimitar in\nhis hand, and without his veil, she laid down the basin, and\nfled. But my brother overtaking her, cut off her head also. The\nwicked old woman came running at the noise, and my brother\nseizing her, said to her, Treacherous wretch! do not you know me?\nAlas, sir, answered she, trembling, who are you? I do not\nremember that I ever saw you. I am, said he, the person to whose\nhouse you came the other day to wash and say your prayers.\nHypocritical hag! said he, do not you remember it? Then she fell\nupon her knees to beg his pardon; but he cut her in four pieces.\n\nThere remained only the lady, who knew nothing of what had\npassed. He sought her out, and found her in a chamber, where she\nwas ready to sink when she saw him. She begged her life, which he\ngenerously granted. Madam, said he, how could you live with such\nwicked people as I have now so justly revenged myself upon? I\nwas, said she, wife to an honest merchant; and the cursed old\nwoman, whose wickedness I did not know, used sometimes to come to\nsee me. Madam, said she one day, we have a very fine wedding at\nour house, which you will be pleased to see, if you give us the\nhonour of your company. I was persuaded by her, put on my best\napparel, and took with me a hundred pieces of gold. I followed\nher; she brought me to this house, where the black has kept me\nsince by force, and I have been three years here to my very great\nsorrow. By the trade which the cursed black followed, replied my\nbrother, he must have gathered together a vast deal of riches.\nThere is so much, said she, that you will be made for ever, if\nyou can carry them off. Follow me, and you shall see them, said\nshe. Alnaschar followed her to a chamber, where she showed him\nseveral coffers full of gold, which he beheld with admiration.\nGo, said she, fetch people enough to carry it all off. My brother\nneeded not to be bid twice; he went out, but staid only till he\ngot ten men together, and he brought them with him, and was much\nsurprised to find the gate open, but more when he found the lady\nand the coffers all gone; for she, being more diligent than he,\nhad carried them all away. However, being resolved not to return\nempty-handed, he carried off all the goods he could find in the\nhouse; which were a great deal more than enough to make up the\nfive hundred pieces of gold of which he was robbed; but, when he\nwent out of the house, he forgot to shut the gate. The\nneighbours, who saw my brother and the porters come and go, went\nand acquainted the magistrate with it; for they looked upon my\nbrother's conduct as suspicious. Alnaschar slept well enough all\nnight; but next morning, when he came out of his house, twenty of\nthe magistrate's men seized him. Come along with us, said they;\nour master would speak with you. My brother prayed them to have\npatience for a moment, and offered them a sum of money to let him\nescape; but, instead of listening to him, they bound him, and\nforced him to go along with them. They met in the street an old\nacquaintance of my brother's, who stopped them a while, and asked\nthem why they seized my brother, and offered them a considerable\nsum to let him escape, and to tell the magistrate that they could\nnot find him. But this would not do; so he was carried before the\nmagistrate.\n\nWhen the officers brought him before the magistrate, he asked him\nwhere he had the goods which he carried home last night? Sir,\nreplied Alnaschar, I am ready to tell you all the truth; but\nallow me first to have recourse to your clemency, and to beg your\npromise that nothing shall be done to me. I give it you, said the\nmagistrate. Then my brother told him the whole story without\ndisguise, from the time the old woman came into his house to say\nher prayers, to the time the lady made her escape, after he had\nkilled the black, the Greek slave, and the old woman; and as for\nwhat he had carried to his house, he prayed the judge to leave\nhim part of it for the five hundred pieces of gold that he was\nrobbed of.\n\nThe judge, without promising any thing, sent his officers to\nbring all off; and, having put the goods into his own wardrobe,\ncommanded my brother to quit the town immediately, and never to\nreturn; for he was afraid, if my brother had staid in the city,\nhe would have found some way to represent this injustice to the\ncaliph. In the mean time, Alnaschar obeyed without murmuring, and\nleft that town to go to another. By the way he met with\nhighwaymen, who stripped him naked; and when the ill news was\nbrought to me, I carried him a suit, and brought him in secretly\nagain to the town, where I took the like care of him as I did of\nhis other brothers.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE BARBER'S SIXTH BROTHER.\n\n\n\nI am now only to tell the story of my sixth brother, called\nSchacabac, with the hare-lips. At first he was industrious enough\nto improve the hundred drams of silver which fell to his share,\nand became very well to pass; but a reverse of fortune brought\nhim to beg his bread, which he did with a great deal of\ndexterity. He studied chiefly to get into great men's houses by\nmeans of their servants and officers, that he might have access\nto their masters, and obtain their charity. One day, as he passed\nby a magnificent house, whose high gate showed a very spacious\ncourt, where there was a multitude of servants, he went to one of\nthem, and asked to whom that house belonged. Good man, replied\nthe servant, whence do you come, that you ask such a question?\nDoes not all that you see make you understand that it is the\npalace of a Bermecide? [Footnote: The Bermecides were, as has\nbeen mentioned, a noble family of persia, who settled at Bagdad.]\nMy brother, who very well knew the liberality and generosity of\nthe Bermecides, addressed himself to one of his porters, (for he\nhad more than one,) and prayed him to give him an alms. Go in,\nsaid he; nobody hinders you, and address yourself to the master\nof the house; he will send you back satisfied.\n\nMy brother, who expected no such civility, thanked the porter,\nand with his permission entered the palace, which was so large,\nthat it took him a considerable time to reach the Bermecide's\napartment. At last he came to a fine square building, of\nexcellent architecture, and entered by a porch, through which he\nsaw one of the finest gardens, with gravel-walks of several\ncolours, extremely pleasant to the eye. The lower apartments\nround this square were most of them open, and shut only with\ngreat curtains, to keep out the sun, which were opened again when\nthe heat was over.\n\nSuch an agreeable place struck my brother with admiration, and\nmight well have done so to a man far above his quality. He went\non till he came into a hall richly furnished, and adorned with\npaintings of gold and azure foliage, where he saw a venerable man\nwith a long white beard, sitting at the upper end of an alcove,\nwhence he concluded him to be the master of the house; and in\neffect it was the Bermecide himself, who said to my brother, in a\nvery civil manner, that he was welcome, and asked him what he\nwanted. My lord, answered my brother, in a begging tone, I am a\npoor man, who stand in need of the help of such rich and generous\npersons as yourself. He could not have addressed himself to a\nfitter person than this lord, who had a thousand good qualities.\n\nThe Bermecide seemed to be astonished at my brother's answer;\nand, putting both his hands to his stomach, as if he would rend\nhis clothes for grief, Is it possible, cried he, that I am at\nBagdad, and that such a man as you is so poor as you say? This is\nwhat must never be. My brother, fancying that he was going to\ngive him some singular mark of his bounty, blessed him a thousand\ntimes, and wished him all sort of happiness. It shall not be\nsaid, replied the Bermecide, that I will abandon you, nor will I\nhave you to leave me. Sir, replied my brother, I swear to you I\nhave not swallowed one bit to-day! Is that true? replied the\nBermecide; and are you fasting till now? Alas, for thee, poor\nman! he is ready to die for hunger. Ho, boy! cried he with a loud\nvoice, bring a bason and water presently, that we may wash our\nhands. Though no boy appeared, that my brother saw, either with\nwater or bason, the Bermecide fell a rubbing his hands, as if one\nhad poured water upon them, and bid my brother come and wash with\nhim. Schacabac judged by this that the Bermecide lord loved to be\nmerry; and he himself understanding raillery, and knowing that\nthe poor must be complaisant to the rich, if they would have any\nthing, came forward, and did as he did.\n\nCome on, said the Bermecide, bring us something to eat, and do\nnot let us stay for it. When he had said so, though nothing was\nbrought, he cut as if something had been brought upon a plate;\nand, putting his hand to his mouth, began to chew, and said to my\nbrother, Come, friend, eat as freely as if you were at home; come\nand eat: you said you were like to die of hunger; but you eat as\nif you had no stomach. Pardon me, my lord, said Schacabac, who\nperfectly imitated what he did, you see I lose no time, and that\nI do my part well enough. How like you this bread? said the\nBermecide; do not you find it very good? O, my lord, said, my\nbrother, who neither saw bread nor meat, I never ate any thing so\nwhite and so fine. Come, eat your bellyful, said the Bermecide; I\nassure you the baker-woman that bakes me this bread, cost me five\nhundred pieces of gold to purchase her.\n\nThe Bermecide, after having boasted so much of his bread, which\nmy brother ate only in idea, cried, Boy, bring us another dish.\nThough no boy appeared, Come, my good friend, said he to my\nbrother, taste this new dish, and tell me if ever you ate better\nmutton and barley broth than this. It is admirably good, replied\nmy brother, and therefore you see I eat heartily. You oblige me\nmightily, replied the Bermecide: I conjure you, then, by the\nsatisfaction I have to see you eat so heartily, that you eat all\nup, since you like it so well. A little while after he called for\na goose and sweet sauce, vinegar, honey, dry raisins, grey peas,\nand dry figs, which were brought just in the same manner as the\nother was. The goose is very fat, said the Bermecide; eat only a\nleg and a wing; we must save our stomachs, for we have abundance\nof other dishes to come. He actually called for several other\ndishes, of which my brother, who was ready to die of hunger,\npretended to eat; but what he boasted of more than all the rest,\nwas a lamb fed with pistacho nuts, which he ordered to be brought\nup in the same manner that the rest were. Here is a dish, said\nthe Bermecide, that you will see at nobody's table but my own; I\nwould have you eat unsparingly of it. Having spoken thus, he\nstretched out his hand as if he had a piece of lamb in it, and\nputting it to my brother's mouth, There, said he, swallow that,\nand you will know whether I had not reason to boast of this dish.\nMy brother thrust out his head, opened his mouth, and made as if\nhe took the piece of lamb, and ate it with extreme pleasure. I\nknew you would like it, said the Bermecide. There is nothing in\nthe world more fine, replied my brother; your lamb is a most\ndelicious thing. Come, bring the ragoo presently; I fancy you\nwill like that as well as the lamb. Well, how do you relish it?\nsaid the Bermecide. O! it is wonderful! replied Schacabac, for\nhere we taste all at once, amber, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, pepper,\nand the most odoriferous herbs; and all these tastes are so well\nmixed, that one does not hinder us from perceiving the other: O\nhow pleasant it is. Honour this ragoo, said the Bermecide, by\neating heartily of it, Ho, boy! cried he; bring us a new ragoo.\nNo, my lord, an't please you, replied my brother; for indeed I\ncannot eat any more.\n\nCome, take it away then, said the Bermecide, and bring the fruit.\nHe staid a moment, as it were, to give time for his servants to\ncarry away; after which, he said to my brother, Taste these\nalmonds; they are fresh and new gathered. Both of them made as if\nthey had peeled the almonds, and ate them. After this, the\nBermecide invited my brother to eat something else. Look you,\nsaid he, there are all sorts of fruits, cakes, dry sweatmeats,\nand conserves; take what you like. Then stretching out his hand\nas if he had reached my brother something, Look, said he, there\nis a lozenge very good for digestion. Schacabac made as if he ate\nit, and said, My lord, there is no want of musk here. These\nlozenges, said the Bermecide, are made in my own house, where\nthere is nothing wanting to make every thing good. He still bade\nmy brother eat, and said to him, Methinks you do not eat as if\nyou had been so hungry as you said when you came in. My lord,\nreplied Schacabac, whose jaws ached with moving and having\nnothing to eat, I am so full, that I cannot eat one bit more.\n\nWell, then, my friend, replied the Bermecide, we must drink now,\nafter we have eaten so well. You drink wine, my lord, replied my\nbrother; but I will, if you please, drink none, because I am\nforbidden. You are too scrupulous, replied the Bermecide, do as I\ndo. I will drink then out of complaisance, said Schacabac; for I\nsee you will have nothing wanting to make your treat noble: but,\nsince I am not accustomed to drink wine, I am afraid that I shall\ncommit some error in point of breeding, contrary to the respect\nthat is due to you, and therefore I pray you once more to excuse\nme from drinking any wine; I will be content with water. No, no,\nsaid the Bermecide, you shall drink wine; and at the same time he\ncommanded some to be brought in the same manner as the meat and\nfruit had been brought before. He made as if he poured out wine,\ndrank first himself, and then pouring out for my brother,\npresented him the glass: Drink my health, said he, and let me\nknow if you think this wine good. My brother made as if he took\nthe glass, and looked as if the colour was good, and put it to\nhis nose to try if it had a good flavour; he then made a low bow\nto the Bermecide, to signify that he took the liberty to drink\nhis health, making all the signs of a man who drinks with\npleasure: My lord, said he, this is very excellent wine; but I\nthink it is not strong enough. If you would have stronger, said\nthe Bermecide, you need only speak, for I have several sorts in\nmy cellar; try how you like this; upon which he made as if he\npoured out another glass to himself, and then to my brother; and\ndid this so often, that Schacabac, feigning to be drunk with the\nwine, took up his hand, and gave the Bermecide such a box on the\near as made him fall down; he lifted up his hand to give him\nanother blow; but the Bermecide, holding up his hand to ward it\noff, cried to him, What! are you mad? Then my brother, making as\nif he had come to himself again, said, My lord, you have been so\ngood as to admit your slave into your house, and give him a great\ntreat; you should have been satisfied in making me eat, and not\nhave obliged me to drink wine; for I told you beforehand that it\nmight occasion me to come short in my respect: I am very much\ntroubled at it, and beg you a thousand pardons. He had scarcely\nfinished these words, when the Bermecide, instead of being in a\nrage, fell a laughing with all his might. It is a long time, said\nhe, since I wished a man of your character.\n\nThe Bermecide caressed Schacabac mightily, and told him, I not\nonly forgive the blow you have given me, but am willing\nhenceforward we should be friends; and that you take my house for\nyour home: you have been so complaisant as to accommodate\nyourself to my humour, and have had the patience to bear the jest\nout to the last; we will now eat in good earnest. When he had\nfinished these words, he clapped his hands, and commanded his\nservants, who then appeared, to cover the table; which was\nspeedily done, and my brother was treated with all those viands\nin reality which he ate of before in fancy. At last they took\nthem away, and brought wine; and at the same time a number of\nhandsome slaves, richly apparelled, came in and sung some\nagreeable airs to their musical instruments. In a word, Schacabac\nhad all the reason in the world to be satisfied with the\nBermecide's civility and bounty; for he treated him as his\nfamiliar friend, and ordered him a suit out of his wardrobe.\n\nThe Bermecide found my brother to be a man of so much wit and\nunderstanding, that in a few days after he trusted him with his\nhousehold, and all his affairs. My brother acquitted himself very\nwell in that employment for twenty years, at the end of which the\ngenerous Bermecide died, and, leaving no heirs, all his estate\nwas confiscated to the use of the prince; upon which my brother\nwas reduced to his first condition, and joined a caravan of\npilgrims going to Mecca, designing to accomplish that pilgrimage\nupon their charity; but by misfortune the caravan was attacked\nand plundered by a number of Beduins [Footnote: Vagabond\nArabians, who wander in the deserts, and plunder the caravans\nwhen they are not strong enough to resist them.] superior to that\nof the pilgrims. My brother was then taken as a slave by one of\nthe Beduins, who put him under the bastinado for several days, to\noblige him to ransom himself. Schacabac protested to him that it\nwas all in vain. I am your slave, said he, you may dispose of me\nas you please: but I declare unto you that I am extremely poor,\nand not able to redeem myself. In a word, my brother discovered\nto him all his misfortunes, and endeavoured to soften him with\ntears; but the Beduin had no mercy; and, being vexed to find\nhimself disappointed of a considerable sum, which he reckoned he\nwas sure of, he took his knife, and slit my brother's lips, to\navenge himself, by this inhumanity, for the loss that he imagined\nhe had sustained.\n\nThe Beduin had a handsome wife; and frequently, when he went on\nhis courses, he left my brother alone with her, and then she used\nall her endeavours to comfort my brother under the rigour of his\nslavery: she gave him tokens enough that she loved him; but he\ndurst not yield to her passion, for fear he should repent it, and\ntherefore he shunned to be alone with her, as much as she sought\nthe opportunity to be alone with him. She had so great a custom\nof toying and jesting with the miserable Schacabac, whenever she\nsaw him, that one day she happened to do it in presence of her\nhusband. My brother, without taking notice that he observed them,\n(so his stars would have it) jested likewise with her. The\nBeduin, immediately supposing that they lived together in a\ncriminal manner, fell upon my brother in a rage, and after he had\nmangled him in a barbarous manner, he carried him on a camel to\nthe top of a desert mountain, where he left him. The mountain was\non the way to Bagdad, so that the passengers who passed that road\ngave me an account of the place where he was. I went thither\nspeedily, where I found the unfortunate Schacabac in a deplorable\ncondition: I gave him what help he stood in need of, and brought\nhim back to the city.\n\nThis is what I told the caliph, added the barber; that prince\napplauded me with new fits of laughter. Now, said he, I cannot\ndoubt that they justly gave you the surname of Silent; nobody can\nsay the contrary. For certain reasons, however, I command you to\ndepart this town immediately, and let me hear no more of your\ndiscourse. I yielded to necessity, and went to travel several\nyears in far countries. I understood at last that the caliph was\ndead, and returned to Bagdad, where I found not one of my\nbrethren alive. It was on my return to this town that I did the\nimportant service to the same young man which you have heard. You\nare, however, witness of his ingratitude, and of the injurious\nmanner in which he treated me. Instead of testifying his\nacknowledgments, he chose rather to fly from me, and to leave his\nown country. When I understood that he was not at Bagdad, though\nnobody could tell me truly whither he was gone, yet I did not\nforbear to go and seek him. I travelled from province to province\na long time; and when I had given over all hopes, I met him this\nday; but I did not think to find him so incensed against me.\n\nThe tailor made an end of telling the sultan of Casgar the\nhistory of the lame young man, and the barber of Bagdad, after\nthat manner I had the honour to tell your majesty.\n\nWhen the barber, continued he, had finished his story, we found\nthat the young man was not to blame for calling him a great\nprattler. However, we were pleased that he would stay with us,\nand par take of the treat which the master of the house had\nprepared for us. We sat down to table, and were merry together\ntill afternoon prayers; then all the company parted, and I went\nto my shop, till it was time for me to return home.\n\nIt was during this interval that Hump-back came half drunk before\nmy shop, where he sung and taboured. I thought that, by carrying\nhim home with me, I should divert my wife; therefore I brought\nhim along. My wife gave us a dish of fish, and I presented\nHump-back with some, which he ate without taking notice of a\nbone. He fell down dead before us; and, after having in vain\nessayed to help him, in the trouble occasioned us by such an\nunlucky accident, and through the fear of punishment, we carried\nthe corpse out, and dexterously lodged it with the Jewish doctor.\nThe Jewish doctor put it into the chamber of the purveyor, and\nthe purveyor carried it forth into the street, where it was\nbelieved the merchant had killed him. This, sir, added the\ntailor, is what I had to say to satisfy your majesty, who must\npronounce whether we be worthy of mercy or wrath, life or death.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar looked with a contented air, and gave the\ntailor and his comrades their lives. I cannot but acknowledge,\nsaid he, that I am more amazed at the history of the young\ncripple, at that of the barber, and at the adventures of his\nbrothers, than at the story of my jester; but before I send you\nall four away, and before we bury Hump, I would see the barber,\nwho is the cause that I have pardoned you. Since he is in my\ncapital, it is easy to satisfy my curiosity. At the same time he\nsent a serjeant with the tailor to find him.\n\nThe serjeant and the tailor went immediately, and brought the\nbarber, whom they presented to the sultan. The barber was an old\nman of ninety years; his eye-brows and beard were as white as\nsnow, his ears hung down, and he had a very long nose. The sultan\ncould not forbear laughing when he saw him. Silent man, said he\nto him, I understand that you know wonderful stories; will you\ntell me some of them? Sir, answered the barber, let us forbear\nthe stories, if you please, at present. I most humbly beg your\nmajesty to permit me to ask what that Christian, that Jew, that\nMussulman, and that dead Hump-back, who lies on the ground, do\nhere before your majesty. The sultan smiled at the barber's\nliberty, and replied, Why do you ask? Sir, replied the barber, it\nconcerns me to ask, that your majesty may know that I am not so\ngreat a talker as some pretend, but a man justly called Silent.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar was so complaisant as to satisfy the\nbarber's curiosity. He commanded them to tell him the story of\nthe Hump-back, which he earnestly wished for. When the barber\nheard it, he shook his head, as if he would say, there was\nsomething under this which he did not understand. Truly, cried\nhe, this is a surprising story; but I am willing to examine\nHump-back a little closely. He drew near him, sat down on the\nground, put his head between his knees, and after he had looked\nupon him steadfastly, he fell into so great a fit of laughter,\nand had so little command of himself, that he fell backwards on\nthe ground, without considering that he was before the sultan of\nCasgar. As soon as he came to himself, It is said, cried he, and\nwithout reason, that no man dies without a cause. If ever any\nhistory deserved to be written in letters of gold, it is this of\nHump-back.\n\nAt this all the people looked on the barber as a buffoon, or a\ndoting old man. Silent man, said the sultan, speak to me; why do\nyou laugh so hard? Sir, answered the barber, I swear by your\nmajesty's good humour that Hump-back is not dead! he is yet\nalive; and I shall be willing to pass for a madman, if I do not\nlet you sec it this minute. Having said these words, he took a\nbox, wherein he had several medicines, that he carried about to\nmake use of on occasion; and took out a phial with balsam, with\nwhich he rubbed Hump-back's neck a long time; then he took out of\nhis case a neat iron instrument, which he put betwixt his teeth,\nand, after he had opened his mouth, he thrust down his throat a\npair of pincers, with which he took out a bit offish and bone,\nwhich he showed to all the people. Immediately Hump-back sneezed,\nstretched forth his arms and feet, and gave several other signs\nof life.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar, and those with him, who were witnesses to\nthis operation, were less surprised to see Hump-back revive,\nafter he had passed a whole night and great part of a day without\ngiving any signs of life, than at the merit and capacity of the\nbarber who performed this; and, notwithstanding all his faults,\nbegan to look upon him as a great person. The sultan, ravished\nwith joy and admiration, ordered the story of Hump-back to be\nrecorded, with that of the barber, that the memory of it might,\nas it deserved, be preserved for ever. Nor did he stop here; but\nthat the tailor, Jewish doctor, purveyor, and Christian merchant,\nmight remember, with pleasure, the adventure which the accident\nof Hump-back had occasioned to them, he did not send them away\ntill he had given each of them a very rich robe, with which he\ncaused them to be clothed in his presence. As for the barber, he\nhonoured him with a great pension, and kept him near his person.\n\nThus the sultaness finished this long train of adventures, to\nwhich the pretended death of Hump-back gave occasion; then held\nher peace, because day appeared; upon which her sister Dinarzade\nsaid to her, My princess, my sultaness, I am so much the more\ncharmed with the story you just now told, because it concludes\nwith an incident I did not expect. I verily thought Hump-back was\ndead. This surprise pleases me, said Schahriar, as much as the\nadventures of the barber's brothers. The story of the lame young\nman of Bagdad diverted me also very much, replied Dinarzade. I am\nvery glad of it, dear sister, said the sultaness; and since I\nhave the good fortune not to tire out the patience of the sultan,\nour lord and master, if his majesty will still be so gracious as\nto preserve my life, I shall have the honour to give him an\naccount to-morrow of the history of the amours of Aboulhassen Ali\nEbn Becar and Schemselnihar, favourite of the caliph Haroun\nAlraschid, which is no less worthy of your notice than the\nhistory of Hump-back.\n\nThe sultan of the Indies, who was very well satisfied with the\nstories which Scheherazade had told him hitherto, was willing to\nhear the history which she promised. He rose, however, to go to\nprayers, and hold his council, without giving any signification\nof his pleasure towards the sultaness.\n\nDinarzade, being always careful to awake her sister, called this\nnight at the ordinary hour. My dear sister, said she, day will\nsoon appear. I earnestly beg of you to tell us some of your fine\nstories. We need no other, said Schahriar, but that of the amours\nof Aboulhassen Ali Ebn Becar and Schemselnihar, the favourite of\ncaliph Haroun Alraschid. Sir, said Scheherazade, I will satisfy\nyour curiosity; and began thus.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE HISTORY OF ABOULHASSEN ALI EBN BECAR,\n             AND SCHEMSELNIHAR, FAVOURITE OF CALIPH\n                       HAROUN ALRASCHID.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, there was at Bagdad\na druggist, called Aboulhassen Ebn Thaher, a very rich and\nhandsome man. He had more wit and politeness than those of his\nprofession generally have. His integrity, sincerity, and jovial\nhumour, made him to be loved and sought after by all sorts of\npeople. The caliph, who knew his merit, had entire confidence in\nhim; and so great was his esteem for him, that he entrusted him\nwith the care of providing the ladies his favourites with all\nthings they stood in need of. He chose for them their clothes,\nfurniture, and jewels, with admirable judgment.\n\nHis good qualities, with the favour of the caliph, made the sons\nof emirs, officers, and others of the first rank, to be always\nabout him. His house was the rendezvous of all the nobility of\nthe court. But, among the young lords who daily visited him,\nthere was one of whom he took more notice, and with whom he\ncontracted a particular friendship, called Aboulhassen Ali Ebn\nBecar, originally of an ancient royal family of Persia. This\nfamily had continued at Bagdad ever since the Mussul-men made a\nconquest of that kingdom. Nature seemed to have taken pleasure to\nendow this young prince with many of the rarest qualities both of\nbody and mind. His face was so very beautiful, his shape so fine,\nand his physiognomy so prepossessing; that none could see him\nwithout loving him immediately. When he spoke, he expressed\nhimself always in terms the most proper and well chosen, with a\nnew and agreeable turn, and his voice charmed all who heard him.\nHe had withal so much wit and judgment, that he thought and spoke\non every subject with admirable exactness. He was so reserved and\nmodest, that he advanced nothing till he had taken all possible\nprecautions to avoid giving any ground of suspicion that he\npreferred his own opinion to that of others.\n\nBeing such a person as I have represented him, we need not wonder\nthat Ebn Thaher distinguished him from all the other young\nnoblemen of the court, most of whom had vices contrary to his\nvirtues. One day, when the prince was with Ebn Thaher, there came\na lady mounted on a piebald mule, surrounded by six women-slaves,\nwho accompanied her on foot, all very handsome, as far as could\nbe judged by their air, and through the veils which covered their\nfaces. The lady had a girdle of a rose colour, four inches broad,\nembroidered with pearls and diamonds of an extraordinary bigness;\nand it was easy to perceive that she surpassed all her women in\nbeauty as much as the full moon does that of two days old. She\ncame to buy something; and when she had spoken to Ebn Thaher,\nentered his shop, which was very neat and large, and receiving\nher with all the marks of the most profound respect, entreated\nher to sit down, and showed her the most honourable place.\n\nIn the mean time the prince of Persia, unwilling to let such an\nopportunity pass to show his good-breeding and courtly temper,\nbeat up the cushion of gold cloth for the lady to lean on; upon\nwhich he retired speedily, that she might sit down; and having\nsaluted her, by kissing the tapestry under her feet, he rose, and\nstood at the lower end of the sofa. It being her custom to be\nfree with Ebn Thaher, she lifted her veil, and discovered to the\nprince of Persia such extraordinary beauty, that he was struck\nwith it to the heart. On the other hand, the lady could not\ncontain herself from looking on the prince, the sight of whom had\nmade the same impression, upon her. My lord, said she to him,\nwith an obliging air, pray sit down. The prince of Persia obeyed,\nand sat down upon the edge of the sofa. He had his eyes\nconstantly fixed upon her, and swallowed large draughts of the\nsweet poison of love. She quickly perceived what worked in his\nheart, and this discovery inflamed her the more towards him. She\nrose up, went to Ebn Thaher, and, after whispering to him the\ncause of her coming, asked the name and country of the prince.\nMadam, answered Ebn Thaher, this young nobleman's name is\nAboulhassen Ali Ebn Becar, and he is a prince of the blood-royal.\n\nThe lady was overjoyed to hear that the person she already so\npassionately loved was of a quality so high. You certainly mean,\nsaid she, that he is descended from the kings of Persia. Yes,\nmadam, replied Ebn Thaher; the last kings of Persia were his\nancestors, and, since the conquest of that kingdom, the princes\nof his family have always made themselves acceptable at the court\nof the caliphs. You will oblige me much, added she, in making me\nacquainted with this young nobleman. When I send this woman, said\nshe, pointing to one of her slaves, to give you notice to come\nand see me, pray bring him with you; I shall be very glad to\ndisplay to him the magnificence of my house, that he may see that\navarice does not reign at Bagdad among persons of quality. You\nknow what I mean; therefore do not fail, other, wise I will be\nvery angry with you, and beg you will never come hither again\nwhile I live.\n\nEbn Thaher was a man of too much penetration not to perceive the\nlady's mind by these words. My princess! my queen! replied he;\nGod preserve me from ever giving you any occasion of anger\nagainst me! I shall always make it a law to obey your commands.\nAt this answer, the lady bowed to Ebn Thaher, and bid farewell;\nand, after giving a favourable look to the prince of Persia,\nremounted her mule, and went away.\n\nThe prince of Persia was so deeply smitten with the lady, that he\nlooked after her as far as he could see; and, for a long time\nafter she was out of sight, he still looked that way. Ebn Thaher\ntold him, that several persons were observing him, and were\nlaughing to see him in this posture. Alas! said the prince, the\nworld and you would have compassion on me, if you knew that the\nfine lady who is just now gone, has carried with her the best\npart of me, and that the remaining part seeks for an opportunity\nto go after her. Tell me, I conjure you, added he, what cruel\nlady this is, who forces people to love her, without giving them\ntime to advise? My lord, answered Ebn Thaher, this is the famous\nSchemselnihar, [Footnote: This word signifies the sun of the\nday.] the principal favourite of the caliph our master. She is\njustly so called, added the prince, since she is more beautiful\nthan the sun at noon-day. That is true, replied Ebn Thaher;\ntherefore the commander of the faithful loves, or rather adores\nher: he gave me express orders to furnish all that she asked of\nme, and to prevent, as much as possible, every thing that she can\ndesire of me.\n\nHe spoke in this manner, in order to hinder him from engaging in\nan amour which could not but prove unhappy to him; but it served\nonly to inflame him the more. I was very doubtful, charming\nSchemselnihar, said he, that I should not be allowed so much as\nto think of you. I perceive well, however, that, without hopes of\nbeing loved by you, I cannot forbear loving you. I will love you\nthen, and bless my lot that I am slave to an object fairer than\nthe meridian sun.\n\nWhile the prince of Persia was thus consecrating his heart to\nfair Schemselnihar, this lady, upon returning home, thought upon\na way how she might see and have free converse with him. She no\nsooner entered her palace, than she sent to Ebn Thaher the woman\nshe had shown him, and in whom she put all her confidence, to\ntell him to come and see her without delay, and to bring the\nprince of Persia with him. The slave came to Ebn Thaher's shop\nwhile he was speaking with the prince, and endeavouring, by very\nstrong arguments, to dissuade him from loving the caliph's\nfavourite. When she saw them together, Gentlemen, said she, my\nhonourable mistress Schemselnihar, the chief favourite of the\ncommander of the faithful, entreats you to come to her palace,\nwhere she waits for you. Ebn Thaher, to testify his obedience,\nrose up immediately, without answering the slave, and followed\nher, though with some reluctance. As for the prince, he followed\nwithout reflecting upon the danger that might happen in such a\nvisit: the company of Ebn Thaher, who had liberty to visit the\nfavourite whenever he pleased, made the prince very easy in the\naffair. They followed the slave, who went a little before them,\nentering after her into the caliph's palace, and joined her at\nthe gate of Schemselnihar's little palace, which was already\nopen: she introduced them into a great hall, where she entreated\nthem both to sit down.\n\nThe prince of Persia thought himself in one of those magnificent\npalaces that are promised us in the other world, for he had never\nseen any thing that equalled the shining splendour of the place;\nthe carpets, cushions, and other furniture of the sofas, the\nmoveables, ornaments, and architecture, were all surprisingly\nbeautiful. A little time after Ebn Thaher and he were sat down, a\nvery handsome black slave set before them a table covered with\nseveral very fine dishes, the delicious smell of which made them\njudge of the delicacy of the sauce. While eating, they were\nwaited upon by the slave who had introduced them, and who invited\nthem to eat of what she knew to be the greatest dainties; when\nthey had done, they were served with excellent wine by the other\nslaves, who afterwards presented to each of them a fine gold\nbasin full of water to wash their hands, and also a golden pot\nfull of the perfume of aloes, with which they both perfumed their\nbeards and clothes; nor was odoriferous water forgotten, which\nthe slaves brought to them in a golden vessel, enriched with\ndiamonds and rubies, made particularly for that use, and which\nthey threw upon their beards and faces, according to custom. They\nthen went to their places; but had scarcely seated themselves,\nwhen the slave entreated them to rise and follow her; and opening\na gate of the hall in which they were, they entered into a\nspacious saloon of a marvellous structure. It was a dome of the\nmost agreeable fashion, supported by a hundred pillars of marble,\nwhite as alabaster; the bases and chapiters of the pillars were\nadorned with four-footed beasts and birds of several sorts\ngilded. The foot-carpet of this noble parlour consisted of one\npiece of gold cloth, embroidered with garlands of roses in red\nand white silk; and the dome being painted in the same manner,\nafter the Arabian form, was one of the most charming objects the\neye ever beheld: betwixt each column was placed a little sofa\nadorned in the same manner, and great vessels of china, crystal,\njasper, jet, porphyry, agate, and other precious materials,\ngarnished with gold and jewels: the spaces betwixt the columns\nwere so many large windows, with jets high enough to lean on,\ncovered with the same sort of stuff as the sofas, from which was\na prospect into one of the most delightful gardens in the world,\nthe walks of which, being made of little pebbles of different\ncolours, much resembled the foot-carpet of the saloon; so that it\nappeared, both within and without, as if the dome and the garden,\nwith all their ornaments, had stood upon the same carpet. The\nprospect round was thus diversified: at the ends of the walks\nwere two canals of clear water, of the same circular figure as\nthe dome; one of which, being higher than the other, emptied\nitself into the lowermost, in form of a table-cloth; and curious\npots of gilded brass, with flowers and greens, were placed at\nequal distances on the banks of the canals: the walks lay betwixt\ngreat plots of ground, planted with straight and bushy trees,\namong winch were thousands of birds, whose notes formed a\nmelodious concert, and entertained the beholder by sometimes\nflying about, at others by playing together, and sometimes by\nfighting in the air.\n\nThe prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher diverted themselves for some\ntime with viewing the magnificence of the place, and testified\ngreat surprise at everything they saw, especially the prince, who\nhad never before seen any thing to equal it; and Ebn Thaher,\nthough he had several times been in that delightful place, yet\ncould now observe many new beauties: in a word, they never grew\nweary of admiring so many singular things; and were thus\nagreeably employed, when they perceived, at some distance from\nthe dome, a company of ladies richly apparelled, each of them\nsitting upon a seat of Indian wood, inlaid with silver wire in\nfigures, with instruments of music in their hands, expecting\norders to play. They both advanced to the jet which fronted the\nladies, and on the right they saw a large court, with a stair up\nfrom the garden, encompassed with beautiful apartments. The slave\nhaving retired, and left them alone, they entered into\nconversation: As to you, who are a wise man, said the prince of\nPersia to Ebn Thaher, I doubt not but that you look with much\nsatisfaction upon all these marks of grandeur and power. For my\npart, I do not think there is any thing in the world more\nsurprising. But when I consider that this is the glorious\nhabitation of the lovely Schemselnihar, and that he who keeps her\nhere is the greatest monarch of the earth, I confess to you that\nI look upon myself to be the most unfortunate of all mankind;\nthat no destiny can be more cruel than mine, in loving an object\npossessed by a rival, and that too in a place where he is so\npotent, that I cannot think myself sure of my life one moment!\n\nEbn Thaher hearing the prince of Persia speak, said to him, Sir,\nI wish you could give me as good an assurance of the happy\nsuccess of your amours, as I can give you of the safety of your\nlife. Though this stately palace belongs to the caliph, who built\nit on purpose for Schemselnihar, and called it the palace of\neternal pleasures, and that it makes part of his own palace, yet\nyou must know that this lady lives here at entire liberty; she is\nnot surrounded by eunuchs as spies over her; this is her own\nparticular house, which is absolutely at her disposal: she goes\ninto the city when she pleases, and returns again, without asking\nleave of any body; and the caliph never comes to see her without\nsending Mesrour, the chief of his eunuchs, to give her notice,\nthat she may be prepared to receive him. Therefore you may be\neasy, and give full attention to the concert of music, which I\nperceive, Schemselnihar is preparing on purpose for you.\n\nJust as Ebn Thaher spoke these words to the prince of Persia,\nthey observed the favourite's trusty slave coming with orders for\nthe ladies to begin singing and playing on the instruments, which\nthey instantly obeyed, and all began playing together as a\npreludium; after which, one of them began singing alone, at the\nsame time playing admirably well upon her lute, having been\nbefore advertised of the subject on which she was to sing. The\nwords were so agreeable to the prince of Persia's sentiments,\nthat he could not forbear applauding her at the end of the stave.\nIs it possible, cried he, that you have the gift of knowing\npeople's hearts, and that the knowledge of what is in my mind has\noccasioned you to give us a taste of your charming voice by those\nwords? Were I to choose, I should not express myself otherwise.\nThe lady made no reply, but went on, and sung several other\nstaves, with which the prince was so much affected, that he\nrepeated some of them with tears in his eyes, which plainly\ndiscovered that he applied them to himself. When she had made an\nend, she and her companions rose up, and sung all together,\nsignifying by their words that the full moon was going to rise in\nall her splendour, and that they should speedily see her approach\nthe sun; by which it was meant that Schemselnihar was just\ncoming, and that the prince of Persia should have the pleasure of\nseeing her.\n\nIn effect, as they were looking towards the court, they saw\nSchemselnihar's confident coming towards them, followed by ten\nblack women, who, with much difficulty, carried a throne of massy\nsilver most curiously wrought, which they set down, before them\nat a certain distance; upon which the black slaves retired behind\nthe trees to the entrance of a walk. After this there came twenty\nhandsome ladies, all alike most elegantly apparelled: they\nadvanced in two rows, singing and playing upon instruments which\neach of them held in her hand; and, coming near the throne, ten\nof them sat down on each side of it.\n\nAll these things kept the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher in very\ngreat suspense, both of them being impatient to know how they\nwould end. In this state of anxious expectation, they saw ten\nhandsome ladies, well dressed, come out of the same gate whence\nthe ten black women came, where they stopped for a few moments,\nexpecting the favourite, who came out last, and placed herself in\nthe midst of them.\n\nSchemselnihar was easily distinguished from the rest by her fine\nshape and majestic air, as well as by a sort of mantle, of very\nfine stuff of gold and sky-blue, fastened to her shoulders over\nher other apparel, which was the most handsome, best contrived,\nand most magnificent, that could be thought of. The pearls,\nrubies, and diamonds, with which she was adorned, though few in\nnumber, were well chosen, and of inestimable value, and were\ndisplayed in excellent order. She came forward with a majesty\nresembling the sun in his course amidst the clouds, which receive\nhis splendour without hiding his lustre, and seated herself on\nthe silver throne that was brought for her.\n\nAs soon as the prince of Persia beheld Schemselnihar, nothing\nelse could attract his notice: We cease inquiring after what we\nseek, said he to Ebn Thaher, when we see it; and there is no\ndoubt remaining when once the truth makes itself manifest. Do you\nsee this charming beauty? She is the cause of all my sufferings,\nwhich I hug, and will never forbear blessing them, however\nlasting they may be! At the sight of this object, I am not my own\nmaster; my soul rebels, and disturbs me; and I fancy it has a\nmind to leave me! Go then, my soul, I allow thee; but let it be\nfor the welfare and preservation of this weak body! It is you,\ncruel Ebn Thaher, who are the cause of this disorder! You thought\nto do me great pleasure in bringing me hither, and I perceive I\nam only come to complete my ruin! Pardon me, said he,\ninterrupting himself; I am mistaken: I was willing to come, and\ncan blame nobody but myself. At these words, he could not refrain\nfrom tears. I am very well pleased, said Ebn Thaher, that you do\nme justice; when at first I told you that Schemselnihar was the\ncaliph's chief favourite, I did it on purpose to prevent that\nfatal passion which you please yourself with entertaining in your\nbreast. All that you see here ought to disengage you, and you are\nto think of nothing but of acknowledgments for the honour which\nSchemselnihar was willing to do you, by ordering me to bring you\nwith me. Call in, then, your wandering reason, and put yourself\nin a condition to appear before her, as good-breeding requires.\nBehold, there she comes! Were the matter to begin again, I would\ntake other measures; but, since the thing is done, I wish we may\nnot repent of it. What I have further to say to you is this, that\nlove is a traitor, who may throw you into a pit from which you\nwill never be able to escape.\n\nEbn Thaher had not time to say more, because Schemselnihar came,\nand, sitting down upon her throne, saluted them both with an\ninclination of the head; but she fixed her eyes on the prince of\nPersia, and they spoke to one another in a silent language,\nintermixed with sighs; by which, in a few moments, they spoke\nmore than could have been done by words in a great deal of time.\nThe more Schemselnihar looked upon the prince, the more she found\nfrom his looks that he was in love with her; and, being thus\npersuaded of his passion, thought herself the happiest woman in\nthe world. At last, turning her eyes from him to command the\nwomen who began to sing first to come near; they got up, and\nwhilst they advanced, the black women, who came out of the walk\ninto which they retired, brought their seats, and set them near\nthe window, in the jet of the dome, where Ebn Thaher and the\nprince of Persia stood; and then they so disposed them on each\nside of the favourite's throne, that they formed a semicircle.\n\nThe women who were sitting before she came, took each of them\ntheir places again, with the permission of Schemselnihar, who\nordered them by a sign. That charming favourite chose one of\nthese women to sing; who, after she had spent some moments in\ntuning her lute, played a song, the meaning whereof was, that two\nlovers, who entirely loved each other, and whose affection was\nboundless, their hearts, though in two bodies, were one and the\nsame; and, when any thing opposed their desires, could say, with\ntears in their eyes, if we love, because we find one another\namiable, ought we to be blamed for this? Let destiny bear the\nblame.\n\nSchemselnihar discovered so well, by her eyes and gestures, that\nthese sayings ought to be applied to her and the prince of\nPersia, that he could not maintain himself; he rose, and came to\na balluster, which he leaned upon, and obliged one of the women,\nwho came to sing, to observe him. When she was near him, Follow\nme, said he to her, and do me the favour to accompany with your\nlute a song which you shall forthwith hear. Then he sang with an\nair so tender and passionate, as perfectly expressed the violence\nof his love. When he had done, Schemselnihar, following his\nexample, said to one of the women, Follow me likewise, and\naccompany my voice; at the same time she sung after such a\nmanner, as further pierced the heart of the prince of Persia, who\nanswered her by a new air as passionate as the former.\n\nThese two lovers declared their mutual affection by their songs.\nSchemselnihar yielded to the force of hers; she rose from her\nthrone, and advanced towards the door of the hall. The prince,\nwho knew her design, rose likewise, and went towards her in all\nhaste. They met at the door, where they took each other by the\nhand, embracing with so much passion, that they fainted, and\nwould have fallen, if the women who followed them had not helped\nthem. But they were supported and carried to a sofa, where they\nwere brought to themselves again, by throwing odoriferous water\nupon their faces, and giving them other things to smell.\n\nWhen they came to themselves, the first tiling that Schemselnihar\ndid was to look about; and not seeing Ebn Thaher, she asked, with\na great deal of concern, where he was. He had withdrawn out of\nrespect, whilst her women were applying things to recover her,\nand dreaded, not without reason, that some troublesome\nconsequence might attend what had happened; but as soon as he\nheard Schemselnihar ask for him, he came forward, and presented\nhimself before her.\n\nSchemselnihar was very well pleased to see Ebn Thaher, and\nexpressed her joy in these terms: Kind Ebn Thaher, I do not know\nhow to make amends for the great obligation you have put upon me:\nwithout you I should never have seen the prince of Persia, nor\nhave loved him who is the most amiable person in the world; but\nyou may assure yourself, however, that I shall not die\nungrateful, and that my acknowledgment, if possible, shall be\nequal to the obligation. Ebn Thaher answered this compliment by a\nlow bow, and wished the favourite the accomplishment of all her\ndesires.\n\nSchemselnihar, turning towards the prince of Persia, who sat by\nher, and looking upon him with some sort of confusion, after what\nhad passed between them, said to him, Sir, I am very well assured\nyou love me; and, however great your love may be to me, you need\nnot doubt but mine is as great towards you; but let us not\nflatter ourselves; for, though we are both agreed, yet I see\nnothing for you and me but trouble, impatience, and tormenting\ngrief. There is no other remedy for our evils but to love one\nanother constantly, to refer ourselves to the disposal of Heaven,\nand to wait till it shall determine our destiny. Madam, replied\nthe prince of Persia, you will do me the greatest injustice in\nthe world if you doubt but one moment of the continuance of my\nlove. It is so united to my soul, that I can justly say it makes\nthe best part of it, and that I shall persevere in it till death.\nPains, torments, obstacles, nothing shall be capable of hindering\nme to love you. Speaking these words, he shed tears in abundance,\nand Schemselnihar was not able to restrain hers.\n\nEbn Thaher took this opportunity to speak to the favourite:\nMadam, said he, allow me to represent to you, that, instead of\nbreaking forth into tears, you ought to rejoice that you are\ntogether. I understand not this grief. What will it be when you\nare obliged to part? But why do I talk of that? We have been a\nlong time here; and you know, madam, that it is time for us to be\ngoing. Ah, how cruel you are! replied Schemselnihar. You, who\nknow the cause of my tears, have you no pity for my unfortunate\ncondition? Oh, sad fatality! What have I done to be subject to\nthe severe law of not being able to enjoy the person whom I love?\n\nShe being persuaded that Ebn Thaher spoke to her only out of\nfriendship, did not take amiss what he said to her, but made a\nright use of it. Then she made a sign to the slave, her\nconfident, who immediately went out, and in a little time brought\na collation of fruit upon a small silver table, which she set\ndown between her mistress and the prince of Persia. Schemselnihar\npresented some of the best to the prince, and prayed him to eat\nfor her sake: he did so, and put that part to his mouth which she\nhad touched; and then he presented some to her, which she took,\nand ate in the same manner. She did not forget to invite Ebn\nThaher to eat with them; but he not thinking himself safe in that\nplace, ate only from complaisance. After the collation was taken\naway, they brought a silver basin with water in a vessel of gold,\nand washed together; they afterwards returned to their places,\nwhen three of the ten black women brought each of them a cup of\nrock crystal full of curious wines, upon a golden salver, which\nthey set down before Schemselnihar, the prince of Persia, and Ebn\nThaher. That they might be more private, Schemselnihar kept with\nher only ten black women, with ten others who began to sing and\nplay upon instruments; and, after she had sent away all the rest,\nshe took up one of the cups, and holding it in her hand, sung\nsome tender expressions, which one of her women accompanied with\nher lute. When she had done, she drank, and afterwards took up\none of the other cups, and presented it to the prince, praying\nhim to drink for love of her, as she had drunk for love of him.\nHe received the cup with a transport of love and joy, but, before\ndrinking, he also sung a song, which another woman accompanied\nwith an instrument and as he sung, the tears fell from his eyes\nin such abundance, that he could not forbear expressing in his\nsong that he knew not whether he was going to drink the wine she\nhad presented to him, or his own tears. Schemselnihar at last\npresented the third cup to Ebn Thaher, who thanked her for her\nkindness, and for the honour she did him.\n\nShe then took a lute from one of her women, and sung to it in\nsuch a passionate manner as bespoke her to be beside herself, the\nprince of Persia standing with his eyes fixed upon her, as if he\nhad been enchanted. As these things were passing, her trusty\nslave arrived all in a fright; and, addressing herself to her\nmistress, said, Madam, Mesrour and two other officers, with\nseveral eunuchs that attend them, are at the gate and want to\nspeak with you from the caliph. When the prince of Persia and Ebn\nThaher heard these words, they changed colour, and began to\ntremble, as if they had been undone; but Schemselnihar, who\nperceived it, recovered their courage by a smile.\n\nAfter Schemselnihar had quieted the prince of Persia and Ebn\nThaher's fears, she ordered the slave, her confident, to go and\nentertain Mesrour and the two other officers till she was in a\ncondition to receive them, and send to her to bring them in. She\nimmediately ordered all the windows of the saloon to be shut, and\nthe painted cloth on the side of the garden to be let down; and\nhaving assured the prince and Ebn Thaher that they might continue\nthere without fear, she went out at the gate leading to the\ngarden, and shut it upon them; but, whatever assurance she had\ngiven them of their being safe, they were still much terrified\nall the while they were there.\n\nAs soon as Schemselnihar was in the garden with the women that\nfollowed her, she ordered all the seats which served the women\nwho played on the instruments to be set near the window where Ebn\nThaher and the prince of Persia heard them, and having got things\nin order, she sat down upon a silver throne; then she sent by the\nslave, her confident, to bring in the chief of the eunuchs, and\nhis subaltern officers.\n\nThey appeared, followed by twenty black eunuchs, all handsomely\nclothed, with scimitars by their sides, and gold belts of four\ninches broad. As soon as they perceived the favourite\nSchemselnihar at a distance, they made her a profound reverence,\nwhich she returned them from her throne. When they came near, she\ngot up and went to meet Mesrour, who came first. She asked what\nnews he brought. He answered, Madam, the commander of the\nfaithful has sent me to signify that he cannot live longer\nwithout seeing you; he designs to come to you tonight, and I come\nbeforehand to give notice, that you may be prepared to receive\nhim. He hopes, madam, that you long as much to see him as he is\nimpatient to see you.\n\nUpon this discourse of Mesrour, the favourite Schemselnihar\nprostrated herself to the ground, as a mark of the submission\nwith which she received the caliph's order. When she rose again,\nshe said, Pray tell the commander of the faithful, that I shall\nalways esteem it my glory to execute his majesty's commands, and\nthat his slave will do her utmost to receive him with all the\nrespect that is due to him. At the same time she ordered the\nslave, her confident, to tell the black women appointed for that\nservice to get the palace ready to receive the caliph; and\ndismissing the chief of the eunuchs, said to him, You see it\nrequires some time to get all things ready, therefore I pray you\nto take care that his majesty may have a little patience, that,\nwhen he arrives, he may not find things out of order.\n\nThe chief of the eunuchs and his retinue being gone,\nSchemselnihar returned to the saloon, extremely concerned at the\nnecessity she was under of sending back the prince of Persia\nsooner than she thought to have done. She came up to him again\nwith tears in her eyes, which heightened Ebn Thaher's fear, who\nthought it no good omen. Madam, said the prince to her, I\nperceive you are come to tell me that we must part; provided\nthere be nothing more to dread, I hope Heaven will give me the\npatience which is necessary to support your absence. Alas, my\ndear heart, my dear soul, replied the tender-hearted\nSchemselnihar, how happy do I think you, and how unhappy myself,\nwhen I compare your lot with my sad destiny! No doubt, you will\nsuffer by my absence; but that is all, and you may comfort\nyourself with the hope of seeing me again; but as for me, just\nHeaven! what a terrible trial am I brought to! I must not only be\ndeprived of the sight of the only person whom I love, but I must\nbe tormented with the sight of one whom you have made hateful to\nme. Will not the arrival of the caliph put me in mind of your\ndeparture? And how can I, when I think of your sweet face,\nentertain that prince with that joy which he always observed in\nmy eyes whenever he came to see me? I shall have my mind wavering\nwhen I speak to him; and the least complaisance which I show to\nhim, will stab me to the heart like a dagger. Can I relish his\nkind words and caresses? Think, prince, to what torments I shall\nbe exposed when I can see you no more! Her tears and sighs\nhindered her to go on, and the prince of Persia would have\nreplied to her; but his own grief, and that of his mistress, made\nhim incapable.\n\nEbn Thaher, whose chief business was to get out of the palace,\nwas obliged to comfort them, and to exhort them to have patience.\nBut the trusty slave interrupted them: Madam, said she to\nSchemselnihar, you have no time to lose, the eunuchs begin to\narrive, and you know the caliph will be here immediately. 0\nHeaven, how cruel is this separation! cried the favourite. Make\nhaste, said she to the confident, carry them both to the gallery\nwhich looks into the garden on the one side, and to the Tigris on\nthe other; and when the night grows dark, let them out by the\nback gate, that they may retire with safety. Having spoken thus,\nshe tenderly embraced the prince of Persia, without being able to\nsay one word more, and went to meet the caliph in such disorder\nas cannot well be imagined.\n\nIn the mean time the trusty slave carried the prince and Ebn\nThaher to the gallery, as Schemselnihar had appointed; and having\nbrought them in, left them there, and shut the door upon them,\nafter having assured them that they had nothing to fear, and that\nshe would come for them when it was time.\n\nSchemselnihar's trusty slave leaving the prince of Persia and Ebn\nThaher, they forgot she had assured them that they needed not to\nbe afraid; they searched all the gallery, and were seized with\nextreme fear, because they knew no place where they might escape,\nin case the caliph, or any of his officers, should happen to come\nthere.\n\nA great light, which came on a sudden from the side of the garden\nthrough the windows, caused them to approach to see from whence\nit came. It was occasioned by a hundred flambeaux of white wax,\ncarried by as many young eunuchs; these were followed by as many\nothers, who guarded the ladies of the caliph's palace, clothed,\nand armed with scimitars, in the same manner as those already\nmentioned; and the caliph came after them, betwixt Mesrour, their\ncaptain, on his right, and the vassif, their second officer, on\nhis left hand.\n\nSchemselnihar waited for the caliph at the entry of an alley,\naccompanied by twenty women, all of surprising beauty, adorned\nwith necklaces and ear-rings of large diamonds, and some of them\nhad their whole heads covered with them. They played upon\ninstruments, and made a charming concert. The favourite no sooner\nsaw the prince appear than she advanced, and prostrated herself\nat his feet; and while doing this, Prince of Persia, said she\nwithin herself, if your sad eyes bear witness to what I do, judge\nof my hard lot; if I was humbling myself so before you, my heart\nshould feel no reluctance.\n\nThe caliph was ravished to see Schemselnihar. Rise, madam, said\nhe to her; come near: I am angry that I should have deprived\nmyself so long of the pleasure of seeing you. Saying this, he\ntook her by the hand, and, after abundance of tender expressions,\nwent and sat down upon a silver throne which Schemselnihar caused\nto be brought for him, and she sat down upon a seat opposite, and\nthe twenty women made a circle round about them upon other seats,\nwhile the young eunuchs, who carried flambeaux, dispersed\nthemselves at a certain distance from each other, that the caliph\nmight enjoy the cool of the evening the better.\n\nWhen the caliph sat down, he looked round him, and beheld with\nsatisfaction a great many other lights besides those flambeaux\nwhich the young eunuchs held; but taking notice that the saloon\nwas shut, was astonished thereat, and demanded the reason. It was\ndone on purpose to surprise him; for he had no sooner spoken,\nthan the windows were at once opened, and he saw it illuminated\nwithin and without in a much better manner than ever he had seen\nit before. Charming Schemselmhar, cried he at this sight, I\nunderstand you; you would have me to know there are as fine\nnights as days. After what I have seen, I cannot disown it.\n\nLet us return to the prince of Persia and Elm Thaher, whom we\nleft in the gallery. Ebn Thaher could not enough admire all he\nsaw. I am not very young, said he, and in my time have seen great\nentertainments; but I do not think any thing can be more\nsurprising and magnificent. All that is said of enchanted palaces\ndoes no way come near this prodigious spectacle we now see. O\nstrange! what riches and magnificence together!\n\nThe prince of Persia was nothing moved with those objects which\nwere so pleasant to Ebn Thaher; he could look on nothing but\nSchemselnihar, and the presence of the caliph threw him into\ninconceivable grief. Dear Ebn Thaher, said he, would to God I had\nmy mind as free to admire these things as you! But, alas! I am in\na quite different condition; all those objects serve only to\nincrease my torment. Can I see the caliph cheek to cheek with her\nthat I love, and not die of grief? Must such a passionate love as\nmine be disturbed by so potent a rival? O heavens, how cruel is\nmy destiny! It is but a moment since I esteemed myself the most\nfortunate lover in the world, and at this instant I feel my heart\nso struck, that it is like to kill me. I cannot resist it, my\ndear Ebn Thaher; my patience is at an end; my distemper\noverwhelms me, and my courage fails. While speaking, he saw\nsomething pass in the garden, which obliged him to keep silence,\nand to turn all his attention that way.\n\nThe caliph had ordered one of the women, who was near him, to\nplay on her lute, and she began to sing. The words that she sung\nwere very passionate; and the caliph was persuaded that she sung\nthus by order of Schemselnihar, who had frequently entertained\nhim with the like testimonies of her affection; therefore he\ninterpreted all in his own favour. But this was not now\nSchemselnihar's meaning; she applied it to her dear Ali Ebn\nBecar, and was so sensibly touched with grief, to have before her\nan object whose presence she could no longer enjoy, that she\nfainted and fell backwards upon her seat, which having no arms to\nsupport her, she must have fallen down, had not some of the women\nhelped her in time; who took her up, and carried her into the\nsaloon.\n\nEbn Thaher, who was in the gallery, being surprised at this\naccident, turned towards the prince of Persia; but, instead of\nseeing him stand and look through the window as before, he was\nextremely amazed to see him fall down at his feet, and without\nmotion. He judged it to proceed from the violence of his love to\nSchemselnihar, and admired the strange effect of sympathy which\nthrew him into great fear, because of the place in which they\nwere. In the mean time he did all he could to recover the prince,\nbut in vain. Ebn Thaher was in this perplexity when\nSchemselnihar's confident, opening the gallery door, came in out\nof breath, as one who knew not where she was. Come speedily,\ncried she, that I may let you out. All is confusion here, and I\nfear this will be the last of our days. Ah! how would you have us\ngo? replied Ebn Thaher, with a mournful voice. Come near, I pray\nyou, and see in what condition the prince of Persia is. When, the\nslave saw him in a swoon, she ran for water in all haste, and\nreturned in an instant.\n\nAt last the prince of Persia, after they had thrown water on his\nface, recovered his spirits. Prince, said Ebn Thaher to him, we\nrun the risk of being destroyed, if we stay here any longer; let\nus therefore endeavour to save our lives. He was so feeble that\nhe could not rise unassisted. Ebn Thaher and the confident lent\nhim their hands, and supported him on each side. They came to a\nlittle iron gate which opened towards the Tigris, went out at it,\nand got to the side of a little canal communicating with the\nriver. The confident clapped her hands, and immediately a little\nboat appeared, which came towards them with one rower. Ali Ebn\nBecar and his comrade went aboard, and the trusty slave staid at\nthe side of the canal. As soon as the prince sat down in the\nboat, he stretched out one hand towards the palace and laid the\nother upon his heart. Dear object of my soul! cried he with a\nfeeble voice, receive my faith with this hand, while I assure you\nwith the other, that for you my heart shall for ever preserve the\nfire with which it burns!\n\nIn the mean time the boatman rowed with all his might; and\nSchemselnihar's trusty slave accompanied the prince of Persia and\nEbu Thaher, walking along the side of the canal, until they came\nto the Tigris; and when she could go no further, she took\nfarewell of them, and returned.\n\nThe prince of Persia continued very feeble. Ebn Thaher comforted\nhim, and exhorted him to take courage. Consider, said he, that\nwhen we are landed, we have a great way to go before we come to\nmy house; and I would not at this hour, and in this condition,\nadvise you home to your lodgings, which are a great way further\noff than mine. At length they got out of the boat, but the prince\nwas so weak that he could not walk, which put Ebn Thaher into\ngreat perplexity. He remembered he had a friend in the\nneighbourhood, and carried the prince thither with great\ndifficulty. His friends received them very cheerfully; and, when\nhe made them sit down, asked where they had been so late. Ebn\nThaher answered him, I was this evening with a man who owed me a\nconsiderable sum of money, and designed to go a long voyage. I\nwas unwilling to lose time to find him, and by the way I met with\nthis young nobleman whom you see, and to whom I am under a\nthousand obligations; for, knowing my debtor, he would needs do\nme the favour of going along with me. We had a great deal of\ntrouble to bring the man to reason; besides, we went out of the\nway, and that is the reason we are so late. In our return home,\nthis good lord, for whom I have all possible respect, was\nattacked by a sudden distemper; which made me take the liberty of\ncalling at your house, flattering myself that you would be\npleased to give us quarters for this night.\n\nEbn Thaher's friend, who believed all this, told them they were\nwelcome, and offered the prince of Persia, whom he knew not, all\nthe assistance he could desire; but Ebn Thaher spoke for the\nprince, and said, that his distemper was of a nature that\nrequired nothing but rest. His friend understood by this that\nthey desired to go to bed; on which he conducted them to an\napartment, where he left them.\n\nThough the prince of Persia slept, he had troublesome dreams,\nwhich represented Schemselnihar in a swoon at the caliph's feet,\nand increased his affliction. Ebn Thaher was very impatient to be\nat home, and doubted not but his family were in great trouble,\nbecause he never used to lie abroad. He rose and deported early\nin the morning, after taking leave of his friend, who rose at\nbreak of day to say his prayers. At last he came home; and the\nprince of Persia, who had walked so far with much trouble, lay\ndown upon a sofa, as weary as if he had travelled a long journey\nNot being in a condition to go home, Ebn Thaher ordered a chamber\nto be got ready for him, and sent to acquaint his friends with\nhis condition, and where he was. In the mean time he begged him\nto compose himself, to command in his house, and order things as\nhe pleased. I thank you hcartily for these obliging offers, said\nthe prince of Persia; but, that I may not be any way troublesome\nto you, I conjure you to deal with me as if I were not at your\nhouse. I would not stay one moment, if I thought my presence\nwould incommode you in the least.\n\nAs soon as Ebn Thaher had time to recollect himself, he told his\nfamily all that had passed at Schemselnihar's palace, and\nconcluded by thanking God, who had delivered him from the danger\nhe was in. The prince of Persia's principal domestics came to\nreceive his orders at Ebn Thaher's house, and in a little time\nseveral of his friends who had notice of his indisposition\narrived. Those friends passed the greater part of the day with\nhim; and, though their conversation could not dissipate those sad\nideas which were the cause of his trouble, yet it gave him some\nrelief. He would have taken his leave of Ebn Thaher towards the\nevening; but this faithful friend found him still so weak, that\nhe obliged him to stay till next day, and in the mean time, to\ndivert him, gave him a concert of vocal and instrumental music in\nthe evening; but this concert served only to put him in mind of\nthe preceding night, and renewed his trouble, instead of\nassuaging it; so that next day his distemper seempd to increase.\nUpon this, Ebn Thaher did not oppose his going home, but took\ncare to accompany him thither; and, when alone with him in his\nchamber, he represented to him all those arguments which might\ninfluence him to a generous endeavour to overcome that passion,\nwhich in the end would neither prove lucky to himself nor to the\nfavourite. Ah, dear Ebn Thaher! cried the prince, how easy is it\nfor you to give this advice, but how hard is it for me to follow\nit! I am sensible of its importance, but am not able to profit by\nit, I have said already, that I shall carry with me to the grave\nthe love that I bear to Schemselnihar. When Ebn Thaher saw that\nlie could not prevail on the prince, he took his leave of him,\nand would have retired.\n\nThe prince of Persia detained him, and said, Kind Ebn Thaher,\nsince I have declared to you that it is not in my power to follow\nyour wise counsels, I beg you will not charge it on me as a\ncrime, nor forbear to give me the usual testimonies of your\nfriendship; you cannot do me a greater favour than to inform me\nof the destiny of my dear Schemselnihar, when you hear any news\nof it. The uncertainty I am in concerning her fate, and the\napprehensions which her fainting occasioned me, keep me in this\nlanguishing condition you reproach me with. My lord, answered Ebn\nThaher, you have reason to hope that her fainting was not\nattended with any serious consequences; her confident, will soon\ncome and inform me of the issue, and as soon as I know the\nparticulars, I shall not fail to impart them.\n\nEbn Thaher left the prince in this hope, and returned home where\nhe expected Schemselnihar's confident all day, but in vain, nor\ndid she come next day. His uneasiness to know the state of the\nprince of Persia's health would not suffer him to stay any longer\nwithout seeing him; he went to his lodgings to exhort him to\npatience, and found him lying in bed as sick as ever, surrounded\nby many of his friends, and several physicians, who used all\ntheir art to discover the cause of his distemper. As soon as he\nsaw Ebn Thaher, he looked upon him smiling, to signify that he\nhad two things to tell him; the one, that he was glad to see him;\nthe other, how much the physicians, who could not discover the\ncause of his distemper, were mistaken in their reasonings.\n\nHis friends and physicians retired one after another; so that Ebn\nThaher, being alone with him, came near his bed, to ask how he\ndid since he saw him. I must tell you, answered the prince, that\nmy passion, which continually gathers new strength, and the\nuncertainty of the lovely Schemselnihar's destiny, augment my\ndistemper every moment, and throw me into such a condition as\nafflicts my kindred and friends, and breaks the measures of my\nphysicians, who do not understand it. You cannot think, added he,\nhow much I suffer to see so many importunate people about me, and\nwhom I cannot in civility put away. It is your company alone that\nis comfortable to me: but, in a word, I conjure you not to\ndissemble with me; what news do you bring of Schemselnihar? Have\nyou seen her confident? What said she to you? Ebn Thaher\nanswered, that he had not yet seen her; and no sooner had he told\nthe prince of Persia this sad news, than tears came from his\neyes, and his heart was so oppressed that he could not answer him\none word. Prince, added Ebn Thaher, suffer me to tell you, that\nyou are very ingenious in tormenting yourself. In the name of\nGod, wipe away your tears: If any of your people should come in\njust now, they would discover you by this, notwithstanding the\ncare you ought to take to conceal your thoughts. Whatever this\njudicious confident could say, it was impossible for the prince\nto refrain from weeping. Wise Ebn Thaher, said he, when he had\nrecovered his speech, I may well hinder my tongue from revealing\nthe secrets of my heart, but I have no power over my tears upon\nsuch a direful subject as Schemselnihar's danger! If that\nadorable and only object of my desires be no longer in the world.\nI shall not be one moment after! Reject so afflicting an idea,\nreplied Ebn Thaher; Schemselnihar is yet alive; you need not\ndoubt the certainty of it. If you have heard nothing of her, it\nis because she could find no occasion to send to you; and I hope\nyou will hear from her to-day. To this he added several other\ncomfortable things, and then retired.\n\nEbn Thaher was scarcely at his own house, when Schemselnihar's\nconfident arrived with a melancholy countenance, which he\nreckoned a bad omen. He asked concerning her mistress. Tell me\nyours first, said the confident; for I was in great trouble to\nsee the prince of Persia go away in that condition. Ebn Thaher\ntold her all that she desired to know, and when he had done, the\nslave began her discourse: If the prince of Persia, said she, has\nsuffered, and does still suffer, for my mistress, she suffers no\nless for him. After I departed from you, continued she, I\nreturned to the saloon, where I found Schemselnihar not yet\nrecovered from her swoon, notwithstanding all the help they\nendeavoured to give her. The caliph was sitting near her with all\nthe signs of real grief; he asked the women, and me in\nparticular, if we knew the cause of her distemper; but we all\nkept secret, and told him we were altogether ignorant of it. In\nthe mean time, we wept to see her suffer so long, and forgot\nnothing that might any ways help her. In a word, it was almost\nmidnight before she recovered. The caliph, who had the patience\nto wait, was truly glad at her recovery, and asked Schemselmhar\nthe cause of her distemper. As soon as she heard him speak, she\nendeavoured to resume her seat; and, after she had kissed his\nfeet before he could hinder her, Sir, said she, I have reason to\ncomplain of Heaven, that it did not allow me to expire at your\nmajesty's feet, to testify thereby how sensible I am of your\nfavours!\n\nI am persuaded you love me, said the caliph to her, and I command\nyou to preserve yourself for my sake. You have probably exceeded\nin something today, which has occasioned this indisposition; take\nheed, I pray you, abstain from it for the future. I am glad to\nsee you better; and I advise you to stay here tonight, and not to\nreturn to your chamber, lest the motion disturb you. Upon this he\ncommanded a little wine to be brought her, in order to strengthen\nher; and then taking his leave, returned to his apartment.\n\nAs soon as the caliph was gone, my mistress gave me a sign to\ncome near her. She asked me earnestly concerning you: I assured\nher that you had been gone a long time, which made her easy as to\nthat matter. I took care not to speak of the prince of Persia's\nfainting, lest it should make her fall into the same condition\nfrom which we had so much trouble to recover her; my precautions\nwere all in vain, as you shall hear. Prince, said she, I\nhenceforth renounce all pleasure as long as I am deprived of a\nsight of you. If I have understood your heart right, I only\nfollow your example. Thou wilt not cease to weep until thou seest\nme again; it is but just, then, that I weep and mourn till I see\nyou! At these words, which she uttered in such a manner as\nexpressed the violence of her passion, she fainted in my arms a\nsecond time.\n\nMy comrades and I, said she, were long in recovering her; at last\nshe came to herself; and then I said to her, Madam, are you\nresolved to kill yourself, and to make us also die with you? I\nbeg of you to be persuaded, in the name of the prince of Persia,\nfor whom it is your interest to live, to save yourself, as you\nlove yourself, as you love the prince, and for our sakes, who are\nso faithful to you! I am very much obliged to you, replied she,\nfor your care, zeal, and advice; but alas! these are useless to\nme! You are not to flatter us with hopes; for we can expect no\nend of our torment but in the grave! One of my companions would\nhave diverted those sad ideas by playing on her lute; but she\ncommanded her to be silent, and ordered all of them to retire,\nexcept me, whom she kept all night with her. O heavens! what a\nnight was it! She passed it in tears and groans, always naming\nthe prince of Persia; lamented her lot, which had destined her to\nthe caliph, whom she could not love, and not to him she loved so\ndearly.\n\nNext morning, because she was not commodiously lodged in the\nsaloon, I helped her to her chamber, where she no sooner arrived,\nthan all the physicians of the palace came to see her by order of\nthe caliph, who was not long in coming himself. The medicines\nwhich the physicians prescribed for Schemselnihar were to no\npurpose, because they were ignorant of the cause of her\ndistemper, and the presence of the caliph augmented it. She got a\nlittle rest, however, this night; and as soon as she awoke, she\ncharged me to come to you to hear concerning the prince of\nPersia. I have already informed you of his case, said Ebn Thaher;\nso return to your mistress, and assure her that the prince of\nPersia waits to hear from her with the like impatience that she\ndoes from him; besides, exhort her to moderation, and to overcome\nherself, lest she drop some words before the caliph, which may\nprove fatal to us all. As for me, replied the confident, I\nconfess I dread her transport; I have taken the liberty to tell\nher my mind, and am persuaded that she will not take it ill that\nI tell her this from you.\n\nEbn Thaher, who had but just come from the prince of Persia's\nlodgings, thought it not convenient to return so soon, and\nneglect his own important affairs, and therefore went not till\nthe evening. The prince was alone, and no better than in the\nmorning. Ebn Thaher, said he, you have doubtless many friends;\nbut they do not know your worth, which you discover to me by the\nzeal, care, and trouble, you give yourself to oblige me in my\ncondition. I am confounded with all that you do for me with so\ngreat affection, and I know not how I shall be able to express my\ngratitude! Prince, answered Ebn Thaher, do not speak so, I\nentreat you; I am ready not only to give one of my own eyes to\nsave one of yours, but to sacrifice my life for you. But this is\nnot the present business; I come to tell you that Schemselnihar\nsent her confident to ask me about you, and at the same time to\ninform me of her condition. You may assure yourself that I said\nnothing but what might confirm the excess of your passion for her\nmistress, and the constancy with which you love her. Then Ebn\nThaher gave him a particular account of all that had passed\nbetwixt the trusty slave and him. The prince listened with all\nthe different emotions of fear, jealousy, affection, and\ncompassion, with which this discourse could inspire him, making,\nupon every thing which he heard, all the afflicting or comforting\nreflections that so passionate a lover was capable of.\n\nTheir conversation continued so long, that the night was far\nadvanced, so that the prince of Persia obliged Ebn Thaher to stay\nwith him. Next morning, as this trusty friend was returning home,\nthere came to him a woman, whom he knew to be Schemselnihar's\nconfident, who eagerly addressed him thus: My mistress salutes\nyou; and I am come to entreat you, in her home, to deliver this\nletter to the prince of Persia. The zealous Ebn Thaher took the\nletter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the confident.\n\nWhen Ebn Thaher entered the prince of Persia's house with\nSchemselnihar's confident, he prayed her to stay one moment in\nthe drawing room. As soon as the prince of Persia saw him, he\nearnestly asked what news he had. The best you can expect,\nanswered Ebn Thaher; you are as dearly beloved as you love;\nSchemselnihar's confident is in your drawing room; she has\nbrought you a letter from her mistress, and waits for your orders\nto come in. Let her come in! cried the prince, with a transport\nof joy; and, speaking thus, sat down to receive her.\n\nThe prince's attendants retired as soon as they saw Ebn Thaher,\nand left him alone with their master. Ebn Thaher went and opened\nthe door, and brought in the confident. The prince knew her, and\nreceived her very civilly. My lord, said she to him, I am\nsensible of the afflictions you have endured since I had the\nhonour to conduct you to the boat which waited to bring you back;\nbut I hope this letter I have brought will contribute to your\ncure. Upon this, she presented him the letter. He took it, and,\nafter kissing it several times, opened it, and read as follows:\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to Ali Ebn Becar, Prince of Persia.\n\nThe person who carries this letter will give you a better account\nconcerning me than I can do, for I have not been myself since I\nsaw you: deprived of your presence, I sought to divert myself by\nentertaining you with these ill-written lines, as if I had the\ngood fortune to speak to you.\n\nIt is said that patience is a cure for all distempers; but it\nsours mine instead of sweetening it. Although your picture be\ndeeply engraven in my heart, my eyes desire constantly to see the\noriginal; and their sight will vanish if they are much longer\ndeprived of that pleasure. May I flatter myself that yours have\nthe same impatience to see me? Yes I can; their tender glances\ndiscovered it to me. How happy, prince, should you and\nSchemselnihar both be, if our agreeable desires were not crossed\nby invincible obstacles, which afflict me as sensibly as they do\nyou!\n\nThose thoughts which my fingers write, and which I express with\nincredible pleasure, and repeat again and again, speak from the\nbottom of my heart, and from the incurable wound which you have\nmade in it; a wound which I bless a thousand times,\nnotwithstanding the cruel torments I endure for your absence. I\nwould reckon all that opposes our love nothing, were I only\nallowed to see you sometimes with freedom; I would then enjoy\nyou, and what more could I desire?\n\nDo not imagine that I say more than I think. Alas! whatever\nexpressions I am able to use, I am sensible that I think more\nthan I can tell you. My eyes, which are continually watching and\nweeping for your return; my afflicted heart, which desires\nnothing but you alone; the sighs that escape me as often as I\nthink on you, that is, every moment; my imagination, which\nrepresents no other object than my dear prince; the complaints\nthat I make to Heaven for the rigour of my destiny; in a word, my\ngrief, my trouble, my torments, which give me no ease ever since\nI lost the sight of you, are witnesses of what I write.\n\nAm not I unhappy to be born to love, without hope of enjoying him\nwhom I love? This doleful thought oppresses me so much, that I\nshould die, were I not persuaded that you love me: but this sweet\ncomfort balances my despair, and preserves my life. Tell me that\nyou love me always; I will keep your letter carefully, and read\nit a thousand times a day; I will endure my afflictions with less\nimpatience. I pray Heaven may cease to be angry at us, and grant\nus an opportunity to say that we love one another without fear;\nand that we may never cease to love! Adieu. I salute Ebn Thaher,\nwho has so much obliged us.\n\nThe prince of Persia was not satisfied to read the letter once;\nhe thought he had read it with too little attention, and\ntherefore read it again with more leisure; and as he read,\nsometimes he uttered sighs, sometimes he wept, and sometimes he\ndiscovered transports of joy and affection, as one who was\ntouched with what he read. In a word, he could not keep his eyes\noff those characters drawn by so lovely a hand, and therefore\nbegan to read it a third time. Then Ebn Thaher told him that the\nconfident could not stay, and he ought to think of giving an\nanswer. Alas! cried the prince, how would you have me answer so\nkind a letter? In what terms shall I express the trouble that I\nam in? My spirit is tossed with a thousand tormenting things, and\nmy thoughts destroy one another the same momunt they are\nconceived, to make way for more; and so long as my body suffers\nby the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to hold paper,\nor a reed [Footnote The Arabians, Persians, and Turks, when they\nwrite, hold the paper ordinarily upon their knees with their left\nhands, and write with their right, with a little reed or cane cut\nlike our pens; this cane is hollow, and resembles our reeds, but\nis harder.], to write? Having spoken thus, he took out of a\nlittle desk paper, cane, and ink.\n\nThe prince of Persia, before he began to write, gave\nSchemselnihar's letter to Ebn Thaher, and prayed him to hold it\nopen while he wrote, that, by casting his eyes upon it, he might\nsee the better what to answer. He began to write; but the tears\nthat fell from his eyes upon the paper obliged him several times\nto stop, that they might trickle down the more freely. At last he\nfinished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, Read it, I\npray, said he, do me the favour to see if the disorder of my mind\nhas allowed me to give a reasonable answer. Ebn Thaher took it,\nand read as follows:\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar's Letter.\n\nI was swallowed up with mortal grief before I received your\nletter, at the sight of which I was transported with unspeakable\njoy; and the view of the characters written by your lovely hand\nenlightened my eyes more sensibly than they were darkened when\nyours were closed on a sudden at the feet of my rival. Those\nwords which your courteous letter contains, are so many rays of\nlight, which have dispelled the darkness with which my soul was\nobscured; they show me how much you suffer by your love to me,\nand that you are not ignorant of what I endure for you, and\nthereby comfort me in my afflictions. On the one hand, they make\nme shed tears in abundance; and, on the other, they inflame my\nheart--with a fire which supports it, and hinders my dying of\ngrief. I have not had one moment's rest since our cruel\nseparation. Your letter only gave me some ease. I kept a\nsorrowful silence till the moment I received it, and then it\nrestored me to speech. I was buried in a profound melancholy, but\nit inspired me with joy, which immediately appeared in my eyes\nand countenance. But my surprise at receiving a favour which I\nhad not deserved was so great, that I knew not which way to begin\nto testify my thankfulness for it. In a word, after having kissed\nit as a valuable pledge of your goodness, I read it over and\nover, and was confounded at the excess of my good fortune. You\nwould have me to signify to you that I always love you. Ah!\nthough I did not love you so perfectly as I do, I could not\nforbear adoring you, after all the marks you have given me of a\nlove so uncommon: yes, I love you, my dear soul, and shall\naccount it my glory to burn all my days with that sweet fire you\nhave kindled in my heart. I will never complain of the brisk\nardour with which I find it consumes me; and how rigorous soever\nthe grief be which I suffer, I will bear it corageously, in hopes\nto see you some time or other. Would to Heaven it were today; and\nthat, instead of sending you my letter, I might be allowed to\ncome and assure you that I die for love of you! My tears hinder\nme from saying any more. Adieu.\n\nEbn Thaher could not read these last lines without weeping. He\nreturned the letter to the prince of Persia, and assured him it\nwanted no correction. The prince shut it, and when he had sealed\nit, desired the trusty slave to come near, and told her, This is\nmy answer to your dear mistress; I conjure you to carry it to\nher, and to salute her in my name. The slave took the letter, and\nretired with Ebn Thaher.\n\nAfter Ebn Thaher had walked some way with the slave, he left her,\nwent to his house, and began to think in earnest upon the amorous\nintrigue in which he found himself unhappily engaged. He\nconsidered that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar,\nnotwithstanding their interest to conceal their correspondence,\nmanaged with so little discretion, that it could not be long a\nsecret. He drew all the consequences from it which a man of good\nsense ought to do. Were Schemselnihar, said he to himself, an\nordinary lady, I would contribute all in my power to make her and\nher sweetheart happy; but she is the caliph's favourite, and no\nman can without danger undertake to displease him. His anger will\nfall at first upon Schemselnihar; it will cost the prince of\nPersia his life; and I shall be embarked in his misfortune. In\nthe mean time, I have my honour, my quiet, my family, and my\nestate to preserve; I must then, while I can, deliver myself out\nof so great a danger.\n\nHe was taken up with these thoughts all the day; next morning he\nwent to the prince of Persia, with a design to use his utmost\nendeavors to oblige him to conquer his passion. He actually\nrepresented to him what he had formerly done in vain; that it\nwould be much better to make use of all his courage to overcome\nhis inclinations for Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be\nconquered by it; and that his passion was so much the more\ndangerous, as his rival was the more potent. In a word, sir,\nadded he, if you will hearken to me, you ought to think of\nnothing but to triumph over your amour, otherwise you run a risk\nof destroying yourself, with Schemselnihar, whose life ought to\nbe dearer to you than your own. I give you this counsel as a\nfriend, for which you will thank me some time or other.\n\nThe prince heard Ebn Thaher with a great deal of impatience, but\nsuffered him, however, to speak out his mind; and then replied to\nhim thus: Ebn Thaher, said he, do you think I can forbear to love\nSchemselnihar, who loves me so tenderly? She is not afraid to\nexpose her life for me, and would you have me to regard mine? No;\nwhatever misfortune befal me, I will love Schemselnihar to my\nlast breath.\n\nEbn Thaher, being offended at the obstinacy of the prince of\nPersia, left him hastily; and, going to his own house, recalled\nto mind what he thought on the other day, and began to think in\nearnest what he should do. At the same time a jeweller, one of\nhis intimate friends, came to see him: this jeweller had\nperceived that Schemselnihar's confident came oftener to Ebn\nThaher than usual, and that he was constantly with the prince of\nPersia, whose sickness was known to every one, though not the\ncause of it. The jeweller began to be suspicious, and finding Ebn\nThaher very pensive, judged presently that he was perplexed with\nsome important affair; and fancying that he knew the cause, he\nasked what Schemselniliar's confident wanted with him. Ebn\nThaher, being struck with this question, dissembled, and told\nhim, that it was a mere trifle that brought her so frequently to\nhim. You do not tell me the truth, said the jeweller, and give me\nground to think, by your dissimulation, that this trifle is an\naffair of more importance than at first I thought. Ebn Thaher,\nperceiving that his friend pressed him so much, said to him, It\nis true that it is an affair of the greatest consequence: I had\nresolved to keep it secret; but since I know how much you are my\nfriend, I choose rather to make you my confident, than to suffer\nyou to be in a mistake about it. I do not recommend it to you to\nkeep the secret, for you will easily judge, by what I am going to\ntell you, how important it is to keep it. After this preamble, he\ntold him the amour between Schemselnihar and the prince of\nPersia. You know, continued he, in what esteem I am at court, in\nthe city, and with lords and ladies of the greatest quality; what\na disgrace would it be for me, should this rash intrigue come to\nbe discovered? But what do I say? Should not I and my family be\nquite destroyed? That is the thing perplexes my mind. But I have\njust now come to such a resolution as I ought to make: I will go\nimmediately and satisfy my creditors, and recover my debts; when\nI have secured my estate, I will retire to Balsora, and stay till\nthe tempest I foresee blows over. The friendship I have for\nSchemselnihar and the prince of Persia makes me very sensible to\nwhat danger they are exposed. I pray Heaven to discover it to\nthemselves, and to preserve them; but if their ill destiny will\nhave their amours come to the knowledge of the caliph, I shall at\nleast be out of the reach of his resentment; for I do not think\nthem so wicked as to design to draw me into their misfortunes. It\nwould be extreme ingratitude in them to do so, and a sorry reward\nfor the good service I have done them, particularly to the prince\nof Persia, who may save himself and his mistress from this\nprecipice, if he pleases: he may as easily leave Bagdad as I;\nabsence would insensibly disengage him from a passion which will\nonly increase whilst he continues in this place.\n\nThe jeweller was extremely surprised at what Ebn Thaher told him.\nWhat you say to me, said he, is of so great importance, that I\ncannot understand how Schemselnihar and the prince have been\ncapable of abandoning themselves to such a violent amour. What\ninclination soever they may have for one another, instead of\nyielding to it, they ought to resist it, and make a better use of\ntheir reason. Is it possible they can be insensible of the\ndangerous consequences of their correspondence? How deplorable is\ntheir blindness! I perceive all the consequences of it as well as\nyou; but you are wise and prudent, and I approve your resolution;\nthat is the only way to deliver yourself from the fatal events\nwhich you have reason to fear. The jeweller then rose, and took\nhis leave of Ebn Thaher.\n\nBefore the jeweller retired, Ebn Thaher conjured him, by the\nfriendship betwixt them, to speak nothing of this to any person.\nBe not afraid, said the jeweller; I will keep this secret on\nperil of my life.\n\nTwo days after, the jeweller went to Ebn Thaher's shop; and,\nseeing it shut, doubted not that he had executed the design he\nhad spoken of; but, to be certain, he asked a neighbour if he\nknew why it was shut? The neighbour answered, that he knew not,\nunless Ebn Thaher was gone a journey. There was no need of his\ninquiring further, and immediately he thought upon the prince of\nPersia: Unhappy prince, said he to himself, what grief will you\nsuffer when you hear this news? By what means will you now carry\non your correspondence with Schemselnihar? I fear you will die of\ndespair. I have compassion on you; I must make up the loss that\nyou have of a too timid confident.\n\nThe business that obliged him to come abroad was of no\nconsequence, so that he neglected it; and though he did not know\nthe prince of Persia, but only by having sold him some jewels, he\nwent strait to his house, addressed himself to one of his\nservants, and prayed him to tell his master that he desired to\nspeak with him about business of very great importance. The\nservant returned immediately to the jeweller, and introduced him\nto the chamber of the prince, who was leaning on a sofa, with his\nhead upon a cushion. As soon as the prince saw him, he rose to\nreceive him, said he was welcome, entreated him to sit down, and\nasked if he could serve him in any thing, or if he came to tell\nhim any matter concerning himself. Prince, answered the jeweller,\nthough I have not the honour to be particularly acquainted with\nyou, yet the desire of testifying my zeal has made me take the\nliberty to come to your house, to impart to you some news that\nconcerns you. I hope you will pardon my boldness, because of my\ngood intention.\n\nAfter this introduction, the jeweller entered upon the matter,\nand pursued it thus: Prince, I shall have the honour to tell you,\nthat it is a long time since the conformity of humour, and\nseveral affairs we had together, united Ebn Thaher and myself in\nstrict friendship. I know you are acquainted with him, and that\nhe has been employed in obliging you in all that he could. I am\ninformed of this from himself; for he keeps nothing secret from\nme, nor I from him. I went just now to his shop, and was\nsurprised to find it shut. I addressed myself to one of his\nneighbours, to ask the reason; he answered me, that, two days\nago, Ebn Thater took his leave of him and other neighbours,\noffering them his service at Balsora, whither he was gone, he\nsaid, about an affair of great importance. Not being satisfied\nwith this answer, the concern that I have for whatever belongs to\nhim, determined me to come and ask you if you knew any thing\nparticularly concerning his sudden departure.\n\nAt this discourse, which the jeweller accommodated to the\nsubject, that he might come the better to his design, the prince\nof Persia changed colour, and looked so as made the jeweller\nsensible that he was afflicted with the news. I am surprised at\nwhat you inform me, said he; there could not befal me a greater\nmisfortune. Ah! said he, with tears in his eyes, I am undone if\nwhat you tell me be true! Has Ebn Thaher, who was all my comfort,\nand in whom I put all my confidence, left me! I cannot think of\nliving after so cruel a blow.\n\nThe jeweller needed no more to convince him fully of the prince\nof Persia's violent passion, which Ebn Thaher had told him: mere\nfriendship would not let him speak so; nothing but love could\nproduce such feeling expressions.\n\nThe prince continued some moments swallowed up with these\nmelancholy thoughts: at last he lifted up his head, and calling\none of his servants, Go, said he, to Ebn Timber's house, and ask\nany of his domestics if he be gone to Balsora; run and come back\nquickly, and tell me what you hear. While the servant was gone,\nthe jeweller endeavoured to entertain the prince of Persia with\nindifferent subjects; but the prince gave little heed to him, for\nhe was a prey to fatal grief. Sometimes he could not persuade\nhimself that Ebn Thaher was gone; at other times he did not doubt\nthe truth of it, when he reflected upon the discourse he had the\nlast time he saw him, and the angry countenance with which he\nleft him.\n\nAt last the prince's servant returned, and reported that he had\nspoken to one of Ebn Thaher servants, who assured him that he was\ngone two days before to Balsora. As I came from Ebn Thaher's\nhouse, added the servant, a slave well arrayed came to me, and,\nasking if I had the honour to belong to you, she told me she\nwanted to speak with you, begging, at the same time, that she\nmight come along with me: she is now in the house, and I believe\nhas a letter to give you from some person of note. The prince\ncommanded him to bring her in immediately: he doubted not but it\nwas Schemselnihar's confident slave, as indeed it was. The\njeweller knew who she was, having seen her several times at Ebn\nThaher's house. She could not have come at a better time to\nhinder the prince from despair.\n\nShe saluted him, and the prince of Persia did likewise salute\nSchemselnihar's confident. The jeweller rose as soon as he saw\nher appear, and stepped aside, to leave them at liberty to speak\ntogether. The confident, after conversing some time with the\nprince, took leave, and departed. She left him quite another\nthing than before; his eyes appeared brighter, and his\ncountenance more gay; which made the jeweller know that the good\nslave came to tell him some news that favoured his amour.\n\nThe jeweller having taken his place again near the prince, said\nto him, smiling, I see, prince, you have important affairs at the\ncaliph's palace. The prince of Persia was astonished and alarmed\nat this discourse, and answered the jeweller, why do you judge\nthat I have affairs at the caliph's palace? I judge, replied the\njeweller, by the slave that is gone forth. To whom, think you,\nbelongs this slave? said the prince. To Schemselnihar, the\ncaliph's favourite, answered the jeweller. I know, continued he,\nboth the slave and her mistress, who have several times done me\nthe honour to come to my house, and buy jewels. Besides, I know\nthat Schemselnihar keeps nothing secret from this slave; and I\nhave seen her go and come for several days along the streets,\nvery much troubled, which made me imagine that it was upon some\naffair of consequence concerning her mistress.\n\nThe jeweller's words did much trouble the prince of Persia. He\nwould not say so, said he to himself, if he did not suspect, or\nrather know, my secret. He remained silent for some time, not\nknowing what to answer. At length he said to the jeweller, You\nhave told me those things which make me believe that you know yet\nmore than you have acquainted me with. It will tend much to my\nquiet if I be perfectly informed; I conjure you, therefore, not\nto dissemble.\n\nThen the jeweller, who desired no better, gave him a particular\naccount of what had passed between Ebn Thaher and himself; so\nthat he let him know that he was informed of his correspondence\nwith Schemselnihar; and forgot not to tell him that Ebn Thaher\nwas afraid of the danger of being his confident in the matter,\nwhich was partly the occasion of his retiring to Balsora, to stay\ntill the storm which he feared should he over. This he has done,\nadded the jeweller; and I am surprised how he could determine to\nabandon you in the condition he informed me you was in. As for\nme, prince, I confess I am moved with compassion towards you, and\nam come to offer you my service; and if you do me the favour to\naccept of it, I engage myself to be as faithful to you as Ebn\nThaher; besides, I promise to be more constant, I am ready to\nsacrifice my honour and life for you; and, in fine, that you may\nnot doubt my sincerity, I swear, by all that is sacred in our\nreligion, to keep your secret inviolable! Be persuaded, then,\nthat you will find in me the friend that you have lost. This\ndiscourse encouraged the prince, and comforted him under Ebn\nThaher's absence. I am very glad, said he to the jeweller, to\nfind in you a reparation of my loss: I want words to express the\nobligations I am under to you. I pray God to recompense your\ngenerosity; and I accept your obliging offer with all my heart.\nBelieve it, continued he, that Schemselnihar's confident came to\nspeak to me concerning you; she told me that it was you who\nadvised Ebn Thaher to go from Bagdad; these were the last words\nshe spoke to me when she went away, and had almost persuaded me\nof it. But do not resent it; for I doubt not but she is deceived,\nafter what you have told me. Prince, replied the jeweller, I have\nhad the honour to give you a faithful account of my conversation\nwith Ebn Thaher. It is true, when he told me he would return to\nBalsora, I did not oppose his design, but said he was a wise and\nprudent man; and, that this may not hinder you from putting\nconfidence in me, I am ready to serve you with all imaginable\nzeal; which though you do otherwise, this shall not hinder me\nfrom keeping your secret religiously according to my oath. I have\nalready told you, replied the prince, that I would not believe\nwhat the confident said; it is her zeal that inspired her with\nthis groundless suspicion, and you ought to excuse it, as I do.\n\nThey continued their conversation for some time, and consulted\ntogether of convenient means to continue the prince's\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar: they agreed to begin by\ndisabusing the confident, who was so unjustly prepossessed\nagainst the jeweller. The prince engaged to undeceive her the\nfirst time she returned, and to entreat her to engage herself to\nthe jeweller, that she might bring the letters, or any other\ninformation, from her mistress to him. In fine, they agreed that\nshe ought not to come so frequently to the prince's house,\nbecause she might thereby give occasion to discover that which\nwas of so great importance to conceal. At last the jeweller rose,\nand, after having again prayed the prince of Persia to have an\nentire confidence in him, retired.\n\nThe jeweller, returning to his house, perceived before him a\nletter which somebody had dropped in the street; he took it up;\nand, not being sealed, he opened it, and found that it contained\nas follows:\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.\n\nI am informed by my confident of a piece of news which troubles\nme no less than it does you: By losing Ebn Thaher, we have indeed\nlost much; but let this not hinder you, dear prince, thinking to\npreserve yourself. If our confident has abandoned us through a\nslavish fear, let us consider that it is a misfortune which we\ncould not avoid. I confess Ebn Thaher has left us at a time when\nwe need him most; but let us fortify ourselves by patience\nagainst this unlooked-for accident, and let us not forbear to\nlove one another constantly. Fortify your heart against this\nmisfortune. Nobody can obtain what they desire without trouble.\nLet us not discourage ourselves, but hope that Heaven will favour\nus; and that, after so many afflictions, we shall come to a happy\naccomplishment of our desires. Adieu.\n\nWhile the jeweller was conversing with the prince of Persia, the\nconfident had time to return to the palace, and tell her mistress\nthe ill news of Ebn Thaher's departure. Schemselniliar\nimmediately wrote this letter, and sent back her confident with\nit to the prince of Persia; but she negligently dropped it.\n\nThe jeweller was glad to find it; for it was a good way to set\nhim right with the confident, and bring him to the point he\ndesired. When he had read it, he perceived the slave, who sought\nit with a great deal of uneasiness, looking about every where. He\nclosed it again quickly, and put it into his bosom; but the slave\ntook notice of it, and ran to him. Sir, said she, I have dropped\na letter which you had just now in your hand; I beseech you be\npleased to restore it. The jeweller, taking no notice that he\nheard her, continued his way till he came to his house. He did\nnot shut the door behind him, that the confident, who followed\nhim, might come in. She accordingly did so; and when she came to\nhis chamber, Sir, said she to him, you can make no use of the\nletter you have found; and you would make no difficulty in\nreturning it to me, if you knew from whom it came, and to whom it\nis directed. Besides, let me tell you, you cannot honestly keep\nit.\n\nBefore the jeweller answered the confident, he made her sit down,\nand said to her, Is not this letter from Schemselnihar, and\ndirected to the prince of Persia? The slave, who expected no such\nquestion, blushed. The question puzzles you, replied he, but I\nassure you I do not propose it rashly: I could have given you the\nletter in the street, but I suffered you to follow me, on purpose\nthat I might discourse with you. Tell me, is it just to impute an\nunhappy accident to people who no ways contributed towards it?\nYet this you have done, in telling the prince of Persia that it\nwas I who counselled Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad for his own\nsafety. I do not intend to lose time in justifying myself to you;\nit is enough that the prince of Persia is fully persuaded of my\ninnocence in this matter: I will only tell you, that instead of\ncontributing to Ebn Thaher's departure, I have been extremely\nafflicted at it; not so much for my friendship to him, as out of\ncompassion for the condition in which he left the prince of\nPersia, whose correspondence with Schemselnihar he has\nacknowledged to me. As soon as I knew certainly that Ebn Thaher\nwas gone from Bagdad, I presented myself to the prince, in whose\nhouse you found me, to inform him of this news, and to offer him\nthe same service which he did him; and, provided you put the same\nconfidence in me that you did in Ebn Thaher, you may serve\nyourself by my assistance. Inform your mistress of what I have\ntold you, and assure her, that if I should die for engaging in so\ndangerous an intrigue, I will rejoice to have sacrificed myself\nfor two lovers so worthy of each other.\n\nThe confident, after having heard the jeweller with great\nsatisfaction, begged him to pardon her the ill opinion she had\nconceived of him, out of the zeal she had for her mistress. I am\nextremely glad, added she, that Schemselnihar and the prince have\nfound you, who are a man fit to supply Ebn Thaher's place, and I\nshall not fail to signify to my mistress the good-will you bear\nher. After the confident had testified to the jeweller her joy to\nsee him so well disposed to serve Schemselnihar and the prince of\nPersia, the jeweller took the letter out of his bosom, and\nrestored it to her, saying, Go, carry it quickly to the prince of\nPersia, and come back this way, that I may see the answer. Forget\nnot to give him an account of our conversation.\n\nThe confident took the letter, and carried it to the prince, who\nanswered it immediately. She returned to the jeweller's house to\nshow him the answer, which was this:\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselniliar.\n\nYour precious letter had a great effect upon me, but not so great\nas I could wish. You endeavour to comfort me for the loss of Ebn\nThaher; but, alas! sensible as I am of this, it is the least of\nmy troubles! You know my malady, and that your presence only can\ncure me. When will the time come that I shall enjoy it without\nfear of being ever deprived of it? O how long does it seem to me!\nBut shall we rather flatter ourselves that we may see one\nanother? You command me to preserve myself; I will obey, since I\nhave renounced my own will to follow yours. Adieu.\n\nAfter the jeweller had read this letter, he gave it again to the\nconfident, who said, when she was going away, I will tell my\nmistress to put the same confidence in you that she did in Ebn\nThaher, and you shall hear of me to-morrow. Accordingly, next day\nshe returned with a pleasant countenance. Your very look, said he\nto her, informs me that you have brought Schemselnihar to what\nyou wished. That is true, said the confident, sand you shall hear\nhow I effected it. Yesterday, continued she, I found\nSchemselnihar expecting me with impatience; I gave her the prince\nof Persia's letter, which she read with tears in her eyes; and\nwhen she had done, I observed she had abandoned herself to her\nusual sorrow. Madam, said I, it is doubtless Ebn Thaher's removal\nthat troubles you; but suffer me to conjure you, in the name of\nGod, not to concern yourself any further about that matter. We\nhave found another who offers to oblige you with as much zeal,\nand, what is yet more important, with greater courage. Then I\nmentioned you, continued the slave, and acquainted her with the\nmotive which made you go to the prince of Persia's house. In\nshort, I assured her that you would inviolably keep the secret\nbetwixt her and the prince of Persia, and that you was* resolved\nto favour their amours with all your might. She seemed to me much\nrelieved by my discourse. Ah! what obligations, said she, are the\nprince of Persia and I under to that honest man you speak of? I\nmust see him, that I may hear from his own mouth what you tell\nme, and thank him for such an unheard-of piece of generosity\ntowards persons with whom he is no way obliged to concern\nhimself. A sight of him will please me; and I will not omit any\nthing to confirm him in those good sentiments. Do not fail to\nbring him to-morrow. Therefore, pray, sir, go with me lo the\npalace.\n\nThe confident's discourse perplexed the jeweller. Your mistress,\nreplied he, must allow me to say, that she has not thought well\nof what she requires. Ebn Thaher's access to the caliph gave him\nadmission every where; and the officers, who knew him, suffered\nhim to go and come freely to Schemselnihar's palace; but, as for\nme, how dare I enter? You see well enough that it is not\npossible. I entreat you to represent those reasons to\nSchemselnihar which hinder me giving her that satisfaction, and\nacquaint her with all the ill consequences that would result from\nit. If she considers it ever so little, she will find that it\nwould expose me needlessly to very great danger.\n\nThe confident endeavoured to encourage the jeweller: Believe me,\nsaid he, that Schemselnihar is not so unreasonable as to expose\nyou to the least danger, from whom she expects such considerable\nservices. Consider with yourself that there is not the least\nappearance of hazard: my mistress and I are too much interested\nin this affair to involve you in any danger. You may depend upon\nme, and leave yourself to my conduct. After the affair is over,\nyou will confess to me that your fear was groundless.\n\nThe jeweller hearkened to the confident's discourse, and got up\nto follow her; but, notwithstanding his natural courage, he was\nseized with such terror that his whole body trembled. In the\ncondition you are in, said she, I perceive it will be better for\nyou to stay at home, and that Schemselnihar take other measures\nto see you. It is not to be doubted but that, to satisfy her\ndesire, she will come hither herself. The case being so, sir, I\nwould not have you to go, as I am persuaded it will not be long\nbefore she comes to you. The confident foresaw this very well;\nfor she no sooner informed Schemselnihar of the jeweller's fear,\nthan she made ready to go to his house.\n\nHe received her with all the marks of profound respect. When she\nsat down, being a little fatigued with walking, she unveiled\nherself, and discovered to the jeweller such beauty as made him\nacknowledge that the prince of Persia was excusable in giving his\nheart to her. Then she saluted the jeweller with a graceful\ncountenance, and said to him, I am informed with what zeal you\nhave engaged in the prince of Persia's concerns and mine; but,\nwithout immediately forming a design to express my gratitude, I\nthank Heaven, which has so soon made up Ebn Thaher's loss.\n\nSchemselnihar said several other obliging things to the jeweller,\nafter which she returned to her palace. The jeweller went\nimmediately to give an account of this visit to the prince of\nPersia, who said to him, as soon as he saw him, I have expected\nyou impatiently. The trusty slave has brought me a letter from\nher mistress, but she does not comfort me: whatever the lovely\nSchemselnihar says, I dare not hope for any thing; my patience is\nat an end; I know not now what measures to take. Ebn Thaher's\ndeparture makes me despair; he was my only support; I lost all by\nlosing him, for I flattered myself with some hopes by reason of\nhis access to Schemselnihar.\n\nAfter these words, which the prince pronounced with so much\neagerness that he gave the jeweller no time to interrupt him, he\nsaid to the prince, No man can bear a greater share of your\naffliction than I do; and if you will have patience to hear me,\nyou will perceive that I am capable of giving you ease. Upon this\nthe prince became silent, and hearkened to him. I see very well,\nsaid the jeweller, that the only thing to give you satisfaction\nis to fall upon a way that you may converse freely with\nSchemselnihar. This I will procure you, and to-morrow will set\nabout it. You must by no means expose yourself to enter\nSchemselnihar's palace; you know by experience the danger of\nthat: I know a very fit place for this interview, where you shall\nbe safe. When the jeweller had spoken thus, the prince embraced\nhim with a transport of joy. You revive, said he, by this\ncharming promise, an unhappy lover who was resolved to die; I see\nthat you have fully repaired the loss of Ebn Thaher: whatever you\ndo will be well done; I leave myself entirely to you.\n\nThe prince, after thanking the jeweller for his zeal, returned\nhome, and next morning Schemselnihar's confident came to him. He\ntold her that he had put the prince of Persia in hopes that he\nshould see Schemselnihar speedily. I am come purposely, answered\nshe, to take measures with you for that end. I think, continued\nshe, this house will be convenient enough for their interview. I\ncould receive them very well here, replied he; but I think they\nwill have more liberty in another house of mine, where nobody\nlives at present; I will quickly furnish it for receiving them.\nSince the matter is so, replied the confident, there remains\nnothing for me to do but to make Sehemselnihar consent to it. I\nwill go tell her, and return speedily with an answer.\n\nShe was as diligent as her promise; and, returning to the\njeweller, told him that her mistress would not fail to keep the\nappointment in the evening. In the mean time she gave him a purse\nof money to prepare a collation. He sent her immediately to the\nhouse where the lovers were to meet, that she might know whither\nto bring her mistress; and when she was gone, he went to borrow\nfrom his friends vessels of gold and silver, tapestry, rich\ncushions, and other furniture, with which he furnished the house\nvery magnificently; and, when he had put all things in order,\nwent to the prince of Persia.\n\nYou may easily conceive the prince of Persia's joy, when the\njeweller told him that he came to conduct him to the house he had\nprepared to receive him and Schemselnihar. This news obliterated\nall his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and went\nwithout his retinue along with the jeweller, who led him through\nseveral by-streets, that nobody might observe him, and at last\nbrought him to the house, where they discoursed together until\nSchemselnihar came.\n\nThey did not stay long for this passionate lover. She came after\nevening-prayers, with her confident and two other slaves. The\nexcess of joy that seized those two lovers, when they saw one\nanother, it is altogether impossible to express. They sat down\ntogether upon the sofa for some time, without being able to\nspeak, they were so much overjoyed; but, when speech returned to\nthem, they soon made up for their silence. They expressed\nthemselves with so much tenderness, as made the jeweller, the\nconfident, and the two other slaves, weep. The jeweller, however,\nrestrained his tears to think upon the collation, which he\nbrought. The lovers ate and drank a little, after which they\nagain sat down on the sofa. Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if\nhe had a lute, or any other instrument. The jeweller, who took\ncare to provide all that might please them, brought her a lute,\nwhich she took some time to tune, and then played.\n\nWhile Schemselnihar was thus charming the prince of Persia, and\nexpressing her passion by words composed extempore, a great noise\nwas heard, and immediately the slave whom the jeweller brought\nwith him appeared in a terrible fright, to tell him that some\npeople were breaking up the gate; that he asked who it was, but,\ninstead of an answer, the blows were redoubled. The jeweller,\nbeing alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince, to go and\ninform himself of the truth of this bad news. There was already\ngot into the court a company of men armed with bayonets and\nscimitars, who had entered privately, and, having broken up the\ngate, came straight towards him: he stood close to a wall for\nfear of his life, and saw ten of them pass without being\nperceived by them; and, finding that he could give no help to the\nprince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he satisfied himself with\nbewailing them, and fled for refuge to a neighbour's house, who\nwas not yet gone to bed. He did not doubt that this unexpected\nviolence was by the caliph's order, who, he thought, had been\ninformed of his favourite's meeting with the prince of Persia. He\nheard a great noise in his own house, which continued till\nmidnight; and when all was quiet, as he thought, he prayed his\nneighbour to lend him a scimitar, and, being thus armed, went on\ntill he came to the gate of his own house. He entered the court\nfull of fear, and perceived a man, who asked him who he was? He\nknew by his voice that it was his own slave. How didst thou do,\nsaid he, to avoid being taken by the watch? Sir, answered the\nslave, I hid myself in a corner of the court, and I went out as\nsoon as I heard the noise. But it was not the watch who broke\nyour house; they were highwaymen, who within these few days\nrobbed another in this neighbourhood: they have doubtless had\nnotice of the rich furniture you brought hither, and had that in\ntheir view.\n\nThe jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable: he entered\nthe house, and saw that the highwaymen had taken all the\nfurniture out of the chamber where he received Schemselnihar and\nher lover; that they had also carried off the vessels of gold and\nsilver, and, in a word, had left nothing. Being in this\ncondition, O Heaven! cried he, I am irrecoverably undone! What\nwill my friends say, and what excuse can I make, when I tell them\nthat highwaymen have broken into my house, and robbed me of all\nthat they generously lent me? I shall never be able to make up\ntheir loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and the\nprince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it is\nimpossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will get\nnotice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his fury.\nThe slave, who loved him, endeavoured to comfort him thus: As to\nSchemselnihar, said he, the highwaymen probably would content\nthemselves to strip her; and you have reason to think that she is\nretired to her palace with her slaves. The prince of Persia is\nprobably in the same condition; so that you have reason to hope\nthat the caliph will never know of this adventure. As for the\nloss your friends have sustained, that is a misfortune which you\ncould not avoid. They know very well the highwaymen to be so\nnumerous, that they have not only pillaged the house I have\nalready spoken of, but many other houses of the principal\nnoblemen of the court; and they are not ignorant that,\nnotwithstanding the orders given to apprehend them, nobody has\nyet been able to seize any of them. You will be acquitted by\nrestoring your friends the value of the things that are stolen;\nand, blessed be God, you have enough left.\n\nWaiting till day, the jeweller ordered the slave to mend the gate\nof the house, which was broken up, as well as he could: after\nwhich he returned to his ordinary house with his slave, making\nsad reflections on what had befallen him. Ebn Thaher, said he to\nhimself, has been wiser than I; he foresaw the misfortune into\nwhich I have blindly thrown myself: would to God I had never\nmeddled in this intrigue, which I fear will cost me my life!\n\nIt was scarcely day, when the report of the robbery had spread\nthrough the city, and there came to the house a great many of the\njeweller's friends and neighbours, to testify their grief for\nthis misfortune, but were curious to know the particulars. He\nthanked them for their affection, and was so much the better\nsatisfied, that he heard nobody speak of Schemselnihar or the\nprince of Persia, which made him believe they were at their\nhouses. or in some secure place.\n\nWhen the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something\nto eat, but he could not taste a bit. About noon one of his\nslaves came to tell him that a man was at the gate, whom he knew\nnot, and desired to speak with him. The jeweller, not willing to\nreceive a stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak\nwith him. Though you do not know me, said the man, I know you,\nand am come to discourse with you on an important affair. The\njeweller prayed him to step in. No, answered the stranger; if you\nplease, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other\nhouse. How know you, replied the jeweller, that I have another\nhouse? I know well enough, answered the stranger: follow me, do\nnot fear any thing; I have something to communicate to you which\nwill please you. The jeweller went immediately with him; and\nafter he had considered by the way how the house they were going\nto was robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive him.\n\nWhen they were before the house, and the stranger saw the gate\nhalf broken down, he said to the jeweller, I see you have told me\nthe truth; I will carry you to a place which will be more\nconvenient. He went on when he had spoken thus, and walked all\nthe rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller being weary\nwith walking, vexed to see night approach, and the stranger\nhaving walked all day without acquainting him where he was going,\nbegan to lose patience. Then they came to a path which led them\nto the Tigris; and as soon as they came to the river, they\ncrossed in a little boat. The stranger led the jeweller through a\nlong street, where he had never been before, and, after taking\nhim through several streets, stopped at a gate, which he opened.\nHe caused the jeweller to go in, shut the gate, bolted it with a\nhuge iron bolt, and then conducted, him to a chamber, where there\nwere ten other men, all as great strangers to the jeweller as his\nconductor.\n\nThe ten men received the jeweller without any compliments. They\nbid him sit down; of which he had great need, for he was not only\nweak with walking so far, but the fear be was in, on finding\nhimself with people whom he thought he had reason to dread, would\nhave disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to\nsupper, and, as soon as he came, it was served up. They washed\ntheir hands, obliging the jeweller to do the like, and to sit at\ntable with them. After supper, the men asked him if he knew to\nwhom he spoke. He answered, No, and that he knew not the place he\nwas in. Tell us your last nights adventure, said they to him, and\nconceal nothing from us. The jeweller, being astonished at this\ndiscourse, answered, Gentlemen, it is probable you know it\nalready. That is true, replied they, the young man and the young\nlady, who were at your house yesternight, told it us; but we\nwould know it from your own mouth. The jeweller needed no more to\nbe informed that they were the highwaymen who had broken up and\nplundered his house. Gentlemen, said he, I am much troubled for\nthat young man and the lady; can you tell me any thing of them?\n\nUpon the jeweller's inquiry if they knew any thing of the young\nman and the young lady, the thieves answered, Be not concerned\nfor them; they are safe enough, and in good health: which saying,\nthey showed him two closets, where they assured him they were\nseparately shut up. They added, We are informed you only know\nwhat relates to them; which we no sooner came to understand, than\nwe showed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing\nthem any injury, that we treated them with all the kindness we\nwere capable of on your account. You may secure yourself the like\nfavour, proceeded they, in regard to your own person, and put all\nmanner of confidence in us without the least reserve.\n\nThe jeweller, being heartened at this, and overjoyed to hear that\nthe prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe, resolved to\nengage the thieves yet further in their interest. For this\npurpose he commended them, flattered them, and gave them a\nthousand benedictions. Gentlemen, said he, I must confess I have\nnot the honour of knowing you; yet it is no small happiness to me\nthat I am not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be\nsufficiently grateful for the favours which that knowledge has\nprocured me at your hands. Without mentioning so great an act of\nhumanity as that I lately received from you, I must needs say, I\nam fully persuaded that no persons in the world can be so proper\nto be trusted with a secret, and none more fit to undertake a\ngreat enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by\nyour zeal, courage, and intrepidity. In confidence of these great\nand good qualities, which are so much your due, I will not\nscruple to relate to you my whole history, with that of the two\npersons you found in my house.\n\nAfter the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the thieves\nto secrecy, he made no scruple to relate to them the whole amour\nof the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the beginning of\nit to the time he received them into his house.\n\nThe thieves were greatly astonished at the surprising particulars\nthey heard, and could not forbear crying out, How! is it possible\nthat the young man should be the illustrious Ali Elm Becar,\nprince of Persia; and the young lady the fair and celebrated\nSchemselnihar! The jeweller assured them nothing was more\ncertain, and that they needed not to think it strange that\npersons of so distinguished a character should not care to be\nknown.\n\nUpon this assurance of their quality, the thieves went\nimmediately, one after the other, and threw themselves at their\nfeet, imploring pardon, and begging them to believe they would\nnever have offered any violence to their persons, had they known\nwho they were; but, seeing they did not, they would by their\nfuture conduct do their best endeavours to make some recompence\nat least for the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Having\nmade profound reverences, they returned to the jeweller, and told\nhim they were heartily sorry they could not restore all that had\nbeen taken from him, some part of it being out of their\npossession; but as for what remained, if he would content himself\nwith his plate, it should be forthwith put into his hands.\n\nThe jeweller was overjoyed at the favour; and after the thieves\nhad delivered the plate, they required the prince, Schemselnihar,\nand him, to promise upon oath that they would not betray them,\nand they would carry them to a place whence they might easily go\nto their respective homes. The prince, Schemselnihar, and the\njeweller, replied, that they might rely on their words; but since\nthey desired an oath of them, they solemnly swore not to discover\nthem so long as they were with them. With this the thieves were\nsatisfied, and immediately set out to perform their promise.\n\nBy the way, the jeweller, being concerned that he could not see\nthe confident and the two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar and\nbegged her to inform him what was become of them. She answered,\nshe knew nothing of them, and that all she could tell him was,\nthat she was carried away from his house, ferried over a river,\nand brought to the place from whence they were just now come.\n\nSchemselnihar and the jeweller had no further discourse; they\nfound themselves at the brink of a river, whence the thieves\nimmediately took boat, and carried them to the other side.\n\nWhilst the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, were landing,\nthey heard a noise as of horse-guards that were coming towards\nthem. The thieves no sooner perceived the danger, but they took\nto their oars, and got over to the other side of the river in an\ninstant.\n\nThe commander of the brigade demanded of the prince,\nSchemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they\ncame so late. This frightened them at first so much that they\ncould not speak; but at length the jeweller found his tongue, and\nsaid, Sir, I can assure you, we are very honest people; but those\npersons who have just landed us, and are got to the other side of\nthe water, are thieves, who, having last night broken open the\nhouse that we were in, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to\nan obscure inn, where, by some entreaty and good management, we\nprevailed on them to let us have our liberty; to which end they\nbrought us hither. They have restored us part of the booty they\nhad taken from us. At these words he showed the plate he had\nrecovered.\n\nThe commander, not being satisfied with what the jeweller told\nhim, came up to him and the prince of Persia, and, looking\nsteadfastly at them, said, Tell me truly who is this lady? how\ncame you to know her? and whereabouts do you live?\n\nThis demand surprised them strangely, and tied their tongues,\ninsomuch that neither of them could answer; till at length\nSchemselnihar, taking the commander aside, told him frankly who\nshe was; which he no sooner came to know, than he alighted, paid\nboth her and the company great respect, and caused two boats to\nbe got ready for their service.\n\nWhen the boats were come, he put Schemselnihar into one, and the\nprince of Persia and the jeweller into the other, with two of his\npeople in each: they had orders to accompany them whithersoever\nthey were bound. Being abroad, the two boats took different\nroutes; but we shall at present speak only of that wherein were\nthe prince and the jeweller.\n\nThe prince, to save his guides trouble, bid them land the\njeweller with him, and named the place whither he would go. The\nguides, mistaking his orders, stopped just before the caliph's\npalace, which put both him and the jeweller into a fright, though\nhe durst discover nothing of the matter; for though they had\nheard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help\nimagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, and brought\nbefore the caliph next morning.\n\nThis, nevertheless, was not the intention of the guides; for,\nafter they had landed them, they, by their master's command,\nrecommended them to an officer of the guard, who next morning\nassigned them soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's\nchateau, which was at some distance from the river.\n\nThe prince being come home, what with the fatigue of his journey,\nand the affliction he conceived at being never likely again to\nsee Schemselnihar, fell into a swoon on his sofa; and while the\ngreater part of his servants was endeavouring to recover him, the\nother part gathered about the jeweller, and begged of him to tell\nthem what had happened to the prince their lord, whose absence\nhad occasioned inexpressible disquiet.\n\nThe jeweller, who would discover nothing to them that was not\nprudent to be repealed, told them it was not a proper time for\nsuch a relation, and that they would do better to go and assist\nthe prince, than require anything of him, especially at that\njuncture. The prince fortunately came to himself that very\nmoment; when those that but just before required his history with\nso much earnestness, began now to get at a distance, and pay that\nrespect which was due from them. Although the prince had in some\nmeasure recovered himself, yet he continued so weak, that he\ncould not open his mouth. He answered only by signs, and that\neven to his nearest relations who spoke to him. He remained in\nthe same condition till next morning, when the jeweller came to\ntake leave of him. His answer was only with a wink, holding forth\nhis right hand; but when he saw he was loaded with the bundle of\nplate the thieves had taken from him, he made a sign to his\nservants that they should take and carry it along with him to his\nhouse.\n\nThe jeweller had been expected home with great impatience by his\nfamily the day he went forth with the man that came to ask for\nhim, and whom he did not know; but no who was quite given over,\nand it was no longer doubted that some disaster had befallen him.\nHis wife, children, and servants, were in continual grief, and\nlamented him night and day; but at length, when they saw him\nagain, their joy was so great, they could hardly contain\nthemselves; yet they were troubled to find that his countenance\nwas greatly altered from what it had been before, insomuch that\nhe was hardly to be known. This was thought to have been\noccasioned by his great fatigue, and the fears he had undergone,\nwhich would not let him sleep. Finding himself something out of\norder, he continued within doors for two days, and would admit\nonly one of his intimate friends to visit him.\n\nThe third day, perceiving himself better, he thought he might\nregain strength by going abroad, and therefore went to the shop\nof a rich friend of his, with whom he continued long in\ndiscourse. As he was rising to go home, he observed a woman make\na sign to him, whom he presently knew to be the confident of\nSchemselnihar. Partly out of fear, and partly through joy, he\nmade what haste he could away, without looking at her; but she\nfollowed him, as he very well knew she would, the place in which\nthey saw each other being by no means proper for an interview. As\nhe walked a little faster than usual, she could not overtake him,\nand therefore every now and then called out to stop. He heard\nher, it is true; but, after what had happened, he did not think\nfit to take notice of her in public, for fear of giving cause to\nbelieve that he had been with Schemselnihar. In short, it was\nknown to every body in Bagdad that this woman belonged to her,\nand therefore he thought it prudent to conceal his having any\nknowledge of her. He continued the same pace, and at last came to\na mosque, where he knew but few people resorted; there he\nentered, and she after him, wherein they had a long converse\ntogether, without any body overhearing them.\n\nBoth the jeweller and the confident expressed a great deal of joy\nat seeing each other after the strange adventure occasioned by\nthe thieves, and their reciprocal concern for each other's\nwelfare, without mentioning a word of what related to their own\nparticular persons.\n\nThe jeweller would needs have her relate to him how she escaped\nwith the two slaves, and what she knew of Sehemselnihar from the\ntime he had left her; but so great were her importunities to be\ninformed of what had happened to him from the time of their\nunexpected separation, that he found himself obliged to comply.\nHaving finished what she desired, he told her that he expected\nshe would oblige him in her turn; which she did in the following\nmanner.\n\nWhen I first saw the thieves, said she, I imagined, rightly\nconsidered, that they were of the caliph's guard, who, being\ninformed of the escape of Schemselnihar, had sent them to take\naway the lives of the prince and us all; but, being convinced of\nthe error of that thought, I immediately got upon the leads of\nyour house, at the same time that the thieves entered the chamber\nwhere the prince and Schemselnihar were, and was soon after\nfollowed by that lady's two slaves. From lead to lead, we came at\nlast to a house of very honest people, who received us with a\ngreat deal of civility, and with whom we lodged that night.\n\nNext morning, after we had returned thanks to the master of the\nhouse for our good usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's hotel,\nwhich we entered in great disorder, and the more so as we could\nnot learn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women\nof Schemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their\nlady. We told them we had left her at the house of a lady, one of\nher friends, and that she would send for us when she had a mind\nto come home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.\n\nFor my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness; and when night\ncame, opening a little back gate, I espied a boat driven along by\nthe stream. Calling to the waterman, I desired him to row up the\nriver, to see if he could not meet a lady, and, if he found her,\nto bring her along with him. The two slaves and I waited\nimpatiently for his return; and at length, about midnight, we saw\nthe boat coming down with two men in it, and a woman lying along\nin the stern. When the boat came up, the two men helped the woman\nto rise; and then it was that I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I\nrejoiced so greatly to see her, that I cannot sufficiently\nexpress myself.\n\nI gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat. She\nhad no small occasion for my assistance, for she could hardly\nstand. When she was ashore, she whispered me in the ear in an\nafflicted tone, bidding me go and take a purse of a thousand\npieces of gold, and give to the soldiers who had waited on her. I\nobeyed, leaving her to be supported by the two slaves; and,\nhaving paid the waterman, shut the back door.\n\nI then followed my lady, who was hardly got to her chamber before\nI overtook her. We undressed her, and put her to bed, where she\nhad not long been before she was ready to give up the ghost; in\nwhich condition she continued the remainder of the night. The day\nfollowing, her other women expressed a great desire to see her;\nbut I told them she had been much fatigued, and wanted rest to\nrestore her. The other women and I, nevertheless, gave her all\nthe assistance we possibly could. She persisted in swallowing\nnothing which we offered; and we must have despaired of her life,\nhad I not persuaded her to take a spoonful or two of wine, which\nhad a sensible effect on her. By mere importunity, we at length\nprevailed upon her to eat also.\n\nWhen she came to the use of her speech, for she had hitherto only\nmourned, groaned, and sighed, I begged her to tell me how she\nescaped out of the hands of the thieves. Why should you require\nof me, said she, with a profound sigh, what will but renew my\ngrief? Would to God the thieves had taken away my life, rather\nthan preserved it, as in that case my misfortunes would have had\nan end; whereas I now live but to increase my torment.\n\nMadam, replied I, I beg you will not refuse me this favour. You\ncannot but know that unhappy people have a certain consolation in\nventing their misfortunes; and if you be pleased to relate yours,\nI doubt not that you will find some relief in so doing.\n\nWhy then, said she, lend your ear to a story the most afflicting\nthat can be imagined. You must know, when I first saw the thieves\nentering with sword in hand, I believed it the last moment of my\nlife: but dying did not then seem so shocking to me, since I\nthought I was to die with the prince of Persia. However, instead\nof murdering, two of the thieves were ordered to take care of us,\nwhilst their companions were busied in packing up the goods which\nthey found in the house. When they had done, and had got their\nbundles upon their backs, they went away, carrying us along with\nthem.\n\nAs we went along one of those who had the charge of us demanded\nof me briskly who I was: I answered, I was a dancer. He put the\nsame question to the prince, who replied that he was a\nshopkeeper.\n\nWhen they were come to the place whither they were going, I had\nnew fears to alarm me; for they gathered about us, and, after\nconsidering well my habit, and the rich jewels I was adorned\nwith, they seemed to think that I had disguised my quality.\nDancers, said they, do not use to be dressed as you are; pray\ntell us truly who you are.\n\n When they saw I answered nothing, they asked the prince once\nmore who he was; for they told him they perceived he was not the\nperson he pretended. He did not satisfy them any more than I had\ndone; but only told them he came to see the jeweller, who was the\nowner of the house where they found us. I know this jeweller,\nsaid one of the rogues, who seemed to have some authority over\nthe rest; I have some obligations to him, of which he yet knows\nnothing; and I take upon me to bring him hither to-morrow morning\nfrom another house he has; but you must not expect to stir till\nhe come and tell us who you are; though, in the mean time, I\npromise there shall be no manner of injury offered to you.\n\nThe jeweller was brought next morning, as he said; who, thinking\nto oblige us, as he really did, declared to the rogues the whole\ntruth of the matter. The thieves no sooner knew who we were, but\nthey came and asked my pardon; and I believe did the like to the\nprince, who was shut up in another room. They protested to me,\nthey would not have broken open the jeweller's house, had they\nknown whose it was. They soon after took us, (the prince, the\njeweller, and myself), and carried us to the river-side, where,\nhaving put us on board the boat, they rowed us across the water;\nbut we were no sooner landed, than a party of the horse-guards\ncame up to us.\n\nThe rogues fled. I took the commander aside, and told him my\nname, informing him withal, that the night before I had be seized\nby robbers who forced me along with them; but having been told\nwho I was, they had re*aleased me, and the two persons he saw\nwith me, on my account. He alighted and paid his respects to me;\nand expressing a great deal of joy for being able to oblige me,\nhe caused two boats to be brought, putting me and two of his\nsoldiers, whom you have seen, into one, and the prince, and\njeweller, with two more, into the other. My guides have conducted\nme hither; but what is become of the prince and his friend, I\ncannot tell.\n\nI trust in Heaven, added she, with a shower of tears, no harm has\nhappened to them since our separation; and I do not doubt that\nthe prince's concern is equal to mine. The jeweller, to whom we\nhave been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss\nhe has sustained on our account. Do not you therefore fail, said\nshe, speaking to the confident, to take two purses of a thousand\npieces of gold each, and carry them to him to-morrow morning in\nmy name; and, at the same time, be sure to inquire after the\nprince's welfare.\n\nWhen my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to the\nlast article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to calm her\nmind, which was in some disorder, and to persuade her not to\nyield so much to love, since the danger she had so lately escaped\nwould be soon renewed by such indulgence. She bid me hold my\ntongue, and do what she had commanded. I was forced to be silent,\nand am come hither to obey her commands without any further\nscruple. I have been at your house, and, not finding you at home,\nwas about to have gone to wait on the prince of Persia, but did\nnot dare to attempt so great a journey. I have left the two\npurses with a particular friend of mine, and, if you have\npatience, I shall go and fetch them immediately.\n\nThe confident returned quickly to the jeweller in the mosque,\nwhere she had left him. She gave him the two purses, and bid him\naccept them for her lady's sake. They are more than necessary,\nsaid the jeweller; and I can never be enough thankful for so\ngreat a present from so good and generous a lady: but I beseech\nyou to acquaint her, on my behalf, that I shall preserve an\neternal remembrance of her bounties. He then agreed with the\nconfident, that she should find him at the place where she had\nfirst seen him whenever she had occasion to impart any commands\nfrom Schemselnihar, or to know any thing of the prince of Persia.\n\nThe jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only that he\nhad got wherewithal plentifully to make up his losses, but also\nto think that no person in Bagdad could possibly come to know of\nthe prince and Schemselnihar being in his other house when it was\nrobbed. It is true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but\ntheir secrecy he thought might very well be depended on, as he\nimagined they had not sufficient converse with the world to give\nhim any disturbance. He therefore hugged himself in his good\nfortune, paid his debts, and furnished both his houses to a\nnicety. Thus he forgot all his past danger, and next morning set\nout to wait on the prince of Persia.\n\nThe prince's domestics told the jeweller, on his arrival, that he\ncame in very good time to make their lord speak, for they had not\nbeen able to get a word out of him ever since he was there. They\nintroduced him softly into his chamber, where he found him in\nsuch a condition as raised his pity. He was lying in bed, with\nhis eye-lids shut; but when the jeweller saluted him, and\nexhorted him to take courage, be faintly opened his eyes, and\nregarded him with such an aspect, as sufficiently declared the\ngreatness of his affliction. He, however, took and grasped him by\nthe hand, to testify his friendship, telling him, in a faint and\nweak tone, that he was extremely obliged to him for coming so far\nto seek one so exceedingly unhappy and miserable.\n\nMy lord, replied the jeweller, mention not, I beseech you, any\nobligations you owe to me; I could wish, with all my soul, that\nthe good offices I have endeavoured to do you had had a better\neffect. But, at present, let us discourse only of your health,\nwhich I fear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from\nproper nourishment.\n\nThe prince's servants, hearing the jeweller say this, took\noccasion to let him know that it was with the greatest difficulty\nthey had prevailed on him to take even the smallest morsel and\nthat for some time he had taken nothing. This obliged the\njeweller to beg the prince to let his servants bring him\nsomething to eat, which favour he obtained with much\nintercession.\n\nAfter the prince had eaten more largely than he had hitherto, at\nthe persuasion of the jeweller, he commanded the servants to quit\nthe room, and leave him alone with his friend. When the room was\nclear, he said, In conjunction with my misfortune which distracts\nme, I have been exceedingly concerned to think of what you have\nsuffered on my account; and as it is but reasonable that I should\nmake you a recompence, I shall be sure to take the first\nopportunity; at present, however, begging only your pardon a\nthousand times, I must conjure you to tell me whether you have\nlearnt any thing of Schemselnihar since I had the misfortune to\nbe parted from her.\n\nHere the jeweller, upon the confident's information, related to\nhim all that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her hotel, her\nstate of health from the time he had left her, and how she had\nsent her confident to him to inquire after his highness's\nwelfare.\n\nTo all this the prince replied with sighs and tears only; then he\nmade an effort to get up, and, being assisted by the jeweller,\nmade shift to rise. Being upon his legs, he called his servants,\nand made them open his wardrobe, whither he went in person, and\nhaving caused several bundles of rich goods and plate to be\npacked up, ordered them to be carried to the jeweller's house.\n\nThe jeweller would fain have withstood this kind offer; but\nalthough he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him\nmore than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince\nwould be obeyed. The jeweller thought himself obliged to make\nevery possible acknowledgment, and protested how much he was\nconfounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken\nhis leave, but the prince would not let him; so they passed in\ndiscourse the greater part of the night.\n\nNext morning the jeweller waited again on the prince before he\nwent away, but he would not let him stir; he must first sit down,\nand hear what he had to say. You know, said he, there is an end\nproposed in all things. Now, the end the lover proposes, is to\nenjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If he loses\nthat hope, he must not think to live. You also know that this is\nmy hard case; for when I had been twice at the very point of\nfulfilling my desires, I was all of a sudden torn from her I\nloved in the most cruel manner imaginable: I had then no more to\ndo, but to think of death; and I had certainly proved my own\nexecutioner, did not our holy laws forbid us to commit suicide.\nBut there is no need of such violent means; death will soon do\nits own work by a sure though gentle method; I find myself in a\nmanner gone, and that I have not long to wait the welcome blow.\nHere he was silent, and vented the rest of his passion only in\ngroans, sighs, and tears, which came from him in great abundance.\n\nThe jeweller, who knew no better way of turning him from despair\nthan by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving him some\nhopes of enjoying her, told him, he feared the confident might be\ncome from her lady, and therefore did not think it proper to stay\nany longer from home. I will let you go, said the prince; but\nconjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to assure\nSchemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do every minute, I\nwill love her to the last moment, and bless her with my last\nbreath.\n\nThe jeweller returned home in expectation of seeing the\nconfident, who came some few hours after, but all in tears, and\nin great affliction. He asked, with great earnestness, what was\nthe matter; she answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince,\nherself, and he, were all ruined. He demanded how. Hear the sad\nnews, said she, as it was told me just upon my entering our\nhotel, after I had left you.\n\nSchemselnihar had, it seems, for some fault, chastised one of the\nslaves you saw with her in your other house; the slave, enraged\nat the ill treatment, ran presently, and, finding the gate open,\nwent forth; so that we have just reason to believe she has\ndiscovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her\nprotection, as we have since heard.\n\nThis is not all. The other slave, her companion, is fled too, and\nhas taken refuge in the caliph's palace, so that we may well fear\nshe has acted her part in a discovery; for, just as I came away,\nthe caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for Schemselnihar, who\ncarried her to the palace. I just found means to come and tell\nyou this, yet I fear no good will come of it; but, above all, I\nrecommend it to you as a secret.\n\nThe confident added, that it was expedient he should go and\nacquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be ready\non all occasions, and contribute what he was able to the common\ncause; upon which she departed in great haste, without speaking a\nword more, or waiting for an answer.\n\nWhat answer, however, could the jeweller have made, in the\ndeplorable condition he was placed? He stood still as if\nthunderstruck, and had not a word to say. He was, however,\nsensible that the affair required expedition, and therefore went\nimmediately to give the prince an account of it. He addressed\nhimself to him with an air that sufficiently showed the bad news\nhe brought. Prince, said he to him, arm yourself with courage and\npatience, and prepare to receive the most terrible assault ever\nyet made on your nature. Tell me, in few words, said the prince,\nwhat it is I must prepare to receive; for if it be death only, I\nam ready and willing to undergo it.\n\nThen the jeweller told him all that he had learned from the\nconfident. You see, continued he, that your destruction is\ninevitable, if you delay. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the\ntime is precious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to\nthe anger of the caliph, and should much less confess any thing\nin the midst of torments.\n\nAt these words the prince was almost ready to expire with grief,\naffliction, and fear; he recovered, however, and demanded of the\njeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this\nunhappy conjuncture. The jeweller told him he thought nothing\nmore proper than that he should immediately take horse, and haste\naway towards Anbar, [Footnote: Anbar is a city on the Tigris,\ntwenty leagues below Bagdad.] that he might get thither with all\nconvenient speed. Take what servants and horses you think\nnecessary, continued he, and suffer me to escape with you.\n\nThe prince, seeing nothing more advisable, immediately gave\norders for such an equipage as would be least troublesome; so\nhaving put some money and jewels in his pocket, and taking leave\nof his mother, he departed in company with the jeweller, and with\nsuch servants as he had chosen. They travelled all that day and\nthe day following without stopping, till at length, about the\ndusk of the evening, their horses and selves being greatly\nfatigued, they alighted at an inn to refresh themselves.\n\nThey had hardly sat down, before they found themselves surrounded\nand assaulted by a gang of thieves. They defended their lives for\nsome time courageously; but, at length, the prince's servants\nbeing all killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield\nat discretion. The thieves, however, spared their lives; but,\nafter they had seized their horses and baggage, they took away\ntheir clothes, and left them naked.\n\nIn this condition, and after the thieves had left them, the\nprince said to the jeweller, What is to be done, my friend, in\nthis conjuncture? Had I not better, think you, have tarried in\nBagdad, and undergone any fate, rather than have been reduced to\nthis extremity? My lord, replied the jeweller, it is the decree\nof Heaven that we should thus suffer. It has pleased God to add\naffliction to affliction, and we must not murmur at it, but\nreceive his chastisements with submission. Let us stay no longer\nhere, but go and look out for some place where we may be\nconcealed and relieved.\n\nNo, let me rather die, said the prince; for what signifies it\nwhether I die here or elsewhere? for die I know I must very\nshortly. It may be, this very minute that we are talking,\nSchemselnihar is no more! And why should I endeavour to live\nafter she is dead? The jeweller at length prevailed on him to go;\nbut they had not gone far before they came to a mosque, which,\nbeing open, they entered, and passed there the remainder of the\nnight.\n\nAt day-break a single man came into the mosque to his devotion.\nWhen he had ended his prayer, and was turning to go out, he\nperceived the prince and the jeweller, who were sitting in a\ncorner to conceal themselves. He went up to them; and, saluting\nthem with a great deal of civility, said, By what I perceive,\ngentlemen, you seem to be strangers.\n\nThe jeweller answered, You are not deceived, sir. We have been\nrobbed to-night in coming from Bagdad, and retired hither for\nshelter. If you can relieve us in our necessities, we shall he\nvery much obliged to you, for we know nobody here to whom to\napply to. The man answered, If you think fit to come to my house,\nI shall do what I can for you.\n\nUpon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and\nsaid in his ear, This man, as far as I can perceive, sir, does\nnot know us; therefore we had better go with him, than stay here\nto be exposed to the sight of somebody that may. Do as you\nplease, said the prince; I am willing to be guided by your\ndiscretion.\n\nThe man, observing the prince and jeweller consulting together,\nthought they made some difficulty to accept his proposition;\nwherefore he demanded of them if they were resolved what to do.\nThe jeweller answered, We are ready to follow you whither you\nplease; all that we make a difficulty about is to appear thus\nnaked.\n\nLet not that trouble you, said the man; we shall find wherewithal\nto clothe you, I warrant you. They were no sooner got to the\nhouse, than he brought forth a very handsome suit for each of\nthem. Next, as he thought they must be very hungry, and have a\nmind to go to bed, he had several plates of meat brought out to\nthem by a slave; but they ate little, particularly the prince,\nwho was so dejected and dispirited, as gave the jeweller cause to\nfear he would die. They went to bed, and their host left them to\ntheir repose; but they had no sooner lain down, than the jeweller\nwas forced to call him again to assist at the death of the\nprince. He breathed short, and with difficulty; which gave him\nreason to fear he had but a few minutes to live. Coming near him,\nthe prince said, It is done; and I am glad you are by, to be\nwitness of my last words. I quit this life with a great deal of\nsatisfaction; but I need not tell you the reason, for you know it\ntoo well already. All the regret I have is, that I cannot die in\nthe arms of my dearest mother, who has always loved me with a\ntenderness not to be expressed, and for whom I had a reciprocal\naffection. She will undoubtedly be not a little grieved that she\ncould not close my eyes, and bury me with her own hands. But let\nher know how much I was concerned at this; and desire her, in my\nname, to have my corpse transported to Bagdad, that she may have\nan opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my\ndeparted soul with her prayers. He then took notice of the master\nof the house, thanked him for the several favours he had received\nfrom him, and desired him to let his body be deposited with him\ntill such time as it should be carried away to Bagdad. Having\nsaid this, he turned aside and expired.\n\nThe day after the prince's death, the jeweller took the\nopportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and\narrived there some time after in safety. He first went home to\nchange his clothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace,\nwhere every body was surprised that their lord was not come with\nhim. He desired them to acquaint the prince's mother that he must\nspeak to her immediately; and it was not long before he was\nintroduced to her. She was seated in a hall, with several of her\nwomen about her. Madam, said he to her, with an air that\nsufficiently denoted his ill news, God preserve your highness,\nand shower down the choicest of his blessings upon you! You\ncannot be ignorant that it is he alone who disposes of us all at\nhis pleasure.\n\nThe princess would not give him leave to go on, but cried out,\nAlas, you bring me the deplorable news of my son's death! At\nwhich words she and her women set up such a hideous outcry, as\nsoon brought fresh tears into the jeweller's eyes. She thus\ntormented and grieved herself a long while before the unfortunate\nmessenger was allowed to go on. At length, however, she gave a\ntruce to her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue the\nfatal relation, without concealing from her the least\ncircumstance. He did as she commanded; and, when he had done, she\nfurther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given him\nin charge something more particular. He assured her his last\nwords were, that it was the greatest concern to him that he must\ndie so far distant from his dear mother, and that he earnestly\nentreated she would be pleased to have his corpse transported to\nBagdad. Accordingly, next morning at day-break, the princess set\nout, with her women and great part of her slaves, to bring her\nson's body to her own palace.\n\nThe jeweller, having taken leave of her, returned home very sad\nand melancholy, to think he had lost so good a friend, and so\naccomplished a prince, in the flower of his age.\n\nAs he came near his house, dejected and musing, on a sudden\nlifting up his eyes, he saw a woman in mourning and tears\nstanding before him. He presently knew her to be the confident,\nwho had stood there grieving for some time that she could not see\nhim. At the sight of her, his tears began to flow afresh, but he\nsaid nothing to her; and, going into his own house, she followed\nhim.\n\nThey sat down, when the jeweller, beginning the dismal discourse,\nasked the confident, with a deep sigh, if she had heard nothing\nof the death of the prince of Persia, or if it was on his account\nthat she grieved? Alas! answered she; what! is that charming\nprince then, dead? He has not lived long after his dear\nSchemselnihar. Beauteous souls! continued she, in whatsoever\nplace ye now are, ye ought to be pleased that your loves will no\nmore be interrupted. Your bodies were before an obstacle to your\nwishes; but now, being delivered from them, you may unite as\nclosely as you please.\n\nThe jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and\nhad not observed that the confident was in mourning, through the\nexcessive grief that blinded him, was now afflicted anew. Is\nSchemselnihar then dead? cried he, in great astonishment. She is\ndead, replied the confident, weeping afresh; and it is for her\nthat I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death are\nextraordinary, continued she; therefore it is but requisite you\nshould know them; but, before I give you an account of them, I\nbeg you to let me know those of the prince of Persia, whom, in\nconjunction with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament\nas long as I live.\n\nThe jeweller then gave the confident the satisfaction she\ndesired; and, after he had told her all, even to the departure of\nthe prince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began,\nand said, You have not forgotten, I suppose, that I told you the\ncaliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace; and it is true,\nas we had all the reason in the world to believe, he had been\ninformed of the amour between her and the prince by the two\nslaves, whom he had examined apart. Now, you will be apt to\nimagine he must of necessity be exceedingly enraged at\nSchemselnihar, and discover many tokens of jealousy and revenge\nagainst the prince; but I must tell you he had neither one nor\nthe other, aud lamented only his dear mistress forsaking him,\nwhich he in some measure attributed to himself, in giving her so\nmuch freedom to walk about the city without his eunuchs. This was\nall the resentment he showed, as you will find by his carriage\ntowards her.\n\nHe received her with an open countenance; and when he observed\nthe sadness she was under, which nevertheless did not lessen her\nbeauty, with a goodness peculiar to himself, he said,\nSchemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing thus before me with\nan air of affliction. You must be sensible how much I have always\nloved you by the continual demonstrations I have given you; and I\ncan never change my mind, for even now I love you more than ever.\nYou have enemies, Schemselnihar, proceeded he; and those enemies\nhave done you all the wrong they can. For this purpose they have\nfilled my ears with stories against you, which have not made the\nleast impression upon me. Shake off, then, this melancholy,\ncontinued he, and prepare to entertain your lord this night after\nyour accustomed manner. He said many other obliging things to\nher, and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment,\nand stay for him.\n\nThe afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the kindness the\ncaliph had for her; but the more she thought herself obliged to\nhim, the more she was concerned that she was so far off from the\nprince, without whom she could not live, and yet was afraid she\nshould never see him more.\n\nThis interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar, continued\nthe confident, was whilst I came to speak with you; and I learned\nthe particulars of it from my companions, who were present. But I\nhad no sooner left you, proceeded she, than I went to my dear\nmistress again, and was an eye-witness to what happened\nafterwards. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and, as\nshe thought I came from you, she came to me, and whispering in my\near, said, I am much obliged to you for the service you have been\ndoing me, but fear it will be the last. I took no notice of her\nwords, and she said no more to me; but if I had a mind to say any\nthing to comfort her, I was in a place by no means proper for\ndisclosing my thoughts.\n\nThe caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments\nupon which our women played, and the collation was immediately\nserved up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit\ndown with him on the sofa; which she did with such regret, that\nshe expired some few minutes after. In short, she was hardly sat\ndown, when she fell backwards; which the caliph believed to be\nonly a swoon, and so we all thought; but when we endeavoured to\nbring her to herself, we found she was quite gone, which you may\nimagine not a little afflicted us.\n\nThe caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to\nrefrain from tears, and, before he left the room, ordered all the\nmusical instruments to be broken, which was immediately executed.\nFor my part, I staid with her corpse all night, and next morning\nbathed it with my tears, and dressed it for the funeral. The\ncaliph had her interred soon after in a magnificent tomb he had\nerected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be\nburied in. Now, since you tell me, said she, the prince of\nPersia's body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best\nendeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb, which may\nbe at least some satisfaction to two such faithful lovers.\n\nThe jeweller was somewhat surprised at this resolution of the\nconfident's, and said, Certainly you do not consider that this\nenterprise is in a manner impossible, for the caliph will never\nsuffer it. Do not you be concerned at that, replied she; for you\nwill undoubtedly be of another opinion after I have told you that\nthe caliph has given liberty to all her slaves in general, with a\nconsiderable pension to each for their subsistence; and as to me\nin particular, has honoured me with the charge of my mistress's\ntomb, and allotted me an annual income for my maintenance.\nMoreover, you must think that the caliph, who was not ignorant of\nthe amour betweeen Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have\nalready told you, will not be a whit concerned if now, after her\ndeath, he be buried with her. To all this the jeweller had not a\nword to say, yet earnestly entreated the confident to conduct him\nto her mistress's tomb, that he might say his prayers over her.\nWhen he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to\nfind a vast number of people of both sexes, who were come thither\nfrom all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he\nsaid his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confident,\nwho waited hard by, he said to her, I am altogether of a contrary\nopinion to what I was just now; for now I am so far from thinking\nthat what you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I\nneed only tell abroad what we know of the amour of this\nunfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same\ntime with his mistress, and is now bringing up to be buried; the\npeople will bring the thing about, and not suffer that two such\nfaithful lovers should be separated when dead, whom nothing could\ndivide in affection whilst they lived. As he said, so it came to\npass; for as soon as it came to be known that the corpse was\nwithin a day's journey of the city, the inhabitants almost of all\nsorts went forth, met it above twenty miles off, and marched\nbefore it, till it came to the city gate; where the confident,\nwaiting for that purpose, presented herself before the prince's\nmother, and begged her, in the name of the whole city, that she\nwould be pleased to consent that the bodies of the two lovers,\nwho had but one heart whilst they lived, especially during their\namour, might be buried in the same tomb now they were dead. The\nprincess immediately consented; and the corpse of the prince,\ninstead of being deposited in his own burying-place, was laid by\nSchemselnihar's side, after it had been carried in procession at\nthe head of an infinite number of people, of all conditions and\ndegrees: nay, from that very time, all the inhabitants of Bagdad,\nand even strangers, from such parts of the world as honoured the\nMahometan religion, have had a mighty veneration for that tomb,\nand paid their devotion at it as often as opportunity would give\nthem leave.\n\nThis, sir, said Scheherazade, who now perceived the day begin to\napproach, is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the\namour of the fair Schemselnihar, mistress to the caliph Haroun\nAlraschid, and the worthy Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.\n\nWhen Dinarzade observed that her sister the sultaness had done\nspeaking, she thanked her in the most obliging manner for her\nentertainment in a history so exceedingly agreeable.\n\nIf the sultan will be pleased to let me live till to-morrow, said\nScheherazade, I will also relate that of prince Camaralzaman\n[Footnote: This word, in Arabic, signifies the Moon of the Time,\nor the Moon of the Age.], which you will find yet more agreeable.\nHere she stopped; and the sultan, who could not yet resolve on\nher death, permitted her to go on next night in the following\nmanner.\n\n\n\n\n\n                   THE STORY OF THE AMOURS OF\n            CAMARALZAMAN, PRINCE OF THE ISLES of THE\n             CHILDREN OF KHALEDAN; AND OF BADOURA,\n                       PRINCESS OF CHINA.\n\n\n\nAbout twenty days sail on the coast of Persia, there are islands\nin the main ocean, called the islands of the Children of\nKhaledan; these islands are divided into four great provinces,\nwhich have all of them very flourishing and populous cities, and\nwhich make together a most potent kingdom. It is governed by a\nking named Schahzaman [Footnote: That is to say, in Persic, King\nof the Time, or King of the Age.], who has four lawful wives, all\ndaughters of kings, and sixty concubines.\n\nSchahzaman thought himself the most happy monarch of the world,\nas well on account of his peaceful as prosperous reign. One thing\nonly disturbed his happiness, which was, that he was pretty old,\nand had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew not\nwhat to attribute this barrenness to; and what increased his\naffliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a\nsuccessor. He dissembled his discontent a long while; and, what\nwas yet more uneasy to him, he was constrained to dissemble. At\nlength, however, he broke silence; and one day, after he had\ncomplained bitterly of his misfortune to his grand vizier, he\ndemanded of him if he knew any remedy for it.\n\nThat wise minister replied, If what your majesty requires of me\nhad depended on the ordinary methods of human wisdom, you had\nsoon had an answer to your satisfaction; but, as my experience\nand knowledge are not sufficient to content you, I must advise\nyou to have recourse to the Divine Power alone, who, in the midst\nof our prosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, is\npleased so to limit our discernment, that we may apply only to\nhis omniscience for what we have occasion to know. Your majesty\nhas subjects, proceeded he, who make a profession of loving and\nhonouring God, and suffering great hardships for his sake; to\nthem I would advise you to have recourse, and engage them by alms\nto join their prayers with yours; it may be, some among them may\nbe so just and agreeable to God as to obtain what they pray for.\n\nKing Schahzaman approved of this advice very much, and thanked\nhis vizier for it: he immediately caused rich alms to be given to\nevery monastery in his dominions; and having sent for the\nsuperiors, declared to them his intention, and desired them to\nacquaint their monks with it.\n\nThe king, in short, obtained of Heaven what he requested; for in\nnine months time he had a son born of one of his wives. In return\nfor this favour, he sent new alms to the religious houses; and\nthe prince's birth-day was celebrated throughout his dominions\nfor a week together. The prince was brought to him as soon as\nborn; and he found him so beautiful, that he gave him the name of\nCamaralzaman; that is, the Moon of the Age.\n\nHe was educated with all the care imaginable; and when he came to\nbe old enough, his father appointed him a governor and able\npreceptors. These distinguished persons found him capable of\nreceiving all the instructions that were proper to be given him,\nas well in relation to morals, as to other knowledge a prince\nought to have. When he came to be somewhat older, he learned all\nhis exercises; of which he acquitted himself with so much grace\nand wonderful address, that he charmed all who saw him, and\nparticularly the sultan his father.\n\nHaving attained the age of fifteen years, the sultan, who loved\nhim tenderly, thought of resigning his throne to him, and\nacquainted his grand vizier with his intentions. I am afraid,\nsaid he, lest my son should lose those advantages in youth which\nnature and education have given him; therefore, since I am\nsomewhat advanced in age, and fit for a retreat, I have had\nthoughts of resigning the government to him, and passing the\nremainder of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I\nhave undergone the fatigue of a crown a long while, and think it\nis now proper for me to retire.\n\nThe grand vizier would not offer all the reasons he could have\nbrought to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the\ncontrary, he agreed with him in some measure. Sir, replied he,\nthe prince is yet but young; and it would not, in my humble\nopinion, be wholly advisable to burden him with the weight of a\ncrown so soon. Your majesty fears, with a great deal of reason,\nthat his youth may be corrupted; but then, to remedy that, does\nnot your majesty likewise think it would be proper to marry him,\nmarriage being what would keep him within bounds, and confine his\ninclinations? Moreover, your majesty might then admit him of your\ncouncil, where he would learn by degrees the art of reigning, and\nconsequently be fit to receive your power, whenever you shall\nthink proper to bestow it on him.\n\nSchahzaman found this advice of his prime minister highly\nreasonable, and therefore summoned the prince to appear before\nhim, dismissing the grand vizier at the same time.\n\nThe prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at\ncertain times, was a little startled at this irregular summons;\ntherefore, when he came before him, he saluted him with great\nrespect, and afterwards stood still, with his eyes fixed on the\nground.\n\nThe sultan, perceiving his surprise, said to him in a mild way,\nDo you know, son, for what reason I have sent for you hither? No,\nmay it please your majesty, answered the prince, modestly: God\nalone knows how to penetrate hearts. I should be glad to know of\nyour majesty for what reason? Why, I sent for you, said the\nsultan, to let you know that I design to marry you: what do you\nthink of it?\n\nPrince Camaralzaman heard this with great uneasiness; it quite\nsurprised him; he was all in a sweat, and knew not what answer to\nmake. After a few moments, however, he replied, Sir, I beseech\nyour majesty to pardon me, if I seem surprised at the declaration\nyou have made. I did not expect any such proposal to one so young\nas I am; and besides, I know not whether I could ever prevail on\nmyself to marry, not only on account of the trouble wives bring a\nman, and which I am very sensible of, though unmarried, but also\nby reason of their many impostures, wickednesses, and\ntreacheries, which I have read of in authors. It may be, I may\nnot be always of the same mind; yet I cannot but think I ought to\nhave time to conclude on what your majesty requires of me.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman's answer extremely afflicted his father; he\nwas not a little grieved to see what an aversion he had to\nmarriage, yet would not call his obedience in question, nor make\nuse of his paternal authority: he contented himself with telling\nhim that he would not force his inclinations, and gave him time\nto consider of what he had proposed to him; yet wished him to\nremember, that, as a prince designed to govern a great kingdom,\nhe ought to take some care to leave behind him a successor.\n\nSchahzaman said no more to the prince: he admitted him into his\ncouncil, and gave him all the reason to be satisfied that could\nbe desired. About a year after, he took him aside, and said to\nhim, Well, son, have you thoroughly considered of what I proposed\nto you last year about marrying? Will you still refuse me the\nsatisfaction I desire, and let me die without seeing myself\nrevive in your posterity?\n\nThe prince seemed less astonished than before; he now briskly\nanswered his father as follows: Sir, I have not neglected to\nconsider of what you proposed, and, upon the whole matter, I am\nresolved to continue in the state I am, without concerning myself\nwith marriage, In short, sir, the many evils I have read that\nwomen have caused in the world, and the continual mischiefs I\nstill hear and observe they do, have been the occasion of my\nresolution to have nothing to do with them; so that, sir, I hope\nyour majesty will pardon me if I acquaint you, that it will be to\nno purpose to solicit me any further about that affair. This\nsaid, and making a low reverence, he went out briskly, without\nstaying to hear what the sultan would answer.\n\nNow, any monarch but Schahzaman would have been in a violent\npassion at such deportment of a son; but he took little notice of\nit, resolving to use all gentle methods before he proceeded to\nforce. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his prime\nminister. I have followed your advice, said he, but Camaralzaman\nis further off than ever from complying with my desires. He\ndelivered his resolution in such arrogant terms, that I had all\nthe occasion in the world for my reason and moderation to keep me\nfrom being in a passion. Fathers who desire favours of their\nchildren, which they nevertheless can command, have themselves\nalone to blame if they are disobeyed. But tell me, I beseech you,\nhow I shall reclaim this hardy young prince, who proves so\nrebellious to my pleasure.\n\nSir, answered the grand vizier, patience brings many things about\nwhich before seemed impracticable; but it may be that this affair\nis of a nature not likely to succeed in that way. However, in my\njudgment, your majesty would do well to give the prince another\nyear to consider of the matter; and if, when this is expired, he\nstill continues averse to your proposal, then your majesty may\npropose it to him in full council, as a thing that is highly\nnecessary for the common good; it is not likely that he will\nrefuse to comply with it before so grave an assembly, and on so\nnecessary an account, whatever he has done before.\n\nThe sultan, who passionately desired to see his son married,\nthought this long delay an age; however, though with much\ndifficulty, he at length yielded to his grand vizier's reasons,\nwhich he could no way disapprove.\n\nAfter the grand vizier was gone, sultan Schahzaman went to the\napartment of the mother of prince Camaralzaman, to whom he had\noften discovered what an ardent desire he had to marry the\nprince. When he had told her, with tears in his eyes, how his son\nhad refused to comply a second time, and that nevertheless,\nthrough the advice of his grand vizer, he was induced to wait yet\na longer time for his compliance, he said, Madam, I know he will\nhearken more to you than me, therefore I desire you would take\nyour time to speak to him seriously of the matter, and to let him\nknow that, if he persists much longer in his obstinacy, he will\noblige me to have recourse to extremities that may not be\npleasing to him, and which may give him cause to repent of having\ndisobeyed me.\n\nFatima, for so was the lady called, acquainted the prince, the\nfirst time she saw him, that she had been informed of his second\nrefusal to be married, and how much chagrin he had occasioned his\nfather on that account. Madam, said the prince, I beseech you not\nto renew my grief upon that head; for, if you do, I have reason\nto fear, in the disquiet I am under, that something may escape me\nwhich may not altogether correspond with the respect I owe you.\nFatima knew, by this answer, that it was not then a proper time\nto speak to him; therefore deferred what she had to say till\nanother opportunity.\n\nSome considerable time after, Fatima thought she had met with a\nmore favourable occasion, which gave her hopes of being heard\nupon the subject; she therefore accosted him with all the\neagerness imaginable: Son, said she, I beg of you, if it be not\nvery irksome to you, to tell me what reason you have for your so\ngreat aversion to marriage? If you have no other than the badness\nand wickedness of some women, there can be nothing less\nreasonable, or more weak. I will not undertake the defence of\nthose who are bad, there are a great number of them undoubtedly;\nbut it would be the greatest injustice imaginable to condemn all\nthe sex for their sakes. Alas, son! you have met with a great\nmany bad women in your books, who have occasioned great\ndisorders, and I will not excuse them; but you do not consider\nhow many monarchs, sultans, and other princes, there have been in\nthe world, whose tyrannies, barbarities, and cruelties,\nastonished those who read of them, and which I have myself. Now,\nfor one woman who is thus wicked, you will meet with a thousand\nof these tyrants and barbarians; and what torment, do you think,\nmust a good woman undergo, for such there are, who is united to\none of these wretches?\n\nMadam, replied Camaralzaman, I doubt not but there is a great\nnumber of wise, virtuous, good, affable, and generous women, in\nthe world; and would to God they all resembled you! But what\npierces me, is the doubtful choice a man is obliged to make; and\noftentimes one has not even that liberty.\n\nLet us suppose, then, Madam, continued he, that I had a mind to\nmarry, as the sultan my father so earnestly desires I should;\nwhat wife, think you, would he be likely to provide for me?\nProbably a princess, whom he would demand of some neighbouring\nprince, and who would think it an honour done him to send her to\nhim. Fair or ugly, good or ill-humoured, she must be accepted;\nnay, suppose no other princess excelled her in beauty, yet who\ncan be certain that her temper would be of equal goodness; that\nshe would be affable, complaisant, entertaining, obliging, and\nthe like; that her discourse would generally run on solid\nmatters, and not on trifles, such as dress, adjustments,\nornaments, and the like fooleries, which would disgust any man of\nsense? In a word, that she would not be haughty, proud, arrogant,\nimpertinent, scornful, and waste a man's estate in frivolous\nexpences, such as gaudy clothes, unnecessary jewels, toys, and\nthe like long train of magnificent follies.\n\nThus you see, madam, continued he, how many reasons a man may\nhave to be disgusted at marriage. Well, but to go further: let\nthis princess be ever so perfect, accomplished, and\nirreproachable, I have yet a great many more reasons not to\ndesist from my sentiment, or depart from my resolution.\n\nWhat, son, replied Fatima; have you then more reasons than those\nyou have already advanced? I do not doubt but that I shall find\nwherewithal to answer them, and stop your mouth with a word. Very\nwell, madam, replied the prince; and perhaps I may find\nwherewithal to reply to your answer.\n\nI mean, son, said Fatima, that it is easy for a prince, who has\nhad the misfortune to marry such a wife as you describe, to get\nrid of her, and take such care that she may not prejudice his\nestate. Ah, but, madam, replied the prince, you do not consider\nwhat a mortification it would be to a person of so great quality\nto be obliged to come to an extremity of that nature. Would it\nnot have been better, think you, and much more for his honour and\nquiet, that he had never run such a risk?\n\nBut, son, said Fatima once more, after the manner you understand\nthings, I apprehend you have a mind to be the last king of your\nrace, who have nevertheless reigned so long and gloriously in the\nisles of the Children of Khaledan.\n\nMadam, replied the prince, for my part I do not desire to survive\nthe king my father; and if I should die before him, it would be\nno great matter of wonder, since so many children have died\nbefore their parents. But as for my leaving no successor, I am of\nopinion it is much better to be the last of one's race, than\nfather to a bad prince, or husband to a bad wife.\n\nFrom that time Fatima had frequent conferences with her son the\nprince on the same subject, and omitted no opportunity or\nargument to endeavour rooting out his aversion to the fair sex;\nbut he eluded all her reasonings by such as she could not well\nanswer, and continued in the same mind.\n\nThe year expired, and, to the great regret of the sultan, prince\nCamaralzaman gave not the least proof of having changed his\nsentiments; so that one day, when there was a great council held,\nthe prime vizier and other viziers, the principal officers of the\ncrown, and the generals of the army, being present, the sultan\nspoke thus to the prince: Son, it is now a long while since I\nhave earnestly desired to see you married; and I imagined you\nwould have had more complaisance for a father, who required\nnothing unreasonable of you, than to oppose him so long. But,\nafter so great resistance on your part, which has almost worn out\nmy patience, I have thought fit to propose the same thing once\nmore to you in presence of my council. Now I would have you to\nconsider, that the favour I desire is not only to oblige me, but\nto comply with the earnest request of the estates of my\ndominions, who, for the common good of us all, in conjunction\nwith me, require it of you. Declare then, before these lords\npresent, whether you will marry or not; that, according to your\nanswer, I may proceed, and take those measures which I ought.\n\nThe prince answered with so little temper, or rather with so much\nheat, that the sultan, enraged to see himself affronted in full\ncouncil, cried out, How, unnatural son! have you the insolence to\ntalk thus to your father and sultan? Ho! guards, take him away!\nAt these words he was seized by the eunuchs, and carried to an\nold tower that had been uninhabited a long while; where he was\nshut up, with only a bed, a few moveables, some books, and one\nslave only to attend him.\n\nCamaralzaman, thus deprived of liberty, was nevertheless pleased\nthat he had the freedom to converse with books, which made him\nlook on his confinement with some indifference. In the evening he\nbathed, and said his prayers; and, after having read some\nchapters in the alcoran with the same tranquillity of mind as if\nhe had been in the sultan's palace, undressed himself, and went\nto bed, leaving his lamp burning by him all the while he slept.\n\nIn this tower was a well, which served for a retreat to a certain\nfairy named Maimoune, daughter of Damriel, king or head of a\nlegion of genii. It was about midnight when this Maimoune came\nforth silently, to wander about the world after her wonted\ncustom. She was surprised to see a light in prince Camaralzaman's\nchamber. She entered it; and, without stopping at the slave who\nlay at the door, approached the bed, whose magnificence, though\nvery great, she did not so much wonder at, as that there should\nbe a man in it.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman had but half covered his face with the\nbed-clothes, by which Maimoune could perceive that he was the\nfinest young man she had seen in all her rambles through the\nworld. What beauty, or rather what prodigy of beauty, said she\nwithin herself, will this youth appear, when his so well formed\neye-lids shall be open? What crime can he have committed, to\ndeserve this rigorous treatment?\n\nShe could not forbear admiring the prince, till at length, having\nkissed him gently on both cheeks, and in the middle of the\nforehead, without waking him, she laid the bed-clothes in the\norder they were in before, and took her flight into the air. As\nshe mounted to the middle region, she heard a great clapping of\nwings, which induced her to fly towards that side; and, when she\napproached, she saw the genius that made the noise, but he was\none of those who are rebellious to God. As for Maimoune, she\nbelonged to that class whom the great Solomon forced to conform.\n\nThis genius, whose name was Danhasch, the son of Schamhourasch,\nknew Maimoune; but did not dare to take notice of her, being\nsensible how much power she had over him, by her submission to\nthe Almighty. He would have avoided her, but she was so near him,\nthat he must either fight or yield.\n\nBrave Maimoune, said Danhasch, in the tone of a supplicant, swear\nto me, in the name of the Great Power, that you will not hurt me;\nand I swear also, on my part, not to do you any harm?\n\nCursed genius! replied Maimoune, what hurt canst thou do me? I\nfear thee not; but as thou hast desired this favour of me, I\nswear not to do thee any harm. Tell me, then, wandering spirit,\nwhence thou comest, what thou hast seen, and what mischief thou\nhast done this night? Fair lady, answered Danhasch, you meet me\nin a good time to hear something that is very wonderful.\n\n\n\n\n\n             THE HISTORY OF THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.\n\n\n\nI AM come from the utmost limits of China, which look on the last\nislands of this hemisphere. But, charming Maimoune, said\nDanhasch, who trembled at the sight of this fairy, insomuch that\nhe could hardly speak, promise me at least that you will forgive\nme, and let me go on in my way, after I have satisfied your\ndemands.\n\nGo on, go on, cursed spirit! replied Maimoune, go on, and fear\nnothing. Dost thou think I am as perfidious an elf as thyself,\nand that I am capable of breaking the serious oath I have made?\nNo, you may depend on my promise: but be sure you tell nothing\nbut what is true, or I shall clip your wings, and treat you as\nyou deserve.\n\nDanhasch, a little heartened at the words of Maimoune, said, My\ndear lady, I will tell you nothing but what is true, if you will\nhave but the goodness to hear me. You must know, then, the\ncountry of China, from whence I come, is one of the largest and\nmost powerful kingdoms of the earth, on which depend the utmost\nislands of this hemisphere, as I have already said. The king of\nthis country is at present Gaiour, who has a daughter the finest\nwoman that ever the sun saw. Neither you nor I, nor your class\nnor mine, nor all mankind together, have expressions lively\nenough to give a sufficient description of this bright lady. Her\nhair is brown, and of so great a length, that it reaches far\nbelow her feet. Her forehead is as smooth as the best polished\nmirror, and of admirable symmetry. Her eyes are black, sparkling,\nand full of fire. Her nose is neither too long nor too short, her\nmouth is small, and her lips are like vermilion. Her teeth are\nlike two rows of pearls, and surpass every thing in whiteness.\nWhen she moves her tongue, she forms a sweet and most agreeable\nvoice, and expresses herself in such proper terms as sufficiently\nindicate the vavacity of her wit. The whitest marble or alabaster\nis not fairer than her neck. In a word, by this perfect sketch,\nyou may guess there is no beauty like her in the world.\n\nAny one that did not know the king, father of this incomparable\nprincess, would be apt to imagine, from the great respect and\nkindness he shows her, that he was in love with his daughter.\nNever did a lover do more for a mistress the most endearing, than\nhe has been seen to do for her. In a word, jealousy never was\nmore watchful over one than he is over her; and that her retreat,\non which he has resolved, may not seem irksome, he has built\nseven palaces for her, the most magnificent and uncommon that\never were known.\n\nThe first palace is of rock crystal, the second of brass, the\nthird of fine steel, the fourth of another sort of brass more\nvaluable than the foregoing, the fifth of touchstone, the sixth\nof silver, and the seventh of massy gold. He has furnished these\npalaces most sumptuously, and after a most unheard-of manner,\nwith materials not unlike those they are built of. He has filled\nthe gardens with parterres of glass and flowers, intermixed with\nall manner of water-works, such as jets-d'eau, canals, cascades,\nand the like; the eye is lost in prospect of large groves and\ntrees where the sun never enters. King Gaiour, in short, has made\nit appear that his paternal love exceeds that of any other kind\nwhatever.\n\nNow, on the fame of the beauty of this incomparable princess, the\nmost powerful neighbouring kings sent embassadors to request her\nin marriage. The king of China received them all in the most\nobliging manner; but as he resolved not to marry his daughter\nwithout her consent, so as she did not like any of them, they\nreturned after receiving great honours and civilities.\n\nSir, said the princess to the king her father, you have a mind to\nmarry me, and think to oblige me by it; but where shall I find\nsuch stately palaces and delicious gardens as I have with your\nmajesty? Under your good pleasure I am unconstrained in all\nthings, and receive the same honours that are paid to your own\nperson. These are advantages I cannot expect to find any where\nelse; men ever love to be masters; and I do not care to be\ncommanded by a husband.\n\nAfter divers embassies on the same occasion, there came one from\na more rich and potent king than any that had been hitherto sent.\nThe king of China recommended this prince to his daughter, as a\nhusband both advantageous and proper for her: yet she refused him\nfor the same reasons as before, and begged her father to dispense\nwith her on that account. He pressed her to hearken to him; but,\ninstead of complying, she lost all respect and duty that was due\nto him. Sir, said she, in a great rage, trouble me no more with\nany talk of marriage, unless you would have me bury this poniard\nin my bosom, to rid myself from your importunities!\n\nThe king, being much enraged at this, said in a great passion,\nDaughter, you are mad, and I must use you as such. In a word, he\nshut her up in a certain apartment of one of the seven palaces,\nallowing only ten old women to wait upon her, to keep her\ncompany, the chief of whom had been her nurse. And that the kings\nhis neighbours, who had sent embassies to him on this account,\nmight not think any more of her, he despatched envoys to them\nseverally, to let them know how averse his daughter was to\nmarriage; and as he did not doubt but she was really mad, he\ncharged them to make it known in every court, that if there were\nany physician who would undertake to come and cure her, he\nshould, if he succeeded, have her for his pains.\n\nFair Maimoune, said Danhasch, all is true that I have told you;\nand I, for my part, have not failed to go every day regularly to\ncontemplate this incomparable beauty, whom I would be very far\nfrom doing any harm to, notwithstanding my natural propensity to\nmischief. I would have you go to see her, continued he; I will\nassure you it would be worth your while, and doubt not but you\nwill think yourself obliged to me for the sight, when you find I\nam no liar: I am ready to wait on you as a guide, and you may\ncommand me as soon as you please.\n\nInstead of answering Danhasch, Maimoune burst into a violent\nlaughter, which lasted some time; and Danhasch, not knowing what\nmight be the occasion of it, was not a little astonished. When\nMaimoune ceased laughing, she cried, Good, good, very good; you\nwould have me then believe all that you have told me: I thought\nyou designed to entertain me with something surprising and\nextraordinary, and you have been talking all this while like a\ndriveller! Ah! fie, fie! What would you say, if you had seen the\nfine prince whom I am just come from, and whom I love with a\npassion equal to his desert? I am confident you will soon give up\nthe bell, and not pretend to compare your choice with mine.\n\nAgreeable Maimoune, replied Danhasch, may I presume to ask you\nwhat this prince is called? Know, answered Maimoune, an accident\nhas happened to him much like that of your princess. The king his\nfather would have married him against his will; but, after many\nimportunities, he frankly told the old gentleman he would have\nnothing to do with a wife. This occasioned him to be put in a\nprison in an old tower, which I make my residence, and from\nwhence I came but just now from admiring him.\n\nI will not absolutely contradict you, my pretty lady, replied\nDanhasch; but you must give me leave to be of opinion, till I\nhave seen the prince, that no mortal upon earth can equal the\nbeauty of my princess. Hold thy tongue, cursed spirit! replied\nMaimoune: I tell thee, once more, that can never be. I will not\ncontend with you, said Danhasch; but the way to be convinced, is\nto accept of the proffer I make you to go and see my princess,\nand after that I will go with you to your prince.\n\nThere is no need of taking so much pains, replied Maimoune; there\nis another way to satisfy us both; and that is, for you to bring\nyour princess, and place her at my prince's bed-side: by this\nmeans it will be easy for us to compare them together, and to see\nwhich is the most handsome.\n\nDanhasch consented to what Maimoune had proposed, and was\nresolved to set out immediately for China upon that errand: but\nMaimoune, drawing him aside, told him, she must first show him\nthe place whither he was to bring the princess. They flew\ntogether to the tower; and when Maimoune had shown him the place,\nshe cried, Go now, fetch your princess: do it quickly, and you\nshall find me here.\n\nDanhasch left Maimoune, and flew towards China, whence he soon\nreturned with incredible speed, bringing the fair princess along\nwith him asleep. Maimoune introduced him into the chamber of\nprince Camaralzaman, and they placed the princess by the prince's\nside.\n\nWhen the prince and princess were thus laid together, all the\nwhile asleep, there rose a great contest between the genius and\nthe fairy about the preference of beauty. They were some time\nadmiring and comparing them; but at length Danhasch broke\nsilence, and said to Maimoune, You see, and I have already told\nyou, my princess was handsomer than your prince; now, I hope, you\nare convinced of it.\n\nHow! convinced of it! replied Maimoune; I am not convinced of it:\nand you must be blind, if you cannot see that my prince has the\nbetter of the comparison. The princess is fair, I do not deny it;\nbut if you compare them together without prejudice, you will\nquickly see the difference.\n\nThough I should compare them ever so often, said Danhasch, I\ncould never change my opinion. I saw what I now see at first\nsight, and time will not be able to make me see more; however,\nthis shall not hinder my yielding to you, charming Maimoune, if\nyou desire it; but I would have you yield to me as a favour! I\nscorn it, said Maimoune; and I would not receive a favour at such\na wicked genius' hands: I refer the matter to an arbitrator; and\nif you will not consent, I shall get the better by your refusal.\n\nDanhasch, who had ever a great deal of complaisance for Maimoune,\nimmediately consented, which he had no sooner done, but Maimoune\nstamping with her foot, the earth opened, and out came a hideous,\nhump-backed, blind, and lame genius, with six horns on his head,\nand claws on his hands and feet. As soon as he was come out, and\nthe earth had closed up, he, perceiving Maimoune, cast himself at\nher feet, and then, rising upon one knee, asked what she would\nplease to have with him.\n\nRise, Cascheasch, said Maimoune; I caused you to come hither to\ndetermine a difference between me and that cursed Danhasch there.\nLook on that bed, and tell me, without partiality, which is the\nhandsomest of those two who lie there asleep, the young man or\nthe young lady.\n\nCascheasch looked on the prince and princess with great\nattention, admiration, and surprise; and after he had considered\nthem a good while, without being able to determine which was the\nhandsomest, he turned to Maimoune, and said, Madam, I must needs\nconfess I should deceive you, and betray myself, if I pretended\nto say one was a whit handsomer than the other: the more I\nexamine them, the more it seems to me each possesses, in a\nsovereign degree, the beauty which is betwixt them; and if one\nhas not the least defect, how can the other have any advantage?\nBut if either has any thing amiss, it will be better discovered\nwhen they are awake, than now they are asleep. Let them then be\nawaked one after another; and that person who shall express most\nlove for the other by ardour, eagerness, and passion, shall be\ndeemed to have least beauty.\n\nThis proposal of Cascheasch's pleased equally both Maimoune and\nDanhasch. Maimoune then changed herself into a flea, and leaped\non the prince's neck, where she stung him so smartly, that he\nawoke, and put up his hand to the place; but Maimoune skipped\naway as soon as she had done, and resumed her pristine form;\nwhich, like those of the two genii, was invisible, the better to\nobserve what he would do.\n\nIn drawing back his hand, the prince chanced to let it fall on\nthat of the princess of China. He opened his eyes, and was\nexceedingly surprised to find a lady lying by him; nay, a lady of\nthe greatest beauty. He raised his head, and leaned on his elbow,\nthe better to consider her. Her blooming youth, and incomparable\nbeauty, fired him in a moment; of which flame he had never yet\nbeen sensible, and from which he had even hitherto guarded\nhimself with the greatest application.\n\nLove seized on his heart in the most lively manner, insomuch that\nhe could not help crying out, What beauty is this! what charms! O\nmy heart! O my soul! In saying which, he kissed her forehead,\nboth her cheeks, and her mouth, with so little caution, that she\nhad certainly been awaked by it, had not she slept sounder than\nusual through the enchantment of Danhasch.\n\nHow, my pretty lady! said the prince, do you not awake at these\ntestimonies of love given you by prince Camaralzaman? Whosoever\nyou are, I would have you to know he is not unworthy of your\naffection. He was going to awake her at that instant, but\nrefrained himself all of a sudden. Is not this she, said he, whom\nthe sultan my father would have had me marry? He was in the wrong\nnot to let me see her sooner. Had he done so, I should not have\noffended him by my disobedience, nor would he have had occasion\nto use me as he has done.\n\nThe prince began to repent sincerely of the fault he had\ncommitted, and was once more upon the point of awaking the\nprincess of China. It may be, said he within himself, the sultan\nmy father has a mind to surprise me, and has sent this young lady\nto try if I had really that aversion to marriage which I\npretended. Who knows but, having thus laid her in my way, he is\nhid behind the hangings, to take an opportunity to appear, and\nmake me ashamed of my dissimulation? This second crime would be\nyet much greater than the first. Upon the whole matter, I will\ncontent myself with this ring, which will at any time create in\nme a remembrance of this dear lady.\n\nHe then gently drew off a fine ring the princess had on her\nfinger, and immediately put on one of his own in its place. After\nthis he turned his back, and was not long before he fell into a\nprofounder sleep than before, through the enchantment of the\ngenii.\n\nAs soon as prince Camaralzaman was sound asleep, Danhasch\ntransformed himself into a flea likewise in his turn, and went\nand bit the princess so rudely on the lower lip, that she\nforthwith awoke, started, clapped herself upon her breech, and\nopening her eyes, was not a little surprised to see a man lying\nby her. From surprise she proceeded to admiration, and from\nadmiration to real joy, which she conceived at finding him so\nbeautiful and young.\n\nWhat! cried she, is it you the king my father has designed me for\na husband? I am, indeed, most unfortunate at not knowing it\nbefore, for then I should not have put my lord and father in a\nrage, nor been so long deprived of a husband, whom I cannot\nforbear loving with all my heart. Wake, then, wake, my dear love,\nproceeded she; for it does not sure become a man that is married,\nto sleep so soundly the first night of his nuptials.\n\nSo saying, she took prince Camaralzaman by the arm, and shook him\nso violently, as had been enough to have awaked the profoundest\nsleeper, had not Maimoune at that instant increased his sleep,\nand augmented his enchantment. She renewed this shaking several\ntimes, and finding it did not awake him, she cried out, What is\ncome to thee, my dear! What jealous rival, envying thy happiness\nand mine, has had recourse to magic, to throw thee into this\nprofound and insurmountable drowsiness; from whence I think thou\nwilt never recover? Then she snatched his hand, and kissing it\neagerly, perceived he had a ring upon his finger which greatly\nresembled her's, and which she found to be her own. As soon as\nshe saw that she had another on her finger instead of it, she\ncould not comprehend how this exchange could be made; but yet she\ndid not doubt but it was a certain token of their marriage. At\nlength, being tired with her fruitless endeavours to awake the\nprince, yet well assured that he could not escape her when he\nawoke, she said, Since I find it is not in my power to awake\nthee, I will not trouble myself any further about it, but bid\nthee good night, and then compose myself to rest. At these words,\nafter having given him a hearty kiss on the cheeks and lips, she\nturned her back, and went again to sleep.\n\nWhen Maimoune saw that she could speak without fear of awaking\nthe princess, she cried to Danhasch, Ah, cursed genius! dost thou\nnot now see what thy contest is come to? Art thou not now\nconvinced how much thy princess is inferior to my prince in\ncharms? At this she turned to Cascheasch; and having thanked him\nfor his trouble, bid him, in conjunction with Danhasch, take the\nprincess, and convey her back again to her bed, from whence he\nhad taken her. Danhasch and Cascheasch did as they were\ncommanded, and Maimoune retired to her well.\n\nPrince Caraaralzaman, waking next morning, looked to see if the\nlady was by him whom he had seen the night before. When he found\nshe was gone, he cried out, I thought indeed that this was a\ntrick the king my father designed to play me! I am much obliged\nto him for the favour, yet have fairly escaped his trap. Then he\nawaked the slave, and bid him come and dress him, who accordingly\nbrought him a basin of water; and washing himself, and saying his\nprayers, he took a book, and began to read.\n\nAfter those ordinary exercises, he called the slave, and said to\nhim, Come hither, and be careful that you do not tell me a lie.\nHow came the lady hither who lay with me tonight, and who brought\nher?\n\nMy lord, answered the slave with great astonishment, I know not\nwhat lady your highness speaks of. I speak, said the prince, of\nher who came hither, and lay with me tonight, or rather who was\nbrought for that purpose. My lord, replied the slave, I know of\nno such lady; and if there was any such, how should she come in\nwithout my knowledge, since I lay at the door?\n\nAre you in the contrivance, then, villain? replied the prince,\nSlave, you lie! for there was a lady here. In saying these words,\nhe gave him a box on the ear, pushed him along upon the ground,\nand then stamped upon him for some time; till at length, taking\nthe well-rope, and tying it under his arms, he plunged him\nseveral times into the water. I will drown thee, wretch! cried\nhe, if thou dost not speedily tell me who the lady was, and who\nintroduced her'!\n\nThe slave, half dead, said within himself, Doubtless, my lord the\nprince must have lost his senses through grief, and I shall not\nknow how to escape being murdered, if I do not tell him a lie. My\nlord, then cried he, in an humble and supplicant tone, I beseech\nyour highness to spare my life, and I will tell you how the\nmatter is.\n\nThen the prince drew the slave up, and pressed him to begin. As\nsoon as he was out of the well, My lord, said he, trembling, your\nhighness may perceive it is not proper for me to relate any thing\nto you in this condition: I beg you to give me leave to go and\nchange my clothes, and I will satisfy you all I am able. Do it,\nthen, quickly, said the prince; and be sure you conceal nothing;\nfor if you do, you must expect the worst of usage.\n\nThe slave, being at liberty, went out; and having locked the door\nupon the prince, ran to the palace in the pickle he was in. The\nking was at that time in discourse with his prime vizier, to whom\nhe had just related the agonies he had undergone that night on\naccount of his son's disobedience.\n\nThe wise minister endeavoured to comfort his master, by telling\nhim that he did not doubt but the prince would soon be reduced to\nobedience. Sir, said he, your majesty need not repent of having\nused your son after this rate; I dare promise it will contribute\ntowards reclaiming him. Have but patience to let him continue a\nwhile in prison, and no doubt the heat of youth will abate, and\nhe will submit entirely to your pleasure.\n\nThe grand vizier had just made an end of speaking when the slave\ncame in, and cast himself at king Schahzaman's feet. My lord,\nsaid he, I am very sorry to be the messenger of ill news to your\nmajesty, which I know must create your fresh affliction. My lord\nthe prince is distracted; he fancies a fine lady has lain with\nhim all night, and has used me thus ill for questioning it. Then\nhe proceeded to tell all the particulars of what prince\nCamaralzaman had said to him.\n\nThe king, who did not expect to hear any thing of this kind, said\nto the prime minister. Now you see how much you are mistaken in\nthe remedy of a prison! This is very different from what hopes\nyou give me just now. Run immediately, and see what is the\nmatter, and come and give me a speedy account.\n\nThe grand vizier obeyed; and going into the prince's chamber,\nfound him sitting on his bed in good temper, and with a book in\nhis hand, which he was reading.\n\nAfter mutual salutations, the vizier sat down by him, and said,\nMy lord, I would willingly have a slave of yours punished, who\nhas come to fright the king your father with news that has put\nhim under great disturbance.\n\nWhat news is that, replied the prince, which could give my father\nso great uneasiness? I have much greater cause to complain of\nthat slave.\n\nMy lord, answered the vizier, God forbid that the news should be\ntrue which he has told your father concerning you, and which\nindeed myself find to be false, by the good temper I observe you\nin, and which I pray God to continue! It may be, replied the\nprince, he did not make himself well understood; but since you\nare come, who ought to know something of the matter, give me\nleave to ask you who that lady was that lay with me last night?\n\nThe grand vizier was almost struck dumb at this demand; however,\nhe recovered himself, and said, My lord, be not surprised at the\nconfusion I was under upon your question. Is it possible, think\nyou, my lord, that any lady, or any other person in the world,\nshould penetrate by night into this place without entering at the\ndoor, and walking over the belly of your slave? I beseech you, my\nlord, recollect yourself, and you will find this only a dream\nwhich has made this impression on you.\n\nI give no ear to what you say, said the prince, in an angry and\nhigh tone; I must know of you absolutely what is become of the\nlady; and if you scruple to obey me, I am in a place where I\nshall soon be able to force you to tell me.\n\nAt these stern words the grand vizier began to be under greater\nconfusion than before, and was thinking how he could in the best\nmanner get away. He endeavoured to pacify the prince by good\nwords; and begged of him, in the most humble manner, to tell him\nif he had seen this lady.\n\nYes, yes, answered the prince; I have seen her, and am very well\nsatisfied that you sent her to tempt me. She played the part you\nhad given her admirably well, for I could not get a word from\nher: she pretended to be asleep; but I was no sooner got into a\nslumber, than she rose and left me. You know all this, as well as\nmyself; for I do not doubt but that she has gone to make her\nreport of her dexterity.\n\nMy lord, replied the vizier, I swear to your highness, that\nnothing of this has been acted which you seem to reproach me\nwith! And I vow, by the head of our great prophet, that neither\nyour father nor myself have sent the lady you speak of, if I may\nbelieve my royal master's protestations; and sure I am, I can\nanswer for myself. I am confident that neither of us had ever any\nsuch thought: permit me, therefore, to certify your highness once\nmore that this must needs have been a dream.\n\nHow! do you come thus to affront and contradict me, said the\nprince in a great rage, and to tell me to my face that what I\nhave told you is a dream. You are an unbelieving varlet! cried\nhe; and at the same time took him by the beard, and loaded him\nwith so many blows, that he was hardly able to stand under them.\n\nThe poor grand vizier endured patiently all the brunt of his\nlord's indignation, and could not help saying within himself, Now\nam I even in as bad a condition as the slave, and shall think\nmyself happy if I can, like him, escape from any further danger.\nIn the midst of the blows that were given him, he cried out but\nfor a moment's audience; which the prince, after he had nearly\ntired himself with beating him, consented to give.\n\nI own, my lord, said the grand vizier, dissembling, that there is\nsomething in what your highness suspects; but you cannot be\nignorant under what necessity a minister is to obey his royal\nmaster's orders; yet if your highness will but be pleased to set\nme at liberty, will go and tell him any thing on your part that\nyou shall think fit to command. Go, then, said the prince, and\ntell him from me, that, if he pleases, I will marry the lady he\nsent me, or rather that was brought me, last night. Do this\nquickly, and bring me a speedy answer. The grand vizier made a\nprofound reverence, and went away, not thinking himself\naltogether safe till he had got out of the tower, and shut the\ndoor upon the prince.\n\nHe came and presented himself before the sultan Schahzaman, with\na countenance that sufficiently showed he had been ill used.\nWell, said the king, in what condition did you find my son? Sir,\nanswered the vizier, what the slave reported to your majesty is\nbut too true. He then related the interview he had had with\nCamaralzaman; how he was in a passion upon his endeavouring to\npersuade him it was impossible that any lady should get in to\nhim; how he had used him very scurvily, and by what means he made\nhis escape.\n\nSchahzaman was the more concerned, because he loved the prince\nwith an exceeding tenderness, and resolved to find out the truth\nof this matter; he therefore proposed to go and see his son in\nthe tower himself, accompanied by the grand vizier.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman received the king his father in the tower\nwith great respect. The king sat down, and made the prince his\nson seat himself by him, putting several questions to him, which\nhe answered with a great deal of good sense. As they were\ntalking, the king every now and then cast his eyes on the grand\nvizier, thereby intimating to him, that he did not find his son\nhad lost his senses, but rather thought he had lost his.\n\nThe king at length spoke of the lady to his son. Son, said he, I\ndesire you to tell me what lady that was who lay with you last\nnight, as I have been told?\n\nSir, answered Camaralzaman, I beg your majesty not to give me any\nmore disturbance on that head, but rather to oblige me so far as\nto let me have her in marriage: whatever aversion I may formerly\nhave discovered for women, this young lady has charmed me to that\ndegree, that I cannot help betraying my weakness. I am ready to\nreceive her at your majesty's hands, with all the acknowledgments\nimaginable.\n\nKing Schahzaman was surprised at this answer of the prince's, so\nremote, as he thought, from the good sense he had found in him\nbefore; he therefore said to him, Son, you put me under the\ngreatest consternation imaginable, by what you now say to me: I\nswear to you, by my crown, which is to devolve upon you after me,\nthat I know not one word of what you mention about the lady; and\nif there has any such come to you, it was altogether without my\nknowledge or privity. But how could she get into this tower\nwithout my consent? For whatever my grand vizier told you, it was\nonly to appease you that he said it: it must therefore be nothing\nbut a dream; and I beg of you not to believe any thing to the\ncontrary.\n\nSir, replied the prince, I should be for ever unworthy of the\ngood-will of your majesty, if I did not give entire credit to\nwhat you are pleased to say; but I humbly beseech you, at the\nsame time, give ear to what I shall say to you, and then to judge\nwhether what I have the honour to tell you be a dream or not.\nThen prince Camaralzaman related to the king his father after\nwhat manner he had been awaked, exaggerating the beauty and\ncharms of the lady he found by his side, the love he had for her\nat first sight, and the pains he took to awake her with- out\neffect. He did not conceal what had obliged him to awake, arid\nfall asleep again, after he made the exchange of his ring with\nthat of the lady. Showing the king the ring, he added, Sir, your\nmajesty must needs know my ring very well, and you see I have it\nnot on my finger, but another of a woman's in- stead of it. From\nthis proof, therefore, I hope you will be pleased to be convinced\nthat I have not lost my senses, as you have been almost made to\nbelieve.\n\nKing Schahzaman was so perfectly convinced of the truth of what\nhis son had been telling him, that he had not a word to say,\nremaining astonished for some time, and not being able to utter a\nsyllable.\n\nThe prince took advantage of this opportunity, and said further,\nMay it please your majesty, the passion I have conceived for this\ncharming lady, whose precious image I bear continually on my\nmind, is so strong, that I cannot live unless your majesty\nprocures me the happiness of enjoying her; which I know you can\nwell do, as not being ignorant who she is.\n\nSon, replied the king, after what I have just heard, and what I\nsee by the ring on your finger, I cannot doubt but your passion\nis real for this lady; and would to God I knew who she was, I\nwould make you happy from this moment. But what means have I to\ncome at the knowledge of her? Where shall I find her, and how\nseek for her? How could she get in here, and by what conveyance,\nwithout my consent? Why did she come to sleep only, inflame you\nwith her beauty, and then leave you while you was in a slumber?\nThese things, I must confess, are past my finding out; and if\nHeaven is not so favourable as to give some light into them, we,\nI fear, must both go down to the grave together. Come, then, my\nson, continued he, let us go and afflict ourselves in\nconjunction; you for the hopes you have lost, and I for seeing\nyou grieve, and not being in a capacity to remedy your\naffliction.\n\nKing Schahzaman then led his son out of the tower, and conveyed\nhim to the palace; where he was no sooner arrived, than he fell\nsick, and took to his bed; which made the king shut himself up\nwith him, and grieve so bitterly, that he was not in a condition\nto take any cognizance of the affairs of his kingdom.\n\nThe prime minister, who was the only person that had admittance,\ncame one day and told him the whole court, and even the people,\nbegan to murmur at their not seeing him, and that he did not\nadminister justice every day as he was wont to do before this\naccident happened, on which account he knew not what disorders it\nmight occasion. I humbly beg your majesty, therefore, proceeded\nhe, to take some notice of what I now represent to you. I am\nsensible your majesty's company is a great comfort to the prince\nin his condition, and that his is no less assuaging to your\ngrief; but then you must not run the risk of letting all be lost.\nI should think it were proper to be proposed to your majesty,\nthat you would be pleased to suffer yourself to be transported to\na castle which you have in a little island opposite the port,\nwhere you may give audience to your subjects twice a week; and\nwhere, during that function, the prince will be so agreeably\namused with the beauty, prospect, and good air of the place, that\nhe will be likely to bear your absence with the less concern.\n\nKing Schahzaman approved of this proposal; and when the castle,\nwhere he had not resided for some time, had been new furnished;\nhe caused himself to be transported thither with the prince;\nwhere, excepting the times that he gave audience as aforesaid, he\npassed all his hours on his son's pillow; sometimes endeavouring\nto comfort him, but oftener afflicting himself with him.\n\nWhilst matters passed thus in the capital of King Schahzaman, the\ntwo genii, Danhasch and Cascheasch, had carried the princess of\nChina back to the palace, where the king her father had shut her\nup, and laid her in her bed as before.\n\nWhen she awaked next morning, and found, by looking to the right\nand to the left, that prince Camaralzaman was not by her, she\ncried out with such a voice to her old women, as soon made them\ncome to know what she wanted. Her nurse, who presented herself\nfirst, desired to be informed what her highness would be pleased\nto have, and what had happened to hot that occasioned her to call\nout so earnestly.\n\nTell me, said the princess, what is become of the young man that\nhas lain with me to-night, and whom I love with all my soul?\nMadam, replied the nurse, we know of no such person, and cannot\npretend to understand your highness, unless you will be pleased\nto explain yourself.\n\nHow do you mean explain myself! quoth the princess. Why, I had a\nlovely and most amiable young man that slept with me last night;\nwhom, though I caressed ever so much, I could not awake: I only\nask you where he is?\n\nMadam, answered the nurse, is it to jest and impose upon us that\nyour highness asks these questions? I beseech your highness to be\npleased to rise, and you shall be satisfied in all things that we\nare capable of satisfying you in. I am in earnest, then, said the\nprincess; and I must know where this young man is. Madam,\ninsisted the nurse, you were alone when you went to bed last\nnight; and how any man could come to you without our knowledge, I\ncannot imagine; for we all lay about the door of your chamber,\nwhich was locked, and I had the key in my pocket.\n\nAt this the princess lost all patience; and, catching the nurse\nby the hair, and giving her two or three sound cuffs, cried, Tell\nme where this young man is, you old sorceress, or I will beat out\nyour brains. The nurse struggled all she could to get from her,\nand at last succeeded; when she went immediately, with tears in\nher eyes, and her face all bloody, to complain to the queen her\nmother, who was not a little surprised to see the old woman in\nsuch a condition.\n\nMadam, began the nurse, you see what a condition the princess has\nput me in! She would certainly have murdered me, if I had not\nescaped out of her hands. But for what, good nurse? replied the\nqueen: what occasion did you give my daughter for using you so\nill? I gave none, madam, answered the nurse; and so began to tell\nthe cause of all that passion and rage in the princess. The queen\nwas mightily surprised to hear it, and could not guess how she\ncame to be so infatuated as to take for a reality what could be\nno other than a dream. Your majesty must conclude from all this,\nmadam, continued the nurse, that my mistress the princess is out\nof her senses. I would beseech your majesty, therefore, to go and\nsee her, and you will find what I say to be but too true.\n\nThe great love the queen bore the princess readily made her\ncomply with the nurse's proposal; so they went together\nimmediately to the princess's palace.\n\nThe queen of China sat down by her daughter's bed-side upon her\narrival in her apartment, and, after informing herself about her\nhealth, began to ask what had made her so angry with her nurse as\nto treat her after the manner she had done, which great\nprincesses had never condescended or attempted to do before.\n\nMadam, replied the princess, I plainly perceive your majesty is\ncome to mock me; but I declare I will never let you rest till you\nconsent I shall marry the young man that lay with me last night.\nYou must needs know where he is, and therefore I beg your majesty\nwould let him come to me again.\n\nDaughter, answered the queen, you surprise me; I know nothing of\nwhat you talk. Then the princess lost all manner of respect for\nthe queen, and replied, in a great passion, The king my father\nand you have all along persecuted me about marrying when I had no\nmind to it, and, now I have a mind, you would fain oppose me; but\nI must tell you, madam, I will have this young man I speak of for\nmy husband, or I will kill myself!\n\nHere the queen endeavoured to calm the princess by soft words.\nDaughter, said she, you know well you was alone in this\napartment; how then could any man come to you? This must be mere\nfancy or a dream; for--Here the princess interrupted her, and was\nso far from hearkening to what she said, that she flew out into\nsuch extravagances as obliged the queen to leave her, and retire,\nin great affliction, to inform her lord in what condition their\ndaughter was.\n\nThe king, hearing it, had a mind likewise to be satisfied in\nperson; and, therefore, coming to his daughter's apartment,\ndemanded of her to say if what he had just heard was true. Sir,\nreplied the princess, let us talk no more of that; I only beseech\nyour majesty to grant me the favour that I may marry the young\ncavalier I lay with last night.\n\nWhat! said the king, has any one lain with you last night? How,\nsir! replied the princess, without giving the king leave to go\non; do you ask me if any one lay with me last night? Your majesty\nknows that but too well. He was the finest and best made cavalier\nthe sun ever saw: I desire him of you for my husband by all\nmeans, sir; and I beg you will not refuse me. But that your\nmajesty may no longer doubt whether I have seen this cavalier,\nwhether he has lain with me, whether I have caressed him, or\nwhether I did my utmost to awake him without succeeding, see, if\nyou please, this ring! She then reached forth her hand, and\nshowed the king a man's ring upon her finger. The king did not\nknow what to make of all this; but, as he had confined her as\nmad, so now he began to think her more so than ever. Therefore,\nwithout saying any thing more, for fear she might do violence to\nherself or somebody else, had her chained, and shut up more\nclosely than ever, allowing her only the nurse to wait on her,\nwith a good guard at the door.\n\nThe king, being exceedingly concerned at the indisposition of his\ndaughter, sought all possible means to get her cured. He\nassembled his council, and, after having acquainted them with her\ncondition, he proffered any one of them that would undertake her\ncure the succession to his kingdom after his death, if\nsuccessful..\n\nThe desire of enjoying a young and beautiful princess, and the\nhope of governing one day so powerful a kingdom as that of China,\nhad a strange effect on an old emir, already advanced in age, who\nwas then present in council. As he was well skilled in magic, he\noffered the king to cure his daughter, and flattered himself with\nsuccess. Very well, said the king; but I forgot to tell you one\nthing; and that is, that if you do not succeed, you shall lose\nyour head. It would not be reasonable that you should have so\ngreat a reward, and yet run no risk on your part. And what I say\nto you, continued the king, I say to all others that shall come\nafter you, to let them consider be- forehand what they undertake.\n\nThe emir, however, accepted the condition, and the king led him\nto the princess. She covered her face as soon as she saw them\ncome in, and cried out, Your majesty surprises me, in bringing a\nman along with you whom I do not know, and by whom my religion\nforbids me to allow myself to be seen. Daughter, replied the\nking, you need not be scandalized; it is only one of my emirs\nthat is come to demand you of me in marriage. It is not, I\nperceive, he that you have already given me, re- plied the\nprincess; and your majesty may rest assured that I will never\nmarry any other.\n\nNow the emir expected the princess would have said or done some\nextravagant thing, and was not a little disappointed when he\nheard her talk so calmly and rationally; for he then knew her\ndisease was nothing but a violent love passion, which he was by\nno means able to cure. He therefore threw himself at his\nmajesty's feet, and said, After what I have heard and observed,\nsir, it will be to no purpose for me to think of curing the\nprincess, since I have no remedies proper for her malady; for\nwhich reason I humbly submit my life to your majesty's pleasure.\nThe king enraged at his incapacity, and the trouble he had given\nhim, caused, him immediately to be beheaded.\n\nSome few days after, his majesty, unwilling to have it said that\nhe had neglected his daughter's cure, put forth a proclamation in\nhis capital city, importing, that if any physician, astrologer,\nor magician, would undertake to restore the princess to her\nsenses, he need only come, and he should be employed, provided he\nwas willing to lose his head if he miscarried. He had the same\nthing published in the other principal cities and towns of his\ndominions, as likewise in those of the other neighbouring states.\n\nThe first that presented himself was both an astrologer and\nmagician, whom the king caused to be conducted to the princess's\nprison by an eunuch. The astrologer, upon seeing his patient,\ndrew forth, out of a bag he carried in his arm an astrolabe, a\nsmall sphere, a chafing dish several sorts of drugs proper for\nfumigations, a brass pot, with many other things, and desired he\nmight have a fire lighted.\n\nThe princess demanded for what all these preparations were Madam,\nanswered the eunuch, they are to exorcise the evil spirit that\npossesses you, and afterwards to shut him up in this pot, and\nthrow him into the sea.\n\nFoolish astrologer! replied the princess, I have no occasion for\nany of your preparations, but am in my perfect senses, and it is\nyou alone who are mad. If your art can bring him I love to me, I\nshall be obliged to you; otherwise you may go about your\nbusiness, for I have nothing to do with you. Madam, said the\nastrologer, if your case be so, I shall desist from all\nendeavours believing that the king your father can only remedy\nyour disaster in this particular. So putting up his trinkets\nagain, he marched away, very much concerned that he had so easily\nundertaken to cure an imaginary sick person.\n\nComing to give an account to the king of what he had done, he\nwould not suffer the eunuch to speak for him, but began thus\nhimself: According to what your majesty published in your\nproclamation, and what you were pleased to confirm to me\nyourself. I thought the princess was distracted and therefore had\nprovided all I believed necessary to restore her to her senses,\npursuant to the nostrums I have; but, to my great amazement, when\nI beheld her, I found she had no other disease than that of love,\nover which my art had no power. Your majesty, then, may be\npleased to consider, that you alone are the physician who can\ncure her, by giving her the person in marriage whom she desires.\n\nThe king, upon hearing this, was very much enraged at the\nastrologer, and had his head cut off upon the spot. Now, not to\nfatigue your majesty with long repetitions, proceeded\nScheherazade to the sultan, I will acquaint you, in few words,\nthat so many astrologers, physicians, magicians, and the like,\ncame upon this account, that they in all amounted to about fifty;\nwho, nevertheless, all underwent the same fate, and their heads\nwere set upon poles on every gate of the city.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF MARZAVAN, WITH THE SEQUEL OF\n                  THAT OF PRINCE CAMARALZAMAN.\n\n\n\nThe princess of China's nurse had a son whose name was Marzavan,\nand who had been foster-brother to the princess. Their friendship\nwas so great during their childhood, that they called each other\nbrother and sister, which even continued some time after their\nseparation.\n\nThis Marzavan, among other studies, had from his youth been much\naddicted to judicial astrology, geomancy, and other secret arts,\nwherein he became exceedingly skilful. Not content with what he\nhad learned from masters, he travelled; and there was hardly a\nperson of note in any science whom he did not know, so great was\nhis thirst after knowledge.\n\nAfter several years absence in foreign parts on this account, he\nreturned to the capital city of his native country, China; where,\nseeing so many heads on the gate by which he entered, he was\nexceedingly surprised, and, on coming to his lodging, demanded\nfor what reason they had been placed there; but more especially\ninformed himself of the condition of the princess his\nfoster-sister, whom he had not forgotten. As he could not be made\nacquainted with one without having an account of the other, he\nfor the present satisfied himself with what he had heard, till\nsuch time as he could learn more from his mother, the princess's\nnurse.\n\nAlthough the nurse, mother of Marzavan, was very much employed\nabout the princess, yet she no sooner heard her dear son was\nreturned, but she found time to come and embrace, and stay with\nhim a little. Having told him, with tears in her eyes, in what a\nsad condition the princess was, and for what reason the king her\nfather had confined her, he desired to know of his mother, if she\ncould not procure him the sight of her royal mistress, without\nthe king's knowing any thing of it. After some pause, she told\nhim she could say nothing to the matter for the present; but if\nhe would meet her next day at the same hour, she would give him\nan answer.\n\nNow the nurse, knowing that none could approach the princess but\nherself, without leave of the eunuch who commanded the guard at\nthe gate, addressed herself to him, who, she believed, was\nignorant of what had formerly passed at the court of China. You\nknow, said she, I have brought up and suckled the princess, and\nmay likewise have heard that I had a daughter whom I brought up\nalong with her. Now this daughter has since been married; yet the\nprincess still does her the honour to remember her, and would\nfain see her, but would do so without any body perceiving her\ncoming in or out.\n\nThe nurse would have gone on, but the eunuch cried, Say no more,\nit is sufficient; I will do any thing to oblige the princess: go\nand fetch your daughter, for send or her about midnight, and the\ngate shall be open to you.\n\nAs soon as night came, the nurse went for her son Marzavan; and,\nhaving dressed him so artfully in women's clothes, that nobody\ncould perceive he was a man, she took him along with her; and the\neunuch, believing it was a woman, admitted them without\nhesitation.\n\nThe nurse, before she thought fit to present Marzavan, went to\nthe princess, and said, Madam, this is not a woman I have brought\nto you; it is my son Marzavan, lately arrived from his travels;\nhe has a great desire to kiss your hand, and I hope your highness\nwill admit him to that honour.\n\nWhat, my brother Marzavan! said the princess, with a great deal\nof joy. Come hither, my dear, cried she, and take off this veil;\nfor surely it is not unreasonable that a brother and a sister\nshould see each other without reserve.\n\nMarzavan saluted her with profound respect, when she, without\ngiving him leave to speak, cried out, I am rejoiced to see you\nreturned in good health, after so many years' absence.\n\nMadam, replied Marzavan, I am infinitely obliged to your highness\nfor your goodness in rejoicing at my health; I no sooner landed\nin my native country than I inquired after yours, and heard what,\nto my great affliction, I am now witness of. Nevertheless, I\ncannot but rejoice that I am come seasonably to administer that\nremedy to you which so many others have attempted without\nsuccess; and though I should not reap any other fruit of my long\nvoyage, I shall think myself fully recompensed, for my great toil\nand hazard, by that one happiness.\n\nSpeaking these words, Marzavan drew forth a book, and other\nthings from his pocket, which he judged necessary to be used,\naccording to the relation he had got from his mother of the\nprincess's distemper. The princess, seeing him make all those\npreparations, cried out, What! brother, are you then one of those\nwho believe me mad? Undeceive yourself, and hearken to what I\nshall say to you.\n\nThe princess then began to relate to Marzavan all the particulars\nof her story, without omitting the least circumstance, even to\nthe ring which was exchanged for hers, and which she showed him.\nI have not concealed the least matter from you, said she; yet it\nis true there is something that I cannot comprehend, and has\ngiven occasion for some persons to think me mad; but as for the\nrest, I assure you it is literally as I have related.\n\nAfter the princess had done speaking, Marzavan, filled with\nwonder and astonishment, continued for some time with his eyes\nfixed on the ground, without speaking a word; but at length\nlifting his head, he said, If it be as your highness says, and\nwhich I do not in the least doubt, I hope to procure the\nsatisfaction you desire; but I must first entreat your highness\nto arm yourself with patience till I return; for I am resolved to\nset out in quest of this person, and, at my return, you may\nexpect to see the object of your love. So saying, Marzavan took\nleave of the princess, and set out next morning on his intended\ntour. He travelled from city to city, from province to province,\nand from island to island; and, in every place through which he\npassed, he could hear of nothing but the princess Badoura (the\nprincess of China's name) and her history.\n\nAbout four months after, our traveller arrived at Torf, a seaport\ntown, both great and populous, where he no more heard of the\nprincess Badoura, all the talk being of prince Camaralzaman, who\nwas sick, and whose history was very similar to that of the\nprincess. Marzavan was extremely glad to hear this, and informed\nhimself of the place where the prince was to be found, to which\nhe might have gone either by land or sea, or by sea only; but the\nlast was the shortest way.\n\nMarzavan chose the latter, and, embarking on board a merchant\nship, arrived safe in sight of King Schahzaman's capital; but, on\nentering the port, his ship happened to strike upon a rock, when\nit foundered, and sunk in sight of prince Camaralzaman's castle,\nwhere the king and his grand vizier were at that time.\n\nMarzavan could swim very well; he therefore immediately cast\nhimself into the sea on the ship's sinking, and got safe on shore\nunder the castle, where he was soon relieved by the grand\nvizier's order. After changing his clothes, and being well\ntreated, he was introduced to the grand vizier, who had sent for\nhim.\n\nMarzavan being a young man of good address, and of a good air,\nthis minister was very civil to him, especially when he heard him\ngive such just and pertinent answers to what was asked of him: he\nalso perceived he was learned; therefore said to him, From what I\ncan understand, you have travelled a great way, and must needs\nhave acquired much knowledge: I would to God you had learned any\nsecret for curing a certain malady, which has greatly afflicted\nthis court for a long while!\n\nMarzavan replied, if he knew what malady that was, he might\nperhaps find a remedy for it.\n\nThen the grand vizier related to him the whole story of prince\nCamaralzaman from its origin, and concealed nothing of his\ndesired birth, his education, the great inclination the king his\nfather had to see him early married, his aversion to marriage,\nhis disobeying his father in full council, his imprisonment, and\nhis pretended extravagances in prison, which, be said, were\nafterwards changed into a violent passion for a certain unknown\nlady, who he pretended had exchanged a ring with him, though, for\nhis part, he verily believed there was no such person in the\nworld.\n\nMarzavan gave great attention to all that the grand vizier said,\nand was infinitely rejoiced to find that, by means of his\nshipwreck, he had so fortunately met with the person he was\nlooking after. He saw no reason to doubt but that prince\nCamaralzaman was the man the princess of China was in love with;\ntherefore, without discovering any thing further to the vizier,\nhe desired to see him, whereby, he said, he might be better able\nto judge of his distemper. Follow me then, said the grand vizier,\nand you will find the king with him, who has already desired I\nshould introduce you to him.\n\nThe first thing that startled Marzavan, at his entrance into the\nprince's chamber, was to find him upon his bed languishing, and\nwith his eyes shut. Although he saw him in that condition, and\nalthough the king his father was sitting by him, he could not\nhelp crying out, Heavens! was there ever a greater resemblance\nthan this! He meant in their faces; for it seems the princess and\nprince were much alike.\n\nThese words of Marzavan excited the prince's curiosity so far,\nthat he vouchsafed to open his eyes, and look upon him. Marzavan,\nwho had a great deal of wit, laid hold of that opportunity, and\nmade his compliment in verse extempore; which nevertheless he did\nin such a disguised manner, that neither the king nor grand\nvizier understood any thing of the matter. However, he\nrepresented so nicely what had happened to the princess of China,\nthat the prince had no room to doubt but he knew the object of\nhis love, and could give him tidings of her. This made him so\njoyful, that the effects of it plentifully showed themselves in\nhis eyes and looks.\n\nAfter Marzavan had finished his compliment in verse, which\nsurprised prince Camaralzaman so agreeably, his highness took the\nliberty to make a sign to the king his father to quit the place\nwhere he was, and let Marzavan sit by him.\n\nThe king, overjoyed at this alteration, which gave him hopes of\nhis son's speedy recovery, quitted his place; and taking Marzavan\nby the hand, led him to it, requesting him to be seated. Then his\nmajesty demanded of him who he was, and whence he came; and upon\nMarzavan's answering he was a subject of China, and came from\nthat kingdom, the king immediately cried out, Heaven grant you\nmay be able to withdraw my son from this profound melancholy! and\nI shall have eternal obligations to you, which I will do my\nutmost to gratify beyond what was ever done. Having said this, he\nleft the prince to entertain himself with the stranger, while he\nwent and rejoiced with the grand vizier on this happy meeting.\n\nMarzavan, leaning down to the prince, spoke low in his ear thus:\nMy lord, said he, it is high time your highness should cease to\ngrieve. I know the lady on whose account you lament so bitterly;\nit is the princess Badoura, daughter of Gaiour king of China. Of\nthis I can assure your highness, both on account of what she has\ntold me of her adventure, and what I have learned of yours. You\nmay also depend upon it that she has undergone no less on your\naccount than you have done on hers. Here he began to relate all\nthat he knew of the princess, from the fatal time of their\ninterview after so an extraordinary a manner.\n\nHe omitted not to acquaint him how those had fared who had failed\nin their pretences to cure the princess of her indisposition. But\nyour highness is the only person, added he, that can cure her\neffectually, and therefore it were no matter how soon you set\nabout it. However, before you undertake so great a voyage, I\nwould have you perfectly recovered, and then we will take such\nmeasures as are necessary.\n\nThis discourse had a marvellous effect on the prince. He found so\ngreat a benefit by it, through the hopes he conceived of speedily\nfulfilling his desires, that he soon recovered strength\nsufficient to rise, and begged leave of his father to dress\nbefore him, with such an air as gave the old king incredible\nsatisfaction.\n\nKing Schahzaman immediately embraced Marzavan, without inquiring\ninto the means that had wrought this wonderful effect, and soon\nafter went out of the prince's chamber with the grand vizier, to\npublish this agreeable news to his people. On this occasion, he\nordered public rejoicings for several days together, and moreover\ngave great largesses to his officers, alms to the poor, and\ncaused the prisoners to be set at liberty throughout his kingdom.\nEvery city resounded with joy, and every corner of his dominions\nfelt the effect of his bounty.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman thought he had been extremely weakened by\nalmost continual watchings and abstinence, yet, contrary to all\nexpectation, he soon recovered his wonted health. When he found\nhimself in a condition to undertake the voyage, he took Marzavan\naside, and said, Dear Marzavan, it is now time to perform the\npromise you have made. I burn with impatience to see the charming\nprincess; and if you do not speedily give me an opportunity of\nputting an end to her torments and my own, by setting out on your\njourney, I shall soon relapse into my former condition; and then,\nperhaps, you may not find it so easy to cure me as you have now\ndone. But one thing still afflicts me, continued he; and that is,\nthe difficulty I shall meet with in getting leave from my father\nto go. You see he scarcely ever leaves me; therefore, if you do\nnot assist me in that particular, I am undone.\n\nAt these words the prince fell a weeping, and would not be\ncomforted till Marzavan said, Let not your highness be grieved at\nthat, for I warrant I will get you your liberty, so that nothing\nshall stop us. My principal design in this voyage was to deliver\nthe princess of China, my mistress, from grief; and I should fail\nin my duty to her, if I did not do my best endeavour to effect\nit. This is, then, the means I have contrived to obtain your\nliberty; you have not stirred abroad for some time, therefore let\nthe king your father understand you have a mind to take the air,\nand, if he pleases, to go and hunt two or three days with me. No\ndoubt he will grant your request; which when he has done, order\ntwo good horses to be got ready in a certain place, and leave the\nrest to me.\n\nNext day prince Camaralzaman did as he had been advised. He\nacquainted the king that he was very desirous to take the air,\nand, if he pleased, would go and hunt two or three days with\nMarzavan. The king gave his consent, but bid him be sure not to\nbe from home above one night, since too much exercise might\nimpair his health, and too long absence create his majesty some\nuneasiness. He then ordered him the best horses in his stable,\nand took particular care that nothing should be wanting for his\ndiversion. When all was ready, his majesty embraced the prince,\nand having recommended the care of him to Marzavan, left them.\nPrince Camaralzaman and Marzavan were soon mounted, when, to\namuse the two grooms who led the fresh horses, they made as if\nthey would hunt, and so got as far from the city and out of the\nroad as was possible. Night approaching, they alighted at a\ncaravansera or inn, where they supped, and slept till about\nmidnight; when Marzavan awaked the prince without awaking the\ngrooms, desiring his highness to let him have his suit, and take\nanother for himself, which was brought in his sumpter. Thus\nequipped, they mounted the fresh horses; and Marzavan taking one\nof the groom's horses by the bridle, they set off at a good round\npace.\n\nAt day-break they got into a forest, where, coming to the meeting\nof four roads, Marzavan went aside, and desired the prince to\nwait for him a little: he then cut the groom's horse's throat;\nand, tearing the prince's suit he had on, besmeared it with\nblood, and threw it in the highway.\n\nThe prince demanded his reason for what he had done; he told his\nhighness that he was sure the king his father would no sooner\ncome to know that he was departed without the grooms, than he\nwould suspect something, and immediately send in quest of them.\nNow, said Marzavan, to the end that, when they come to this\nplace, they may stop and think you are devoured by wild beasts, I\nhave done this; so that by this means we may have leisure to\ncontinue our journey without fear of pursuit. I must needs\nconfess, continued Marzavan, that this is a violent way of\nproceeding, to alarm an old father with the death of his son,\nwhom he loved so passionately; but then, on the other hand, the\nnews of your welfare, which he may soon have, will in a great\nmeasure alleviate his grief, and make amends for your absence.\nBrave Marzavan, replied the prince, I cannot sufficiently admire\nyour conduct, and I have all the obligations in the world to you.\n\nThe prince and Marzavan, well provided with cash for their\nexpenses, continued their journey both by land and sea, and found\nno other obstacle but the length of the way which they were\nforced to undergo: at length, however, they arrived at the\ncapital of China, where Marzavan, instead of going to his lodging\ncarried the prince to a public inn. They tarried there incognito\nthree days to rest themselves, during which time Marzavan caused\nan astrologer's habit to be made for the prince. The three days\nbeing expired, they went together to the bagnio, the prince\nputting on his astrologer's habit; and from thence Marzavan\nconducted him in sight of the king of China's palace, where he\nleft him to acquaint his mother, the princess Badoura's nurse, of\nhis arrival, that she might give the like information to the\nprincess her mistress.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman, instructed by Marzavan what he was to do,\nand provided with all he wanted as an astrologer, came next\nmorning to the gate of the king's palace, and cried aloud, I am\nan astrologer, and am come to effect a cure on the most beautiful\nprincess Badoura, daughter of the most high and mighty monarch\nGaiour king of China, on the conditions proposed by his majesty,\nto marry her if I succeed, or else to lose my life for my\nfruitless and presumptuous attempt!\n\nBesides the guards and porters standing at the gate, this novelty\ndrew together a great number of people about prince Camaralzaman.\nThere had no physician, astrologer, nor magician, appeared for a\nlong time on this account, deterred by the many tragical examples\nof ill success that had occurred; it was therefore thought there\nwere either no more of these professions in the world, or at\nleast that there were no more so mad as those who had gone before\nthem.\n\nThe prince's good mien, noble air, and blooming youth, raised\npity in every one who saw him. What do you mean, sir, said some\nwho stood near him, to expose thus your life, which promises so\nmuch, to certain death? Cannot the heads you see on all the gates\nof this city deter you from such an undertaking? In the name of\nGod, consider what you do, and abandon the rash attempt!\n\nThe prince continued firm, notwithstanding the remonstrances made\nto him; and, as he saw nobody come to introduce him, he repeated\nthe same cry with so loud a voice as to make every body tremble.\nThey all then cried, Let him alone; he is resolved to die. God\nhave mercy upon his soul! He then proceeded to cry out a third\ntime in the same manner, when the grand vizier came in person,\nand introduced him to the king of China.\n\nAs soon as the prince came into the king's presence, he bowed and\nkissed the floor. The king, who, of all that hitherto had exposed\ntheir lives on this occasion, had not before seen one worthy of\nhis notice, had now a real compassion for prince Camaralzaman, on\naccount of the danger he was about to expose himself to; and\nperceiving in him something which merited deference and respect,\nhe did him the more honour, and made him seat himself near him.\nYoung man, said he, I can hardly believe that you, at this age,\ncan have acquired sufficient experience to enable you to cure my\ndaughter. I will give her to you with all my heart on that\naccount; nay, more willingly than I should have done to others\nwho have before offered themselves; but then I declare to you, at\nthe same time, with, a great deal of concern, that if you fail to\nsucceed in your attempt, notwithstanding your noble appearance,\nand exceedingly beautiful person, you must lose your head.\n\nSir, replied the prince, I have infinite obligations to your\nmajesty for the honour you design me, though a stranger; but I\ndesire your majesty to consider that I would not have come from\nso remote a country, and which perhaps may be unknown in your\ndominions, if I had not been certain of the cure I propose. What\nmight not be said of my inconstancy of temper, if, after the\ngreat fatigue and dangers I have undergone on this account, I\nshould abandon the generous enterprise in which I had engaged?\nEven your majesty would soon lose that respect you have done me\nthe honour to show me, if I appeared so dastardly and\nmean-spirited. I beseech your majesty, therefore, no longer to\ndelay the experiment I am certain of, but give me leave to\ndisplay the utmost of my art, which I doubt not will be to your\nmajesty's satisfaction, as well as my great happiness.\n\nThen the king commanded the eunuch, who had the guard of the\nprincess, to introduce prince Camaralzaman into her apartment,\nbut, before letting him go, was so kind as to remind him once\nmore of the hazard he underwent; yet the prince seeming resolved,\nthe king suffered him to follow the eunuch.\n\nWhen they came to a long gallery, at the end of which was the\nprincess's apartment, the prince, through impatience once more to\nsee the object of his vows, who had occasioned him so much grief,\ngot before the eunuch, walking as fast as he could.\n\nThe eunuch, redoubling his pace, with much difficulty got up with\nhim, when, taking him by the arm, he cried, Whither away so fast,\nsir? you cannot be admitted without me; and it I should seem that\nyou have a great desire for death, who can. run to it so\nheadlong! Not one of the many astrologers and magicians whom I\nhave before introduced, made such haste as yourself to a place\nwhither, I fear, you will but too soon come.\n\nFriend, replied the prince, continuing his pace, and looking\nearnestly on the eunuch, it was because none of your astrologers\nor magicians was ever so sure of their art as I am: they were\ncertain, indeed, that they should die if they did not succeed;\nbut they had no certainty, at the same time, of their success as\nI have. On this account they had reason to tremble at approaching\nthe place whither I go, and where I am sure to find my happiness.\nHe had just spoken these words as he was at the door. The eunuch\nopened it, and introduced him into a great hall, whence there was\nan entrance into the princess's chamber, divided only by a piece\nof tapestry.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman, speaking more softly to the eunuch, asked\nhim, before he entered, whether he chose that he should cure the\nprincess in his presence, or where he was, without going further;\ntelling him, in the same tone, that nobody might hear him in the\nprincess's chamber, he made him the frank offer, to show that it\nwas not presumptuous caprice, nor the heat of youth, which put\nhim upon the enterprise.\n\nThe eunuch was very much amazed to hear the prince talk with such\nassurance; he left off insulting him, and said to him seriously,\nIt is no matter whether you do it here or there, provided the\nbusiness be done; cure her how you will, you will get immortal\nhonour by it, not only in this court, but over all the world.\n\nThe prince replied, it will be best, then, to make the cure\nwithout seeing her, that you may be witness of my skill: though I\ncannot, without impatience, put off seeing a princess of her\nrank, who is to be my wife, yet, out of respect to you, I will\ndeprive myself of that pleasure for a little while. Being\nfurnished with every thing proper for an astrologer, and taking\npen, ink, and paper, out of his pocket, wrote this billet to the\nprincess.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman to the Princess of China.\n\nADORABLE PRINCESS!--The love-sick prince Camaralzaman will not\ntrouble you with the pains that he has endured ever since the\nfatal night when your charms deprived him of that liberty which\nhe resolved to preserve as long as he lived: he only tells you,\nthat he devoted his heart to you in your charming slumbers; those\nslumbers which hindered him from beholding the brightness of your\npiercing eyes, in spite of all his endeavours to oblige you to\nopen them. He presumed to present you with his ring as a token of\nhis passion, and, in exchange, would be proud to receive yours,\nwhich he encloses in this billet. If you will condescend to\nreturn it as a reciprocal assurance of your love, he will reckon\nhimself the happiest of all lovers: if not, the sentence of\ndeath, which your fatal refusal brings him, will be received with\nthe more resignation, because he dies for love of you. He waits\nin your anti-chamber for your answer.\n\nWhen the prince had finished his billet, he made it up, and\nenclosed with it the ring in a little packet, without letting the\neunuch see what he did. When he sealed it, he gave it to him:\nThere, friend, said he, carry it to your mistress. If it does not\ncure her as soon as she reads it, and sees what is enclosed in\nit, I give you leave to tell every body that I am the most\nignorant and impudent astrologer that ever was, is, or ever will\nbe.\n\nThe eunuch entering the princess of China's chamber, gave her the\npacket he received from prince Camaralzaman. Madam, said he, the\nboldest astrologer that ever lived, if I am not mistaken, is\narrived here, and pretends that, on reading this letter, and\nseeing what is in it, you will be cured: I wish he may prove\nneither a liar nor an impostor.\n\nThe princess Badoura took the billet, and opened it with a great\ndeal of indifference, but, on seeing the ring, she had not\npatience to read it through; she rose hastily, broke the chair;\nwhich held her down with struggling, and ran and opened the door.\nShe knew the prince the moment she saw him, and he her; they\npresently embraced each other with all imaginable tenderness,\nand, without being able to say a word for excess of joy, they\nlooked on one another, admiring how they met again after their\nfirst interview. The princess's nurse, who ran to the door with\nher, made them come into her chamber, where the princess Badoura\ngave the prince her ring, saying, Take it, I cannot fairly keep\nit without restoring yours, which I will never part with: neither\nyours nor mine can be in better hands.\n\nThe eunuch went immediately to the king to tell him what had\nhappened. Sir, said he, all the astrologers and doctors who have\nhitherto pretended to cure the princess, were a company of fools\nin comparison of him who came last! He used neither schemes,\nconjurations, perfumes, nor any thing else; but cured her without\nseeing her! Then he told the king how he did it, who was\nagreeably surprised at the news; and going presently to the\nprincess's chamber, embraced her; after which he took\nCamaralzaman's hand, and joined it to the princess's. Happy\nstranger, said the king, I will keep my word, and give my\ndaughter to be your wife; though, by what I see of you, it is\nimpossible for me to believe that you are really what you appear\nin this assumed character, and would have me believe.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman thanked the king in the most humble\nexpressions, that he might the better show his gratitude. As for\nmy profession, said he, I must own I am not an astrologer, as\nyour majesty very judiciously observed; I only put on the habit\nof one, that I might succeed more easily in my ambition to be\nallied to the most potent monarch in the world. I am born a\nprince, and the son of a king and queen; my name is Camaralzaman;\nmy father is Schahzaman, who now reigns over the islands that are\nknown by the name of the islands of the Children of Khaledan. He\nthen told the adventures of his life, and the wonderful rise of\nhis love; that the princess's was altogether as marvelous, and\nthat both were confirmed by the exchange of two rings.\n\nWhen the prince had done speaking, the king said, This history is\nso extraordinary, that it deserves to be known to posterity; an\naccount of it shall be taken; and the original being deposited in\nmy royal archives, I will spread copies of it abroad, that my own\nkingdom, and the kingdoms around me, may know it.\n\nThe marriage was solemnized the same day, and the rejoicings for\nit were universal all over the empire of China; nor was Marzavan\nforgotten; the king immediately gave him an honourable post in\nhis court, and a promise to advance him higher afterwards.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman and the princess Badoura enjoyed the fulness\npf their wishes in the sweets of marriage; and the king kept\ncontinual feastings for several months, to testify his joy on the\noccasion.\n\nIn the midst of these pleasures, prince Camaralzaman one night\ndreamed that he saw his father Schahzaman on death-bed, ready to\ngive up the ghost, and heard him speak thus to his attendants: My\nson, whom I so tenderly loved--my son, whom I bred with so much\nfondness, so much care, has abandoned me, and is the cause of my\ndeath! He awoke and sighed; which wakened the princess, who asked\nhim the reason of it.\n\nAlas, my love! cried the prince, perhaps the very moment that I\nam speaking of it, my father is no more! He then acquainted her\nwith his melancholy dream, and why that sad thought came into his\nhead. The princess, who studied to please him in every thing,\npresently contrived a way to do it; and, fearing that he would\ntake less delight in her company if he was kept from seeing his\nfather, went that very day to her father, whom she found alone.\nAfter kissing his hand, she thus addressed herself: Sir, I have a\nfavour to beg of your majesty, and beseech you not to deny me;\nbut, that you may not believe I am put upon it by the prince my\nhusband, I assure you beforehand that he knows nothing of my\nasking it of you; it is, that you will give me leave to go and\nsee the king Schahzaman, my father-in-law.\n\nThe king replied, Daughter, though I shall be very sorry to lose\nyour company, and part with you for so long a time as a journey\nto a place so distant will take up, yet I cannot disapprove of\nyour resolution; it is worthy of yourself: Go, child, I give you\nleave, but on condition that you stay no longer than a year in\nking Schahzaman's court. I hope the king will be willing to come\nto this agreement with me, that we, in our turn, may see him, his\nson, and daughter-in-law, and I my daughter and son-in-law.\n\nThe princess communicated the king of China's consent to prince\nCamaralzaman, who was transported to hear it, and gave her a\nthousand thanks for this new token of her love.\n\nThe king of Chiha commanded preparations to be made for the\njourney, and, when all things were ready, accompanied the prince\nand princess several leagues on their way. When they came to\npart, great was the weeping on all sides. The king embraced them,\nand desired the prince to be kind to his daughter, and to love\nher always with the same passion he then manifested towards her.\nSo he left them to proceed on their journey, and, to divert\nhimself, hunted all the way as he returned to his capital city.\n\nWhen prince Camaralzaman and the princess Badoura had dried up\ntheir tears, and given over mourning for parting with the king of\nChina, they comforted themselves with thinking how glad king\nSchahzaman would be to see them, and how they should rejoice to\nsee him.\n\nThey travelled about a month incessantly, and at last came to a\nlarge field, planted with tall trees at convenient distances,\nunder whose shade they went on very pleasantly. The weather being\nthat day much hotter than ordinary, Camaralzaman thought it best\nto stay there during the heat, and proposed it to Badoura, who,\nwishing for the same thing, readily consented. They alighted in\nthe most agreeable place of the grove; a tent was presently set\nup, and the princess, rising from the shade under which she sat\ndown, entered it. The prince ordered his servants to pitch their\ntent also while they staid there, and gave them directions\nhimself how to do it. The princess, being weary with the fatigues\nof her journey, bid one of her women untie her girdle, which they\nlaid down by her; and, falling asleep, her attendants left her by\nherself.\n\nPrince Caraaralzaman having seen all things in order, came to the\ntent where the princess was sleeping. He entered, and sat down\nwithout making any noise, intending to take a nap himself; but\nobserving the princess's girdle lying by her, he took it up, and\nlooked upon the diamonds and rubies one by one. In doing so, he\nsaw a little purse hanging to it, tied fast with a riband; he\nfelt it, and found there was something in it: being desirous to\nknow what it was, he opened the purse, and took out a cornelian\nengraved with unknown characters and figures. This cornelian,\nsaid the prince to himself, must have something extraordinary in\nit, or my princess would not be at the trouble to carry it with\nher; and, indeed, it was Badoura's talisman, or a scheme of her\nnativity drawn from the constellations of heaven, which the queen\nof China had given her daughter as a charm that would keep her\nfrom all harm as long as she had it about her.\n\nThe prince, to see what the talisman was, took it out to the\nlight, the tent being dark; and, while he was holding it up in\nhis hand, a bird darted down from the air, and snatched it away.\n\nYour majesty may easily conceive the concern and grief of prince\nCamaralzaman, when he saw the bird fly away with the\ntalisman*[Footnote: There is an adventure like this in the\nromance of Peter of Provence and the Fair Maguelona, which was\ntaken from the Arabic.] . He was more troubled at it than words\ncan express, and cursed his unseasonable curiosity, by which\nmeans he had lost a treasure that was so exceedingly precious,\nand so much valued by his dear princess.\n\nThe bird, having got her prize, pitched upon the ground, not far\noff, with the talisman in her mouth. The prince drew near it, in\nhopes she would drop it; but, as he approached, the bird took\nwing, and pitched again on the ground further off. Camaralzaman\nfollowed her; and the bird, having swallowed the talisman, took a\nsmall flight further off still. The prince, being very dexterous\nat a mark, thought to kill her with a stone, and still followed.\nThe further she flew, the more eager he grew in pursuing, keeping\nher always in view. Thus the bird drew him along from hill to\nvalley, and from valley to hill, all day; every step leading him\nout of the way from the field where he left his camp and the\nprincess Badoura: and, instead of perching at night on a bush,\nwhere he might probably have taken her, she roosted on a high\ntree, safe from his pursuit. The prince vexed to the heart for\ntaking so much pains to no purpose, thought of returning to the\ncamp; but, alas! he thought of it too late. Whither could he go?\nwhich way return? how could he find out the untracked way of the\nmountains, and the untrodden paths of the vallies? Darkness\nspread over the heavens; and night, with the fatigues of the\nday's labour, would not suffer him to undertake so soon to return\nthe way he came, were there any hopes of his finding it. Ah! said\nthe despairing lover, if I knew which way to return, how durst I\nappear before my princess without her talisman? Overwhelmed with\nsuch afflicting thoughts, and tired with his pursuit of the bird,\nsleep came upon him, and he lay down under a tree, where he\npassed the night.\n\nHe awoke next morning before the bird had left the tree, and, as\nsoon as he saw her on the wing, followed her again the whole day,\nwith no better success than the former, eating nothing but herbs\nand fruits all the way as he went. He did the same for ten days\ntogether, pursuing the bird, and keeping her in his eye from\nmorning till night, lying always under the tree where she\nroosted. On the eleventh day, the bird still flying, Camaralzaman\nobserved that he came near a great city: the bird made towards\nit, flew over the walls, and the prince saw no more of her; so he\ndespaired of ever recovering the princess of Badoura's talisman.\n\nCamaralzaman, whose grief was beyond expression, went to the\ncity, which was built on the sea-side, and had a fine port. He\nwalked up and down the streets, without knowing where he was, or\nwhere to stop. At last he came to the port, in as great\nuncertainty as ever what he should do. Walking along the\nriver-side, he perceived the gate of a garden open, and an old\ngardener at work in it. The good old man, looking up, saw he was\na stranger and a Mussulman; so he asked him to come in, and shut\nthe door after him.\n\nCamaralzaman entered, and, as the gardener bade him shut the\ndoor, demanded of him why he was so cautious. Because, replied\nthe old man, I see you are a stranger and a Mussulman newly\narrived; and this city, being inhabited for the most part by\nidolaters, has a mortal aversion to us Mussulmen, and use the few\nof us who are here with a great deal of barbarity. I suppose you\ndid not know this, and it is a miracle that you have escaped,\nconsidering how far you have come through them; these idolaters\nbeing very apt to fall upon the Mussulmen who are strangers, or\nto draw them into a snare, unless those strangers are instructed\nhow to deal with and beware of them.\n\nCamaralzaman thanked the honest gardener for his advice, and the\nsecurity he offered him in his house. He would have said more;\nbut the good man interrupted him, saying, Let us wave\ncomplimenting; you are weary, and want to refresh yourself. Come\nin; eat what we have, and lie down to rest; you are very welcome.\nHe conducted him into his little hut, which, though small, was\nclean, and well defended from the injuries of the weather. He\nordered the best provisions he had to be brought forth, and\nentertained the prince so heartily, that he was charmed with it,\nand at his request told him how he came there.\n\nWhen he had ended his story, without hiding any part of it, he\nasked him which was the nearest way to his father's territories?\nFor it is in vain, said he, to think of finding my princess where\nI left her, wandering, as I have been, eleven days from that\nplace. Ah, continued he, how do I know that she is alive! and,\nsaying this, he burst out into tears that would have melted the\nmost cruel and obdurate. The gardener replied, that there was no\npossibility of his going thither by land, the ways were so\ndifficult, and the journey so long; besides, there was no manner\nof convenience for his subsisting; and if there was, he must\nnecessarily pass through many barbarous nations; that he would\nnever reach his father's; that the quickest passage would be to\ngo to the isle of Ebene, whence he might easily transport himself\nto the isles of the children of Khaledan; that there was a ship\nwhich sailed from the port where he was every year to Ebene, and\nhe might take that opportunity of returning to those islands. The\nship departed, said he, but a few nays ago, and it will be almost\na year before it makes the voyage again: if you will accept of my\nhouse for your habitation so long, you will be as welcome to it\nas to your own.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman was glad he had met with such an asylum in a\nplace where he had no knowledge of any man, nor any man of him,\nand where nobody could think it his interest to entertain or\npreserve him. He accepted the offer, and lived with the gardener\ntill the time that the ship was to sail to the isle of Ebene. He\nspent his time all day in working in the garden, and ail night in\nthinking of his dear princess Badoura, in sighs, tears, and\ncomplaints. But we must leave him a while, and return to the\nprincess, whom we left asleep in her tent.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF THE PRINCESS BADOURA, AFTER\n                   HER SEPARATION FROM PRINCE\n                         CAMARALZAMAN.\n\n\n\nThe princess slept a long time, and, when she awoke, wondered\nthat prince Camaralzaman was not with her. She called her women,\nand asked them if they knew where he was gone. They told her they\nsaw him enter the tent, but did not see him go out again. While\nthey were talking, she spied her girdle, saw it had been meddled\nwith, and, on examination, found the little purse open, and the\ntalisman gone. She did not doubt but Camaralzaman had taken it in\norder to examine it, and that he would bring it back. She waited\nfor him impatiently till night, and could not imagine what made\nhim stay away so long.\n\nWhen it was quite dark, and she could hear nothing of him, she\nfell into a violent fit of grief: She cursed the talisman, and\nhim that made it; and, had she not been restrained by duty, would\nhave cursed her mother who gave it to her. She was the more\ntroubled, because she could not imagine how her talisman should\nhave caused the prince's separation from her. However, amidst all\nher sorrow, she retained her judgment, and came to a courageous\nresolution not common with persons of her sex.\n\nShe and her women only knew of the prince's being gone; for his\nmen were then asleep, or refreshing themselves in their tents.\nThe princess, fearing they would betray her if they had any\nknowledge of it, first composed her mind a little, moderated her\ngrief, and forbade her women to say or do any thing that might\nmake them suspect the truth. Then she undressed herself, and put\non prince Camaralzaman's suit; being so like him in it, that the\nnext day, when she came abroad, his men took her for him.\n\nShe commanded them to pack up their baggage and march forward;\nand when all things were ready, she ordered one of her women to\ngo into her sedan; she herself on horseback, riding by her side.\n\nThey travelled several months by land and sea; the princess\ncontinuing the journey under the name of Camaralzaman. They took\nthe island of Ebene in their way to the isles of the Children of\nKhaledan. They went to the capital of the island, where reigned a\nking whose name was Armanos. The persons who first landed giving\nout that they brought prince Camaralzaman, who was returning from\na long voyage towards his own country, and was forced to put in\nthere by a storm, the news of his arrival was presently carried\nto court.\n\nKing Armanos, accompanied by most of his courtiers, went\nimmediately to wait on the prince, and met the princess, just as\nshe had landed, going to the lodgings that had been taken for\nher. He received her as the son of a king who was his friend, and\nwith whom he had always kept a fair correspondence; and carried\nher to his palace, where an apartment was prepared for her and\nall her attendants; though she would fain have excused herself,\nand lodged in a private house. Besides this, he was so courteous,\nthat doing her common honours would not content him; he\nentertained her three days together with extraordinary\nmagnificence and royal festivals.\n\nThe days of feasting being over, and king Armanos understanding\nthat the princess, whom he still took for prince Camaralzaman,\ntalked of going aboard again to proceed on her voyage, he was so\ncharmed with the air and qualities of such an accomplished\nprince, as he took her, that he watched his opportunity when she\nwas alone, and spoke in the following manner: You see, prince,\nthat I am old, and cannot hope to live long. It is my great\ntrouble that I have not a son to whom I may leave my crown.\nHeaven has only blessed me with one daughter, who cannot desire\nto be more happy than a prince of your virtues can make her,\nwhose merit is equal with your birth. Instead of going home, stay\nand take her from my hand: with her I will give you my kingdom,\nand retreat myself to a quiet life, free from the business and\ncares of the world, having long enough had the weight of the\ncrown upon me; and nothing could be a greater pleasure in my\nretirement, than to consider what a worthy successor sits on my\nthrone, and rules my happy people.\n\nThe king of the isle of Ebene's generous offer to bestow his only\ndaughter in marriage on the princess Badoura, who could not\naccept of it because she was a woman, gave her unexpected\ntrouble, and she could not presently think of an expedient to\nextricate herself out of it. She thought it would not become a\nprincess of her rank to deceive the king, and to own that she was\nnot prince Camaralzaman, but his wife, when she had assured him\nshe was he himself, whose part she had hitherto acted so well,\nthat her sex was not in the least suspected. She was also afraid\nto refuse him; seeing him so much bent upon the conclusion of the\nmarriage, that there was reason to apprehend his kindness would\nturn to aversion and hatred, if the honour he offered her was\nrejected, and that he might attempt something even against her\nlife. Besides, she was not sure of finding prince Camaralzaman in\nthe court of king Schahzaman, his father.\n\nThese considerations, added to the prospect of obtaining a\nkingdom for the prince her husband, in case she found him again,\nmade her resolve to do what king Armanos would have her, to marry\nhis daughter. So, after having stood silent some minutes, she,\nwith blushes which the king took for a sign of modesty, answered,\nSir, I am infinitely obliged to your majesty for your good\nopinion, for the honour you do me, and the great favour you\noffer, which I cannot pretend to merit, and dare not refuse.\n\nBut, sir, continued she, I cannot accept of this alliance, on any\nother condition, than that your majesty will assist me with your\ncounsel, and that I do nothing without first having your\napprobation.\n\nThe marriage treaty being thus concluded and agreed on, the\nceremony was put off till next day. In the mean time the princess\nBadoura gave notice to her officers, who still took her for\nprince Camaralzaman, what she was about to do, that they might\nnot be surprised at it, assuring them that the princess Badoura\nconsented to it. She talked also to her women, and charged them\nto keep the secret she had intrusted them with as they valued\ntheir lives.\n\nThe king of the isle of Ebene rejoiced that he had got a\nson-in-law so much to his satisfaction. The next morning he\nsummoned his council, and acquainted them with his design of\nmarrying his daughter to prince Camaralzaman, whom he introduced\nto them, and made him sit down by them, taking the princess\nBadoura for him; told them he resigned the crown to him, and\nrequired them to obey and swear fealty to him. Having said this,\nhe descended from his throne, and the princess Badoura, by his\norder, mounted it. When she was placed, the lords of the court\ndid her homage, and took an oath of allegiance. As soon as the\ncouncil broke up, the new king was proclaimed through the city;\nseveral days of rejoicing were appointed, and couriers despached\nall over the kingdom, to see the same ceremonies observed with\nthe like demonstrations of joy.\n\nAt night there was an extraordinary feasting at the palace-royal;\nand the princess Haiatalnefous* [Footnote: This is an Arabic\nword, which signifies Life and Soul.], dressed like a royal\nbride, was led to the princess Badoura, whom every body took for\na man. The wedding was solemnized with the utmost splendour; and\nthe rites being performed, they were put to bed. In the morning\nthe princess Badoura went to receive the compliments of the\nnobility in a hail of audience, where they congratulated her on\nher marriage and accession to the throne. In the mean while, king\nArmanos and the queen went to the apartment of the new queen\ntheir daughter, and asked how she had spent the night. Instead of\nanswering them, she held down her head, and by her looks they\nperceived that she was not contented.\n\nKing Armanos, to comfort the princess Haiatalnefous, bid her not\nbe troubled, as prince Camaralzaman might be in haste to go to\nhis father's court, and had not stopped at the isle of Ebene, if\nit had not been in his way thither. Though we have engaged him to\nstay by arguments with which he ought to be well satisfied, yet\nit is probable he grieves to be all at once deprived of the hopes\nof seeing either his father or any of his family. You must wait\ntill those first emotions of tenderness are over, and his filial\nlove wears off by degrees; he will then carry himself towards you\nas a good husband ought.\n\nThe princess Badoura, under the name and character of prince\nCamaralzaman, not only received the congratulatory addresses of\nthe courtiers and the nobility of the kingdom who were in and\nabout the city, but reviewed the regular troops of her household,\nand entered on the administration of affairs as king with so much\nmajesty and judgment as gained her the general applause of all\nwho were witnesses of her conduct.\n\nIt was evening before she returned to queen Haiatalnefous's\napartment, and perceived, by the reception she met with, that the\nbride was not at all pleased with the wedding-night. She\nendeavoured to make her easy by a long discourse, in which she\nemployed all the wit she had (and that was as much as any woman\nwas mistress of) to persuade her she loved her entirely; she then\ngave her time to go to bed; and while she undressed, herself she\nwent to her devotions; but her prayers were so long, that queen\nHaiatalnefous was asleep before they were ended. She then gave\nover, and lay down softly by the new queen, without waking her;\nand was as much afflicted at being obliged to act a part which\ndid not belong to her, as in the loss of her dear Camaralzaman,\nfor whom she ceased not to sigh. She rose as soon as it was day,\nbefore Haiatalnefous was awake; and, dressed in her royal rotes\nas king, went to council.\n\nKing Armanos, as he did the day before, came early to visit the\nqueen his daughter, whom he found in sighs and tears; he wanted\nno more to be informed of the cause of her trouble; he began to\nresent the contempt, as he thought, which was put upon his\ndaughter, and could not imagine the reason of it. Daughter, said\nhe, have patience for another night. I raised your husband to the\nthrone, and can pull him down again; depend upon it, I will drive\nhim thence with shame, unless he gives you the satisfaction that\nhe ought to do. His usage of you has provoked me so much, I\ncannot tell to what my resentment may transport me; the affront\nis as much to me as to you.\n\nIt was late again before the princess Badoura came to queen\nHaiatalnefous: she talked to her as she had done the night\nbefore, and in the same manner went to her devotions, desiring\nthe queen to go to bed. But Haiatalnefous would not be so served;\nshe held her back, and obliged her to sit down again: What, said\nshe, do you think to deal by me this night as you have done the\ntwo last? Pray tell me, what can you dislike in a princess of my\nyouth and beauty, who not only loves but adores you, and thinks\nherself the happiest of all princesses in having so amiable a\nprince for her husband? Any body but me would revenge the slight,\nor rather the unpardonable affront that you have put upon me, and\nabandon you to your evil destiny; however, though I did not love\nyou as well as I do, yet, out of pure good nature and humanity,\nwhich make me pity the misfortunes of persons for whom: I am no\nways concerned, I could not forbear telling you that the king my\nfather is enraged against you for your carriage towards me, and\nwill to-morrow exert his fury in a manner I tremble to think of,\nif you still use me as you have hitherto done. Do not therefore\nthrow into a despair a princess, who, notwithstanding your ill\nusage, cannot help loving you.\n\nThis discourse embarrassed the princess Badoura more than any\nthing she had yet met with; she did not doubt the truth of what\nHaiatalnefous had said. King Armanos's coldness the day before\nhad given her but too much reason to see that he was highly\ndissatisfied with her. The only way to justify her conduct was to\ncommunicate her sex to the princess Haiatalnefous. She had\nforeseen she should be under a necessity of discovering it to\nher, yet, now she was about to make such a declaration, was\nafraid how she would receive it: but, considering that if\nCamaralzaman was alive, he must necessarily touch at the isle of\nEbene in his way to King Schahzaman his father's kingdom, that\nshe ought to preserve herself for his sake; and as it was\nimpossible to do it, if she did not let the princess\nHaiatalnefous know who and what she was, she resolved to venture,\nand try to get off that way.\n\nThe princess Badoura stood as one struck dumb; and Haiatalnefous,\nbeing impatient to hear what she could say, was about to speak to\nher again, when she stopped her by these words: Lovely and too\ncharming princess! I own I have been in the wrong, and I condemn\nmyself for it; but I hope you will pardon me, and keep the secret\nI am going to reveal to you for my justification.\n\nShe then opened her bosom, and, showing her naked breasts,\nproceeded thus: See, princess, if a woman, and a princesss like\nyourself, does not deserve to be forgiven; I believe you will be\nso good at least, when you know my story, and the terrible\naffliction that forced me to act the part you see.\n\nThe princess Badoura, having discovered herself entirely to the\nprincess of the isle of Ebene, again prayed her to keep the\nsecret, and to accept her as a husband till prince Camaralzaman's\narrival, which she hoped would be in a little time.\n\nPrincess, replied Haiatalnefous, your fortune is indeed strange\nthat a marriage, so unhappy as yours was, should be rendered\nunhappy by so unaccountable an accident, your love being\nreciprocal, and full of wonders. Pray Heaven you may again meet\nwith your husband as soon as you desire! and be assured I will\nkeep the secret till he arrives. It will be the greatest pleasure\nto me in the world to be the only person in the vast kingdom of\nthe isle of Ebene who knows what and who your are, while you\ncontinue to govern the people as happily as you have begun: I\nonly ask to be your friend; nothing could be more to my\nsatisfaction. The two princesses tenderly embraced each other,\nand, after a thousand vows of mutual friendship, lay down to\nrest.\n\nAccording to the custom of the country, the token of the\nconsummation of the marriage was to be produced and shown\npublicly. The two princesses concerted a method to get over that\ndifficulty: queen Haiatalnefous's women, though cunning and\nquick-sighted, were next morning deceived themselves, and king\nArmanos, his queen, and the whole court, completely beguiled.\nFrom this time the princess Badoura grew more and more in king\nArmanos's esteem and affection, governing the kingdom to his and\nhis people's content, peaceably and prosperously.\n\nWhile these things were transacting in the court of the isle of\nEbene, prince Camaralzaman staid in the city of idolaters with\nthe gardener, who had offered his house for a retreat till the\nship should sail for that island.\n\nOne morning, when the prince was up early, and, as he used to do,\nwas preparing to work in the garden, the gardener prevented him,\nsaying, This day is a great festival among the idolaters; and\nbecause they abstain from work themselves, spending their time in\nabominable mysteries and public rejoicings, they will not let\nMussulman work; who, to gain their favour, generally assist at\ntheir shows, which are worth seeing; wherefore have nothing to do\nto-day; I leave you here; and the time approaching in which the\nship uses to sail for the isle of Ebene, I will go to some of my\nfriends, and know when it will depart, and secure you a passage\nin it. The gardener put on his best clothes, and went to the\nfeast.\n\nWhen prince Camaralzaman was alone, instead of going to take part\nin the public joy of the city, the solitude he was in brought to\nhis mind, with more violence, the loss of his dear princess: he\nwalked through the garden sighing and groaning, till the noise\nwhich two birds made on a neighbouring tree, tempted him to lift\nup his head, and stop to see what was the matter.\n\nCamaralzaman was astonished at seeing these two birds fighting\nwith their beaks, and that in a very little while one of them,\nfell down dead at the root of a tree; the bird that was\nvictorious took wing again, and flew away.\n\nIn an instant, two other large birds, that had seen the fight at\na distance, came from the other side of the garden, and pitched\non the ground, one at the feet, and the other at the head of the\ndead bird: they looked upon it some time, shaking their heads, as\nif they were grieved at the death of their departed friend; after\nwhich, digging a grave with their talons, they interred the\ndefunct.\n\nWhen they filled up the grave with the earth which they had\nturned up to make it, they flew away, and returned in a few\nminutes, bringing with them the bird that had committed the\nmurder, the one holding one of its wings in its beak, and the\nother one of its legs; the criminal all the while crying out in a\ndoleful manner, and struggling to escape. They carried it to the\ngrave of the bird which it had lately sacrificed to its rage, and\nthere they made a sacrifice of it to the manes of the dead bird;\nand, striking it often with their beaks, at last they killed the\nmurderer. They then opened its belly, tore out its entrails, left\nits body on the place unburied, and flew away.\n\nCamaralzaman remained in great astonishment all the time he stood\nbeholding this sight: he drew near the tree where this scene had\nbeen acted; and, casting his eyes on the scattered entrails of\nthe bird that was last killed, he observed something red hanging\nout of its body; he took it up, and found it was his beloved\nprincess Badoura's talisman, which had cost him so much pains and\nsorrow, and so many sighs, since the bird snatched it out of his\nhand. Ah, cruel! said he to himself, still looking on the bird,\nthou hadst delight in mischief; so I have the less reason to\ncomplain of what thou didst to me.\n\nIt is impossible to express prince Camaralzaman's joy. Dear\nprincess, continued he to himself, this happy minute, which\nrestores a treasure that is so precious to thee, is, without\ndoubt, a presage of our meeting again, and perhaps sooner than I\nthink of! Thank Heaven, who sent me this good fortune, and gives\nme hopes of the greatest felicity that my heart can desire!\n\nSaying this, he kissed the talisman, wrapped it up in a riband,\nand tied it carefully about his arm. Till now he had been almost\na stranger to rest, his troubles always keeping him awake; but\nthe next night he slept soundly: he rose somewhat later next\nmorning than he used to do, put on his working clothes, and went\nto the gardener for orders what he should go about. The good man\nbid him root up an old tree that stood in a place to which he\ndirected him, and was decaying.\n\nCamaralzaman took an axe, and began his work: cutting off a\nbranch at the root, he found that his axe struck against\nsomething which resisted the blow, and made a noise; he turned up\nthe earth, and discovered a broad plate of brass, under which was\na stair-case of ten steps; he went down, and at the bottom\nobserved a cave of above six yards square, with fifty brass urns\nplaced in order around it, each urn having a cover. He opened\nthem all, one after another; and there was not one of them which\nwas not full of gold dust. He came out of the cave, rejoicing\nthat he had found such a vast treasure: he replaced the brass\nplate on the stair-case, and next rooted up the tree, previous to\nthe gardener's coming to see what he had done.\n\nThe gardener had learned the day before that the ship which was\nbound for the isle of Ebene would sail in a few days, though the\ncertain time was not fixed. His friend promised to inform him the\nprecise day, if he called on him to-morrow or the day after, and,\nwhile Camaralzaman was rooting up the tree, he went to have his\nanswer. He returned with a joyful countenance, by which the\nprince guessed he brought him good news. Son, said the old man,\n(so he always called him on account of the difference between\ntheir ages,) be joyful, prepare to embark in three days; the ship\nwill then certainly sail: I have taken a passage for you, and\nsettled the price with the captain.\n\nIn the condition I am at present, replied Camaralzaman, you could\nnot bring me more agreeable news, and in return I have also\ntidings that will be as welcome to you. Come along with me, and\nyou shall see what good fortune Heaven has in store for you.\n\nThe prince led the gardener to the place where he had rooted up\nthe tree, showed him the way into the cave, and, when there, let\nhim see what a treasure he had discovered; thanking Providence\nfor rewarding his virtue, and the pains he had been at for so\nmany years. How, replied the gardener, do you imagine I will take\nthese riches as mine which you found out? The property of them is\nyours; I have no right to them. For fourscore years, (so long my\nfather has been dead) I have done nothing but dig in this garden,\nand could not discover this treasure, which is a sign that it was\ndestined to you by fate, or Heaven had revealed it to me. It\nagrees with your quality as a prince, and suits your age, too,\nbetter than mine: I am old, and have one foot in the grave, and\ncannot tell what to do with so much wealth. Providence has\nbestowed it upon you at a time when you are returning to that\ncountry which will one day be your own, where you may make a good\nuse of it for the advantage of yourself, and the people over whom\nyou are to reign.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman would not be outdone in generosity by the\ngardener; they had a long dispute who should refuse it, for\nneither of them would have it from the other. At last the prince\nsolemnly protested that he would have none of it, unless the\ngardener would divide it with him, and take half. The good man\nconsented to please the prince; so they parted it between them,\nwhich amounted to twenty-five urns each.\n\nHaving divided it, Son, said the gardener to the prince, it is\nnot enough that you have got this treasure; we must now contrive\nto carry it so privately on board a ship, that nobody may know\nany thing of the matter, otherwise you will run the risk of\nlosing it. There are no olives in the isle of Ebene, and those\nwhich are exported hence are a good commodity there: you know I\nhave plenty of them; take what you will; fill fifty pots, half\nwith the gold dust, and half with olives; which being a common\nmerchandise from this city to that island, none will mistrust\nthat there is any thing but olives in the pots.\n\nThe counsel was good, and Camaralzaman followed it. The rest of\nthe day was taken up by him and the old Man in packing up the\ngold and the olives in the fifty pots; and the prince, fearing\nthe talisman should come by any ill accident again, carefully put\nit up in one of the pots, distinguishing it front the others by a\nparticular mark. [Footnote: This incident is also much the same\nwith one in the romance of Peter of Provence and the Fair\nMaguelona.] When they were all ready to be shipped, the prince\nretired into the gardener's hut with him; and discoursing\ntogether, related the battles of the birds, with the circumstance\nof the adventure in which he had found the princess Badoura's\ntalisman. The gardener was equally surprised and joyful to hear\nit, knowing what trouble the prince had been at for its loss.\nWhether the old gardener was quite worn out with age, or had\nspent himself too much that day, he had a very bad night's rest:\nhe grew worse next day; and on the third day, when the prince was\nto embark, was so bad, that it was evident he was near the point\nof death. As soon as day began to dawn, the captain of the ship\ncame in person, with several seamen to the gardener's; and\nknocking at the garden-door, Camaralzaman opened it, They asked\nhim where the passenger was who was to go with them: the prince\nanswered, I am he; the gardener, who agreed with you for my\npassage, is extremely ill, and cannot be spoken with. Come in,\nand let your men carry these pots of olives, and a few other\nthings, on board for me: I will only take leave of the gardener,\nand then follow you to the water-side. The seamen took up the\npots and the baggage; and the captain desired the prince to make\nhaste; the wind being fair, they staid for nothing but him.\n\nWhen the captain and his men were gone, Camaralzaman went to the\ngardener to take leave of him, and thank him for all his good\noffices; but he found him in the agonies of death; and had\nscarcely time to bid him rehearse the articles of his faith,\nwhich all good Mussulmen do before they die. The gardener made\nthe best efforts he could towards it, and expired in his\npresence.\n\nThe prince, being obliged to hasten his departure, was at a loss\nwhat to do; he was afraid he should lose his voyage if he staid,\nand was very unwilling to leave his dead benefactor without\npaying the last duties of a friend, according to their law. He\nwashed him, buried him in his own garden, (for the Mahometan's\nhad no church-yard in the city of the idolaters, where they were\nonly tolerated;) and though he did it as fast as he could, having\nnobody to assist him, it was almost night before he had put him\nin the ground. As soon as he had done so, he ran to the\nwater-side, carrying with him the key of the garden; designing,\nif he had time, to give it to the landlord; otherwise to deposit\nit in some trusty person's hand before witnesses, that he might\nhave it after he was gone. When he came to the port, he was told\nthat the ship had sailed several hours before, and was already\nout of sight. It staid three hours for him; but, the wind being\nfair, the captain durst not wait longer.\n\nIt is easy to imagine that prince Camaralzaman was exceedingly\nconcerned on being forced to stay in that country a year longer,\nwhere he neither had, nor was willing to have, any acquaintance.\nIt was a sad thing to reflect how long he had to wait for the\nlost opportunity: but what gave him the greatest affliction was\nhis missing the princess Badoura's talisman, which he now\nconcluded to be entirely lost. The only course that was left for\nhim was to return to the garden from whence he came, to rent it\nof the landlord, and to go on with his gardening, that he might\ndeplore his misery and misfortunes by himself. He hired a boy to\nhelp him to do some part of the drudgery; and, that he might not\nlose the other half of the treasure, which came to him by the\ndeath of the gardener, who died without heirs, he put the gold\ndust in fifty other pots of olives, to be ready against the time\nof the ship's return, and making the same voyage.\n\nWhile prince Camaralzaman began another year of labour, sorrow,\nand impatience, the ship, having a fair wind, sailed to the isle\nof Ebene, where in due time she arrived at the capital city.\n\nThe palace-royal being by the sea-side, the new king, or rather\nthe princess Badoura, espying the ship as she was entering the\nport, asked what vessel it was: she was answered, that it came\nfrom the city of the idolaters, from whence it used to come every\nyear about that time, and was generally richly laden.\n\nThe princess, who always had prince Camaralzaman in her mind,\namidst the glories of her palace and power, imagined that the\nprince might be on board; on which thought, she resolved, since\nit might be so, to go on board the ship and meet him; not to\ndiscover herself to him, (for she questioned whether he would\nknow her again), but to observe him, and take proper measures for\ntheir making themselves mutually known. Her pretence was, to see\nwhat merchandise was aboard, to have the first sight of the\ngoods, and to choose the most valuable for herself. She commanded\na horse to be brought, which she mounted, and rode to the port,\naccompanied by several officers, who were in waiting at that\ntime, and arrived at the port just as the captain came ashore.\nShe ordered him to be brought before her, and asked whence he\ncame, how long he had been on his voyages and what good or bad\nfortune he had met with; if he had no stranger of quality on\nboard, and with what his ship was loaded. The captain gave a\nsatisfactory answer to all her demands; and, as to passengers,\nassured her there were none but merchants in his ship, who came\nevery year, and brought rich stuffs from several parts of the\nworld to trade with; calicoes stained or unstained; diamonds,\nmusk, ambergris, camphire, civet, spices, drugs, and olives.\n\nThe princess Badoura loved olives extremely: when she heard the\ncaptain speak of them, Land them, said she; I will take them off\nyour hands. As to the other goods, let the merchants bring them\nto me, and let me see them before they are disposed of, or show\nthem to any one.\n\nThe captain, taking her for the king of the isle of Ebene,\nreplied, Sir, there are fifty great pots of olives; but they\nbelong to a merchant whom I was forced to leave behind, I gave\nhim notice that I staid for him; but he not coming, and the wind\npresenting, I was afraid of losing it, and so set sail. The\nprincess answered, It is no matter: bring them ashore; we will\ndrive a bargain for them, however.\n\nThe captain sent his boat to the ship and in a little time\nreturned with the pots of olives. The princess demanded how much\nthe fifty pots might be worth in the isle of Ebene. Sir, said the\ncaptain, the merchant is very poor, and your majesty will not pay\ntoo dear if you give him a thousand pieces of silver.\n\nTo satisfy him, replied the princess, and because you tell me he\nis poor, I will order you a thousand pieces of gold for him,\nwhich do you take care to give him. The money was accordingly\npaid, and the pots carried to the palace.\n\nNight drawing on, the princess withdrew into the inner palace,\nand went to the princess Haiatalnefous's apartment, ordering the\nolives to be brought thither. She opened one, to let the princess\nHaiatalnefous taste them, and to taste them herself. Great was\nher astonishment when she found the olives were mingled with gold\ndust. What can this mean? said she: it is wonderful beyond\ncomprehension! Her curiosity increasing by so extraordinary an\nadventure, she ordered Haiatalnefous's women to open and empty\nall the pots in her presence; and her wonder was still greater\nwhen she saw that the olives in all of them were mixed with gold\ndust; but when she saw her talisman drop out of that in which the\nprince had put it, she was so surprised that she swooned away.\nThe princess Haiatalnefous and her women brought the princess\nBadoura to life again by throwing cold water in her face. When\nher senses were restored, she took the talisman, and kissed it\nagain and again; but not willing that the princess\nHaiatalnefous's women should hear what passed, and it growing\nlate, she dismissed them.\n\nPrincess, said she to Haiatalnefous, as soon as they were gone,\nyou, who have heard my story, must know that it was at the sight\nof the talisman that I swooned. This is the thing which was the\nfatal cause of my losing my dear husband, prince Camaralzaman;\nbut, as it caused our separation, so I foresee it will be the\nmeans of our sudden meeting.\n\nNext day, as soon as it was light, she sent for the captain of\nthe ship, and, when he came, spoke to him thus: I want to know\nsomething more of the merchant to whom the olives belong which I\nbought of you yesterday. I think you told me you left him behind\nin the city of the idolaters: can you tell me what he does there?\n\nYes, sir, replied the captain; I can speak on my own knowledge,\nand assure your majesty what I say is truth. I agreed for his\npassage with a gardener, a very old man, who told me I should\nfind him in his garden, where he worked under him. He showed me\nthe place, and I went thither to call him; where I found what the\ngardener had said to be true, and for that reason I told your\nmajesty he was poor. I spoke to him myself, and cannot be\nmistaken.\n\nIf what yeu say be true, replied the princess Badoura, you must\nset sail this very day for the city of idolaters, and bring that\ngardener's man, who is my debtor; otherwise I will not only\nconfiscate all the goods belonging to yourself and the merchants\nyou have brought with you, but your and their lives shall answer\nfor your refusal. I have ordered my seal to be put on the\nwarehouses which contain your merchandise; nor shall it be taken\noff till that man is brought here. This is all I have to say; go,\nand do as I command you.\n\nThe captain could make no reply to this order, though to obey it\nwould be a great loss to him and his merchants. He acquainted\nthem with it; and they all very wisely considering that to lose\ntheir goods and their lives would be a much greater, hastened him\naway as fast as they could. They set all hands to work to load\nthe ship with provisions and fresh water for the voyage back, and\nwere so diligent, that she was ready to sail before night.\nAccordingly, the captain weighed anchor, and made for the city of\nthe idolaters, where he arrived in a short time, the wind and\nweather favouring him during the whole of the voyage. When he was\nas near the city as he thought convenient, he would not cast\nanchor, but let the ship ride off-shore; and, going into his boat\nwith as many hands as he wanted, he landed a little way off the\nport, whence he went directly to Camaralzaman's garden.\n\nThough it was about midnight when he arrived there, the prince\nwas not asleep. His separation from the fair princess of China,\nhis wife, afflicted him in the usual manner, and he lay awake\nbemoaning his ill fortune. He cursed the day in which his\ncuriosity tempted him to touch the fatal girdle.\n\nThus did he pass those hours which are devoted to rest, and was\nin these mournful meditations when he heard somebody knock at the\ngarden-door; he ran hastily to open it, half dressed as he was;\nand had no sooner done it, than the captain and his seaman took\nhold of him, and carried him by force to the boat, and so on\nship-board; when they set sail immediately, and made the best of\ntheir way to the isle of Ebene.\n\nHitherto Camaralzaman, the captain, and his men, had not said a\nword to each other. At last the prince broke silence, and asked\nthe captain, whom he knew again, why they had taken him away by\nforce. The captain, in his turn, demanded of the prince whether\nhe was not a debtor to the king of Ebene? I the king of Ebene's\ndebtor! replied Camaralzaman, in amazement; I do not know him; I\nnever had anything to do with him in my life, and never set foot\nin his kingdom. The captain answered, You should know that better\nthan me; you will soon talk to him yourself; till then, stay here\nand have patience.\n\nThe captain was not long on his voyage back to the isle of Ebene.\nThough it was night when he cast anchor in the port, he landed\nimmediately; and, taking prince Camaralzaman with him, hastened\nto the palace, where he demanded to be introduced to the king.\n\nThe princess Badoura was withdrawn into the inner palace.\nHowever, as soon as she heard of the captain's return, and\nCamaralzaman's arrival, she came forth to speak to him. As soon\nas she cast her eyes on the prince, she knew the man for whom so\nmany tears had been shed, though he was still in his gardener's\nhabit. As for the prince, who trembled in the presence of a king,\nas he thought her, to whom he was to answer for an imaginary\ndebt, it did not enter his thoughts that the person, whom he so\nearnestly desired to see, stood before him. If the princess had\nfollowed the dictates of her inclination, she would have run to\nhim, and, by embracing, discovered herself; but she put on\nherself a constraint, believing that it was for both their\ninterests she should act the part of a king a little longer\nbefore making herself known. She contented herself for the\npresent to put him into the hands of an officer who was then in\nwaiting, charging him to take care of him, and use him well, till\nnext day.\n\nWhen the princess Badoura had provided for prince Camaralaman's\nentertainment, she turned to the captain, whom she was now to\ngratify for the important service he had done. She commanded\nanother officer to go immediately and take the seal off the\nwarehouse where the goods belonging to him and the merchants were\ndeposited, whom she discharged. She also gave the master of the\nvessel a jewel worth much more than the expense he had been at in\nboth his voyages. She bade him, besides, keep the one thousand\npieces of gold he had got for the pots of olives; telling him she\nwould make up the account with the merchant he had brought with\nhim.\n\nThis done, she retired to the princess of the isle of Ebene's\napartment, to whom she communicated her joy, praying her still to\nkeep the secret. She told her how she intended to manage their\ndiscovering themselves to each other, and to the kingdom; adding,\nthat so vast was the distance between a gardener and a great\nprince, as he was, that it might be dangerous to raise him at\nonce from the lowest condition of the people to the highest\ndegree, though it was but justice it should be done. The princess\nof the isle of Ebene was so far from betraying her, that she\nrejoiced, and entered into the design; assuring her she would\ncontribute to it all that lay in her power, and do whatever she\nwould desire to serve them.\n\nNext morning the princess of China ordered prince Camaralzaman to\nbe conducted to the royal baths, and apparelled in the robes of\nan emir or governor of a province. She then went to the council,\nwith the name, habit, and authority, of king of the island of\nEbene. She commanded Camaralzaman to be introduced; and his fine\nmien and majestic air drew upon him the eyes of all the lords who\nwere present.\n\nThe princess Badoura was charmed to see him again as lovely as\nshe had often seen him, and that pleasure inspired her to speak\nthe more warmly in his praise. When she addressed herself to the\ncouncil, having ordered the prince to take his seat among the\nemirs, she spoke to them thus; my lords, Camaralzaman, the man\nwhom I have advanced to the same dignity with yourselves, is not\nunworthy of the honour that is done him. I have known enough of\nhim in my travels to answer for him; and I can assure you he will\nmake his merit known to all of you, as well by his valour, as by\na thousand other shining qualities which distinguish him from the\nrest of mankind.\n\nCamaralzaman was extremely amazed to hear the king of the isle of\nEbene, whom he was far from taking for a woman, much less for his\ndear princess, name him, and declare that he knew him, who, as he\nthought, was certain he had never seen him before. He was much\nmore surprised to hear himself praised so excessively. However,\nthose eulogiums, excessive as they were, did not confound him,\nthough they came from the mouth of a king: he received them with\nsueh modesty as showed that he deserved them, and did not grow\nvain upon it. He porptrated himself before the throne of the\nking; and rising again, Sir, said he, I want words to express ny\ngratitude to your majesty for the honour you have done me: I\nshall do all that lies in my power to render myself worthy of\nyour royal favour.\n\nFrom the council-board the prince was conducted to a palace which\nthe princess Badoura ordered to be fitted up for him; where he\nfound officers and domestics ready to receive and obey his\ncommands, a stable full of fine horses, and every thing suitable\nto the quality of an emir. When he was in his closet, the steward\nof his household brought a chest full of gold for his expenses.\n\nThe less he conceived how it came about that he met with so much\ngood fortune, the more he wondered at it, never once imagining it\nwas owing to the princess of China.\n\nTwo or three days after, the princess Badoura made him\nlord-treasurer, which office was then vacant, that he might be\nnearer her person. He behaved himself in this new charge with\nmuch integrity, and was so obliging to every body, that he not\nonly gained the friendship of the great, but also the affections\nof the people, by his uprightness and bounty.\n\nCamaralzaman, being the reigning favourite of the king of the\nisle of Ebene, and in the esteem of all his subjects, would have\nbeen the happiest man in the world, if he had had his princess\nwith him. In the midst of his good fortune he never ceased\nlamenting her, and grieved that he could hear no tidings of her,\nespecially in a country which she must necessarily have passed in\nher way to his father's court, and have arrived long before, if\nshe had not met with some ill accident by the way: he would have\ndoubted something, had the princess Badoura still gone by the\nname of Camaralzaman, which she took with his habit; but, on her\naccession to the throne, she changed it to that of Armanos, in\nhonour of the old king her father-in-law. There were very few\ncourtiers who knew that she had ever been called Camaralzaman,\nwhich she assumed when she arrived at the court of the isle of\nEbene; nor had Camaralzaman so much acquaintance with any of them\nas yet to inform himself further of her history.\n\nThe princess, fearing he might do it in time, and desirous he\nshould owe the discovery to herself only, resolved to put an end\nto their mutual torments, for she had observed that, as often as\nshe discoursed about the affairs of his office, he fetched such\ndeep sighs as could be applied to nobody but her. She herself\nlived in such constraint, that she could endure it no longer. Add\nto this the friendship of the emirs and courtiers, and the zeal\nand affection of the people; in a word, every thing contributed\nto her putting the crown of the isle of Ebene on his head without\nany obstacle.\n\nThe princess Badoura consulted the princess Haiatalnefous in\nthis, as she had done in the other parts of the adventure; and\nboth agreeing to have it done, she one day took prince\nCamaralzaman aside, saying, I must talk with you about an affair,\nCamaralzaman, in which I want your advice: it will not be so\nproper to do it by day-light, for our discourse may be long, and\nI would not be observed. Come hither in the evening: do not let\nus wait for you; I will take care to provide you a bed.\n\nCamaralzaman came punctually to the palace at the hour appointed\nby the princess: she took him into the inner apartment; and,\nhaving told the chief eunuch, who prepared to follow her, that\nshe had no occasion for his service, but only keep the door shut,\nshe carried him into a private apartment adjoining to the\nprincess Haiatalnefous, where she used to lie.\n\nWhen she entered the chamber, where was a bed, she shut the door;\nand, taking the talisman out of her pocket, gave it to\nCamaralzaman, saying, It is not long since an astrologer\npresented me with this talisman: you being skilful in all things,\npray tell me for what it is good.\n\nCamaralzanrian took the talisman, and drew near a lamp to view\nit. As soon as he knew it to be the princess's, he was\ntransported with pleasure, and she was no less pleased to see it.\nSir, said the prince, your majesty asked me what this talisman is\ngood for. Oh, king! it is only good to kill me with grief and\ndespair, if I do not suddenly find the most charming and lovely\nprincess in the world, to whom it belongs; whose loss I was the\noccasion of, and of a strange adventure to me, the very recital\nof which will move your majesty to pity such an unfortunate\nhusband and lover, if you have patience to hear it.\n\nYou shall tell me that another time, replied the princess; I am\nvery glad I know something of it already. Stay here a little, and\nI will return to you in a moment.\n\nAt these words she went into her closet, put off her royal\nturban, and in a few minutes dressed herself like a woman; and,\nhaving the girdle round her which she had on the day of their\nseparation, she entered the chamber.\n\nPrince Camaralzaman immediately knew his dear princess; he ran to\nher, and tenderly embraced her, crying out, Ah! how much am I\nobliged to the king, who has so agreeably surprised me!--Do not\nexpect to See the king any more, replied the princess, with tears\nin her eyes: Let us sit down, and I will explain the enigma.\n\nThey sat down, and the princess told the prince her resolution,\nwhen in the field where they encamped the last time they were\ntogether, as soon as she perceived she waited for him to no\npurpose; how she went through with it, till she arrived at the\nisle of Ebene, where she had been obliged to marry the princess\nHaiatalnefous, and accept of the crown, which king Armanos\noffered as one of the conditions of the marriage; how the\nprincess, whose merit she highly extolled, took her declaration\nof her sex; how she found the talisman in the pots of olives\nmingled with the gold dust; and that her finding it was the cause\nof her sending for him to the city of the idolaters.\n\nWhen she had finished the relation of her adventure, she obliged\nthe prince to tell his. He informed her how the talisman\noccasioned their separation, and the rest of the story relating\nto him, as already told. They then bemoaned one another's ill\nfortune, and rejoiced in their good: he complained of her with\nthe kindest expressions love could invent, chiding her tenderly\nfor making him languish so long without her; and she excused\nherself with the reasons already related. After which, it growing\nlate, they went to bed.\n\nThe princess Badoura and prince Camaralzaman rose next morning as\nsoon as it was light; but the princess would no more put on her\nroyal robes as king; she dressed herself in her natural dress,\nthat of a woman, and then sent the chief eunuch to king Armanos,\nher father-in-law, to desire he would take the trouble to come to\nher apartment.\n\nWhen the king entered the chamber, he was amazed to see a lady\nthere who was unknown to him, and the lord-treasurer with her, to\nwhom it was not permitted to come within the inner palace, nor to\nany of the lords of the court. He sat down, and asked where the\nking was.\n\nThe princess answered, Yesterday I was king, sir; but today I am\nonly princess of China, wife to prince Camaralzaman, the true son\nof king Schahzaman. If your majesty will have patience to hear\nour histories, I hope you will not condemn me for putting an\ninnocent deceit upon you. The king bade her go on, and heard her\ndiscourse from beginning to end, with astonishment. The princess\nfinishing, said to him, Sir, though our religion does not suffer\nmen to have more wives than one, without some sort of scandal,\nand we women do not easily comply with the custom men have\nintroduced to have several, yet if your majesty will consent to\ngive your daughter, the princess Haiatalnefous, in marriage to\nthe prince Camaralzaman, I will with all my heart yield up to her\nthe rank and quality of queen which of right belongs to her, and\ncontent myself with the second place. If this precedence were not\nher due, I would, however, give it her, being obliged to her for\nkeeping the secret so faithfully. If your majesty approves of it,\nI am sure she will, and will pass my word that she will obey you\nwith joy.\n\nKing Armanos listened to the princess with admiration, and when\nshe had done, turned about to prince, Camaralzaman, saying, Son,\nsince the princess Badoura, your wife, whom I have all along\nthought to be my son-in-law through a deceit of which I do not\ncomplain, assures me that she will divide your bed with my\ndaughter, I have nothing more to do but to know if you are\nwilling to marry her, and accept of the crown, which the princess\nBadoura should deservedly wear as long as she lived, if she did\nnot quit it out of love to you. Sir, replied prince Camaralzaman,\nthough I desired nothing so earnestly as to see my father, yet\nthe obligations I have to your majesty and the princess\nHaiatalnefous are so weighty, that I cannot deny you any thing in\nmy power.\n\nCamaralzaman was proclaimed king, and married the same day with\nall possible demonstrations of joy; he being very well pleased\nwith the princess Haiatalnefous's beauty and love for him. The\ntwo queens lived together afterwards as friendly as they had done\nbefore, both being contented with king Camaralzaman's equal\ncarriage towards them; and they were alternately taken to his\nbed.\n\nNext year each brought him a son, and the births of the two\nprinces were celebrated with extraordinary feastings. The first,\nwhom the princess Badoura was delivered of, king Camaralzaman\nnamed Amgrad, Most Glorious; and the other, who was born of queen\nHaiatalnefous, Assad, Most Happy.\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF THE PRINCES AMGRAD AND\n                             ASSAD.\n\n\n\nThe two princes were brought up with great care, and, when old\nenough, had the same governor, and the same master for the arts\nand sciences which king Camaralzaman would have them learn; and\nthey had the same master for each exercise. The friendship which\nfrom their infancy they entered into, occasioned an uniformity of\nmanners and inclinations which increased with their years. When\nthey were of age to keep a separate court, they loved one another\nso tenderly, that they begged king Camaralzaman to let them live\ntogether. He consented to it; and they had the same officers, the\nsame domestics, the same lodging, and the same table. King\nCamaralzaman had so good an opinion of their capacity and\njustice, that he made no scruple of admitting them into his\ncouncil at eighteen years old, and letting them by turns preside\nthere, while he took the diversion of hunting, or recreated\nhimself with his queens at his houses of pleasure.\n\nThe two princes being equally handsome, both in infancy and when\nthey were grown up, the two queens loved them with incredible\ntenderness; in such a manner, however, that the princess Badoura\nhad a greater kindness for prince Assad, queen Haiatalnefous'\nson, than her own; and queen Haiatalnefous loved Amgrad, princess\nBadoura's son, better than her own son Assad.\n\nThe two queens thought at first that this inclination was nothing\nbut a friendship that proceeded from an exeess of their own for\neach other, which they still preserved; but as the two princes\nadvanced in years, that friendship turned to a secret love, when\nthe graces that appeared in their youth blinded their reason.\nThey knew the criminality of their passion, and did all they\ncould to resist it; but their efforts proved vain. They were\naccustomed to be familiar with them, to admire, to praise, to\nkiss and caress them from their infancy, and could not desist\nwhen they grew up, which inflamed their desires to such a height\nthat they could neither eat, drink, nor sleep. It was their and\nthe princes' ill fortune, that the latter, being used to be so\ntreated by them, had not the least suspicion of their infamous\ndesires.\n\nThe two queens had not discovered the secret of their passion,\nnor had either the boldness to mention the prince she loved, by\nword of mouth, or the guilty flame with which she burnt; they at\nlast resolved to do it by billet, and made use of king\nCamaralzaman's absence to execute their wicked design, when he\nwas gone a hunting, which would take him up three or four days.\n\nPrince Amgrad presided at the council-table the day of king\nCamaralzaman's departure, and heard causes till three or four\no'clock in the afternoon. When he returned to the palace from the\ncouncil-chamber, an eunuch took him aside, and gave him a billet\nfrom queen Haiatalnefous, Amgrad took it but read with horror.\nTraitor! said he to the eunuch, as soon as he had read it\nthrough, is this the fidelity thou owest thy master and thy king?\nAt these words he drew his sabre, and cut off his head.\n\nHaving done this, he ran in haste to the princess Badoura his\nmother, bearing his resentment still in his looks, and showing\nher the billet, told her the contents of it, and from whom it\ncame; but, instead of hearkening to him, she fell into a passion,\nand said, Son, it is all a calumny and imposture: Queen\nHaiatalnefous is a very discreet princess, and you are very bold\nto talk after this rate. The prince was enraged at his mother, to\nhear her speak so of him. You are both bad alike, said he and had\nit not been for the respect I owe my father, this day should have\nbeen the last of Haiatalnefous's life.\n\nQueen Badoura might have imagined, by the example of her son\nAmgrad, that prince Assad, who was as virtuous as the other,\nwould not be pleased with such a declaration of love as had been\nmade to his brother: yet that did not hinder her persisting in so\nabominable a design; she wrote him a billet the next day, which\nshe trusted with an old woman belonging to the palace to convey\nto him.\n\nThe old woman watched her opportunity to give it as he was coming\nfrom the council-chamber, where he presided that day in, his\nturn: the prince took it; and, reading it, fell into such a fury,\nthat, without finishing it, he drew his sabre, and punished the\nold woman as she deserved. He ran presently to the apartment of\nhis mother queen Haiatalnefous with the billet in his hand; he\nwould have shown it to her, but she did not give him time crying\nout, I know what you would have: you are as impertinent as your\nbrother Amgrad, Begone! and never come into my presence again.\n\nAssad stood as one thunderstruck at these words, of which he\ncould not comprehend the meaning. When he recollected himself, he\nwas so transported with rage, that he had like to have given very\nfatal demonstrations of his anger; but he contained himself, and\nwithdrew without making any reply, fearing, if he staid, he might\nsay something unworthy the greatness of his soul. Amgrad had put\nthe same constraint on himself; and, guessing by his mother's\ncarriage that she was altogether as criminal as queen\nHaiatalnefous, went to his brother, to chide him, for not\ncommunicating that hated secret to him, and to mingle his sorrow\nwith Assad's.\n\nThe two queens grew desperate when they found so much virtue in\nthe two princes; and, instead of reforming themselves, renounced\nall sentiments of mothers and of nature, and conspired together\nto destroy them: they made their women believe the two princes\nhad attempted to ravish them: they counterfeited the matter to\nthe life by tears, cries, and curses, and lay in the same bed, as\nif the resistance they had made had wasted them so much, that\nthey were almost at death's door.\n\nWhen Camaralzaman returned to the palace from hunting, he was\nvery much surprised to find them in bed together in tears; and\nthe part of desponding ladies was acted so well, that he was\ntouched with compassion, and asked them, with earnestness, what\nhad happened to them.\n\nAt this question, the dissembling queens wept and groaned more\nbitterly than before; and, after pressing them again and again to\ntell him, queen Badoura at last answered thus: Sir, our grief is\nso extraordinary, and so just, that we ought not to see the light\nof the sun nor live a day, after the violence that has been\noffered us by the princes your sons. Their brutality is such,\nthat they entered into a horrid design in your absence, and had\nthe boldness and insolence to make attempts upon our honour. Your\nmajesty will excuse us from saying more; you may guess the rest\nby our affliction.\n\nThe king sent for the two princes, and would have killed them\nboth with his own hand, if old king Armanos, his father-in-law,\nwho was present, had not held his arm. Son, said he, what are you\ngoing to do? Will you stain your hands and your palace with your\nown blood? There are other ways of punishing, if they are really\nguilty.\n\nHe endeavoured thus to appease him, and desired him to examine\nthe matter, and see whether they did indeed commit the crime of\nwhich they were accused. It was now a hard thing for Camaralzaman\nto be so much master of himself as not to butcher his own\nchildren. He ordered them to be put under arrest, and sent for an\nemir called Giendar, whom he commanded to carry them out of the\ncity, and put them to death, as far off and in what place he\npleased; but not to return unless he brought their clothes back,\nas a token of having executed his orders.\n\nGiendar travelled with them all night, and early the next morning\nalighted, telling them, with tears in his eyes, the cruel\ncommands he had received. Believe me, princes, said he, it is\nnext to death to obey your father, who chose me to execute what\nhe ordered concerning you. Would to Heaven I could avoid it! The\nprinces replied, Do your duty; we know well you are not the cause\nof our deaths, and pardon you freely.\n\nThen they embraced, and bid each other adieu with so much\ntenderness, that it was a long time before they could leave one\nanother's arms. Prince Assad was the first who prepared himself\nfor the fatal stroke. Begin with me, Giendar, said he, that I may\nnot have the affliction to see my clear brother Amgrad die.\nAmgrad opposed him in this; and Giendar could not, without,\nweeping more than before, be witness of this dispute between\nthem, which showed how perfect and sincere their friendship was.\n\nThey at last determined the contest by desiring Giendar to tie\nthem together, and put them in the most convenient posture to\nkill them at one blow. Do not refuse two unfortunate brothers the\npoor comfort of dying together, said the generous princes; for\nall things, even our innocence, are common between us.\n\nGiendar agreed to it, and, as they desired, tied them to each\nether, breast to breast, close; and when he had placed them so as\nhe thought he might strike the blow with the more surety to\nanswer their request, and cut off their heads at once, he asked\nif they had any thing to command him before they died?\n\nWe have only one thing to desire, replied the princes; which is,\nto assure our father, on your return, that we are innocent; but\ndo not charge him with our deaths, knowing he is not well\ninformed of the truth of the crime of which we are accused.\n\nGiendar promised to do what they would have him, and drew his\nsabre. His horse, being tied to a tree just by, started at the\nsight of the sabre, which glittered against the sun, broke his\nbridle, and ran away with all speed into the country. Giendar set\na great price upon him, being a very good horse; besides, being\nrichly harnessed, the emir could not well bear the loss. This\naccident so troubled him, that, instead of beheading the two\nprinces, he threw down his sabre, and ran after his horse to\ncatch him.\n\nThe horse gallopped on before him, and led him several miles out\nof his way into a wood. Giendar followed, and the horse's\nneighing roused a lion that was asleep not far off. The lion\nstarted up, and, instead of running after the horse, made\ndirectly towards Giendar, who thought no more of his horse, but\nhow to avoid the lion, and save his life. He ran into the\nthickest of the wood, the lion pursuing him. Driven to this\nextremity, he said to himself, Heaven had not punished me in this\nmanner, but to show the innocence of the princes whom I was\ncommanded to put to death; and now, to add to my misfortune, I\nhave not my sabre to defend myself!\n\nWhile Giendar was gone, the two princes were seized with a\nviolent thirst, occasioned by the fear of death, notwithstanding\ntheir steadfast resolution to submit to the king their father's\ncruel order.\n\nPrince Amgrad showed his brother a fountain not far off. Ah,\nbrother! said Assad, we have but a short time to live, and what\nneed have we to quench our thirst? We can bear it a few minutes\nlonger.\n\nAmgrad, taking no notice of his brother's remonstrance, unbound\nhimself, and his brother likewise, whether he would or not. They\nwent to the fountain, and, having refreshed themselves, heard the\nroaring of a lion, who, in pursuit of his prey, had got to the\nend of the wood near where the princes were. They also heard\nGiendar's dreadful cries; on which Amgrad seized Giendar's sabre,\nwhich lay on the ground, saying to Assad, Come, brother, let us\ngo and help poor Giendar; perhaps we may arrive soon enough to\ndeliver him from the danger in which he now is.\n\nThe two princes ran to the wood, and entered it just as the lion\nwas going to fall upon Giendar. The beast, seeing prince Amgrad\nadvancing towards him with a sabre in his hand, left his prey,\nand came against him with fury. The prince met him intrepidly,\nand gave him a blow so forcibly and dexterously, that it felled\nhim to the ground.\n\nWhen Giendar saw that the two princes were the men who saved his\nlife, he threw himself at their feet, and thanked them for the\ngreat obligation he had to them, in words which sufficiently\nshowed his gratitude. Princes, said he, rising up and kissing\ntheir hands, with tears in his eyes, God forbid that ever I\nshould attempt any thing against your lives, especially after\nhaving so humanely and bravely saved mine! It shall never be said\nthat the emir Giendar was guilty of such ingratitude.\n\nThe service we have done, answered the princes, ought not to\nhinder you from executing the orders you have received. Let us\ncatch your horse, and then return to the place where you left us.\n\nThey were at no great trouble to take the horse, whose mettle was\ncome down a little with running. When they had restored him to\nGiendar, and were near the fountain, they begged and argued with\nhim to do as their father had commanded; but all to no purpose. I\nonly take the liberty to desire you, said Giendar, and I pray you\nnot to deny me, that you will divide my clothes between you, and\ngive me yours; and go so far, that the king your father may never\nhear of you more.\n\nThe princes were forced to comply. Each of them gave him his\nclothes, and covered themselves with what he could spare of his.\nHe also gave them all the gold he had, and took his leave of\nthem.\n\nWhen emir Giendar parted from the princes, he passed through the\nwood where Amgrad had killed the lion, in whose blood he dipped\ntheir clothes; which having done, he proceeded on his way to the\ncapital city of the isle of Ebene.\n\nOn his arrival, king Camaralzaman asked him if he had done what\nhe ordered? Giendar, replied, See, sir, the faithful witnesses of\nmy obedience, giving him, at the same time, the clothes of the\nprinces.\n\nHow did they take the punishment I commanded to be executed on\nthem? Giendar answered, With wonderful constancy, sir, and a holy\nresignation to the decrees of Heaven; which showed how sincerely\nthey professed their religion. But, particularly, they behaved\nthemselves with great respect towards your majesty, and an entire\nsubmission to the sentence of death. We die innocent, said they;\nhowever, we do not murmur; we take our death as from the hand of\nHeaven, and forgive our father; for we know very well he has not\nbeen rightly informed of the truth.\n\nCamaralzaman was sensibly touched at emir Giendar's relation,\nand, putting his hand into prince Amgrad's pocket, he found an\nopen billet. He no sooner knew that queen Haiatalnefous wrote it,\nas well by a lock of her hair which was in it, as by her\nhandwriting, than he froze with horror. He then, trembling, put\nhis hand into the pocket of Assad, and, finding there likewise\nqueen Badoura's billet, his surprise was so great and so lively\nthat he swooned away.\n\nNever did man grieve like Camaralzaman when he was recovered from\nswooning. Barbarous father as thou art! cried he, what hast thou\ndone? Thou hast murdered thy own children, thy innocent children!\nDid not their wisdom, their modesty, their obedience, their\nsubmission to thy will in all things, their virtue; did not these\nall plead in their behalf--Blind and insensible father! dost thou\ndeserve to live after the execrable crime which thou hast\ncommitted? I have brought this abomination on my own head, and\nHeaven chastises me for not persevering in the aversion to women\nwith which I was born. And, oh ye detestable wives! I will\nnot--no, I will not, as ye deserve--wash off the guilt of your\nsins with your blood; ye are unworthy of my rage; but perdition\nseize me if ever I see you more!\n\nKing Camaralzaman was a man of too much religion to break his\nvow. He commanded the two queens to be lodged in separate\napartments that very day, where they were kept under strong\nguards, and never afterwards saw them.\n\nWhile the king of the isle of Ebene afflicted himself for the\nloss of the princes his sons, of which he thought he had been the\nauthor by too rashly condemning them, the royal youths wandered\nthrough deserts, endeavouring to avoid all places that were\ninhabited, and the sight of any human creature. They lived on\nherbs and wild fruits, and drank only stinking rainwater, which\nthey found in the crevices of the rocks. They slept and watched\nby turns at night, for fear of wild beasts.\n\nWhen they had travelled about a month, they came to the foot of a\nhigh mountain inaccessible for its cragginess; the stones being\nblack, and so rugged, that it was impossible to ascend over them\nto the summit of the hill. At last, they discovered a kind of\npath; but it was so narrow and difficult, they durst not venture\nup it. This obliged them to go along by the foot of the mountain,\nin hopes of finding a more easy way to reach the top. They went\nround it five days, but could see nothing like a path; so they\nwere obliged to return to that which they had neglected. They\nstill thought it would be in vain to attempt going up by it. They\ndeliberated on what they should do for a long time; and at last,\nencouraging one another, resolved to ascend the hill.\n\nThe more they advanced, they thought it was the higher and\nsteeper, which made them think several times of giving up the\nenterprise. When one was weary, the other stopped, and both\nrested together. Sometimes they were both so tired, that they\nwanted strength to go further; then, despairing of being able to\nreach the top, they thought they must lie down, and die of\nfatigue and weariness. When they found they had recovered a\nlittle strength, they would animate each other, and go on.\n\nNotwithstanding all their endeavours and their courage, they\ncould not get to the top that day. Night came on, and prince\nAssad was so much fatigued, that he stopped, and said to prince\nAmgrad, I can go no further; I am ready to die. Stay as long as\nyou will, replied prince Amgrad; let us rest ourselves, and have\na good heart; it is but a little way to the top, and the moon\nbefriends us.\n\nThey rested about half an hour, when Assad having attained more\nstrength, proceeded on their way to the mountain's summit, where\nthey at last arrived, and lay down. Amgrad rose first, and,\nadvancing, saw a tree at a little distance: he went to it, and\nfound it was a pomegranate-tree, with large fruit upon it, and a\nfountain near the foot. He ran to his brother Assad to tell him\nthe good news, and conducted him to the tree which grew by the\nside of the fountain. They both refreshed themselves there by\neating each a pomegranate; after which they fell asleep.\n\nNext morning, when they awoke, Come, brother, said Amgrad to\nAssad, let us go on; I see the mountain is easier to be travelled\nover on this side than the other; all our way now is down hill.\nBut Assad was so fatigued with the last day's journey, that he\nwanted three or four days' repose to recruit his strength.\n\nThey spent them, as they had done many before, in discoursing on\ntheir mother's inordinate desires, and deploring their\nmisfortunes. But, said they, since Heaven has so visibly declared\nitself in our favour, we ought to bear them with patience, and\ncomfort ourselves with hopes that we shall soon see an end of\nthem.\n\nAt the end of three days' rest, the two brothers continued their\ntravels, and were five days in descending the hill before they\ncame into the valley. Then they discovered a great city, at which\nthey were very joyful: Brother, said Amgrad to Assad, are not you\nof my opinion, which is, that you should stay in some place out\nof the city, where I may come to you again, while I go to learn\nthe language, and inform myself of the name of the city, and in\nwhat country we are? and when I come back, I will bring\nprovisions with me. It is not convenient for us to go there\ntogether; there may be danger in it; and so much notice will not\nbe taken of one stranger as of two.\n\nBrother, replied Assad, I approve of what you say; it is prudent;\nbut if one of us must part from the other on that account, I\ncannot suffer that it shall be you; allow me to go; for what a\ntrouble will it be to me if any ill accident should happen to\nyou!\n\nAh! but, brother, answered Amgrad, the same ill accident you fear\nfor me, I am as much afraid of for you. Pray let me go; and do\nyou stay here with patience.--I will never yield to it, said\nAssad: if any ill should happen to me, it will be some comfort to\nthink that you are safe. Amgrad was forced to submit; and Assad,\ngoing towards the city, stopped in a grove at the foot of the\nmountain.\n\nPrince Assad took the purse of money which Amgrad had in charge,\nand then proceeded towards the city. He had not gone far in the\nfirst street, before he met with a reverend old man with a cane\nin his hand: he was neatly dressed; and the prince taking him for\na man of note in the place, who would not put a trick upon him,\naccosted him thus: Pray, my lord, which is the way to the\nmarket-place? The old man looked on prince Assad, smiling: Child,\nsaid he, it is plain you are a stranger, or you would not have\nasked that question.\n\nYes, my lord, I am a stranger, replied Assad. The old man\nanswered, you are welcome then; our country will be honoured by\nthe presence of so handsome a young man as you are: Tell me what\nbusiness you have at the market-place?\n\nMy lord, replied Assad, it is nearly two months since my brother\nand I left our own country, which is a great way from hence; we\nhave not ceased travelling ever since, and we arrived here but\nto-day. My brother, fatigued with so long a journey, waits at the\nfoot of the mountain; and for him and myself I am come to buy\nprovisions.\n\nSon, said the old man, you could not have come in a better time,\nand I am glad of it, both for your and your brother's sake. I\nmade a feast to-day for some friends of mine, and a great deal of\nvictuals is left untouched. Come along with me; you may eat as\nmuch as you please; and, when that is done, I will give you\nenough to last your brother and you several days. Do not spend\nyour money when there is no occasion; travellers are always in\nwant of it; while you are eating, I will give you an account of\nour city, which nobody can do better than myself, who have borne\nall the honourable offices in it. It is well for you that you\nhappened to meet with me; for, I must tell you, all our citizens\ncannot so well help and inform you as I can. I can assure you\nthat some of them are wicked. Come along; you shall see the\ndifference between a real honest man, as I am, and such as boast\nto be so, and are not.\n\nI am infinitely obliged to you, replied Assad, for your\ngood-will; I put myself entirely into your hands, and am ready to\ngo with you wherever you please.\n\nThe old man laughed in his sleeve to think that he had got the\nprince in his clutches: he walked by his side as close as he\ncould; and, to preserve the favourable opinion which Assad had\nconceived of him, he kept talking all the way with great civility\nand politeness. Among other things, he said, It must be confessed\nit was your good fortune to meet with me, rather than with any\nother man; for which I thank God. When you come to my house, you\nwill know the reason why I express so much satisfaction at\nmeeting you.\n\nArriving at the old man's house, he introduced Assad into a hall,\nwhere were forty such old fellows as himself, who formed a circle\nround a flaming fire, which they adored. The prince was not more\nseized with horror at the sight of so many men adoring the\ncreature for the Creator, than with the fear of finding himself\nbetrayed, and in such an abominable place.\n\nWhile Assad stood motionless with surprise, the old cheat saluted\nthe forty grey-headed men round the fire: Devout adorers of fire,\nsaid he, this is a happy day for us! Where is Gazban! Call him.\n\nHe spoke these words so loud, that a negro, who waited at the\nlower end of the hall, came immediately to him. This black was\nGazban, who, as soon as he saw the disconsolate Assad, imagined\nfor what purpose he had been called; he therefore instantly\nseized him, and with amazing nimbleness tied him hand and foot.\nWhen you have done, said the old man, carry him down, and bid my\ndaughters, Bostava and Cavama, give him every day the bastinado,\nand allow him only a little bread morning and evening for his\nsubsistence, sufficient just to keep him alive till the next ship\ndeparts for the Blue Sea and the Fiery Mountain, when he shall be\noffered up an agreeable sacrifice to our divinity.\n\nAs soon as the old man gave the cruel order, Gazban bore prince\nAssad into a cellar underneath the hall, from whence they\nproceeded through several dark rooms, till they came to a\ndungeon, the descent to which was by twenty steps, where he left\nhim bound in chains of prodigious weight and bigness. Gazban then\nwent to give notice of it to the old man's daughters; but he\nmight have spared himself the trouble, their father having before\nsent for them, and given instructions himself how they were to\nproceed. Daughters, said he, I have just now caused a young\nMussulman to be secured in the dungeon; therefore, as you well\nknow how to do it, go instantly and give him the bastinado; and,\nas you cannot better show your zeal for our divinity, and the\nfire which you adore, than by your severity to him, do not be\nsparing in the punishment you are to inflict.\n\nBostava and Cavama, who had been bred up in their hatred to\nMussulnien, received this order with joy: they descended\nimmediately into the dungeon, stripped Assad, and bastinadoed him\nso unmercifully, that the blood issued out of the wounds, and he\nwas left almost dead. After this cruel execution, they put a\npiece of bread and a pot of water by him, and retired.\n\nIt was some time before Assad recovered from the state of\ninsensibility in which they had left him; and, in reflecting on\nhis melancholy condition, he burst into a flood of tears,\nbitterly deploring the misery with which he was surrounded. The\npleasing reflection, however, that this misfortune had not\nhappened to his brother Amgrad, gave him some degree of comfort\namidst his distress.\n\nPrince Amgrad waited for his brother till the evening with great\nimpatience; but when it was two, three, and four of the clock in\nthe morning, and Assad not returned, his sorrow was so very\nviolent, that he grew almost desperate. He spent the night in\nthat dismal condition, and, as soon as it was day, went to the\ncity, which, on entering, he was surprised to see but very few\nMussulmen. He accosted the first he met, and asked him the name\nof the place; who told him it was the city of the magicians, so\ncalled because of the great number of magicians therein who\nadored fire, and that there were but very few Mussulmen. Amgrad\nthen demanded how far it was to the isle of Ebene: he was\nanswered, that it was four months' voyage by sea, and a year's\njourney by land. The man, having satisfied the prince as to these\ntwo questions, hastily left him, and went about his business.\n\nAmgrad, who was about six weeks coming from the isle of Ebene\nwith his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they came to\nthis city in so short a time, unless the way across the mountain\nwere much shortened, and not frequented because of the difficulty\nof the pass.\n\nProceeding further through the town, he stopped at a tailor's\nshop, whom he knew to be a Mussulman by his habit, as he had\nlikewise known the man with whom he had just before conversed.\nHaving saluted him, he sat down, and told him the occasion of\ntroubling him.\n\nWhen prince Amgrad had done speaking, the tailor replied, If your\nbrother has fallen into the hands of some magician, depend upon\nit you will never more see him; he is irrecoverably lost: Comfort\nyourself, therefore, as well as you can, and beware of falling\ninto the same misfortune; to avoid which, I would advise you to\nstay for some time at my house, and I will acquaint you with all\nthe tricks of these magicians, that, when you go from hence, you\nmay take the more care of yourself by being guarded against them.\nAmgrad, impressed with the deepest concern for the loss of his\nbrother, accepted the tailor's offer, and returned him a thousand\nthanks for his kindness.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF PRINCE AMGRAD, AND A LADY OF\n                   THE CITY OF THE MAGICIANS.\n\n\n\nPrince Amgrad went not out of the tailor's house for a whole\nmonth, without his host accompanying him; at last, however, he\nventured to go to the baths. Returning home through a street in\nwhich there was nobody but himself and a lady, he was surprised\nat her approaching him unveiled. The lady, seeing a handsome\nyoung man just come out of the bath, asked him, with a smiling\nair, whither he was going? casting, at the same time, such\namorous glances, that Amgrad could not possibly resist her\ncharms. Madam, said he, I am going to my own house or yours, as\nyou please.\n\nMy lord, replied the lady, with an agreeable smile, ladies of my\nquality never take men to their own houses; they always go to the\nmen's.\n\nAt this unexpected answer of the lady, Amgrad was very much\nconfounded; he durst not venture to take her home to his\nlandlord's, fearing that he would be so highly displeased with\nhim as to withdraw his protection, of which, considering he was\nin a place where he must always be upon his guard, he stood in\ntoo much need. Quite unacquainted with the city, he knew not\nwhere to carry her, and yet was unwilling to lose so happy an\nopportunity. In this uncertainty he resolved to leave it to\nchance, and therefore, without returning an answer, he went\nforwards, the lady following him. Amgrad led her through so many\nstreets, lanes, and alleys, that both grew weary with walking: at\nlast, however, they came into a street, having a great gate at\nthe end of it, which, being shut, prevented their going further.\nThe gate, which had a seat on each side of it, belonged to a\nhouse fronting the street. Amgrad sat himself down on one seat to\ntake breath, and the lady, being also much fatigued, seated\nherself on the other.\n\nShe then inquired of the prince, whether the house belonged to\nhim. Yes, madam, said Amgrad. Why, then, do not you enter?\nreplied the lady. Whom do you wait for? Fair lady, answered the\nprince, I have not got the key of the gate; I left it with my\nslave, who, being sent on an errand, is not yet returned:\nbesides, having been ordered to provide something good for\ndinner, I am afraid we shall be under the disagreeable necessity\nof waiting a long time for him.\n\nThe prince met with so many difficulties in satisfying her\npassion, that he began to repent of having undertaken it; he\ntherefore contrived this answer, in hopes that the lady, out of\nresentment, would have left him, and gone in pursuit of another\nlover; but he was mistaken.\n\nYour slave is an impertinent fellow, said madam, to stay so long:\nwhen he comes back, I will chastise him myself as he deserves, if\nyou refuse to do it. It is by no means decent to sit here alone\nwith a man to whom I am an entire stranger. She then rose, and,\ntaking up a stone, began to force open the lock of the gate,\nwhich being only made of wood, after the country manner, was very\nweak.\n\nAmgrad did all he could to hinder her: What are you doing, madam?\nsaid the prince. For Heaven's sake, stay a little! What are you\nafraid of? replied the lady; is it not your house? The breaking\nof the lock will be no great damage; a new one can be purchased\nat a trifling expense. She accordingly broke it open, and entered\nthe house.\n\nAmgrad, when he saw the door forced open, gave himself up as a\nlost man: he reflected whether it would be more advisable to go\ninto the house, or to retreat as fast as he could, to avoid the\ndanger which he believed inevitable, and was just going to have\nrecourse to the latter, when the lady returned.\n\nSeeing that he did not enter, Why do not you come into your\nhouse? said she. Fearing we have nothing ready, answered the\nprince, I am looking to see if my slave is coming. Come in, come\nin, said madam; it will be more prudent to wait within doors than\nwithout.\n\nAmgrad, though with great reluctance, followed her into the\nhouse. After passing through a spacious court, which had been\nnewly paved, they ascended by several steps into piazzas, which\nled to a large, open, and well-furnished hall, where he and the\nlady saw a table ready spread with all sorts of delicate dishes,\na side-board heaped with fruit, and a cistern full of bottles of\nwine.\n\nWhen Amgrad saw everything in such order, he doubted not that he\nwas undone, the quality of the owner appearing by the richness of\nthe feast. Poor Amgrad! said he to himself, thou wilt soon follow\nthy dear brother Assad!\n\nThe lady, on the contrary, being transported at the sight, cried\nout, How, my lord, did you fear there was nothing ready? Your\nslaves, you see, have done more than you expected. But, if I am\nnot mistaken, these preparations were made for some other lady,\nand not for me. No matter; let her come; I promise you I will not\nbe jealous: I only beg the favour of being permitted to wait on\nher and you.\n\nAmgrad, though much concerned at this accident, could not help\nlaughing at the lady's pleasantry. Madam, said he, thinking of\nsomething else besides what perplexed him, there is nothing in\nwhat you fancy; this is my common dinner, and no exraordinary\npreparations, I assure you. He could not prevail on himself to\nsit at a table which was not prepared for him; he therefore took\nhis seat on a sofa [Footnote: A Turkish bench on which mats and\ncushions are put.]; but the lady still kept teasing him with her\nimportunities. Come, sir, said she, you must certainly be hungry\nafter bathing; let us eat and enjoy ourselves.\n\nAmgrad, complying at last with her request, sat down to table.\nThe lady, having eaten a bit, took a bottle and glass, and poured\nout some wine; then, having drunk to Amgrad, filled another and\npresented it to him, who pledged her. The more the prince\nreflected on this adventure, the more he was anaazed that the\nmaster of the house did not appear, and that a house so elegant\nand well furnished should be left without a servant. It will be\nlucky, said he to himself, if the man of the house does not come\ntill I am got clear of this intrigue. While he was indulging this\nand some other troublesome thoughts, the lady ate and drank\nheartily, obliging him to do the same; and they were almost come\nto the last course when the master of the house arrived.\n\nIt happened to be Bahader, master of the horse to the king of the\nmagicians, to whom this house belonged; but, generally residing\nin another, he seldom visited it, unless to regale himself with\ntwo or three chosen friends. On such occasions he always sent\nprovisions from his other house by some of his servants, who were\njust gone as the lady and Amgrad entered.\n\nBahader, as usual, came in disguise, and without attendants, a\nlittle while before the time appointed for his friends coming,\nand was not a little surprised to see the door of his house\nbroken open: he entered without making a noise; but hearing some\npersons talking and making merry in the hall, he crept along by\nthe side of the wall, and put his head half way within the door\nto see who they were.\n\nPerceiving a young gentleman and a young lady eating, at his\ntable, the victuals which he had provided for his friends and\nhimself, and that there was no great harm done, he resolved to\nmake a jest of it.\n\nThe lady, who sat with her back towards the dooi, did not see the\nmaster of the horse; but Amgrad, who had the glass in his hand,\nand was just going to drink, observed him immediately: his\ncountenance instantly changed at the sight of Bahader, who made a\nsign not to say a word, but to come and speak with him.\n\nAmgrad drank and rose: Where are you going? said the lady. The\nprince answered, Pray, madam, stay here a little; I shall return\nin a minute; a small affair obliges me to go out at present.\nBahader waited for him in the piazza, and led him into the court,\nto talk to him without being heard by the lady.\n\nWhen Bahader and prince Amgrad were in the court, Bahader\ndemanded of the prince, how the lady came into his house, and why\nthey broke open his door? My lord, replied Amgrad, you may very\nreasonably think me guilty of a very unwarrantable action; but if\nyou will have patience to hear me, I hope my innocence will\nappear. He then told Bahader, in few words, what had happened,\nwithout disguising any part of the truth; and, to convince him\nthat he was not capable of being so criminal as he might think,\nhe declared himself a prince, and related the reason of his\ncoming to the city of the magicians.\n\nBahader, who naturally loved strangers, was transported with an\nopportunity of obliging one of Amgrad's rank and quality; for by\nhis air, his actions, his handsome discourse, and his noble look,\nhe did not in the least doubt the truth of what he had said,\nPrince, said Bahader, I am very glad I can oblige you in so\npleasant an adventure as this; and, so far from disturbing the\nfeast, it will be a pleasure to me to contribute to your\nsatisfaction in any thing. My name is Bahader; I am master of the\nhorse to the king of the magicians. I commonly dwell in another\nhouse, which I have in the city, but come here sometimes to have\nthe more liberty with my friends, for I cannot be so free at home\namong my children and domestics. As you have made this lady\nbelieve that you have a slave, I will support your assertion by\npersonating the character; and, to spare your excuses, I repeat\nthat it shall positively be so; you will presently know my reason\nfor it. Go to your place, and continue to divert yourself: when I\nreturn, and come before you in a slave's habit, chide me for\nstaying so long; do not be afraid even to strike me. I will wait\nupon you all the while you are at table till night: you shall\nsleep here, and so shall the lady; and tomorrow morning you may\nsend her home with honour. I shall afterwards endeavour to do you\nmore important services. Go, and lose no time.\n\nAmgrad would have made an excuse, but the master of the horse\nwould not let him, forcing him to go to the lady. He had scarcely\nentered the hall before Balmder's friends arrived. Bahader called\nthem to him, and apologized his not entertaining them that day,\ntelling them they would approve of the reason when they knew it,\nwhich should be in due time. When they were gone, he also went\nforth, and dressed himself in a slave's habit.\n\nPrince Amgrad approached the lady in a much better humour than\nwhen he left her, on finding that the house belonged to a man of\nquality, who had received him so courteously. As he sat down to\ntable again, he said, Madam, I beg a thousand pardons for my\nrudeness; I was vexed that my slave should tarry so long: the\nrascal shall pay for it when he comes: I will teach him to use me\nso another time.\n\nLet not that trouble you, said the lady, if he is guilty of any\nfaults, let him pay for it; do not think of him; we can enjoy\nourselves without him, I warrant. Amgrad continued at the table\nwith the more pleasure, being under no apprehensions at the\nconsequence of the lady's indiscretion, who ought not to have\nbroken open the door, had it even been Amgrad's own house. They\ndrank and laughed, and drank again, till Bahader arrived,\ndisguised as a slave.\n\nBahader entered like one who feared his master's displeasure for\nstaying out when he had company with him: he fell down at his\nfeet, and kissed the ground, to implore his clemency; and, when\nhe had done, stood behind him with his hands across, in\nexpectation of his commands.\n\nSirrah! said Amgrad, with a fierce tone and a fiery look, is\nthere such a slave as thou in all the world? Where have you been?\nWhat have you been doing, that you came no sooner? My lord,\nreplied Bahader, I ask your pardon; I was endeavouring to do as\nyou ordered me, and could not despatch it sooner: besides, I did\nnot think you would come home so early.\n\nYou are a rascal! said Amgrad; and I shall bang your sides for\nyou, to teach you to lie, and to fail me another time. He then\nrose up, took a stick, and gave him two or three blows, but so\nslightly, that he hardly felt it; after which he sat down to\ntable again.\n\nThe lady, not satisfied with the chastisement Amgrad had bestowed\non him, also rose, took the stick, and struck Bahader so\nunmercifully, that the tears came into his eyes. Amgrad, offended\nat such freedom, and knowing that the pretended slave was not a\nproper object of resentment, cried out, It is enough: but she\ncontinued her rude discipline, regardless of the prince's\nintercession: Let me alone with him, said she; I will punish him\nseverely, and I warrant that he will be more expeditious in\nfuture. But, repeating her blows, Amgrad rose from the table, and\nforced the stick out of her hand; which, however, she did not\ngive up without some difficulty. When she found that she could\nbeat Bahader no longer, she sat down, and railed at and cursed\nhim.\n\nBaliader wiped his eyes, and stood behind his fictitious master\nto fill out wine. When he saw they had done eating and drinking,\nhe took away the cloth, and put every thing in its place; and,\nnight coming on, lighted up the lamps. As often as he passed the\nlady, she muttered and threatened him, and gave him abusive\nlanguage, to Amgrad's great disliking, who would have hindered\nher, if he could. When it was time to retire, Bahader prepared a\nbed for them, and withdrew into a chamber over against that where\nthey were to lie, and laid himself down, and soon fell asleep,\nhaving been fatigued with his beating. Amgrad and the lady\nentertained one another a good half hour afterwards; but the lady\nwanting to go forth before she went to bed, passed through the\ngallery that parted Bahader's chamber from theirs; and hearing\nhim snore, and seeing a sabre hanging up by him, she turned back\nagain, and said to prince Amgrad, Pray, my lord, as you love me,\ndo me one favour. In what can I serve you? replied the prince.\nThe lady answered, Oblige me so far as to take down your sabre,\nand cut off your slave's head. Amgrad was astonished at such a\nproposal from a lady, and doubted not it was the wine she had\ndrunk that instigated her. Madam, said he, let my slave alone; he\nis not worthy of your notice. I have beaten him, and you have\nbeaten him; it is sufficient: I am very well satisfied with him;\nhe is seldom guilty of such faults.\n\nThat shall not do! replied the lady in a violent fury; the rogue\nshall die, if not by your hands, by mine! Saying this, she ran\nand took down the sabre from the place where it hung, drew it out\nof the scabbard, and was going to execute her wicked design.\n\nAmgrad, to prevent her, took the sabre out of her hand, saying,\nYou shall be satisfied; madam; the slave shall die, since you\nwill have it so: but I shall be sorry that any one but myself\nshould kill him. When she had given him the sabre, Come, follow\nme, said he; make no noise, lest we wake him. They went into the\nchamber, where Amgrad, instead of gratifying the lady's desire,\nstruck at her with the weapon, and severing her head with the\nblow, it fell upon Bahader.\n\nHad not the noise of the blow which Amgrad gave the lady, in\ncutting off her head, wakened Bahader, her head falling upon him\nwould have done it: he was amazed to see Amgrad with a sabre\ncovered with blood, and the body of the lady lying headless on\nthe ground. The prince told him what had passed; and, ending his\ndiscourse, said, I had no other way to hinder her from killing\nyou, she was so transported with fury against you. My lord,\nreplied Bahader, full of gratitude, persons of your rank, and so\ngenerous as you, are not capable of doing so wicked an action as\nshe desired of you. You are my deliverer, and I cannot enough\nthank you. After embracing him, in order to show him what sense\nhe had of his obligations, he said, We must carry this corpse out\nbefore it is quite day. Leave it to me; I will do it. Amgrad\nwould not agree to that, saying that he would carry it away\nhimself, since he had done the deed. Bahader replied, You are a\nstranger in this city, and will not come off so well as one who\nis acquainted here: I must do it, if for no other reason than\nboth our safeties, to prevent our being questioned for her death.\nStay you here; and if I do not come back before day, you may be\nsure the watch has taken me: and, for fear of the worst, I will\nby a writing give you this house and furniture for your\nhabitation while you stay in this city.\n\nWhen he had written, signed, and delivered the paper to prince\nAmgrad, he put the lady's body and head in a bag, took it on his\nshoulder, and went out with it from one street to another, taking\nthe way to the sea-side; but he had not gone far before he was\nmet by one of the judges of the city, going the rounds in person,\nas was usual for the chief magistrates to do there. Bahader was\nstopped by the judge's followers, who, opening the bag, found the\nbody of a murdered lady, bundled up with the head. The judge, who\nknew the master of the horse notwithstanding his disguise, took\nhim home to his house; and, not daring to put him to death\nwithout telling the king, because of his quality, he conveyed him\nto court as soon as it was day. As soon as the king had heard\nfrom the judge what a foul action the master of the horse had\nbeen guilty of, as appeared by the circumstances of the matter,\nhe upbraided him in these words: Is it thus, then, that you rob\nand murder my subjects, and then would throw their dead bodies\ninto the sea to hide your villany? Let us rid the world of such a\nmonster; go hang him up immediately!\n\nInnocent as Bahader was, he received his sentence of death with\nperfect resignation, and said not a word to justify himself. The\njudge escorted him to his house; and, while the gallows was\npreparing, sent a crier to publish throughout the city, that at\nnoon the master of the horse was to be hanged for committing a\nmurder.\n\nPrince Amgrad, who had in vain expected Bahader's return, was in\na terrible consternation when he heard the crier publish the\napproaching execution of the master of the horse. If, said he to\nhimself, somebody must die for the death of such a wicked woman,\nit is I, and not Bahader; I will never let an innocent man be\npunished for the guilty: and, without deliberating any more,\nhastened to the place of execution, whither the people were\nrunning from all parts.\n\nWhen Amgrad saw the judge bringing Bahader to the gibbet, he went\nup to him, and said, I am come to tell you, and to assure you,\nthat the master of the horse, whom you are leading to execution,\nis wholly innocent of the lady's death: I am guilty of the crime,\nif it is one to have killed the most detestable of women, who\nwould have murdered Bahader. So he told him the affair as it had\nhappened.\n\nThe prince having informed the judge how he met her coming out of\nthe bath; how she was the cause of going into the master of the\nhorse's house of pleasure, and what had passed till the moment in\nwhich he was forced to cut off her head to save Bahader's life;\nthe judge ordered the execution to be stopped, and conducted\nAmgrad to the king, taking the master of the horse with them.\n\nThe king had a mind to hear the story from Amgrad himself; and\nthe prince, the better to prove his own and the master of the\nhorse's innocence, embraced that opportunity to discover his\nquality, with all the accidents that had befallen him and his\nbrother Assad, before and after their departure from the capital\ncity of the isle of Ehene to that time.\n\nThe prince having done speaking, the king said, I rejoice that I\nhave by this means come to the knowledge of you. I not only give\nyou your own and my master of the horse's life, whom I commend\nfor his civility to you, but I restore him to his office: and as\nfor you, prince, I declare you my grand vizier, to make amends\nfor your father's unjust usage of you, though it is also\nexcusable; and I permit you to employ all the authority I now\ngive you to find out prince Assad.\n\nPrince Amgrad having thanked the king of the city and country of\nmagicians for the honour he had done him, and taken possession of\nhis office of grand vizier, ordered the common crier to promise a\ngreat reward to any one who should bring forth prince Assad, or\ntell any tidings of him. He sent men up and down the country to\nthe same purpose; but, notwithstanding all his and their\ndiligence, they could hear nothing.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE SEQUEL OF THE STORY OF PRINCE ASSAD.\n\n\n\nAssad, in the mean while, continued in the dungeon in chains;\nBostava and Cavama, the cunning old conjurer's daughters,\ntreating him daily with the same cruelty and inhumanity as at\nfirst.\n\nThe solemn festival of the adorers of fire approached, and a ship\nwas fitted out for the Fiery Mountain as usual. The captain's\nname was Behram, a great bigot to that religion. He loaded it\nwith proper merchandise; and, when it was ready to sail, he put\nAssad in a chest, half full of goods, a few crevices being left\nopen to admit air sufficient to keep him alive. The chest was\nstowed in the bottom of the hold for greater security.\n\nBefore the ship sailed, the grand vizier Amgrad, Assad's brother,\nwho had been told that the adorers of fire usually sacrificed a\nMussulman every year on the Fiery Mountain, suspecting that Assad\nmight unhappily have fallen into their hands, and designed as a\nvictim at that bloody sacrifice, resolved to search the ship in\nperson. He ordered all the passengers and seamen to be brought\nupon deck, and commanded his men to search every part of the\nship; which they did; and yet Assad could not be found, being too\nartfully concealed.\n\nWhen the grand vizier had done searching the vessel, she sailed;\nand as soon as Behram was got out to sea, he ordered prince Assad\nto be taken out of the chest and fettered, to prevent him from\nthrowing himself into the sea, since he knew he was going to be\nsacrificed. The wind was favourable for two or three days; after\nwhich it proved contrary, and there arose a furious storm, which\ndrove the vessel so far out of her course, that neither Behram\nnor his pilot knew where they were. They were afraid that the\nship would be dashed against the rocks; for they discovered land\nand a dreadful shore before them. Behram saw that he was driven\ninto the port and capital of queen Margiana, which was a great\nmortification to him.\n\nQueen Margiana was a very devout professor of the Mahomedan\nreligion, and a mortal enemy to the adorers of fire. She banished\nall of them out of her dominions, and would not let any of their\nships touch at her ports.\n\nThe tempest increasing, Behram was forced to put into the port of\nthe queen's capital city, or his ship would be dashed in pieces\nagainst the rocks that lay off the shore. In this extremity he\nheld a council with his pilot and seamen. My lads, said he, you\nsee to what a necessity we are reduced; we must choose one of two\nthings; either resolve to be swallowed up by the waves, or put\ninto queen Margiana's port, whose hatred to all persons of our\nreligion you know well. She will certainly seize our vessel, and\nput us to death without mercy. I see but one likely way to escape\nher; which is, to take the fetters off the Mussulman we have on\nboard, and dress him like a slave. When queen Margiana commands\nme to come before her, and asks what trade I use, I will tell her\nthat I deal in slaves: that I have sold all except one, whom I\nkeep to be my clerk, because he can read and write. She will no\ndoubt desire to see him, and being handsome, and of her own\nreligion, will have pity on him; she will certainly then ask to\nbuy him; and I refusing, will not let us stay in the port till\nthe weather is fair. If I sell him, perhaps she will give us\nleave to tarry, and let us be well used.\n\nIf any of you have any thing else to propose that may be more\nadvantageous, I am ready to hearken to it.\n\nThe pilot and seamen applauded his judgment, and agreed to follow\nhis advice.\n\nBehram commanded prince Assad's chains to be taken off, and\ndressed him like a slave very neatly, as became one who was to\npass for his clerk before the queen of the country. They had\nscarcely time to fit every thing for their purpose, before the\nship drove into the port, and then dropped anchor.\n\nQueen Margiana's palace was so near the sea-side, that her garden\nextended down to the shore. She saw the ship sail by, and sent to\nthe captain to come to her as soon as he had moored his vessel.\nShe was walking in her garden, and gave him to understand that\nshe waited for him.\n\nBehram, who knew he would be sent for, landed with prince Assad,\nwhom he required to confirm what he had said of his being a\nslave, and his clerk. So he went to the palace garden, and was\nintroduced to the queen. He threw himself at her feet, and\ninformed her of the necessity he was under of putting into her\nport; that, he dealt in slaves, and had sold them all except one,\nwho was Assad there present, whom he kept for his clerk.\n\nThe queen conceived an esteem for Assad as soon as she saw him,\nand was extremely glad to hear that he was a slave, resolving to\nbuy him on any terms. She asked Assad what was his name.\n\nGreat queen, replied Assad, with tears in his eyes, does your\nmajesty ask what my name was formerly, or what it is now? The\nqueen answered, have you two names then? It is but too true, said\nAssad: I was once called Assad, The Most Happy; and now my name\nis Motar, Devoted to be Sacrificed.\n\nAs his condition of a slave obliged him to use mysterious\nanswers, Margiana did not understand his meaning; she perceived,\nhowever, that he had a great deal of wit. Since you are clerk to\nthe captain, said she, no doubt you can write well; let me see\nyour writing.\n\nBehram had furnished Assad with pen, ink, and paper, as a token\nof his office, that the queen might take him for what he designed\nshe should.\n\nThe prince stepped a little aside, and wrote as follows, suitable\nto his miserable circumstances.\n\nThe blind man avoids the ditch into which the clear-sighted\nfalls. Fools advance themselves to honours by discourses which\nsignify nothing; while men of sense and eloquence live in poverty\nand contempt. The Mussulman, with all his riches, is miserable.\nThe infidel triumphs, and we cannot hope things will be\notherwise; the Almighty has decreed it should be so, and his will\nis not to be altered.\n\nAssad presented the paper to queen Margiana, who admired alike\nthe sententiousness of the thoughts, and the goodness of the\nwriting. She needed no more to have her heart set on fire, and to\nfeel a sincere concern for his misfortunes. She had no sooner\nread it, than she addressed herself to Behram, saying, Do which\nyou will; either sell me this slave, or make a present of him to\nme: perhaps it will turn most to your account to do the latter.\n\nBehram answered insolently, that he could neither give nor sell\nhim; that he wanted his slave, and would keep him.\n\nQueen Margiana, provoked at his boldness, would not talk to him\nabout it any more. She took the prince by the arm, and turned him\nbefore her into the palace; sending Behram word, that if he staid\na night in her port, she would confiscate his goods, and burn his\nship. So he was forced to go back to his vessel, and prepare to\nput to sea again, notwithstanding the tempest was not yet\nsubsided.\n\nQueen Margiana commanded supper to be got ready; and, while it\nwas providing, she ordered Assad to be brought into her\napartment, where she bade him sit down. Assad would have excused\nhimself: It does not belong to a slave, said he, to presume to\nthis honour.\n\nTo a slave! replied the queen; you shall not be so long:\nhenceforward you are no more a slave. Sit down near me, and tell\nthe story of your life; for, by what you wrote, and the insolence\nof that slave merchant, I guess there is something extraordinary\nin it.\n\nPrince Assad obeyed her; and, sitting down, began thus: Mighty\nqueen, your majesty is not mistaken in thinking there is\nsomething extraordinary in the story of my life; it is indeed\nmore so than you can imagine. The ills, the incredible torments,\nI have suffered, and the death to which I was devoted, and from\nwhich I am delivered by your generosity, will show, when I have\nrelated them, that my obligation to you is infinite. But, before\nI enter into the particulars of my miseries, which will strike\nhorror into the hearts of all who hear them related, to explain\nthe occasion of them, I must trace the matter a little higher,\nand begin with the source of my misfortunes.\n\nThis preamble increased queen Margiana's curiosity.\n\nThe prince then told her of his royal birth; of his brother\nAmgrad, and their mutual friendship; of their mother's criminal\npassion, which in a night turned into inveterate hatred, the\ncause of all their sufferings; of the king's rage; how\nmiraculously they saved their lives; how he lost his brother; how\nhe had been imprisoned, tortured, and was only sent there to be\nsacrificed on the Fiery Mountain.\n\nWhen Assad had finished his discourse, the queen was more than\never enraged at the adorers of fire. Prince, said she, though I\nhave always had an aversion to the adorers of fire, yet hitherto\nI have preserved some humanity for them; but, after their\nbarbarous usage, and execrable design of sacrificing you, I will\nhenceforth declare perpetual war against them.\n\nShe would have said more, but supper being served up, hindered\nher. She made prince Assad sit at table with her, being charmed\nwith his beauty and eloquence, and touched with a most ardent\npassion, which she hoped soon to let him know. Prince, said she,\nwe must make you amends for so many fasts and wretched meals\nwhich the pitiless adorers of fire forced you to make; you will\nwant to be nourished after such sufferings. With these and such\nlike words supper began; and the queen plied the prince with wine\nto recover his spirits; of which he drank more than he could well\nbear.\n\nThe cloth being taken away, Assad wishing to go out, watched his\ntime when the queen did not see him. He descended into a court,\nand, seeing the garden-door open, went in. Being tempted by the\npleasantness of the place, he walked there a while. At last he\ncame to a fountain, where he washed his face and hands to refresh\nhimself; and, lying down on some grass plots which surrounded the\nfountain, fell asleep.\n\nIt was almost night, and Behram, fearing the queen would do as\nshe threatened, had weighed anchor, and was under sail, mightily\ntroubled at the loss of Assad, by which he was disappointed of a\nmost acceptable sacrifice. He comforted himself as well as he\ncould with the thoughts that the storm was over, and that a\nland-breeze favoured his getting off from that coast. He was\ntowed out of the port, and, as he was hoisting more sail to\nhasten his course, he remembered he wanted some fresh water. My\nlads, said he to the seamen, we must put to shore again, and fill\nour water-casks. The sailors excused themselves, for they did not\nknow where to get water. Behram had observed, while he was\ntalking to the queen in the garden, that there was a fountain at\nthe end of it, near the port. Go, said he, to such a place of the\npalace-garden. The wall is not above breast high; you may easily\nget over. There is a fountain, where you may fill all your\nbarrels, and hand them on board without difficulty.\n\nThe sailors accordingly went on shore to the place he directed\nthem, leaped over the wall, filled their barrels, and easily\nenough heaved them over also, when they returned to their boat.\n\nAs they were filling the casks, they perceived a man sleeping on\nthe grass, and knew him to be Assad. They immediately divided\nthemselves; and, while some of the crew filled their barrels,\nothers surrounded Assad, and observed him, lest he should awake,\nand offer to run away.\n\nAs soon as they had filled their casks, they handed them over the\nwall to others of their crew, who waited there to carry them on\nboard.\n\nThey afterwards seized Assad, and bore him away asleep as he was.\nThey got over the wall into their boat, and rowed to the ship.\nWhen they came near her, they cried out, Captain, sound your\ntrumpets, beat your drums; we bring your slave again!\n\nBehram, who could not imagine how the seamen could find and take\nhim again, and did not see Assad in the boat, it being night,\nwaited their coming on board with impatience, to ask what they\nmeant by their shouts; but seeing it was true, and that they had\nreally got him, he could not contain himself for joy. He\ncommanded him to be chained again, not staying to inquire how\nthey came at him; and having hauled the boat on board, set sail\nfor the Fiery Mountain.\n\nIn the mean while queen Margiana was in a dreadful fright. She\ndid not much concern herself at first when she found prince Assad\nwas gone out, because she did not doubt that he would soon\nreturn. When several minutes, and then an hour, were past,\nwithout hearing any thing, she began to be uneasy, and commanded\nher women to look for him. They searched all about without\nfinding him; and, night coming, she ordered them to search again\nwith torches, which they did, but to as little purpose.\n\nQueen Margiana was so impatient and frightened, that she went\nwith lights all over the garden to seek him herself; and passing\nby the fountain, saw a slipper, which she took up, and knew to be\nprince Assad's: her women also said that it was his; and the\nwater being spilled about the cistern in which the fountain\nplayed, made her suspect that Behram had again carried him off.\nShe sent immediately to see if he was still in the port; and\nhearing that he had set sail a little before it was dark, and had\nstopped some time off the shore, while he sent his boat for water\nfrom the fountain, she doubted no longer of the prince's ill\nfortune. So she commanded the commodore of ten men of war, who\nlay ready in the port to sail as occasion required, to prepare to\nput to sea, for that she would embark herself next morning as\nsoon as it was day. The commodore ordered the captains and\nsubalterns, seamen and soldiers, on board, and was ready to sail\nat the time appointed. She embarked, as she had said; and, when\nthe squadron was at sea, told the commodore her intention. Make\nall the sail you can, said she, and give chase to the merchantman\nthat sailed yesterday out of this port: I give it to you to be\nplundered, if you take it; if not, your life shall answer it.\n\nThe ten ships chased Behram's two entire days, and could not come\nnear her; but on the third day they got up with her, and\nencompassed her so that she could not escape.\n\nAs soon as cruel Behram saw the ten men of war, he did not doubt\nbut it was queen Margiana's squadron in pursuit of him; and upon\nthat ordered Assad to be bastinadoed, which he did every day, and\nhad not once missed treating him go barbarously since he left the\nport of the city of the magicians. On sight of these ships, he\ntreated him more cruelly than before. He was very much puzzled\nwhat to do when he found he was encompassed. To keep Assad was to\ndeclare himself guilty; to kill him was as dangerous, for he\nfeared some token of it might be seen; he therefore commanded him\nto be unfettered, and brought from the bottom of the hold where\nhe lay. When he came before him, It is thou, said he, who art the\ncause of my being pursued; and upon that he flung him in the sea.\n\nPrince Assad, knowing how to swim, got safe to shore. The first\nthing he did, after landing, was to thank Heaven, who had\ndelivered him from so great a danger, and once more rescued him\nout of the hands of the adorers of fire. He then stripped\nhimself, and wringing the water out of his clothes, he spread\nthem on a rock, where, by the heat of the sun and the rock\ntogether, they soon dried; after which, he lay down to rest,\ndeploring his miserable condition, not knowing in what country he\nwas, nor where to turn himself. He refreshed himself as well as\nhe could with wild fruits and fair water, and then went on his\nway, keeping as near the sea-side as he could. At last he came to\na sort of path, which he followed, and travelled ten days through\na country not inhabited, still living on herbs, plants, and\nfruits. On the eleventh he approached near a city, which be knew\nto be that of the magicians, where he had been so ill used, and\nwhere his brother Amgrad was grand vizier. He was very glad of\nit, resolving not to come near anyone of the adorers of fire, but\nonly to converse with Mussulmen; for he remembered having seen\nsome the first time he entered the town. It being late, and\nseeing the shops were already shut, and few people in the\nstreets, he resolved to stay in a churchyard near the city, where\nseveral tombs were built in the form of mausoleums. Finding the\ndoor of one open, he entered it, with an intention to pass the\nnight there.\n\nWe must now return to Behram's ship, which was soon surrounded on\nall sides by queen Margiana's squadron, after throwing prince\nAssad overboard. Queen Margiana's ship, in which she was in\nperson, first boarded; and Behram, being in no condition of\ndefence against so many, lowered his sails as a token of\nyielding.\n\nThe queen herself came on board him, and demanded where the clerk\nwas whom he had the boldness to take away from her out of her\nvery palace. Behram replied, 0 queen, I swear before your\nmajesty, that he is not in my ship; you will, by searching it,\nsee my innocence.\n\nMargiana ordered the ship to be searched as narrowly as possible;\nbut she could not find the man whom she so passionately longed to\nrecover, as well out of love to him, as out of that generosity\nwhich was her distinguishing character. She was going to kill\nBehram with her own hand, which she, however, did not; contenting\nherself with seizing his ship and cargo, and turning him and his\nmen on shore.\n\nBehram and his seamen arrived at the city of the magicians the\nsame night that Assad did, and stopped at the same church yard,\nthe city gates being shut, intending to stay in some tomb till\nnext day, when they were opened again.\n\nAs Assad's ill luck would have it, Bahram lighted upon that in\nwhich the prince was sleeping, with his head wrapped up in his\ncoat. Assad awoke at the noise he made, and asked, Who's there?\nBehram knew him again presently. Hah, hah, said he, thou art the\nman who hast been my ruin for ever; thou hast escaped being\nsacrificed this year; but, depend upon it, thou shalt not escape\nthe next. Saying this, he flew upon him, clapped his handkerchief\nin his mouth, to prevent his making noise, and by the help of his\nseamen bound him.\n\nNext morning, as soon as the city sates were open, Behram and his\nmen easily carried Assad to the old man's house where he had been\nso inhumanly treated. It was so early that they met nobody in the\nstreets; and when he came to the old man's house, he was again\nthrown into the dungeon. Behram acquainted the wizard with the\nsad occasion of his return, and the ill success of his voyage.\nThe old rascal, upon this, commanded his two furies, Bostava and\nCavama, to treat him, if possible, more cruelly than before.\n\nAssad was in a terrible surprise to find himself in the hands of\nhis old persecutors, from whom he had suffered so much, and hoped\nthat he had been delivered; he lamented the rigour of his\ndestiny, and trembled when he saw Bostava enter with a cudgel, a\nloaf, and a pitcher of water; he was almost dead at the sight of\nthat unmerciful wretch, and the thoughts of the daily sufferings\nhe was to endure for another year, when he was to die the most\nhorrible of deaths.\n\nBostava dealt not so inhumanly by Prince Assad as she had done\nthe first time of his confinement; his cries, complaints, and\nmost earnest prayers to her to spare him, joined with his tears,\nwere so moving, that she could not help being melted by them, and\nto weep as bitterly as himself. My lord, said she, covering his\nshoulders, which were always bare while he was under the\nbastinado, I ask a thousand pardons for my inhuman treatment of\nyou formerly, and for what you feel at this time. Till now I was\nafraid of disobeying a father who is unjustly enraged against\nyou, and resolved on your destruction; but at last I loathe and\nabhor this barbarity. Be comforted; your bad days are over; I\nwill endeavour to make amends for all my crimes, of the enormity\nof which, by my future behaviour, you will find I am convinced.\nYou have hitherto looked upon me as an infidel; but having been\nconverted by a slave who is a Mussulman, you must henceforth\nbelieve me one of your own religion. I hope your lessons will\nfinish my conversion. To show my good intentions, I first beg\npardon of Heaven for my sins in using you so cruelly; and I trust\nthat it will soon be in my power to set you entirely a liberty.\n\nThe prince was transported to hear her talk at this rate; he\nthanked the Almighty for the change wrought upon her, and for\ntouching the heart of so barbarous a creature; he also thanked\nher for her good disposition towards him, and omitted no\narguments which he thought would have any effect to confirm her\nin her new religion. As a proof of the confidence he reposed in\nher, he gave her an account of his high birth, together with a\nrelation of all his adventures to that period. When he began to\nbelieve she was in earnest, he asked how she could hinder her\nsister Cavama's treating him so barbarously as she used to do.\nLet not that trouble you, replied Bostava; I know how to order\nmatters so that she shall never come near you.\n\nAccording to promise, she every day prevented Cavama going down\nto the dungeon, where she often visited the prince; and, instead\nof carrying bread and water, she brought him the best wine, and\nthe choicest victuals she could get, which were provided by her\nMahometan slave. She often ate and drank with him herself, and\ndid her utmost to render his confinement as easy as possible.\n\nA few days after, as Bostava was standing at her father's door,\nshe heard the common crier making proclamation, but, was at too\ngreat a distance to hear distinctly what it was. Having finished\nhis harangue, he came nearer to repeat it again, when she drew\nback; and, as she stood holding the door half open, perceived the\ncrier marching before the grand vizier Amgrad, brother to Assad,\nwho was accompanied by several officers, with attendants walking\nbefore and behind him.\n\nThe crier, going a few steps from the house, repeated the\nproclamation with a loud voice as follows:\n\nThe most excellent and illustrious lord the grand vizier is come\nin person to seek for his dear brother, from whom he was\nseparated about a year ago; he is young and handsomely made. If\nany person has him in keeping, or knows where he is, his\nexcellency commands that they bring him forth, or give notice\nwhere he shall find him, promising a great reward to the person\nwho shall do so. If any one conceal him, and be found out, his\nexcellency declares that he or they shall be punished with death,\ntogether with his or their children, and all who belong to the\nfamily, and his or their house or houses razed to the ground.\n\nBostava had no sooner heard this, than she instantly shut the\ndoor, and ran as fast as she could to the dungeon to inform Assad\nof it. Prince, said she with joy, your troubles are at an end!\nFollow me; come immediately, and be free! She having taken off\nhis fetters several days before, the prince followed her into the\nstreet, where, quite transported with what she had done, she\ncried, There! there!\n\nThe grand vizier, who was not far from the house, hearing her\nclamours, returned. Assad, knowing him to be his brother, ran to\nhim, and embraced him; which Amgrad, who presently found it to be\nhis brother Assad, returned with all possible tenderness; and,\nmaking him mount one of his officer's horses, who alighted for\nthat purpose, conducted him to the palace, where he presented him\nto the king, by whom he was advanced to the post of a vizier.\n\nBostava would not return to her father's house, which was next\nday razed to the ground, but kept prince Assad in sight; and she,\nfor the friendly part she had acted towards him, was admitted\ninto the queen's service.\n\nThe old man her father, and Behram, were brought before the king,\nwho condemned them and all their families to be beheaded. They\nthrew themselves at his feet, and implored his mercy. There is no\nmercy to expect, said the king, unless you renounce your adoring\nof fire, and profess the Mahometan religion.\n\nThey accepted the conditions, and were pardoned at the\nintercession of Assad, in consideration of Bostava's friendship;\nfor whose sake Cavama's life, and the lives of the rest of their\nfamilies, were saved.\n\nAmgrad, to reward Behram for turning Mussulman, and recompense\nhim for his losses, made him one of his officers, and lodged him\nin his house. Behram, being informed of Amgrad and his brother\nAssad's stories, proposed to his benefactor to fit him a vessel\nto convey them to their father king Camaralzaman's court; for,\nsaid he, the king must certainly have heard of your innocence,\nand impatiently desire to see you ere this; otherwise we can\neasily inform ourselves of the truth before we land; and if he is\nstill in the same mind, you can return hither.\n\nThe two brothers liking the proposal, communicated it to the king\nof the city of the magicians, who approved of it, and commanded a\nship to be equipped for that purpose, Behram undertook the\nemployment cheerfully; and, being master of the art of navigation\nand maritime affairs, he soon got in readiness to sail. The two\nprinces, when they understood that the ship was ready, waited\nupon the king one morning to take their leave of him. While they\nwere reciprocally passing compliments on the occasion, they were\ninterrupted by a great noise and tumult in the city; and\npresently an officer came to give them notice that a numerous\narmy was advancing against the city, nobody knowing who they\nwere, or from whence they came.\n\nThe king being mightily alarmed at the news, Amgrad addressed\nhimself thus to him: Sir, though I am come to resign into your\nmajesty's hands the dignity of your first minister, with which\nyou were pleased to honour me, I am, however, ready to do you all\nthe service that lies in my power: I desire, therefore, that you\nwould be pleased to let me go and see who this enemy is that\ncomes to attack you in your capital city, without having first\ndeclared war.\n\nThe king praying him to do so, Amgrad, with a very small retinue,\nparted from him immediately, to see what enemy approached, and to\nknow the reason of their coming.\n\nIt was not long before prince Amgrad descried the army, which\napproaching nearer and nearer, the foremost received him\nfavourably, and conducted him to their princess, who stopped\nherself, and commanded the army to halt, while she discoursed\nwith the prince, who, bowing profoundly to her, demanded if she\ncame as a friend or an enemy; if as an enemy, what cause of\ncomplaint she had against the king his master.\n\nI come as a friend, replied the princess, and have nothing to\ncomplain against the king of the city of the magicians; his\nterritories and mine are so situate, that it is almost impossible\nfor our subjects to quarrel with one another, or we ourselves to\nhave any dispute. I only come to require a slave, named Assad, to\nbe delivered up to me: he was carried away by one Behram, a\ncaptain of a ship, the most insolent man in the world. I hope\nyour king will do me justice, especially when he knows that I am\nqueen Margiana.\n\nThe prince answered, Mighty queen! the slave you take so much\npains to seek is my brother; I lost him, and have found him\nagain. Come, madam, I will deliver him up to you myself, and will\ndo myself the honour to tell you the rest of the story as we go\nto the king my master's palace, who will rejoice to see you.\n\nThe queen ordered her army to pitch their tents, and encamp where\nthey were; she then accompanied prince Amgrad to the city and\npalace-royal, where he presented her to the king, who received\nher as became his dignity and hers. Assad, who was present, and\nknew her as soon as he saw her, also paid his duty to her; and\nshe, at sight of him, showed all the marks of transporting joy.\nWhile thus busied, news came that an army, more powerful than the\nformer, was approaching on another side of the city.\n\nThe king of the magicians, understanding that the second army was\nmore numerous than the first, was frightened to a greater degree\nthan before; for the dust they made raised clouds in the air\nwhich almost obscured the face of heaven. Amgrad, cried he, what\nshall we do? A new army comes to destroy us! Amgrad, guessing\nwhat the king would have of him, instantly mounted his horse\nagain, and gallopped towards the second army. He demanded of the\nadvanced guards to speak with their general; they conducted him\nto their king, for such he perceived him to be by the crown he\nhad on his head. When he drew near, he threw himself on the\nground, and asked what he would have with the king his master.\n\nThe monarch replied, I am Gaiour, king of China. My desire to\nlearn some tidings of a daughter whose name is Badoura, whom I\nmarried to Camaralzaman, you of Schahzaman, king of the isles of\nthe Children of Khaledan, obliged me to leave my dominions. I\nsuffered that prince to go to see his father king Schahzaman, on\ncondition that he came back in a year with my daughter, but have\nimpatiently waited ever since without hearing any thing of them.\nYour king will lay an infinite obligation on an afflicted father,\nby telling him if he knows what is become of them.\n\nPrince Amgrad, perceiving by his discourse that the king was his\ngrandfather, kissed his hand with tenderness, and answered him\nthus: I hope your majesty will pardon my freedom, when you know\nthat I take it only to pay my duty to my grandfather! I am the\nson of Camaralzaman, king of the isle of Ebene, and of queen\nBadoura, for whom you are thus troubled; and I doubt not that\nthey are both in good health in their kingdom.\n\nThe king of China, overjoyed to see his grandson, embraced him\nwith extraordinary affection. Such a meeting, so happy and\nunexpected, drew tears from both. The king inquiring on what\noccasion he came into a strange country, the prince told him all\nthat had happened to him and his brother Assad. When he had ended\nhis relation, My son, replied the king of China, it is not just\nthat such innocent princes as you are should be longer ill used.\nComfort yourself; I will carry you and your brother home, and\nmake your peace. Return, and acquaint your brother with my\narrival.\n\nWhile the king of China encamped in the place where prince Amgrad\nmet him, that prince returned to let the king of the magicians,\nwho waited for him impatiently, know how he had succeeded.\n\nThe king was amazed that so mighty a monarch as the king of China\nshould undertake such a long and troublesome journey from a\ndesire to see his daughter; and, seeing that he was so near his\ncapital, he gave orders to make things ready for his reception,\nand went forth to meet him.\n\nWhile these things were transacting, a great dust was seen from\nanother quarter of the town, and suddenly news came of the\narrival of a third army, which obliged the king to stop, and to\ndesire prince Amgrad once more to go and see who they were, and\non what account they came.\n\nAmgrad accordingly went, accompanied by prince Assad. They found\nit was Camaralzaman their father's army, with which he was coming\nto seek for them. He was so grieved for the loss of his sons,\nthat emir Giendar at last declared how he had saved their lives,\nand towards what country the two princes had travelled.\n\nThe sad father embraced both with tears of joy, which put an end\nto those he had a long time shed for grief. The princes no sooner\ntold him that the king of China, his father-in-law, was arrived,\nthan he detached himself from the grand army, and with a small\nparty, among whom were his own sons, rode to wait upon him in his\ncamp. They had not gone far before they saw a fourth army\nadvancing, which seemed to come from the Persian side.\n\nCamaralzaman bade the two princes go and see what army it was,\nand in the mean while he would stay for them. They departed\nimmediately, and, coming up to it, were presented, to the king,\nof whom, after saluting him with due reverence, they demanded on\nwhat design he approached so near the king of the magicians'\ncapital. The grand vizier, who was present, answered, in the name\nof the king his master, The monarch to whom you speak is\nSchahzaman, king of the isles of the Children of Khaledan. He has\na long time travelled, thus attended, to seek his son prince\nCamaralzaman, who left his dominions many years ago. If you know\nany thing of him, you cannot oblige him more than to acquaint him\nwith it.\n\nThe princes only replied, that they would bring him an answer in\na little time; and, gallopping back as fast as they could, told\nCamaralzaman that it was king Schahzaman's army, and that his\nfather was with it in person.\n\nWonder, surprise, joy, and grief, at having left the king his\nfather without taking leave of him, had such an effect on king\nCamaralzaman, that he fell into a swoon as soon as he heard that\nhe was so near. Prince Amgrad and prince Assad used every\npossible means to recover him; which having at last effected, he\nhastened to his father's tent, and threw himself at his feet.\nNever was there a more moving interview: Schahzaman gently\ncomplained of Camaralzaman's unkindness in so cruelly leaving\nhim; and Camaralzaman discovered a heart-felt sorrow for the\nfault he had committed.\n\nThe three kings and queen Margiana staid three days at the court\nof the king of the magicians, who treated them magnificently.\nThese three days were rendered the more remarkable by prince\nAssad's marriage with queen Margiana, and prince Amgrad's with\nBostava, for the service she had done his brother Assad. At last\nthe three kings, and queen Margiana, with prince Assad her\nhusband, went to their several kingdoms. As for Amgrad, the king\nof the magicians had such a love for him, that he would not part\nwith him, but, being very old, resigned his crown to him. King\nAmgrad, wben he had the supreme authority, did his utmost to\nexterminate the worship of fire, and to establish the Mahometan\nreligion throughout all his territories.\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF NOUREDDIN AND THE FAIR\n                            PERSIAN.\n\n\n\nBalsora was many years the capital of a kingdom tributary to the\ncaliphs of Arabia. The king who governed it in the days of the\ncaliph Haroun Alraschid, was named Zinchi. They were cousins, the\nsons of two brothers. Zinchi, not thinking it proper to commit\nthe administration of his affairs to one vizier, made choice of\ntwo, Khacan and Saouy.\n\nKhacan was of a sweet, generous, affable temper, and took a\nwonderful pride in obliging those, with whom he had any concern,\nto the utmost of his power, without the least hinderance or\nprejudice to justice, whenever it was demanded of him; so that he\nwas universally respected at court, in the city, and throughout\nthe whole kingdom; and every body's mouth was full of the praises\nhe so highly deserved.\n\nSaouy was of a quite different character: he was always sullen\nand morose, and treated every one in a disrespectful manner,\nwithout any regard to rank or quality. Instead of making himself\nbeloved and admired for his riches, he was so perfect a miser,\nthat he denied himself the necessaries of life. In short, nobody\ncould endure him; and if ever any thing was said to him, it was\nsomething of ill. But what increased the hatred of the people\nagainst him the more, was his implacable aversion to Khacan;\nalways interpreting in the worst sense the actions of that worthy\nminister, and endeavouring to do him all the ill offices\nimaginable with the king.\n\nOne day, after council, the king of Balsora diverted himself with\nhis two viziers, and some other members of the council. They fell\ninto discourse about the women-slaves, who with us are daily\nbought and sold, and are almost reckoned in the same rank with\nour wives. Some were of opinion, that it was sufficient the slave\nwere beautiful and well-shaped; others maintained, and amongst\nthe rest Khacan, that neither beauty, nor a thousand other\ncharming perfections of the body, were the only things to be\ncoveted in a mistress; but that she ought to possess, with a\ngreat deal of wit, prudence, modesty, and amenity of manners.\n\nThe king was entirely of their opinion who spoke last, and\nquickly gave a demonstration of it, by ordering Khacan to buy him\na slave, one that was a perfect beauty, mistress of those\nqualifications they had just mentioned, and especially very\nwitty.\n\nSaouy, jealous of the honour the king had done Khacan, and vexed\nat his being of a contrary opinion, said, Sir, it will be very\ndifficult to find a slave so accomplished as to answer your\nmajesty's demand; and should they light upon such a one, as I\nscarcely believe they will, she will be a bargain at ten thousand\npieces of gold. Saouy, replied the king, I perceive plainly you\nthink it too great a sum; it may be so for you, though not for\nme. Then turning to the chief treasurer, he ordered him to send\nthe ten thousand pieces of gold to the vizier's house.\n\nKhacan, as soon as he came home, sent for all the courtiers who\ndealt in women-slaves, and strictly charged them, that if they\nmet with a slave who answered the description he gave, they\nshould acquaint him. The courtiers, partly to oblige the vizier,\nand partly for their own interest, promised to use their utmost\nendeavours to find one to his liking. Accordingly, seldom a day\npassed but they brought him one, yet he always found some fault\nor other with her.\n\nOne day, as Khacan was getting on horseback, early in the\nmorning, to go to court, a courtier came to him, and, with a\ngreat deal of eagerness, catching hold of the stirrup, told him\nthere was a Persian merchant arrived very late the day before,\nwho had a slave to sell, so surprisingly beautiful, that she\nexcelled all women that his eyes had ever beheld; and, as for\nparts and learning, added he, the merchant engages she shall cope\nwith the finest wits and the most knowing persons of the age.\n\nKhacan, overjoyed at this news, which made him hope for a\nfavourable reception at court, ordered him to bring the slave to\nthe palace against his coming back, and so pursued his journey.\nThe courtier did not fail to be at the vizier's at the appointed\nhour; and Khacan, finding the lovely slave so much beyond his\nexpectation, immediately gave her the name of the Fair Persian.\nAs he had an infinite deal of wit and learning, he soon\nperceived, by her conversation, that it was in vain to search any\nfurther for a slave that surpassed her in any of those\nqualifications required by the king, and therefore he asked the\ncourtier at what rate the Persian merchant valued her.\n\nSir, replied the courtier, he is a man of few words in\nbargaining, and tells me, that the very lowest price he seeks for\nher is ten thousand pieces of gold: he has also sworn to me,\nthat, without reckoning his pains and trouble from the time of\nhis first taking care of her, he has laid out pretty nearly that\nsum upon her education, in masters to instruct and teach her,\nbesides clothes and maintenance; and as he always thought her fit\nfor a king, so from her infancy, in which he bought her, he has\nnot been sparing in any thing that might contribute towards\nadvancing her to that high honour. She plays upon all sorts of\ninstruments to perfection; she dances, sings, writes better than\nthe most celebrated authors, understands poetry, and, in short,\nthere are few books but what she has read: so that there never\nwas a slave of so great capacity.\n\nThe vizier Khacan, who understood the merit of the fair Persian\nbetter than the courtier, who only reported what he had heard\nfrom the merchant, was unwilling to put off the bargain till\nanother time; and therefore he sent one of his servants to look\nafter the merchant where the courtier told him he was to be\nfound. As soon as the Persian merchant came, It is not for\nmyself, but for the king, said the vizier Khacan, that I buy your\nslave; you must, however, let him have her at a more reasonable\nprice than what you have already set upon her.\n\nSir, replied the merchant, I should do myself an unspeakable\nhonour in offering her as a present to his majesty, were I able\nto make him one of so inestimable a value. I ask little more than\nwhat her education and maintenance have cost me; and all I have\nto say is, that I believe his majesty will be greatly pleased\nwith the purchase.\n\nThe vizier Khacan would stand no longer bargaining with the\nmerchant, but paid down the money immediately. Sir, said he to\nthe vizier, upon taking his leave, since the slave is designed\nfor the king's use, give me leave to tell you, that, being\nextremely fatigued with our long journey, you see her at a great\ndisadvantage; and though, as to beauty, she has not her equal in\nthe world, yet if you please to keep her at your own house a\nfortnight, and strive a little to please and humour her, she will\nappear quite another creature: after that you may present her to\nthe king with abundance of honour and credit, for which, I doubt\nnot, you will think yourself much obliged to me. The sun, you\nsee, has a little tarnished her complexion; but, after two or\nthree times bathing and dressing her according to the fashion of\nyour country, she will appear to your eyes infinitely more\ncharming than at present.\n\nKhacan was mightily pleased with the advice the merchant gave,\nand was resolved to follow it. Accordingly the fair Persian was\nlodged in a particular apartment near his lady, whom he desired\nto invite to an entertainment, and thenceforth to treat her as a\nmistress designed for the king: he also entreated his lady to get\nthe richest clothes for her that could possibly be had, and\nespecially those that became her best. Before he took his leave\nof the fair Persian, Your happiness, madam, said he, cannot be\ngreater than what I am about to procure for you, since it is for\nthe king himself I have bought you; and I hope he will be better\npleased with the enjoyment of you than I am in discharging the\ntrust his majesty has laid upon me: however, I think it my duty\nto warn you of my son, who, though he has a tolerable share of\nwit, yet is a young, wanton, forward youth; and therefore have a\ncare how you suffer him to come near you. The fair Persian\nthanked him for his good advice; and, on her giving him an\nassurance of her intention to follow it, he withdrew.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume First.","title":"The Arabian Nights Entertainments - Volume 01","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":237069}