{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5665/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5665","id":"gutenberg_5665","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5665","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales","Tales -- Arab countries"],"text":"The \"Aldine\" Edition of\n\n               The Arabian Nights Entertainments\n\n                   Illustrated by S. L. Wood\n\n              FROM THE TEXT OF DR. JONATHAN SCOTT\n\n                        In Four Volumes\n\n                            Volume 2\n\n\n                             London\n                      Pickering and Chatto\n                              1890\n\n\n\n\n\n                     Contents of Volume II.\n\nThe Story of the Little Hunch-Back\n     The Story Told by the Christian Merchant\n     The Story Told by the Sultan of Casgar's Purveyor\n     The Story Told by the Jewish Physician\n     The Story Told by the Tailor\n     The Story Told by the Barber\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Eldest Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Second Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Third Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Fourth Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Fifth Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Sixth Brother\n\nThe History of Aboulhassen Ali Ebn Ecar, and Schemselnihar,\nFavourite of Caliph Haroon Al Rusheed\n\nThe Story of the Loves of Kummir Al Zummaun, Prince of the Isles\nof the Children of\nKhaledan, and of Badoura, Princess of China\n\nThe Story of the Princes Amgiad and Assad\n     The Story of the Prince Amgiad and a Lady of the City of\nMagicians\n\nThe Story of Noor Ad Deen and the Fair Persian\n\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF THE LITTLE HUNCH-BACK.\n\n\n\nThere was in former times at Casgar, on the extreme boundaries of\nTartary, a tailor who had a pretty wife, whom he affectionately\nloved, and by whom he was beloved with reciprocal tenderness. One\nday while he was at work, a little hunch-back seated himself at\nthe shop door and began to sing, and play upon a tabor. The\ntailor was pleased with his performance, and resolved to take him\nto his house to entertain his wife: \"This little fellow,\" said\nhe, \"will divert us both this evening.\" He accordingly invited\nhim, and the other readily accepted the invitation: so the tailor\nshut up his shop, and carried him home. Immediately after their\narrival the tailor's wife placed before them a good dish of fish;\nbut as the little man was eating, he unluckily swallowed a bone,\nwhich, notwithstanding all that the tailor and his wife could do,\nchoked him. This accident greatly alarmed them both, dreading, if\nthe magistrates should hear of it, that they would be punished as\nmurderers. However, the husband devised a scheme to get rid of\nthe corpse. He reflected that a Jewish doctor lived just by, and\nhaving formed his plan, his wife and he took the corpse, the one\nby the feet and the other by the head, and carried it to the\nphysician's house. They knocked at the door, from which a steep\nflight of stairs led to his chamber. The servant maid came down\nwithout any light, and opening the door, asked what they wanted.\n\"Have the goodness,\" said the tailor, \"to go up again, and tell\nyour master we have brought him a man who is very ill, and wants\nhis advice. Here,\" continued he, putting a piece of money into\nher hand, \"give him that beforehand, to convince him that we do\nnot mean to impose.\" While the servant was gone up to inform her\nmaster, the tailor and his wife hastily conveyed the hunchbacked\ncorpse to the head of the stairs, and leaving it there, hurried\naway.\n\nIn the mean time, the maid told the doctor, that a man and woman\nwaited for him at the door, desiring he would come down and look\nat a sick man whom they had brought with them, and clapped into\nhis hand the money she had received. The doctor was transported\nwith joy; being paid beforehand, he thought it must needs be a\ngood patient, and should not be neglected. \"Light, light,\" cried\nhe to the maid; \"follow me quickly.\" As he spoke, he hastily ran\ntowards the head of the stairs without waiting for a light, and\ncame against the corpse with so much violence that he\nprecipitated it to the bottom, and had nearly fallen with it.\n\"Bring me a light,\" cried he to the maid; \"quick, quick.\" At last\nshe brought one, and he went down stairs with her; but when he\nsaw that what he had kicked down was a dead man, he was so\nfrightened, that he invoked Moses, Aaron, Joshua, Esdras, and all\nthe other prophets of his nation. \"Unhappy man that I am,\" said\nhe, \"why did I attempt to come without a light! I have killed the\npoor fellow who was brought to me to be cured: doubtless I am the\ncause of his death, and unless Esdras's ass come to assist me, I\nam ruined: Mercy on me, they will be here out of hand, and drag\nme out of my house for a murderer.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the perplexity and confusion into which he was\nthrown, he had the precaution to shut his door, for fear any one\npassing by should observe the accident of which he reckoned\nhimself to be the author. He then took the corpse into his wife's\nchamber, who was ready to swoon at the sight. \"Alas,\" cried she,\n\"we are utterly ruined and undone, unless we can devise some\nexpedient to get the corpse out of our house this night. If we\nharbour it till morning we are lost. What a deplorable misfortune\nis this! What have you done to kill this man?\" \"That is not now\nthe question,\" replied the Jew; \"our business at present is, to\nfind a remedy for the evil which threatens us.\"\n\nThe doctor and his wife consulted how to dispose of the corpse\nthat night. The doctor racked his brain in vain, he could not\nthink of any stratagem to relieve his embarrassment; but his\nwife, who was more fertile in invention, said, \"A thought is just\ncome into my head; let us carry the corpse to the terrace of our\nhouse, and throw it down the chimney of our Mussulmaun\nneighbour.\"\n\nThis Mussulmaun was one of the sultan's purveyors for furnishing\noil, butter, and articles of a similar nature, and had a magazine\nin his house, where the rats and mice made prodigious havoc.\n\nThe Jewish doctor approving the proposed expedient, the 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 dexterously that he stood upright\nagainst the wall, as if he had been alive. When they found he had\nreached the bottom, they pulled up the ropes, and left the corpse\nin that posture. They were scarcely got down into their chamber,\nwhen the purveyor, who had just returned from a wedding feast,\nwent into his room, with a lanthorn in his hand. He was not a\nlittle surprised to discover a man standing in his chimney; but\nbeing a stout fellow, and apprehending him to be a thief, he took\nup a stick, and making straight up to the hunch-back, \"Ah!\" said\nhe, \"I thought the rats and mice ate my butter and tallow; but it\nis you who come down the chimney to rob me? However, I think you\nwill have no wish to come here again.\" Upon this he attacked\nhunch-back, and struck him several times with his stick. The\ncorpse fell down flat on the ground, and the purveyor redoubled\nhis blows. But, observing that the body did not move, he stood a\nlittle time to regard it; and then, perceiving it to be dead,\nfear succeeded his anger. \"Wretched man that I am,\" said he,\n\"what have I done! I have killed a man; alas, I have carried my\nrevenge too far. Good God, unless thou pity me my life is gone!\nCursed, ten thousand times accursed, be the fat and the oil that\noccasioned me to commit so criminal an action.\" He stood pale and\nthunderstruck; he fancied he already saw the officers come to\ndrag him to condign punishment, and could not tell what\nresolution to take.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor had never noticed the little\nman's hump-back when he was beating him, but as soon as he\nperceived it, he uttered a thousand imprecations against him.\n\"Ah, thou cursed hunch-back,\" cried he, \"thou crooked wretch,\nwould to God thou hadst robbed me of all my fat, and I had not\nfound thee here. I then should not have been thrown into this\nperplexity on account of this and thy vile hunch. Ye stars that\ntwinkle in the heavens, give your light to none but me in this\ndangerous juncture.\" As soon as he had uttered these words, he\ntook the crooked corpse upon his shoulders, and carried it to the\nend of the street, where he placed it in an upright posture\nagainst a shop; he then returned without once looking behind him.\n\nA few minutes before day-break, a Christian merchant, who was\nvery rich, and furnished the sultan's palace with various\narticles, having sat up all night at a debauch, happened to come\nfrom his house in this direction on his way to the bath. Though\nhe was intoxicated, he was sensible that the night was far spent,\nand that the people would soon be called to morning prayers; he\ntherefore quickened his pace to get to the bath in time, lest\nsome Mussulmaun, in his way to the mosque, should meet him and\ncarry him to prison for a drunkard. When he came to the end of\nthe street, he had occasion to stop by the shop where the\nsultan's purveyor had put the hunch-backed corpse; which being\njostled by him, tumbled upon the merchant's back. The merchant\nthinking he was attacked by a robber, knocked it down, and after\nredoubling his blows, cried out \"Thieves!\"\n\nThe outcry alarmed the watch, who came up immediately, and\nfinding a Christian beating a Mussulmaun (for hump-back was of\nour religion), \"What reason have you,\" said he, \"to abuse a\nMussulmaun in this manner?\" \"He would have robbed me,\" replied\nthe merchant, \"and jumped upon my back in order to take me by the\nthroat.\" \"If he did,\" said the watch, \"you have revenged yourself\nsufficiently; come, get off him.\" At the same time he stretched\nout his hand to help little hump-back up, but observing he was\ndead, \"Oh!\" said he, \"is it thus that a Christian dares to\nassassinate a Mussulmaun?\" So saying, he laid hold of the\nChristian, and carried him to the house of the officer of the\npolice, where he was kept till the judge was stirring, and ready\nto examine him. In the mean time, the Christian merchant became\nsober, and the more he reflected upon his adventure, the less\ncould he conceive how such slight blows of his fist could have\nkilled the man.\n\nThe judge having heard the report of the watch, and viewed the\ncorpse, which they had taken care to bring to his house,\ninterrogated the Christian merchant, who could not deny the\ncrime, though he had not committed it. But the judge considering\nthat little hump-back belonged to the sultan, for he was one of\nhis buffoons, would not put the Christian to death till he knew\nthe sultan's pleasure. For this end he went to the palace, and\nacquainted the sultan with what had happened; and received this\nanswer: \"I have no mercy to show to a Christian who kills a\nMussulmaun.\" Upon this the judge ordered a stake to be prepared,\nand sent criers all over the city to proclaim that they were\nabout to impale a Christian for killing a Mussulmaun.\n\nAt length the merchant was brought to the place of execution; and\nthe executioner was about to do his duty, when the sultan's\npurveyor pushed through the crowd, calling to him to stop for\nthat the Christian had not committed the murder, but he himself\nhad done it. Upon that, the officer who attended the execution\nbegan to question the purveyor, who told him every circumstance\nof his having killed the little hunchback, and how he had\nconveyed his corpse to the place where the Christian merchant had\nfound it. \"You were about,\" added he, \"to put to death an\ninnocent person; for how can he be guilty of the death of a man\nwho was dead before he touched him? It is enough for me to have\nkilled a Mussulmaun without loading my conscience with the death\nof a Christian who is not guilty.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor having publicly charged himself\nwith the death of the little hunchbacked man, the officer could\ndo no less than execute justice on the merchant. \"Let the\nChristian go,\" said he to the executioner, \"and impale this man\nin his stead, since it appears by his own confession that he is\nguilty.\" Thereupon the executioner released the merchant, and\nseized the purveyor; but just as he was going to impale him, he\nheard the voice of the Jewish doctor, earnestly intreating him to\nsuspend the execution, and make room for him to approach.\n\nWhen he appeared before the judge, \"My lord,\" said he, \"this\nMussulmaun you are going to execute is not guilty. I am the\ncriminal. Last night a man and a woman, unknown to me, came to my\ndoor with a sick man; my maid went and opened it without a light,\nand received from them a piece of money with a commission to come\nand desire me, in their name, to step down and look at the\npatient. While she was delivering her message, they conveyed the\nsick person to the stair-head, and disappeared. I went, without\nstaying till my servant had lighted a candle, and in the dark\nhappened to stumble upon the sick person, and kick him down\nstairs. At length I saw he was dead, and that it was the crooked\nMussulmaun whose death you are now about to avenge. My wife and I\ntook the corpse, and, after conveying it up to the roof of the\npurveyor, our next neighbour, whom you were going to put to death\nunjustly, let it down the chimney into his chamber. The purveyor\nfinding it in his house, took the little man for a thief, and\nafter beating him concluded he had killed him. But that it was\nnot so you will be convinced by this my deposition; I am the sole\nauthor of the murder; and though it was committed undesignedly, I\nam resolved to expiate my crime, that I may not have to charge\nmyself with the death of two Mussulmauns.\"\n\nThe chief justice being persuaded that the Jewish doctor was the\nmurderer, gave orders to the executioner to seize him and release\nthe purveyor. Accordingly the doctor was just going to be\nimpaled, 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 chief judge. Room being made, \"My lord,\"\nsaid he, \"you have narrowly escaped taking away the lives of\nthree innocent persons; but if you will have the patience to hear\nme, I will discover to you the real murderer of the crook backed\nman. If his death is to be expiated by another, that must be\nmine. Yesterday, towards the evening, as I was at work in my\nshop, and was disposed to be merry, the little hunch-back came to\nmy door half-drunk, and sat down. He sung a little, and so I\ninvited him to pass the evening at my house. He accepted the\ninvitation and went in 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 afflicted us extremely, and for fear\nof being charged with it, we carried the corpse to the Jewish\ndoctor's house and knocked. The maid came. and opened the door; I\ndesired her to go up again and ask her master to come down and\ngive his advice to a sick person whom we had brought along with\nus; and withal, to encourage him, I charged her to give him a\npiece of money, which I put into her hand. When she was gone, I\ncarried the hunch-back up stairs, and laid him upon the uppermost\nstep, and then my wife and I made the best of our way home. The\ndoctor coming, threw the corpse down stairs, and concluded\nhimself to be the author of his death. This being the case,\"\ncontinued he, \"release the doctor, and let me die in his stead.\"\n\nThe chief justice, and all the spectators, wondered at the\nstrange events which had ensued upon the death of the little\nhunch-back. \"Let the Jewish doctor go,\" said the judge, \"and\nseize the tailor, since he confesses the crime. It is certain\nthis history is very uncommon, and deserves to be recorded in\nletters of gold.\" The executioner having dismissed the doctor\nprepared to impale the tailor.\n\nWhile the executioner was making ready to impale the tailor, the\nsultan of Casgar, wanting the company of his crooked jester,\nasked where he was; and one of his officers told him; \"The hunch-\nback, Sir, whom you inquire after, got drunk last night, and\ncontrary to his custom slipped out of the palace, and went\nstrolling about the city, and this morning was found dead. A man\nwas brought before the chief justice, and charged with the murder\nof him; but when he was going to be impaled, up came a man, and\nafter him another, who took the charge upon themselves and\ncleared one another, and the judge is now examining a third, who\ngives himself out for the real author of the murder.\"\n\nUpon this intelligence the sultan of Casgar sent an officer to\nthe place of execution. \"Go,\" said he, \"with all expedition, and\ntell the judge to bring the accused persons before me immediately\nand bring also the corpse of poor hunch-back, that I may see him\nonce more.\" Accordingly the officer went, and happened to arrive\nat the place of execution at the very time that the executioner\nhad laid his hands upon the tailor. He called aloud to him to\nsuspend the execution. The executioner knowing the officer, did\nnot dare to proceed, but released the tailor; and then the\nofficer acquainted the judge with the sultan's pleasure. The\njudge obeyed, and went directly to the palace accompanied by the\ntailor, the Jewish doctor, and the Christian merchant; and made\nfour of his men carry the hunch-backed corpse along with him.\n\nWhen they appeared in the sultan's presence, the judge threw\nhimself at the prince's feet and after recovering himself, gave\nhim a faithful relation of what he knew of the story of the\nhunch-backed man. The story appeared so extraordinary to the\nsultan, that he ordered his own historian to write it down with\nall its circumstances. Then addressing himself to the audience;\n\"Did you ever hear,\" said he, \"such a surprising event as has\nhappened on the account of my little crooked buffoon?\" The\nChristian merchant, after falling down, and touching the earth\nwith his forehead, spoke as follows: \"Most puissant monarch, I\nknow a story yet more astonishing than this; if your majesty will\ngive me leave, I will relate it. The circumstances are such, that\nno one can hear them without emotion.\" \"Well,\" said the sultan,\n\"you have my permission:\" and the merchant went on as follows:\n\n\n\n\nThe Story told by the Christian Merchant.\n\n\n\nSir, before I commence the recital of the story you have\npermitted me to relate, I beg leave to acquaint you, that I have\nnot the honour to be born in any part of your majesty's empire. I\nam a stranger, born at Cairo in Egypt, a Copt by nation, and by\nreligion a Christian. My father was a broker, and realized\nconsiderable property, which he left me at his death. I followed\nhis example, and pursued the same employment. While I was\nstanding in the public inn frequented by the corn merchants,\nthere came up to me a handsome young man, well dressed, and\nmounted on an ass. He saluted me, and pulling out a handkerchief,\nin which he had a sample of sesame or Turkey corn, asked me how\nmuch a bushel of such sesame would fetch.\n\nI examined the corn the young man shewed me, and told him it was\nworth a hundred dirhems of silver per bushel. \"Pray,\" said he,\n\"look out for some merchant to take it at that price, and come to\nme at the Victory gate, where you will see a khan at a distance\nfrom the houses.\" So saying, he left me the sample, and I shewed\nit to several merchants, who told me, that they would take as\nmuch as I could spare at a hundred and ten dirhems per bushel, so\nthat I reckoned on getting ten dirhems per bushel for my\ncommission. Full of the expectation of this profit, I went to the\nVictory gate, where I found the young merchant expecting me, and\nhe took me into his granary, which was full of sesame. He had\nthen a hundred and fifty bushels, which I measured out, and\nhaving carried them off upon asses, sold them for five thousand\ndirhems of silver. \"Out of this sum,\" said the young man, \"there\nare five hundred dirhems coming to you, at the rate of ten\ndirhems per bushel. This I give you; and as for the rest which\npertains to me, take it out of the merchants' hands, and keep it\ntill I call or send for it, for I have no occasion for it at\npresent.\" I answered, it should be ready for him whenever he\npleased to demand it; and so, kissing his hand, took leave of\nhim, with a grateful sense of his generosity.\n\nA month passed before he came near me: then he asked for the sum\nhe had committed to my trust. I told him it was ready, and should\nbe counted to him immediately. He was mounted on his ass, and 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 just by; but I will return this way, and then take the\nmoney which I desired you would have in readiness.\" This said, he\ndisappeared, and I still expected his return, but it was a full\nmonth before I saw him again. \"This young merchant,\" thought I,\n\"has great confidence in me, leaving so great a sum in my hands\nwithout knowing me; any other man would have been afraid 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 more\nhandsomely dressed than before.\n\nAs soon as I saw the young man, I intreated him to alight, and\nasked him if he would not take his money? \"There is no hurry,\"\nsaid he, with a pleasant easy air, \"I know it is in good hands; I\nwill come and take it when my other money is all gone. Adieu,\"\ncontinued he, \"I will return towards the end of the week.\" With\nthat he struck the ass, and soon disappeared. \"Well,\" thought I,\n\"he says he will see me towards the end of the week, but he may\nnot perhaps return for a great while; I will make the most I can\nof his money, which may bring me much profit.\"\n\nAs it happened, I was not deceived in my conjecture; for it was a\nfull year before I saw my young merchant again. He then appeared\nas richly appareled as before, but seemed to have something on\nhis spirits. I asked him to do me the honour to walk into my\nhouse. \"For this time,\" replied he, \"I will: but on this\ncondition, that you shall put yourself to no extraordinary charge\non my account.\" \"I will do just as you please,\" said I, \"only do\nme the favour to alight and walk in.\" Accordingly he complied. I\ngave orders to have a repast prepared, and while this was doing,\nwe entered into conversation. All things being ready, we sat\ndown. I observed he took the first mouthful with his left hand,\nand not with the right. I was at a loss what to think of this.\n\"Ever since I have known this young man,\" said I inwardly, \"he\nhas always appeared very polite; is it possible he can do this\nout of contempt? What can be the reason he does not use his right\nhand?\"\n\nAfter we had done eating, and every thing was taken away, we sat\nupon a sofa, and I presented him with a lozenge by way of dainty;\nbut still he took it with his left hand. I said to him, \"Pardon,\nSir, the liberty I take in asking you what reason you have for\nnot using your right hand? Perhaps you have some complaint in\nthat hand.\" Instead of answering, he heaved a deep sigh, and\npulling out his right arm, which he had hitherto kept under his\nvest, shewed me, to my great astonishment, that it had been cut\noff. \"Doubtless you were displeased,\" said he, \"to see me feed\nmyself with the left hand; but I leave you to judge, whether it\nwas in my power to do otherwise.\" \"May one ask,\" said I, \"by what\nmischance you lost your right hand?\" Upon that he burst into\ntears, and after wiping his eyes, gave me the following relation.\n\nYou must know that I am a native of Bagdad, the son of a rich\nmerchant, the most eminent in that city for rank and opulence. I\nhad scarcely launched into the world, when falling into the\ncompany of travellers, and hearing their wonderful accounts of\nEgypt, especially of Grand Cairo, I was interested by their\ndiscourse, and felt a strong desire to travel. But my father was\nthen alive, and would not grant me permission. At length he died;\nand being then my own master, I resolved to take a journey to\nCairo. I laid out a large sum of money in the purchase of several\nsorts of fine stuffs of Bagdad and Moussol. and departed.\n\nArriving at Cairo, I went to the khan, called the khan of\nMesrour, and there took lodgings, with a warehouse for my bales,\nwhich I had brought with me upon camels. This done, I retired to\nmy chamber to rest, after the fatigue of my journey, and gave\nsome money to my servants, with orders to buy some provisions and\ndress them. After I had eaten, I went to view the castle, some\nmosques, the public squares, and the other most remarkable\nplaces.\n\nNext day I dressed myself, and ordered some of the finest and\nrichest of my bales to be selected and carried by my slaves to\nthe Circassian bazaar, whither I followed. I had no sooner made\nmy appearance, than I was surrounded with brokers and criers who\nhad heard of my arrival. I gave patterns of my stuffs to several\nof the criers, who shewed them all over the bazaar; but none of\nthe merchants offered near so much as prime cost and carriage.\nThis vexed me, and the criers observing I was dissatisfied, said,\n\"If you will take our advice, we will put you in a way to sell\nyour goods without loss.\"\n\nThe brokers and the criers, having thus promised to put me in a\nway of losing nothing by my goods, I asked them what course they\nwould have me pursue . \"Divide your goods,\" said they, among\nseveral merchants, they will sell them by retail; and twice a\nweek, that is on Mondays and Thursdays, you may receive what\nmoney they may have taken. By this means, instead of losing, you\nwill turn your goods to advantage, and the merchants will gain by\nyou. In the mean while you will have time to take your pleasure\nabout the town or go upon the Nile.\"\n\nI took their advice, and conducted them to my warehouse; from\nwhence I brought all my goods to the bazaar, and there divided\nthem among the merchants whom they represented as most reputable\nand able to pay; and the merchants gave me a formal receipt\nbefore witnesses, stipulating that I should not making any\ndemands upon them for the first month.\n\nHaving thus regulated my affairs, my mind was occupied with\nordinary pleasures. I contracted acquaintance with divers persons\nof nearly the same age with myself, which made the time pass\nagreeably. After the first month had expired, I began to visit my\nmerchants twice a week, taking with me a public officer to\ninspect their books of sale, and a banker to see that they paid\nme in good money, and to regulate the value of the several coins.\nEvery pay-day, I had a good sum of money to carry home to my\nlodging at the khan of Mesrour. I went on other days to pass the\nmorning sometimes at one merchant's house, and sometimes at that\nof another. In short, I amused myself in conversing with them,\nand seeing what passed in the bazaar.\n\nOne Monday, as I was sitting in a merchant \u0091s shop, whose name\nwas Buddir ad Deen, a lady of quality, as might easily be\nperceived by her air, her apparel, and by a well-dressed slave\nattending her, came into the shop, and sat down by me. Her\nexternal appearance, joined to a natural grace that shone in all\nher actions, prepossessed me in her favour, and inspired me with\na desire to be better acquainted with her. I know not whether she\nobserved that I took pleasure in gazing on her, and whether this\nattention on my part was not agreeable to her; but she let down\nthe crepe that hung over the muslin which covered her face, and\ngave me the opportunity of seeing her large black eyes; which\nperfectly charmed me. In fine, she inflamed my love to the height\nby the agreeable sound of her voice, her graceful carriage in\nsaluting the merchant, and asking him how he did since she had\nseen him last.\n\nAfter conversing with him some time upon indifferent subjects,\nshe gave him to understand that she wanted a particular kind of\nstuff with a gold ground; that she came to his shop, as affording\nthe best choice of any in all the bazaar; and that if he had any\nsuch as she asked for, he would oblige her in showing them.\nBuddir ad Deen produced several pieces, one of which she pitched\nupon, and he asked for it eleven hundred dirhems of silver. \"I\nwill,\" said she, \"give you your price for it, but I have not\nmoney enough about me; so I hope you will give me credit till to-\nmorrow, and in the mean time allow me to carry home the stuff. I\nshall not fail,\" added she, \"to send you tomorrow the eleven\nhundred dirhems.\" \"Madam,\" said Buddir ad Deen, \"I would give you\ncredit with all my heart if the stuff were mine; but it belongs\nto the young man you see here, and this is the day on which we\nsettle our accounts.\" \"Why,\" said the lady in surprise, \"do you\nuse me so? Am not I a customer to your shop  And when I have\nbought of you, and carried home the things without paying ready\nmoney for them, did I in any instance fail to send you your money\nnext morning?\" \"Madam,\" said the merchant, \"all this is true, but\nthis very day I have occasion for the money.\" \"There,\" said she,\nthrowing the stuff to him, \"take your stuff, I care not for you\nnor any of the merchants. You are all alike; you respect no one.\"\nAs she spoke, she rose up in anger, and walked out.\n\nWhen I saw that the lady walked away, I felt interested on her\nbehalf, and called her back, saying, \"Madam, do me the favour to\nreturn, perhaps I can find a way to satisfy you both.\" She\nreturned, saying, it was on my account that she complied. \"Buddir\nad Deen,\" said I to the merchant, \"what is the price you must\nhave for this stuff that belongs to me?\" \"I must have,\" replied\nhe, \"eleven hundred dirhems, I cannot take less.\" \"Give it to the\nlady then,\" said I, \"let her take it home with her; I allow a\nhundred dirhems profit to yourself, and shall now write you a\nnote, empowering you to deduct that sum upon the produce of the\nother goods you have of mine.\" In fine, I wrote, signed, and gave\nhim the note, and then delivered the stuff to the lady. \"Madam,\"\nsaid I, \"you may take the stuff with you, and as for the money,\nyou may either send it to-morrow or the next day; or, if you\nwill, accept it as a present from me.\" \"Pardon me,\" returned she,\n\"I mean no such thing. You treat me with so much politeness, that\nI should be unworthy to appear in the world again, were I to omit\nmaking you my best acknowledgments. May God reward you, by an\nincrease of your fortune; may you live many years after I am\ndead; may the gate of paradise be open to you when you remove to\nthe other world, and may all the city proclaim your generosity.\"\n\nThese words inspired me with some assurance. \"Madam,\" I replied,\n\"I desire no other reward for the service I have done you than\nthe happiness of seeing your face; which will repay me with\ninterest.\" I had no sooner spoken than she turned towards me,\ntook off her veil, and discovered to me a wonderful beauty. I\nbecame speechless with admiration. I could have gazed upon her\nfor ever; but fearing any one should observe her, she quickly\ncovered her face, and letting down the crepe, took up the piece\nof stuff, and went away, leaving me in a very different state of\nmind from that in which I had entered the shop. I continued for\nsome time in great confusion and perplexity. Before I took leave\nof the merchant, I asked him, if he knew the lady; \"Yes,\" said\nhe, \"she is the daughter of an emir.\"\n\nI went back to the khan of Mesrour, and sat down to supper, but\ncould not eat, neither could I shut my eyes all the night, which\nseemed the longest in my life. As soon as it was day I arose, in\nhopes of once more beholding the object that disturbed my repose:\nand to engage her affection, I dressed myself much richer than I\nhad done the day before.\n\nI had but just reached Buddir ad Deen's shop, when I saw the lady\ncoming in more magnificent apparel than before, and attended by\nher slave. When she entered, she did not regard the merchant, but\naddressing herself to me, said, \"Sir, you see I am punctual to my\nword. I am come for the express purpose of paying the sum you\nwere so kind as to pass your word for yesterday, though you had\nno knowledge of me. Such uncommon generosity I shall never\nforget.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said I, \"you had no occasion to be in such haste; I was\nwell satisfied as to my money, and am sorry you should put\nyourself to so much trouble.\" \"I had been very unjust,\" answered\nshe, \"if I had abused your generosity.\" With these words she put\nthe money into my hand, and sat down by me.\n\nHaving this opportunity of conversing with her, I determined to\nimprove 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 continued in sight; then taking leave of the merchant walked\nout of the bazaar, without knowing where I went. I was musing on\nthis adventure, when I felt somebody pulling me behind, and\nturning to see who it was, I was agreeably surprised to perceive\nit was the lady's slave. \"My mistress,\" said she, \"I mean the\nyoung lady you spoke to in the merchant's shop, wants to speak\nwith you, if you please to give yourself the trouble to follow\nme.\" Accordingly I followed her, and found her mistress sitting\nwaiting for me in a banker's shop.\n\nShe made me sit down by her, and spoke to this purpose. \"Do not\nbe surprised, that I left you so abruptly. I thought it not\nproper, before 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 it gave me\npleasure; and I account myself infinitely happy in having a man\nof your merit for my lover. I do not know what impression the\nfirst sight of me may have made on you, but I assure you, I had\nno sooner beheld you than I found my heart moved with the\ntenderest emotions of love. Since yesterday I have done nothing\nbut think of what you said to me; and my eagerness to seek you\nthis morning may convince you of my regard.\" \"Madam,\" I replied,\ntransported with love and joy, \"nothing can be more agreeable to\nme than this declaration. No passion can exceed that with which I\nlove you. My eyes were dazzled with so many charms, that my heart\nyielded without resistance.\" \"Let us not trifle away the time in\nneedless discourse,\" said she, interrupting me; \"make no doubt of\nyour sincerity, and you shall quickly be convinced of mine. Will\nyou do me the honour to come to my residence? Or if you will I\nwill go to yours.\" \"Madam,\" I returned, \"I am a stranger lodged\nin a khan, which is not the proper place for the reception of a\nlady of your quality. It is more proper, madam, that I should\nvisit you at your house; have the goodness to tell me where it\nis.\" The lady consented; \"Come,\" said she, \"on Friday, which is\nthe day after to-morrow, after noon-prayers, and ask for the\nhouse of Abon Schama, surnamed Bercour, late master of the emirs;\nthere you will find me.\" This said, we parted; and I passed the\nnext day in great impatience.\n\nOn Friday I put on my richest apparel, and took fifty pieces of\ngold in my purse. I mounted an ass I had bespoken the day before,\nand set out, accompanied by the man who let me the ass. I\ndirected the owner of the ass to inquire for the house I wanted;\nhe found it, and conducted me thither. I paid him liberally,\ndirecting him to observe narrowly where he left me, and not to\nfail to return next morning with the ass, to carry me again to\nthe khan of Mesrour.\n\nI knocked at the door, and presently two little female slaves,\nwhite as snow, and neatly dressed came and opened it. \"Be pleased\nto come in, Sir, said they, \"our mistress expects you\nimpatiently; these two days she has talked of nothing but you. I\nentered the court, and saw a pavilion raised seven steps, and\nsurrounded with iron rails that parted it from a very pleasant\ngarden. Besides the trees which only embellished the place, and\nformed an agreeable shade, there was an infinite number of others\nloaded with all sorts of fruit. I was charmed with the warbling\nof a great number of birds, that joined their notes to the\nmurmurings of a fountain, in the middle of a parterre enamelled\nwith flowers. This fountain formed a very agreeable object; four\nlarge gilded dragons at the angles of the basin, which was of a\nsquare form, spouted out water clearer than rock-crystal. This\ndelicious place gave me a charming idea of the conquest I had\nmade. The two little slaves conducted me into a saloon\nmagnificently furnished; and while one of them went to acquaint\nher mistress with my arrival, the other tarried with me, and\npointed out to me the beauties of the hall.\n\nI did not wait long in the hall, ere the lady I loved appeared,\nadorned with pearls and diamonds ; but the splendour of her eyes\nfar outshone that of her jewels. Her shape, which was now not\ndisguised by the habit she wore in the city, appeared the most\nslender and delicate. I need not mention with what joy we met\nonce more; it far exceeded all expression. When the first\ncompliments were over, we sat down upon a sofa, and there\nconversed together with the highest satisfaction. We had the most\ndelicious refreshments served up to us; and after eating,\ncontinued our conversation till night. We then had excellent wine\nbrought up, and fruit adapted to promote drinking, and timed our\ncups to the sound of musical instruments, joined to the voices of\nthe slaves. The lady of the house sung herself, and by her songs\nraised my passion to the height. In short, I passed the night in\nfull enjoyment.\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.\n\"Madam,\" said I, \"I give you my promise to return this night.\"\nShe seemed to be transported with my answer, and conducting me to\nthe door, conjured me at parting to be mindful of my promise.\n\nThe same man who had carried me thither waited for me with his\nass, which I mounted, and went directly to the khan; ordering the\nman to come to me again in the afternoon at a certain hour, to\nsecure which, I deferred paying him till that time came.\n\nAs soon as I arrived at my lodging, my first care was to order my\npeople to buy a lamb, and several sorts of cakes, which I sent by\na porter as a present to the lady. When that was done I attended\nto my business till the owner of the ass arrived. I then went\nalong with him to the lady's house, and was received by her with\nas much joy as before, and entertained with equal magnificence.\n\nNext morning I took leave, left her another purse with fifty\npieces of gold, and returned to my khan.\n\nI continued to visit the lady every day, and to leave her every\ntime a purse with fifty pieces of gold, till the merchants whom I\nemployed to sell my goods, and whom I visited regularly twice a\nweek, had paid me the whole amount of my goods and, in short, I\ncame at last to be moneyless, and hopeless of having any more.\n\nIn this forlorn condition I walked out of my lodging, not knowing\nwhat course to take, and by chance went towards the castle, where\nthere was a great crowd to witness a spectacle given by the\nsultan of Egypt. As soon as I came up, I wedged in among the\ncrowd, and by chance happened to stand by a horseman well mounted\nand handsomely clothed, who had upon the pommel of his saddle a\nbag, half open, with a string of green silk hanging out of it. I\nclapped my hand to the bag, concluding the silk-twist might be\nthe string of a purse within: in the mean time a porter, with a\nload of wood upon his back, passed by on the other side of the\nhorse so near, that the rider was forced to turn his head towards\nhim, to avoid being hurt, or having his clothes torn by the wood.\nIn that moment the devil tempted me; I took the string in one\nhand, and with the other pulled out the purse so dexterously,\nthat nobody perceived me. The purse was heavy, and I did not\ndoubt but it contained gold or silver.\n\nAs soon as the porter had passed, the horseman, who probably had\nsome suspicion of what I had done while his head was turned,\npresently put his hand to his bag, and finding his purse was\ngone, gave me such a blow, that he knocked me down. This violence\nshocked all who saw it. Some took hold of the horse's bridle to\nstop the gentleman, and asked him what reason he had to strike\nme, or how he came to treat a Mussulmaun so rudely. \"Do not you\ntrouble yourselves,\" said he briskly, \"I had reason for what I\ndid; this fellow is a thief.\" At these words I started up, and\nfrom my appearance every one took my part, and cried out he was a\nliar, for that it was incredible a young man such as I was should\nbe guilty of so base an action: but while they were holding his\nhorse by the bridle to favour my escape, unfortunately passed by\nthe judge, who seeing such a crowd about the gentleman on\nhorseback, came up and asked what the matter was. Every body\npresent reflected on the gentleman for treating me so unjustly\nupon the presence of robbery.\n\nThe judge did not give ear to all that was said; but asked the\ncavalier if he suspected any body else beside me? The cavalier\ntold him he did not, and gave his reasons why he believed his\nsuspicions not to be groundless. Upon this the judge ordered his\nfollowers to seize me, which they presently did; and finding the\npurse upon me, exposed it to the view of all the people. The\ndisgrace was so great, I could not bear it, and I swooned away.\nIn the mean time the judge called for the purse.\n\nWhen the judge had got the purse in his hand, he asked the\nhorseman if it was his, and how much money it contained. The\ncavalier knew it to be his own, and assured the judge he had put\ntwenty sequins into it. Upon which the judge called me before\nhim; \"Come, young man,\" said he, \"confess the truth. Was it you\nthat took the gentleman's purse from him? Do not wait for the\ntorture to extort confession.\" Then with downcast eyes, thinking\nthat if I denied the fact, they, having found the purse upon me,\nwould convict me of a lie, to avoid a double punishment I looked\nup and confessed my guilt. I had no sooner made the confession,\nthan the judge called people to witness it, and ordered my hand\nto be cutoff. This sentence was immediately put in execution, to\nthe great 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 would likewise have ordered my foot to be cut\noff, but I begged the cavalier to intercede for my pardon; which\nhe did, and obtained it.\n\nWhen the judge was gone, the cavalier came up to me, and holding\nout the purse, said, \"I see plainly that necessity drove you to\nan action so disgraceful and unworthy of such a young man as you\nappear. Here, take that fatal purse; I freely give it you, and am\nheartily sorry for the misfortune you have undergone.\" Having\nthus spoken, he went away. Being very weak by loss of blood, some\nof the good people of the neighbourhood had the kindness to carry\nme into a house and give me a glass of cordial; they likewise\ndressed my arm, and wrapped up the dismembered hand in a cloth,\nwhich I carried away with me fastened to my girdle.\n\nHad I returned to the khan of Mesrour in this melancholy\ncondition, I should not have found there such relief as I wanted;\nand to offer to go to the young lady was running a great hazard,\nit being likely she would not look upon me after being informed\nof my disgrace. I resolved, however, to put her to the trial; and\nto tire out the crowd that followed me, I turned down several by-\nstreets, and at last arrived at the lady's house very weak, and\nso much fatigued, that I presently threw myself down upon a sofa,\nkeeping my right arm under my garment, for I took great care to\nconceal my misfortune.\n\nIn the mean time the lady, hearing of my arrival, and that I was\nnot well, came to me in haste; and seeing me pale and dejected,\nsaid, \"My dear love, what is the matter with you?\" \"Madam,\" I\nreplied, dissembling, \"I have a violent pain in my head.\" The\nlady seemed to be much concerned, and asked me to sit down, for I\nhad arisen to receive her. \"Tell me,\" said she, \"how your illness\nwas occasioned. The last time I had the pleasure to see you, you\nwere very well. There must be something that you conceal from me,\nlet me know what it is.\" I stood silent, and instead of an\nanswer, tears trickled down my cheeks. \"I cannot conceive,\"\nresumed she, \"what it is that afflicts you. Have I unthinkingly\ngiven you any occasion of uneasiness? Or do you come on purpose\nto tell me you no longer love me?\" \"It is not that, madam,\" said\nI, heaving a deep sigh; \"your unjust suspicion adds to my\nmisfortune.\"\n\nI could not think of discovering to her the true cause. When\nnight came, supper was brought, and she pressed me to eat; but\nconsidering I could only feed myself with my left hand, I begged\nto be excused upon the plea of having no appetite. \"It will\nreturn,\" said she, \"if you would but discover what you so\nobstinately conceal from me. Your want of appetite, without\ndoubt, is only owing to your irresolution.\"\n\n\"Alas! madam,\" returned I, \"I find I must resolve at last.\" I had\nno sooner spoken, than she filled me a cup full of wine, and\noffering it to me, \"Drink that,\" said she, \"it will give you\ncourage.\" I reached out my left hand, and took the cup.\n\nWhen I had taken the cup in my hand, I redoubled my tears and\nsighs. \"Why do you sigh and weep so bitterly?\" asked the lady;\n\"and why do you take the cup with your left hand, rather than\nyour right?\" \"Ah! madam,\" I replied, \"I beseech you excuse me; I\nhave a swelling in my right hand.\" \"Let me see that swelling,\"\nsaid she; \"I will open it.\" I desired to be excused, alleging it\nwas not ripe enough for such an operation; and drank off the cup,\nwhich was very large. The fumes of the wine, joined to my\nweakness and weariness, set me asleep, and I slept very soundly\ntill morning.\n\nIn the mean time the lady, curious to know what ailed my right\nhand, lifted up my garment that covered it; and saw to her great\nastonishment that it was cut off, and that I had brought it along\nwith me wrapped up in a cloth. She presently apprehended what was\nmy reason for declining a discovery, notwithstanding all her\npressing solicitation; and passed the night in the greatest\nuneasiness on account of my disgrace, which she concluded had\nbeen occasioned only by the love I bore to her.\n\nWhen I awoke, I discerned by her countenance that she was\nextremely grieved. However, that she might not increase my\nuneasiness she said not a word. She called for jelly-broth of\nfowl, which she had ordered to be prepared, 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.\n\"Though you tell me nothing of the matter,\" said she, \"I am\npersuaded I am the cause of the misfortune that has befallen you.\nThe grief that I feel on that account will soon end my days, but\nbefore I die, I must execute a design for your benefit.\" She had\nno sooner spoken, than she called for a judge and witnesses, and\nordered a writing to be drawn up, putting me in possession of her\nwhole property. After this was done, and every body dismissed,\nshe opened a large trunk where lay all the purses I had given her\nfrom the commencement of our amour. \"There they are all entire,\"\nsaid she; \"I have not touched one of them. Here is the key ; take\nit, for all is yours.\" After I had returned her thanks for her\ngenerosity and goodness; \"What I have done for you,\" said she,\n\"is nothing; I shall not be satisfied unless I die, to show how\nmuch I love you.\" I conjured her, by all the powers of love, to\nrelinquish such a fatal resolution. But all my remonstrances were\nineffectual: she was so afflicted to see me have but one hand,\nthat she sickened, and died after five or six weeks' illness.\n\nAfter mourning for her death as long as was decent, I took\npossession of all her property, a particular account of which she\ngave me before she died; and the corn you sold for me was part of\nit.\n\n\"What I have now told you,\" said he, \"will plead my excuse for\neating with my left hand. I am highly obliged to you for the\ntrouble you have given yourself on my account. I can never\nsufficiently recompense your fidelity. Since I have still, thanks\nto God, 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. I have besides a proposal to make to you. As I\nam obliged, on account of this fatal accident, to quit Cairo, I\nam resolved never to return to it again. If you choose to\naccompany me, we will trade together as equal partners, and share\nthe profits.\"\n\nI thanked the young man for the present he had made me, and I\nwillingly embraced the proposal of travelling with him, assuring\nhim, that his interest should always be as dear to me as my own.\n\nWe fixed a day for our departure, and accordingly entered upon\nour travels. We passed through Syria and Mesopotamia, travelled\nover Persia, and after stopping at several cities, came at last,\nsir, to your capital. Some time after our arrival here, the young\nman having formed a design of returning to Persia, and settling\nthere, we balanced our accounts, and parted very good friends. He\nwent from hence, and I, sir, continue here in your majesty's\nservice. This is the story I had to relate. Does not your majesty\nfind it more surprising than that of the hunch-back buffoon?\n\nThe sultan of Casgar fell into a passion against the Christian\nmerchant. \"Thou art a presumptuous fellow,\" said he, \"to tell me\na story so little worth hearing, and then to compare it to that\nof my jester. Canst thou flatter thyself so far as to believe\nthat the trifling adventures of a young debauchee are more\ninteresting than those of my jester? I will have you all four\nimpaled, to revenge his death.\n\nHearing this, the purveyor prostrated himself at the sultan's\nfeet. \"Sir,\" said he, \"I humbly beseech your majesty to suspend\nyour wrath, and hear my story; and if it appears to be more\nextraordinary than that of your jester, to pardon us.\" The sultan\nhaving granted his request, the purveyor began thus.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story told by the Sultan of Casgar's Purveyor.\n\n\n\nSir, a person of quality invited me yesterday to his daughter's\nwedding. I went to his house in the evening at the hour\nappointed, and found there a large company of men of the law,\nministers of justice, and others of the first rank in the city.\nAfter the ceremony was over, we partook of a splendid feast.\nAmong other dishes set upon the table, there was one seasoned\nwith garlic, which was very delicious, and generally relished. We\nobserved, however, that one of the guests did not touch it,\nthough it stood just before him. We invited him to taste it, but\nhe intreated us not to press him. \"I will take good care,\" said\nhe, \"how I touch any dish that is seasoned with garlic; I have\nnot yet forgotten what the tasting of such a dish once cost me.\"\nWe requested him to inform us what the reason was of his aversion\nto garlic. But before he had time to answer, the master of the\nhouse exclaimed, \"Is it thus you honour my table? This dish is\nexcellent, do not expect to be excused from eating of it; you\nmust do me that favour as well as the rest.\" \"Sir,\" said the\ngentleman, who was a Bagdad merchant, \"I hope you do not think my\nrefusal proceeds from any mistaken delicacy; if you insist on my\ncompliance I will submit, but it must be on this condition, that\nafter having eaten, I may, with your permission, wash my hands\nwith alkali forty times, forty times more with ashes, and forty\ntimes again with soap. I hope you will not feel displeased at\nthis stipulation, as I have made an oath never to taste garlic\nbut on these terms.\"\n\nAs the master of the house, continued the purveyor of the sultan\nof Casgar, would not dispense with the merchant's partaking of\nthe dish seasoned with garlic, he ordered his servants to provide\na basin of water, together with some alkali, the ashes, and soap,\nthat the merchant might wash as often as he pleased. After he had\ngiven these instructions, he addressed the merchant and said, \"I\nhope you will now do as we do.\"\n\nThe merchant, apparently displeased with the constraint put upon\nhim, took up a bit, which he put to his mouth trembling, and ate\nwith a reluctance that astonished us. But what surprised us yet\nmore was, that he had no thumb; which none of us had observed\nbefore, though he had eaten of other dishes. \"You have lost your\nthumb,\" said the master of the house. \"This must have been\noccasioned by some extraordinary accident, a relation of which\nwill be agreeable to the company.\" \"Sir,\" replied the merchant,\n\"I have no thumb on either the right or the left hand.\" As he\nspoke he put out his left hand, and shewed us that what he said\nwas true. \"But this is not all,\" continued he: \"I have no great\ntoe on either of my feet: I was maimed in this manner by an\nunheard-of adventure, which I am willing to relate, if you will\nhave the patience to hear me. The account will excite at once\nyour astonishment and your pity. Only allow me first to wash my\nhands.\" With this he rose from the table, and after washing his\nhands a hundred and twenty times, reseated himself, and proceeded\nwith his narrative as follows.\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, my father lived at\nBagdad, the place of my nativity, and was reputed one of the\nrichest merchants in the city. But being a man addicted to his\npleasures, and neglecting his private affairs, instead of leaving\nme an ample fortune, he died in such embarrassed circumstances,\nthat I was reduced to the necessity of using all the economy\npossible to discharge the debts he had contracted. I at last,\nhowever, paid them all; and by care and good management my little\nfortune began to wear a smiling aspect.\n\nOne morning, as I opened my shop, a lady mounted upon a mule, and\nattended by an eunuch and two slaves, stopped near my door, and\nwith the assistance of the eunuch alighted. \"Madam,\" said the\neunuch, \"I told you you would be too early; you see there is no\none yet in the bazaar: had you taken my advice, you might have\nsaved yourself the trouble of waiting here.\" The lady looked and\nperceiving no shop open but mine, asked permission to sit in it\ntill the other merchants arrived. With this request I of course\nreadily complied.\n\nThe lady took a seat in my shop, and observing there was no one\nin the bazaar but the eunuch and myself, uncovered her face to\ntake the air. I had never beheld any thing so beautiful. I became\ninstantly enamoured, and kept my eyes fixed upon her. I flattered\nmyself that my attention was not unpleasant to her; for she\nallowed me time to view her deliberately, and only concealed her\nface so far as she thought necessary to avoid being observed.\n\nAfter she had again lowered her veil, she told me she wanted\nseveral sorts of the richest and finest stuffs, and asked me if I\nhad them. \"Alas! madam,\" I replied, \"I am but a young man just\nbeginning the world; I have not capital sufficient for such\nextensive traffic. I am much mortified not to be able to\naccommodate you with the articles you want. But to save you the\ntrouble of going from shop to shop, when the merchants arrive, I\nwill, if you please, go and get those articles from them, and\nascertain the lowest prices.\" She assented to this proposal, and\nentered into conversation with me, which I prolonged, making her\nbelieve the merchants that could furnish what she wanted were not\nyet come.\n\nI was not less charmed with her wit than I had been before with\nthe beauty of her face; but was obliged to forego the pleasure of\nher conversation. I ran for the stuffs she wanted, and after she\nhad fixed upon what she liked, we agreed for five thousand\ndirhems of coined silver; I wrapped up the stuffs in a small\nbundle, and gave it to the eunuch, who put it under his arm. She\nthen rose and took leave. I followed her with my eyes till she\nhad reached the bazaar gate, and even after she had remounted her\nmule.\n\nThe lady had no sooner disappeared, than I perceived that love\nhad led me to a serious oversight. It had so engrossed my\nthoughts, that I did not reflect that she went away without\npaying, and that I had not informed myself who she was, or where\nshe resided. I soon felt sensible, however, that I was\naccountable for a large sum to the merchants, who, perhaps, would\nnot have patience to wait for their money: I went to them, and\nmade the best excuse I could, pretending that I knew the lady;\nand then returned home, equally affected with love, and with the\nburden of such a heavy debt.\n\nI had desired my creditors to wait eight days for their money:\nwhen this period had elapsed, they did not fail to dun me. I then\nintreated them to give me eight days more, to which they\nconsented; but the next day I saw the lady enter the bazaar,\nmounted on her mule, with the same attendants as before, and\nexactly the same hour of the day.\n\nShe came straight to my shop. \"I have made you wait some time,\"\nsaid she, \"but here is your money at last; carry it to the\nbanker, and see that it is all good and right.\" The eunuch who\ncarried the money went along with me to the banker, and we found\nit quite right. I returned, and had the happiness of conversing\nwith the lady till all the shops of the bazaar were open. Though\nwe talked but of ordinary things, she gave them such a turn, that\nthey appeared new and uncommon; and convinced me that I was not\nmistaken in admiring her wit at our first interview.\n\nAs soon as the merchants had arrived and opened their shops, I\ncarried to the respective owners the money due for their stuffs,\nand was readily intrusted with more, which the lady had desired\nto see. She chose some from these to the value of one thousand\npieces of gold, and carried them away as before without paying;\nnay, without speaking a word, or informing me who she was. What\ndistressed me was the consideration that while at this rate she\nrisked nothing, she left me without any security against being\nmade answerable for the goods in case she did not return. \"She\nhas paid me,\" thought I, \"a considerable sum; but she leaves me\nresponsible for a greater, Surely she cannot be a cheat. The\nmerchants do not know her, they will all come upon me.\" In short,\nmy love was not so powerful as to stifle the uneasiness I felt,\nwhen I reflected upon the circumstances in which I was placed. A\nwhole month passed before I heard any thing of the lady again;\nand during that time my alarm increased. The merchants were\nimpatient for their money, and to satisfy them, I was going to\nsell off all I had, when one morning the lady returned with the\nsame equipage as before.\n\n\"Take your weights,\" said she, \"and weigh the gold I have brought\nyou.\" These words dispelled my fear, and inflamed my love. Before\nwe counted the money, she asked me several questions, and\nparticularly if I was married. I answered I never had been. Then\nreaching out the gold to the eunuch, \"Let us have your\ninterposition,\" said she, \"to accommodate our matters.\" Upon\nwhich the eunuch fell a laughing, and calling me aside, made me\nweigh the gold. While I was thus occupied, the eunuch whispered\nin my ear, \"I know by your eyes you love this lady, and I am\nsurprised that you have not the courage to disclose your passion.\nShe loves you more ardently than you do her. Do not imagine that\nshe has any real occasion for your stuffs. She only makes this\nher presence to come here, because you have inspired her with a\nviolent passion. It was for this reason she asked you if you were\nmarried. It will be your own fault, if you do not marry her.\" \"It\nis true,\" I replied, \"I have loved her since I first beheld her;\nbut I durst not aspire to the happiness of thinking my attachment\ncould meet her approbation. I am entirely hers, and shall not\nfail to retain a grateful sense of your good offices in this\naffair.\"\n\nI finished weighing the gold, and while I was putting it into the\nbag, the eunuch turned to the lady, and told her I was satisfied;\nthat being the word they had agreed upon between themselves.\nPresently after, the lady rose and took her leave; telling me she\nwould send her eunuch to me, and that I had only to obey the\ndirections he might give me in her name.\n\nI carried each of the merchants their money, and waited some days\nwith impatience for the eunuch. At last he came.\n\nI received the eunuch very kindly, and inquired after his\nmistress's health. \"You are,\" said he, \"the happiest lover in the\nworld; she is impatient to see you; aud were she mistress of her\nown conduct, would not fail to come to you herself, and willingly\npass in your society all the days of her life.\" \"Her noble mien\nand graceful carriage,\" I replied, \"convinced me, that she was a\nlady beyond the common rank.\" \"You have not erred in your\njudgment on that head,\" said the eunuch; \"she is the favourite of\nZobeide the caliph's wife, who is the more affectionately\nattached to her from having brought her up from her infancy, and\nintrusts her with all her affairs. Having a wish to marry, she\nhas declared to her mistress that she has fixed her affections\nupon you, and has desired her consent. Zobeide told her, she\nwould not withhold her consent; but that she would see you first,\nin order to judge if she had made a good choice; in which case\nshe meant herself to defray the expenses of the wedding. Thus you\nsee your felicity is certain; since you have pleased the\nfavourite, you will be equally agreeable to the mistress, who\nseeks only to oblige her, and would by no means thwart her\ninclination. All you have to do is to come to the palace. I am\nsent hither to invite you.\" \"My resolution is already formed,\"\nsaid I, \"and I am ready to follow you whithersoever you please.\"\n\"Very well,\" said the eunuch; \"but you know men are not allowed\nto enter the ladies' apartments in the palace, and you must be\nintroduced with great secrecy. The favourite lady has contrived\nthe matter well. On your side you must act your part discreetly;\nfor if you do not, your life is at stake.\"\n\nI gave him repeated assurances punctually to perform whatever he\nmight require. \"Then,\" said he, \"in the evening, you must be at\nthe mosque built by the caliph's lady on the bank of the Tigris,\nand wait there till somebody comes to conduct you.\" To this I\nagreed; and after passing the day in great impatience, went in\nthe evening to the prayer that is said an hour and a half after\nsun-set in the mosque, and remained there after all the people\nhad departed.\n\nSoon after I saw a boat making up to the mosque, the rowers of\nwhich were all eunuchs, who came on shore, put several large\ntrunks into the mosque, and then retired. One of them stayed\nbehind, whom I perceived to be the eunuch that had accompanied\nthe lady, and had been with me that morning. I saw the lady also\nenter the mosque; and approaching her, told her I was ready to\nobey her orders. \"We have no time to lose,\" said she; and opening\none of the trunks, desired me to get into it, that being\nnecessary both for her safety and mine. \"Fear nothing,\" added\nshe, \"leave the management of all to me.\" I considered with\nmyself that I had gone too far to recede, and obeyed her orders;\nwhen she immediately locked the trunk. This done, the eunuch her\nconfidant called the other eunuchs who had brought in the trunks,\nand ordered them to carry them on board again. The lady and the\neunuch re-embarked, and the boatmen rowed to Zobeide's apartment.\n\nIn the meantime I reflected very seriously upon the danger to\nwhich I had exposed myself, and made vows and prayers, though it\nwas then too late.\n\nThe boat stopped at the palace-gate, and the trunks were carried\ninto the apartment of the officer of the eunuchs, who keeps the\nkey of the ladies' apartments, and suffers nothing to enter\nwithout a narrow inspection. The officer was then in bed, and it\nwas necessary to call him up.\n\nThe officer of the eunuchs was displeased at having his rest\ndisturbed, and severely chid the favourite lady for coming home\nso late. \"You shall not come off so easily as you think,\" said\nhe: \"not one of these trunks shall pass till I have opened it.\"\nAt the same time he commanded the eunuchs to bring them before\nhim, and open them one by one. The first they took was that\nwherein I lay, which put me into inexpressible fear.\n\nThe favourite lady, who had the key, protested it should not be\nopened. \"You know very well,\" said she, \"I bring nothing hither\nbut what is for the use of Zobeide, your mistress and mine. This\ntrunk is filled with rich goods, which I purchased from some\nmerchants lately arrived, besides a number of bottles of Zemzem\nwater sent from Mecca; and if any of these should happen to\nbreak, the goods will be spoiled, and you must answer for them;\ndepend upon it, Zobeide will resent your insolence.\" She insisted\nupon this in such peremptory terms, that the officer did not dare\nto open any of the trunks. \"Let them go,\" said he angrily; \"you\nmay take them away.\" Upon this the door of the women's apartment\nwas opened, and all the trunks were carried in.\n\nThis had been scarcely accomplished, when I heard the people cry,\n\"Here is the caliph! Here comes the caliph!\" This put me in such\nalarm, that I wonder I did not die upon the spot; for as they\nannounced, it proved to be the caliph. \"What hast thou got in\nthese trunks?\" said he to the favourite. \"Some stuffs,\" she\nreplied, \"lately arrived, which the empress wishes to see.\" \"Open\nthem,\" cried he, \"and let me see them.\" She excused herself,\nalleging the stuffs were only proper for ladies, and that by\nopening them, his lady would be deprived of the pleasure of\nseeing them first. \"I say open them,\" resumed the caliph; \"I will\nsee them.\" She still represented that her mistress would be angry\nwith her, if she complied: \"No, no,\" said he, \"I will engage she\nshall not say a word to you. Come, come, open them, and do not\nkeep me waiting.\"\n\nIt was necessary to obey, which gave me such alarm, that I\ntremble every time I recollect my situation. The caliph sat down;\nand the favourite ordered all the trunks to be brought before him\none after another. She opened some of them; and to lengthen out\nthe time, displayed the beauties of each particular stuff,\nthinking in this manner to tire out his patience; but her\nstratagem did not succeed. Being as unwilling as myself to have\nthe trunk where I lay opened, she left that to the last. When all\nthe rest were viewed, \"Come,\" said the caliph, \"let us see what\nis in that.\" I am at a loss to tell you whether I was dead or\nalive that moment; for I little thought of escaping such imminent\ndanger.\n\nWhen Zobeide's favourite saw that the caliph persisted in having\nthis trunk opened: \"As for this,\" said she, \"your majesty will\nplease to dispense with the opening of it; there are some things\nin it which I cannot shew you without your lady be present.\"\n\"Well, well,\" said the caliph, \"since that is the case, I am\nsatisfied; order the trunks to be carried away.\" The words were\nno sooner spoken than they were moved into her chamber, where I\nbegan to revive again.\n\nAs soon as the eunuchs, who had brought them, were gone, she\nopened the trunk in which I was confined. \"Come out,\" said she;\n\"go up these stairs that lead to an upper room, and wait there\ntill I come to you.\" The door, which led to the stairs, she\nlocked after me; and that was no sooner done, than the caliph\ncame and sat down on the very trunk which had been my prison. The\noccasion of this visit did not respect me. He wished to question\nthe lady about what she had seen or heard in the city. So they\nconversed together some time; he then left her, and retired to\nhis apartment.\n\nWhen she found the coast clear, she came to the chamber where I\nlay concealed, and made many apologies for the alarms she had\ngiven me. \"My uneasiness,\" said she, \"was no less than yours; you\ncannot well doubt of that, since I have run the same risk out of\nlove to you. Perhaps another person in my situation would not,\nupon so delicate an occasion, have had the presence of mind to\nmanage so difficult a business with so much dexterity; nothing\nless than the love I had for you could have inspired me with\ncourage to do what I have. But come, take heart, the danger is\nnow over.\" After much tender conversation, she told me it was\ntime to go to rest, and that she would not fail to introduce me\nto Zobeide her mistress, some hour on the morrow, \"which will be\nvery easy,\" added she; \"for the caliph never sees her but at\nnight.\" Encouraged by these words, I slept very well, or if my\nsleep was interrupted, it was by agreeable disquietudes, caused\nby the hopes of possessing a lady blest with so much wit and\nbeauty.\n\nThe next day, before I was introduced to Zobeide, her favourite\ninstructed me how to conduct myself, mentioning what questions\nshe would probably put to me, and dictating the answers I was to\nreturn. She then carried me into a very magnificent and richly\nfurnished hall. I had no sooner entered, than twenty female\nslaves, advanced in age, dressed in rich and uniform habits, came\nout of Zobeide's apartment, and placed themselves before the\nthrone in two equal rows; they were followed by twenty other\nyounger ladies, clothed after the same fashion, only their habits\nappeared somewhat gayer. In the middle of these appeared Zobeide\nwith a majestic air, and so laden with jewels, that she could\nscarcely walk. She ascended the throne, and the favourite lady,\nwho had accompanied her, stood just by her right hand; the other\nladies, who were slaves, being placed at some distance on each\nside of the throne.\n\nAs soon as the caliph's lady was seated, the slaves who came in\nfirst made a sign for me to approach. I advanced between the two\nrows they had formed, and prostrated myself upon the carpet that\nwas under the princess's feet. She ordered me to rise, did me the\nhonour to ask my name, my family, and the state of my fortune; to\nall which I gave her satisfactory answers, as I perceived, not\nonly by her countenance, but by her words. \"I am glad,\" said she,\n\"that my daughter,\" (so she used to call the favourite lady,)\n\"for I look upon her as such after the care I have take of her\neducation, has made this choice; I approve of it, and consent to\nyour marriage. I will myself give orders for having it\nsolemnized; but I wish my daughter to remain with me ten days\nbefore the solemnity; in that time I will speak to the caliph,\nand obtain his consent: mean while do you remain here; you shall\nbe taken care of.\"\n\nPursuant to the commands of the caliph's lady, I remained ten\ndays in the women's apartments, and during that time was deprived\nof the pleasure of seeing the favourite lady: but was so well\nused by her orders, that I had no reason to be dissatisfied.\n\nZobeide told the caliph her resolution of marrying the favourite\nlady; and the caliph leaving to her the liberty to act in the\nbusiness as she thought proper, granted the favourite a\nconsiderable sum by way of settlement. When the ten days were\nexpired, Zobeide ordered the contract of marriage to be drawn up\nand brought to her, and the necessary preparations being made for\nthe solemnity, the musicians and the dancers, both male and\nfemale, were called in, and there were great rejoicings in the\npalace for nine days. The tenth day being appointed for the last\nceremony of the marriage, the favourite lady was conducted to a\nbath, and I to another. At night I had all manner of dishes\nserved up to me, and among others, one seasoned with garlic, such\nas you have now forced me to eat. This I liked so well, that I\nscarcely touched any of the other dishes. But to my misfortune,\nwhen I rose from table, instead of washing my hands well, I only\nwiped them; a piece of negligence of which I had never before\nbeen guilty.\n\nAs it was then night, the whole apartment of the ladies was\nlighted up so as to equal the brightness of day. Nothing was to\nbe heard through the palace but musical instruments, dances, and\nacclamations of joy. My bride and I were introduced into a great\nhall, where we were placed upon two thrones. The women who\nattended her made her robe herself several times, according to\nthe usual custom on wedding days; and they shewed her to me every\ntime she changed her habit.\n\nAll these ceremonies being over, we were conducted to the nuptial\nchamber: as soon as the company retired, I approached my wife;\nbut instead of returning my transports, she pushed me away, and\ncried out, upon which all the ladies of the apartment came\nrunning in to inquire the cause: and for my own part, I was so\nthunderstruck, that I stood like a statue, without the power of\neven asking what she meant. \"Dear sister,\" said they to her,\n\"what has happened since we left you? Let us know, that we may\ntry to relieve you.\" \"Take,\" said she, \"take that vile fellow out\nof my sight.\" \"Why, madam?\" I asked, \"wherein have I deserved\nyour displeasure?\" \"You are a villain,\" said she in a furious\npassion, \"to eat garlic, and not wash your hands! Do you think I\nwould suffer such a polluted wretch to poison me? Down with him,\ndown with him on the ground,\" continued she, addressing herself\nto the ladies, \"and bring me a bastinado.\" They immediately did\nas they were desired; and while some held my hands, and others my\nfeet, my wife, who was presently furnished with a weapon, laid on\nme as long as she could stand. She then said to the ladies, \"Take\nhim, send him to the judge, and let the hand be cut off with\nwhich he fed upon the garlic dish.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried I, \"must I be beaten unmercifully, and, to complete\nmy affliction, have my hand cut off, for partaking of a dish\nseasoned with garlic, and forgetting to wash my hands? What\nproportion is there between the punishment and the crime? Curse\non the dish, on the cook who dressed it, and on him who served it\nup.\"\n\n\"All the ladies who had seen me receive the thousand strokes,\ntook pity on me, when they heard the cutting off of my hand\nmentioned. \"Dear madam, dear sister,\" said they to the favourite\nlady, \"you carry your resentment too far. We own he is a man\nquite ignorant of the world, of your quality, and the respect\nthat is due to you: but we beseech you to overlook and pardon his\nfault.\" \"I have not received adequate satisfaction,\" said she; \"I\nwill teach him to know the world; I will make him bear sensible\nmarks of his impertinence, and be cautious hereafter how he\ntastes a dish seasoned with garlic without washing his hands.\"\nThey renewed their solicitations, fell down at her feet, and\nkissing her fair hands, said, \"Good madam, moderate your anger,\nand grant us the favour we supplicate.\" She made no reply, but\ngot up, and after uttering a thousand reproaches against me,\nwalked out of the chamber: all the ladies followed her, leaving\nme in inconceivable affliction.\n\nI continued thus ten days, without seeing any body but an old\nfemale slave that brought me victuals. I asked her what was\nbecome of the favourite lady. \"She is sick,\" said the old woman;\n\"she is sick of the poisoned smell with which you infected her.\nWhy did you not take care to wash your hands after eating of that\ncursed dish?\"  \"Is it possible,\" thought I, \"that these ladies\ncan be so nice, and so vindictive for such a trifling fault!\" I\nloved my wife notwithstanding all her cruelty, and could not help\npitying her.\n\nOne day the old woman told me my spouse was recovered, and gone\nto bathe, and would come to see me the next day. \"So,\" said she,\n\"I would have you call up your patience, and endeavour to\naccommodate yourself to her humour. For she is in other respects\na woman of good sense and discretion, and beloved by all the\nladies about the court of our respected mistress Zobeide.\"\n\nMy wife accordingly came on the following evening, and accosted\nme thus: \"You perceive that I must possess much tenderness to\nyou, after the affront you have offered me: but still I cannot be\nreconciled till I have punished you according to your demerit, in\nnot washing your hands after eating of the garlic dish.\" She then\ncalled the ladies, who, by her order, threw me upon the ground;\nand after binding me fast, she had the barbarity to cut off my\nthumbs and great toes herself, with a razor. One of the ladies\napplied a certain root to staunch the blood; but by bleeding and\nby the pain, I swooned away.\n\nWhen I came to myself, they gave me wine to drink, to recruit my\nstrength. \"Ah! madam,\" said I to my wife, \"if ever I again eat of\na dish with garlic in it, I solemnly swear to wash my hands a\nhundred and twenty times with alkali, with ashes, and with soap.\"\n\"Well,\" replied she, \"upon that condition I am willing to forget\nwhat is past, and live with you as my husband.\"\n\n\n\"This,\" continued the Bagdad merchant, addressing himself to the\ncompany, \"is the reason why I refused to eat of the dish seasoned\nwith what is now on the table.\"\n\nThe ladies applied to my wounds not only the root I mentioned,\nbut likewise some balsam of Mecca, which they were well assured\nwas not adulterated, because they had it out of the caliph's own\ndispensatory. By virtue of that admirable balsam, I was in a few\ndays perfectly cured, and my wife and I lived together as\nagreeably as if I had never eaten of the garlic dish. But having\nbeen all my lifetime used to enjoy my liberty, I grew weary of\nbeing confined to the caliph's palace; yet I said nothing to my\nwife on the subject, for fear of displeasing her. However, she\nsuspected my feelings; and eagerly wished for liberty herself,\nfor it was gratitude alone that made her continue with Zobeide.\nShe represented to her mistress in such lively terms the\nconstraint I was under, in not living in the city with people of\nmy own rank, as I had always done, that the good princess chose\nrather to deprive herself of the pleasure of having her favourite\nabout her than not to grant what we both equally desired.\n\nA month after our marriage, my wife came into my room with\nseveral eunuchs, each carrying a bag of silver. When the eunuchs\nwere gone; \"You never told me,\" said she, \"that you were uneasy\nin being confined to court; but I perceived it, and have happily\nfound means to make you contented. My mistress Zobeide gives us\npermission to quit the palace; and here are fifty thousand\nsequins, of which she has made us a present, in order to enable\nus to live comfortably in the city. Take ten thousand of them,\nand go and buy us a house.\"\n\nI quickly found a house for the money, and after furnishing it\nrichly, we went to reside in it, kept a great many slaves of both\nsexes, and made a good figure. We thus began to live in a very\nagreeable manner: but my felicity was of short continuance; for\nat the end of a year my wife fell sick and died.\n\nI might have married again, and lived honourably at Bagdad; but\ncuriosity to see the world put me upon another plan. I sold my\nhouse, and after purchasing several kinds of merchandize, went\nwith a caravan to Persia; from Persia I travelled to Samarcand,\nand from thence to this city.\n\n\"This,\" said the purveyor to the sultan of Casgar, \"is the story\nthat the Bagdad merchant related in a company where I was\nyesterday.\" \"This story,\" said the sultan, \"has something in it\nextraordinary; but it does not come near that of the little\nhunch-back.\" The Jewish physician prostrated himself before the\nsultan's throne, and addressed the prince in the following\nmanner: \"Sir, if you will be so good as to hear me, I flatter\nmyself you will be pleased with a story I have to tell you.\"\n\"Well spoken,\" said the sultan; \"but if it be not more surprising\nthan that of little hunch-back, you must not expect to live.\"\n\nThe Jewish physician, finding the sultan of Casgar disposed to\nhear him, gave the following relation.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Story told by the Jewish Physician.\n\n\n\nWhen I was studying physic at Damascus, and was just beginning to\npractise that noble profession with some reputation, a slave\ncalled me to see a patient in the governor of the city's family.\nAccordingly I went, and was conducted into a room, where I found\na very handsome young man, much dejected by his disorder. I\nsaluted him, and sat down by him; but he made no return to my\ncompliments, only a sign with his eyes that he heard me, and\nthanked me. \"Pray, sir,\" said I, \"give me your hand, that I may\nfeel your pulse.\" But instead of stretching out his right, he\ngave me his left hand, at which I was extremely surprised.\nHowever, I felt his pulse, wrote him a prescription, and took\nleave.\n\nI continued my visits for nine days, and every time I felt his\npulse, he still gave me his left hand. On the tenth day he seemed\nto be so far recovered, that I only deemed it necessary to\nprescribe bathing to him. The governor of Damascus, who was by,\nin testimony of his satisfaction with my service, invested me\nwith a very rich robe, saying, he had appointed me a physician of\nthe city hospital, and physician in ordinary to his house, where\nI might eat at his table when I pleased.\n\nThe young man likewise shewed me many civilities, and asked me to\naccompany him to the bath. Accordingly we went together, and when\nhis attendants had undressed him, I perceived he wanted the right\nhand, and that it had not long been cut off, which had been the\noccasion of his disorder, though concealed from me; for while the\npeople about him were applying proper remedies externally, they\nhad called me to prevent the ill consequence of the fever which\nwas on him. I was much surprised and concerned on seeing his\nmisfortune; which he observed by my countenance. \"Doctor,\" cried\nhe, \"do not be astonished that my hand is cut off; some day or\nother I will tell you the cause; and in that relation you will\nhear very surprising adventures.\"\n\nAfter we had returned from the bath, we sat down to a collation;\nand he asked me if it would be any prejudice to his health if he\nwent and took a walk out of town in the governor's garden? I made\nanswer, that the air would be of service to him. \"Then,\" said he,\n\"if you will give me your company, I will recount to you my\nhistory.\" I replied I was at his command for all that day. Upon\nwhich he presently called his servants, and we went to the\ngovernor's garden. Having taken two or three turns there, we\nseated ourselves on a carpet that his servants had spread under a\ntree, which gave a pleasant shade. The young man then gave me his\nhistory in the following terms;\n\nI was born at Moussol, of one of the most considerable families\nin the city. My father was the eldest of ten brothers, who were\nall alive and married when my grandfather died. All the brothers\nwere childless, except my father; and he had no child but me. He\ntook particular care of my education; and made me learn every\nthing proper for my rank.\n\nWhen I was grown up, and began to enter into the world, I\nhappened one Friday to be at noon-prayers with my father and my\nuncles in the great mosque of Moussol. After prayers were over,\nthe rest of the company going away, my father and my uncles\ncontinued sitting upon the best carpet in the mosque; and I sat\ndown by them. They discoursed of several things, but the\nconversation fell insensibly, I know not how, upon the subject of\ntravelling. They extolled the beauties and peculiar rarities of\nsome kingdoms, and of their principal cities. But one of my\nuncles said, that according to the uniform report of an infinite\nnumber of voyagers, there was not in the world a pleasanter\ncountry than Egypt, on account of the Nile; and the description\nhe gave infused into me such high admiration, that from that\nmoment I had a desire to travel thither. Whatever my other uncles\nsaid, by way of preference to Bagdad and the Tigris, in calling\nBagdad the residence of the Mussulmaun religion, and the\nmetropolis of all the cities of the earth, made no impression\nupon me. My father joined in opinion with those of his brothers\nwho had spoken in favour of Egypt; which filled me with joy. \"Say\nwhat you will,\" said he, \"the man that has not seen Egypt has not\nseen the greatest rarity in the world. All the land there is\ngolden; I mean, it is so fertile, that it enriches its\ninhabitants. All the women of that country charm you by their\nbeauty and their agreeable carriage. If you speak of the Nile,\nwhere is there a more wonderful river? What water was ever\nlighter or more delicious? The very slime it carries along in its\noverflowing fattens the fields, which produce a thousand times\nmore than other countries that are cultivated with the greatest\nlabour. Observe what a poet said of the Egyptians, when he was\nobliged to depart from Egypt: \u0091Your Nile loads you with blessings\nevery day; it is for you only that it runs from such a distance.\nAlas! in removing from you, my tears will flow as abundantly as\nits waters; you are to continue in the enjoyment of its\nsweetnesses, while I am condemned to deprive myself of them\nagainst my will.'\n\n\"If you look,\" added my father, \"towards the island that is\nformed by the two greatest branches of the Nile, what variety of\nverdure! What enamel of all sorts of flowers! What a prodigious\nnumber of cities, villages, canals, and a thousand other\nagreeable objects! If you turn your eyes on the other side, up\ntowards Ethiopia, how many other subjects of admiration! I cannot\ncompare the verdure of so many plains, watered by the different\ncanals of the island, better than to brilliant emeralds set in\nsilver. Is not Grand Cairo the largest, the most populous, and\nthe richest city in the world? What a number of magnificent\nedifices both public and private! If you view the pyramids, you\nwill be filled with astonishment at the sight of the masses of\nstone of an enormous thickness, which rear their heads to the\nskies! You will be obliged to confess, that the Pharaohs, who\nemployed such riches, and so many men in building them, must have\nsurpassed in magnificence and invention all the monarchs who have\nappeared since, not only in Egypt, but in all the world, for\nhaving left monuments so worthy of their memory: monuments so\nancient, that the learned cannot agree upon the date of their\nerection; yet such as will last to the end of time. I pass over\nin silence the maritime cities of the kingdom of Egypt, such as\nDamietta, Rosetta, and Alexandria, where nations come for various\nsorts of grain, cloth, and an infinite number of commodities\ncalculated for accommodation and delight. I speak of what I know;\nfor I spent some years there in my youth, which I shall always\nreckon the most agreeable part of my life.\"\n\nMy uncles could make no reply, and assented to all my father had\nsaid of the Nile, of Cairo, and of the whole kingdom of Egypt. My\nimagination was so full of these subjects, I could not sleep that\nnight. Soon after, my uncles declared how much they were struck\nwith my father's account. They made a proposal to him, that they\nshould travel all together into Egypt. To this he assented; and\nbeing rich merchants, they resolved to carry with them such\ncommodities as were likely to suit the market. When I found that\nthey were making preparations for their departure, I went to my\nfather, and begged of him, with tears in my eyes, that he would\nsuffer me to make one of the party, and allow me some stock of\ngoods to trade with on my own account. \"You are too young,\" said\nhe, \"to travel into Egypt; the fatigue is too great for you; and,\nbesides, I am sure you will come off a loser in your traffic.\"\nThese words, however, did not suppress my eager desire to travel.\nI made use of my uncles' interest with my father, who at last\ngranted me permission to go as far as Damascus, where they were\nto leave me, till they had travelled through Egypt. \"The city of\nDamascus,\" said my father, \"may likewise glory in its beauties,\nand my son must be content with leave to go so far.\" Though my\ncuriosity to see Egypt was very pressing, I considered he was my\nfather, and submitted to his will.\n\nI set out from Moussol in company with him and my uncles. We\ntravelled through Mesopotamia, passed the Euphrates, and arrived\nat Aleppo, where we stayed some days. From thence we went to\nDamascus, the first sight of which struck me with agreeable\nsurprise We lodged all together in one khan; and I had the view\nof a city that was large, populous, full of handsome people, and\nwell fortified. 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 sell my goods so advantageously for me, that I\ngained by them five hundred per cent. This sale brought me a sum\nso considerable, as to fill me with delight.\n\nMy father and my uncles left me in Damascus, and pursued their\njourney. After their departure, I used great caution not to lay\nout my money idly. But at the same time I took a stately house,\nbuilt of marble, adorned with paintings of gold, silver foliage,\nand a garden with fine 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 rank. It formerly\nbelonged to one of the principal lords of the city; but was then\nthe property of a rich jewel-merchant, to whom I paid for it only\ntwo sherifs a month. I had a number of domestics, and lived\nhonourably; sometimes I gave entertainments to such people as I\nhad made an acquaintance with, and sometimes was treated by them.\nThus did I spend my time at Damascus, waiting for my father's\nreturn; no passion disturbed my repose, and my only employment\nwas conversing with people of credit.\n\nOne day, as I sat taking the cool air at my gate, a very\nhandsome, well-dressed lady came to me, and asked if I did not\nsell stuffs? She had no sooner spoken the words, than she went\ninto my house.\n\nWhen I saw that the lady had entered the house, I rose, and\nhaving shut the gate, conducted into a hall, and prayed her to\nsit down. \"Madam,\" said I, \"I have had stuffs fit to be strewn to\nyou, but at present, I am sorry to say, I have none.\" She removed\nthe veil from her face, and discovered such beauty as affected me\nwith emotions I had never felt before. \"I have no occasion for\nstuffs,\" replied she, \"I only come to see you, and, if you\nplease, to pass the evening in your company; all I ask of you is\na light collation.\"\n\nTransported with joy, I ordered the servants to bring us several\nsorts of fruit, and some bottles of wine. These being speedily\nserved, we ate, drank, and made merry till midnight. In short, I\nhad not before passed a night so agreeably as this. Next morning\nI would have put ten sherifs into the lady's hands, but she drew\nback instantly. \"I am not come to see you,\" said she, \"from\ninterested motives; you therefore do me wrong. So far from\nreceiving money from you, I must insist on your taking some from\nme, or else I will see you no more.\" In speaking this, she put\nher hand into her purse, took out ten sherifs, and forced me to\ntake them, saying, \"You may expect me three days hence after sun-\nset. She then 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 received her with all the joy of a person who waited\nimpatiently for her arrival. The evening and the night we spent\nas before; and next day at parting she promised to return the\nthird day after. She did not, however, leave me without forcing\nme to take ten sherifs more.\n\nShe returned a third time; and at that interview, when we were\nboth warm with wine, she spoke thus: \"My dear love, what do you\nthink of me? Am I not handsome and agreeable?\" \"Madam,\" I\nreplied, \"I think this an unnecessary question: the love which I\nshew you ought to persuade you that I admire you; I am charmed to\nsee and to possess you. You are my queen, my sultaness; in you\nlies all the felicity of my life.\" \"Ah!\" returned she, \"I am sure\nyou would speak otherwise, if you saw a certain lady of my\nacquaintance, who is younger and handsomer than I am. She is of\nsuch a pleasant lively temper, that she would make the most\nmelancholy people merry: I must bring her hither; I spoke of you\nto her, and from the account I have given of you she is dying\nwith desire to see you. She intreated me to procure her that\npleasure, but I did not dare to promise her without speaking to\nyou beforehand.\" \"Madam,\" said I, \"do what you please; but\nwhatever you may say of your friend, I defy all her charms to\ntear my heart from you, to whom it is so inviolably attached,\nthat nothing can disengage it.\" \"Be not too positive,\" returned\nshe; \"I now tell you, I am about to put your heart to a severe\ntrial.\"\n\nWe continued together all night, and next morning at parting,\ninstead of ten sherifs she gave me fifteen, which I was forced to\naccept. \"Remember,\" said she, \"that in two days' time you are to\nhave a new guest; pray take care to give her a good reception: we\nwill come at the usual hour.\" I had my hall put in great order,\nand a handsome collation prepared against they came.\n\nI waited for the two ladies with impatience and at last they\narrived at the close of the day. They both unveiled, and as I had\nbeen surprised with the beauty of the first, I had reason to be\nmuch more so when I saw her friend. She had regular features, an\nelegant person, 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,\" replied she; \"it should be my\npart to make them to you, for allowing my friend to bring me\nhither. But since you are pleased to suffer it, let us lay aside\nall ceremony, and think only of amusing ourselves.\"\n\nI had given orders, as soon as the ladies arrived, to have the\ncollation served up, and we soon sat down to our entertainment. I\nplaced myself opposite the stranger, who never ceased looking\nupon me with a smiling countenance. I could not resist her\nconquering eyes, and she made herself mistress of my heart,\nwithout opposition. But while she inspired me with a flame, she\ncaught it herself; and so far from appearing to be under any\nconstraint, she conversed in very free and lively language.\n\nThe other lady, who observed us, did nothing at first but laugh.\n\"I told you,\" said she, addressing herself to me, \"you would find\nmy friend full of charms; and I perceive you have already\nviolated the oath you made of being faithful to me.\" \"Madam,\"\nreplied I, laughing as well as she, \"you would have reason to\ncomplain, if I were wanting in civility to a lady whom you\nbrought hither, and who is your intimate friend; both of you\nmight then upbraid me for not performing duly the rites of\nhospitality.\"\n\nWe continued to drink; but as the wine warmed us, the strange\nlady and I ogled one another with so little reserve, that her\nfriend grew jealous, and quickly gave us a dismal proof of the\ninveteracy of her feelings. She rose from the table and went out,\nsaying, she would be with us presently again: but in a few\nmoments after, the lady who stayed with me changed countenance,\nfell into violent convulsions, and expired in my arms while I was\ncalling for assistance to relieve her. I went out immediately,\nand enquired for the other lady; when my people told me, she had\nopened the street door and was gone. I then suspected what was\nbut too true, that she had been the cause of her friend's death.\nShe had the dexterity, and the malice, to put some very strong\npoison into the last glass, which she gave her with her own hand.\n\nI was afflicted beyond measure with the accident. \"What shall I\ndo?\" I exclaimed in agony. \"What will become of me?\" I considered\nthere was no time to lose, and it being then moon-light, I\nordered my servants to take up one of the large pieces of marble,\nwith which the court of my house was paved, dig a hole, and there\ninter the corpse of the young lady. After replacing the stone, I\nput on a travelling suit, took what money I had; and having\nlocked up every thing, affixed my own seal on the door of my\nhouse. This done I went to the jewel-merchant my landlord, paid\nhim what I owed, with a year's rent in advance and giving him the\nkey, prayed him to keep it for me. \"A very urgent affair,\" said\nI, \"obliges me to be absent for some time; I am under the\nnecessity of going to visit my uncles at Cairo.\" I took my leave\nof him, immediately mounted my horse, and departed with my\nattendants from Damascus.\n\nI had a good journey, and arrived at Cairo without any accident.\nThere I met with my uncles, who were much surprised to see me. To\nexcuse myself, I pretended I was tired of waiting; and hearing\nnothing of them, was so uneasy, that I could not be satisfied\nwithout coming to Cairo. They received me kindly, and promised\nthat my father should not be displeased with me for leaving\nDamascus without his permission. I lodged in the same khan with\nthem, and saw all the curiosities of Cairo.\n\nHaving finished their traffic, they began to talk of returning to\nMoussol, and to make preparations for their departure; but I,\nhaving a wish to view in Egypt what I had not yet seen, left my\nuncles, and went to lodge in another quarter at a distance from\ntheir khan, and did not appear any more till they were gone. They\nsought for me all over the city; but not finding me, supposed\nremorse for having come to Egypt without my father's consent had\noccasioned me to return to Damascus, without saying any thing to\nthem. So they began their journey, expecting to find me at\nDamascus, and there to take me up.\n\nAfter their departure I continued at Cairo three years, more\ncompletely to indulge my curiosity in seeing all the wonders of\nEgypt. During that time I took care to remit money to the jewel-\nmerchant, ordering him to keep my house for me; for I designed to\nreturn to Damascus, and reside there some years longer. I had no\nadventure at Cairo worth relating; but doubtless you will be much\nsurprised at that which befell me on my return to Damascus.\n\nArriving at this city, I went to the jewel-merchant's, who\nreceived me joyfully, and would accompany me to my house, to shew\nme that no one had entered it whilst I was absent. The seal was\nstill entire upon the lock; and when I went in, I found every\nthing in the order in which I had left it.\n\nIn sweeping and cleaning out the hall where I had eaten with the\nladies, one of my servants found a gold chain necklace, with ten\nvery large and perfect pearls strung upon it at certain\ndistances. He brought it to me, when I knew it to be the same I\nhad seen upon the lady's neck who was poisoned; and concluded it\nhad broken off and fallen. I could not look upon it without\nshedding tears, when I called to mind the lovely creature I had\nseen die in such a shocking manner. I wrapped it up, and put it\nin my bosom.\n\nI rested some days to recover from the fatigues of my journey;\nafter which, I began to visit my former acquaintance. I abandoned\nmyself to every species of pleasure, and gradually squandered\naway all my money. Being thus reduced, instead of selling my\nfurniture, I resolved to part with the necklace; but I had so\nlittle skill in pearls, that I took my measures very ill, as you\nshall hear.\n\nI went to the bazaar, where I called a crier aside, and strewing\nhim the necklace, told him I wished to sell it, and desired him\nto show it to the principal jewellers. The crier was surprised to\nsee such a valuable ornament. \"How beautiful,\" exclaimed he,\ngazing upon it with admiration, \"never did our merchants see any\nthing so rich; I am sure I shall oblige them highly in strewing\nit to them; and you need not doubt they will set a high price\nupon it, in emulation of each other.\" He carried me to a shop\nwhich proved to be my landlord's: \"Stop here,\" said the crier, \"I\nwill return presently and bring you an answer.\"\n\nWhile he was running about to shew the necklace, I sat with the\njeweller, who was glad to see me, and we conversed on different\nsubjects. The crier returned, and calling me aside, instead of\ntelling me the necklace was valued at two thousand sherifs,\nassured me nobody would give me more than fifty. \"The reason is,\"\nadded he, \"the pearls are false; consider if you will part with\nit at that price.\" I took him at his word, wanting money. \"Go,\"\nsaid I, \"I take your word, and that of those who know better than\nmyself; deliver it to them, and bring me the money immediately.\"\n\nThe crier had been ordered to offer me fifty sherifs by one of\nthe richest jewellers in town who had only made that offer to\nsound me, and try if I was well acquainted with the value of the\npearls. He had no sooner received my answer, than he carried the\ncrier to the judge, and shewing him the necklace; \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"here is a necklace which was stolen from me, and the thief,\nunder the character of a merchant, has had the impudence to offer\nit to sale, and is at this minute in the bazaar. He is willing to\ntake fifty sherifs for a necklace that is worth two thousand\n\nwhich is a clear proof of his having stolen it.\"\n\nThe Judge sent immediately to seize me, and when I came before\nhim, he asked me if the necklace he had in his hand was not the\nsame that I had exposed to sale in the bazaar. I told him it was.\n\"Is it true,\" demanded he, \"that you are willing to sell it for\nfifty sherifs,?\" I answered I was. \"Well,\" continued he, in a\nscoffing way \"give him the bastinado; he will quickly confess\nnotwithstanding his merchant's disguise, that he is only an\nartful thief; let him be beaten till he owns his guilt.\" The pain\nof the torture made me tell a lie; I confessed, though it was not\ntrue that I had stolen the necklace; and the judge ordered my\nhand to be cut off according to the sentence of our law.\n\nThis made a great noise in the bazaar, and I was scarcely\nreturned to my house when my landlord came. \"My son,\" said he,\n\"you seem to be a young man well educated, and of good sense; how\nis it possible you could be guilty of such an unworthy action, as\nthat I hear talked of? You gave me an account of your property\nyourself, and I do not doubt but the account was just. Why did\nnot you request money of me, and I would have lent it you?\nHowever, after what has happened, I cannot allow you to remain\nlonger in my house; you must go and seek for other lodgings.\" I\nwas extremely troubled at this; and entreated the jeweller, with\ntears in my eyes, to let me stay three days longer; which he\ngranted.\n\n\"Alas,\" thought I, \"this misfortune and affront are unsufferable;\nhow shall I dare to return to Moussol? Nothing I can say to my\nfather will persuade him that I am innocent.\"\n\nThree hours after this fatal accident my house was forcibly\nentered by the judge's officers, accompanied by my landlord, and\nthe merchant who had falsely accused me of having stolen the\nnecklace. I asked them, what brought them there? But instead of\ngiving me any answer, they bound and gagged me, calling me a\nthousand abusive names, and telling me the necklace belonged to\nthe governor of Damascus, who had lost it above three years\nbefore, and that one of his daughters had not been heard of\nsince. Judge of my sensations when I heard this intelligence.\nHowever, I summoned all my resolution, \"I will,\" thought I, \"tell\nthe governor the truth, and it will rest with him either to put\nme to death, or to protect my innocence.\"\n\nWhen I was brought before him, I observed he looked upon me with\nan eye of compassion, from whence I augured well. He ordered me\nto be untied, and addressing himself to the jeweller who accused\nme, and to my landlord: \"Is this the man,\" asked he, \"that sold\nthe pearl necklace?\" They had no sooner answered yes, than he\ncontinued, \"I am sure he did not steal the necklace, and I am\nmuch astonished at the injustice that has been done him.\" These\nwords giving me courage: \"Sir,\" said I, \"I do assure you I am\nperfectly innocent. I am likewise fully persuaded the necklace\nnever did belong to my accuser, whom I never saw, and whose\nhorrible perfidy is the cause of my unjust treatment. It is true,\nI made a confession as if I had stolen it; but this I did\ncontrary to my conscience, through the force of torture, and for\nanother reason that I am ready to give you, if you will have the\ngoodness to hear me.\" \"I know enough of it already,\" replied the\ngovernor, \"to do you one part of the justice to which you are\nentitled. Take from hence,\" continued he, \"the false accuser; let\nhim undergo the same punishment as he caused to be inflicted on\nthis young man, whose innocence is known to myself.\"\n\nThe governor's orders were immediately put in execution; the\njeweller was punished as he deserved. Then the governor, having\nordered all present to withdraw, said to me: \"My son, tell me\nwithout fear how this necklace fell into your hands, conceal\nnothing from me.\" I related plainly all that had passed, and\ndeclared I had chosen rather to pass for a thief than to reveal\nthat tragical adventure. \"Good God,\" exclaimed the governor, \"thy\njudgments are incomprehensible, and we ought to submit to them\nwithout murmuring. I receive, with entire submission, the stroke\nthou hast been pleased to inflict upon me.\" Then directing his\ndiscourse to me: \"My son,\" said he, \"having now heard the cause\nof your disgrace, for which I am truly concerned, I will give you\nan account of the affliction which has befallen myself. Know\nthen, that I am the father of both the young ladies you were\nspeaking of. The first lady, who had the impudence to come to\nyour house, was my eldest daughter. I had given her in marriage\nat Cairo to one of her cousins, my brother's son. Her husband\ndied, and she returned home corrupted by every vice too often\ncontracted in Egypt. Before I took her home, her younger sister,\nwho died in that deplorable manner in your arms, was a truly\nvirtuous girl, and had never given me any occasion to complain of\nher conduce. But after that, the elder sister became very\nintimate with her, and insensibly made her as wicked as herself.\nThe day after the death of the younger not finding her at home, I\nasked her elder sister what was become of her; but she, instead\nof answering, affected to weep bitterly; from whence I formed a\nfatal presage. I pressed her to inform me of what she knew\nrespecting her sister \u0091Father,' replied she, sobbing, \u0091I can tell\nyou no more than that my sister put on yesterday her richest\ndress, with her valuable pearl necklace, went out, and has not\nbeen heard of since.' I searched for her all over the town, but\ncould learn nothing of her unhappy fate. In the mean time the\nelder, who doubtless repented of her jealous fury, became\nmelancholy, and incessantly bewailed the death of her sister; she\ndenied her self all manner of food, and so put an end to her\ndeplorable days. Such is the condition of mankind! such are the\nmisfortunes to which we are exposed! However, my son,\" added he,\n\"since we are both of us equally unfortunate, let us unite our\nsorrow, and not abandon one another. I will give you in marriage\na third daughter I have still left, she is younger than her\nsisters, and in no respect imitates their conduct; besides, she\nis handsomer, and I assure you is of a disposition calculated to\nmake you happy. You shall have no other house but mine, and,\nafter my death, you and she shall be heirs to all my property.\"\n\"My lord,\" I replied, \"I am overcome by your favours, and shall\nnever be able to make a sufficient acknowledgment.\" \"Enough,\"\nsaid he, interrupting me, \"let us not waste time in idle words.\"\nHe then called for witnesses, ordered the contract of marriage to\nbe drawn, and I became the husband of his third daughter. He was\nnot satisfied with punishing the jeweller, who had falsely\naccused me, but confiscated for my use all his property, which\nwas very considerable. As for the rest, since you have been\ncalled to the governor's house, you may have seen what respect\nthey pay me there. I must tell you further, that a person\ndespatched by my uncles to Egypt, on purpose to inquire for me\nthere, passing through this city found me out last night, and\ndelivered me a letter from them. They inform me of my father's\ndeath, and invite me to come and take possession of his property\nat Moussol. But as the alliance and friendship of the governor\nhave fixed me here, and will not suffer me to leave him, I have\nsent back the express with a power, which will secure to me my\ninheritance. After what you have heard, I hope you will pardon my\nseeming incivility during the course of my illness, in giving you\nmy left instead of my right hand.\n\n\" This,\" said the Jewish physician, \"is the story I heard from\nthe young man of Moussol. I continued at Damascus as long as the\ngovernor lived; after his death, being still in the vigour of my\nage, I had the curiosity to travel. Accordingly I went through\nPersia to the Indies, and came at last to settle in this your\ncapital, where I have practised physic with reputation.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar was well pleased with this story. \"I must\nconfess,\" said he to the Jew, \"the story you have told me is very\nsingular; but I declare freely, that of the little hump-back is:\nyet more extraordinary, and much more diverting; so you are not\nto expect that I will give you your life, any more than the rest.\nI will have you all four executed.\" \"Pray, sir, stay a minute,\"\nsaid the tailor, advancing, and prostrating himself at the\nsultan's feet. \"Since your majesty loves pleasant stories, I have\none to tell you that will not displease you.\" \"Well, I will hear\nthee too,\" said the sultan; \"but do not flatter thyself that I\nwill suffer thee to live, unless thou tellest me some adventure\nthat is yet more diverting than that of my hump-backed jester.\"\nUpon this the tailor, as if he had been sure of success, spoke\nboldly to the following purpose.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story told by the Tailor.\n\n\n\nA citizen of this city did me the honour two days ago to invite\nme to an entertainment, which he was to give to his friends\nyesterday morning. Accordingly I went early, and found there\nabout twenty persons.\n\nThe master of the house was gone out upon some business, but in a\nshort time returned, and brought with him a young man, a\nstranger, very well dressed, and handsome, but lame. When he\nentered, we all rose, and out of respect to the master of the\nhouse, invited the young man to sit down with us upon the\nestrade. He was going to comply; but suddenly perceiving a barber\nin our company, flew backwards, and made towards the door. The\nmaster of the house, surprised at his behaviour, stopped him.\n\"Where are you going?\" demanded he. \"I bring you along with me to\ndo me the honour of being my guest among the rest of my friends,\nand you are no sooner got into my house, than you are for running\naway.\" \"Sir,\" replied the young man, \"for God's sake do not stop\nme, let me go, I cannot without horror look upon that abominable\nbarber, who, though he was born in a country where all the\nnatives are white, resembles an Ethiopian; and his soul is yet\nblacker and more horrible than his face.\"\n\nWe were all surprised to hear the young man speak in this manner,\nand began to have a very bad opinion of the barber, without\nknowing what ground the young man had for what he said. Nay, we\nprotested we would not suffer any one to remain in our company,\nwho bore so horrid a character. The master of the house intreated\nthe stranger to tell us what reason he had for hating the barber.\n\"Gentlemen,\" resumed the young man, \"you must know this cursed\nbarber is the cause of my being lame, and having fallen into the\nmost ridiculous and teasing situation you can imagine. For this\nreason I have sworn to avoid all the places where he is, and even\nnot to stay in the cities where he resides. It was for this\nreason that I left Bagdad, where he then dwelt; and travelled so\nfar to settle in this city, at the extremity of Tartary; a place\nwhere I flattered myself I should never see him. And now, after\nall, contrary to my expectation, I find him here. This obliges\nme, gentlemen, against my will, to deprive myself of the honour\nof being merry with you. This very day I shall take leave of your\ntown, and go, if I can, to hide my head where he cannot come.\"\nThis said, he would have left us, but the master of the house\nearnestly intreated him to stay, and tell us the cause of his\naversion for the barber, who all this while looked down and said\nnot a word. We joined with the master of the house in his\nrequest; and at last the young man, yielding to our\nimportunities, sat down; and, after turning his back on the\nbarber, that he might not see him, gave us the following\nnarrative of his adventures.\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\nthe honours of a public station. I was his only child, and when\nhe died I had finished my education, and was of age to dispose of\nthe plentiful fortune he had left me; which I did not squander\naway foolishly, but applied to such uses as obtained for me\neverybody's respect. I had not yet been disturbed by any passion:\nI was so far from being sensible of love, that I bashfully\navoided the conversation of women. One day, walking in the\nstreets, I saw a large party of ladies before me; and that I\nmight not meet them, I turned down a narrow lane, and sat down\nupon a bench by a door. I was placed opposite a window, where\nstood a pot of beautiful flowers, on which I had my eyes fixed,\nwhen the window opened, and a young lady appeared, whose beauty\nstruck me. Immediately she fixed her eyes upon me; and in\nwatering the flowerpot with a hand whiter than alabaster, looked\nupon me with a smile, that inspired me with as much love for her\nas I had formerly aversion for all women. After having watered\nher flowers, and darted upon me a glance full of charms that\npierced my heart, she shut the window, and left me in\ninconceivable perplexity, from which I should not have recovered,\nif a noise in the street had not brought me to myself. I lifted\nup my head, and turning, saw the first cauzee 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\nopened the window, and went in; from whence I concluded he was\nher father. I went home in an altered state of mind; agitated by\na passion the more violent, as I had never felt its assaults\nbefore: I retired to bed in a violent fever, at which all the\nfamily were much concerned. My relations, who had a great\naffection for me, were so alarmed by the sudden disorder, that\nthey importuned me to tell the cause; which I took care not to\ndiscover. My silence created an uneasiness that the physicians\ncould not dispel, because they knew nothing of my distemper, and\nby their medicines rather inflamed than checked it. My relations\nbegan to despair of my life, when an old lady of our\nacquaintance, hearing I was ill, came to see me. She considered\nme with great attention, and after having examined me,\npenetrated, I know not how, into the real cause of my illness.\nShe took my relations aside, and desired all my people would\nretire out of the room, and leave her with me alone.\n\nWhen the room was clear, she sat down on the side of my bed. \"My\nson,\" said she, \"you have obstinately concealed the cause of your\nillness; but you have no occasion to reveal it to me. I have\nexperience enough to penetrate into a secret; you will not deny\nwhen I tell you it is love that makes you sick. I can find a way\nto cure you, if you will but inform me who that happy lady is,\nthat could move a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the\ncharacter of a woman-hater, and I was not the last who perceived\nthat such was your disposition; but what I foresaw has come to\npass, and I am now glad of the opportunity to employ my talents\nin relieving your pain.\"\n\nThe old lady having thus spoken, paused, expecting my answer; but\nthough what she had said had made a strong impression upon me, I\ndurst not lay open to her the bottom of my heart; I only turned\nto her, and heaved a deep sigh, without replying a word. \"Is it\nbashfulness,\" said she, \"that keeps you silent? Or is it want of\nconfidence in me? Do you doubt the effect of my promise? I could\nmention to you a number of young men of your acquaintance, who\nhave been in the same condition with yourself, and have received\nrelief from me.\"\n\nThe good lady told me so many more circumstances that I broke\nsilence, declared to her my complaint, pointed out to her the\nplace where I had seen the object which occasioned it, and\nunravelled all the circumstances of my adventure. \"If you\nsucceed,\" added I, \"and procure me the happiness of seeing that\ncharming beauty, and revealing to her the passion with which I\nburn for her, you may depend upon it I will be grateful.\" \"My\nson,\" replied the old woman, \"I know the lady you speak of; she\nis, as you rightly judged, the daughter of the first cauzee of\nthis city: I am not surprised that you are in love with her. She\nis the handsomest and most lovely lady in Bagdad, but very proud,\nand of difficult access. You know how strict our judges are, in\nenjoining the punctual observance of the severe laws that confine\nwomen; and they are yet more strict in the observation of them in\ntheir own families; the cauzee you saw is more rigid in that\npoint than any of the other magistrates. They are always\npreaching to their daughters what a heinous crime it is to shew\nthemselves to men; and the girls themselves are so prepossessed\nwith the notion, that they make no other use of their own eves\nbut to conduct them along the street, when necessity obliges them\nto go abroad. I do not say absolutely that the first cauzee's\ndaughter is of that humour; but that does not hinder my fearing\nto meet with as great obstacles on her side, as on her father's.\nWould to God you had loved any other, then I should not have had\nso many difficulties to surmount. However, I will employ all my\nwits to compass the matter; but it requires time. In the mean\nwhile take courage 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\nin her undertaking inflamed my disorder. Next day she came again,\nand I read in her countenance that she had no favourable news to\nimpart. She spoke thus: \"My son, I was not mistaken, I have\nsomewhat else to conquer besides the vigilance of a father. You\nlove an insensible object, who takes pleasure in making every one\nmiserable who suffers himself to be charmed by her; she will not\ndeign them the least comfort: she heard me with pleasure, when I\nspoke of nothing but the torment she made you undergo; but I no\nsooner opened my mouth to engage her to allow you to see her, and\nconverse with her, but casting at me a terrible look, \u0091You are\nvery presumptuous,' said she, \u0091to make such a proposal to me; I\ncharge you never to insult me again with such language.'\n\n\"Do not let this cast you down,\" continued she; \"I am not easily\ndisheartened, and am not without hope but I shall compass my\nend.\" To shorten my story, this good woman made several fruitless\nattacks in my behalf on the proud enemy of my rest. The vexation\nI suffered inflamed my distemper to that degree, that my\nphysicians gave me over. I was considered as a dead man, when the\nold woman came to recall me to life.\n\nThat no one might hear what was said, she whispered in my ear;\n\"Remember the present you owe for the good news I bring you.\"\nThese words produced a marvellous effect; I raised myself up in\nthe bed, and with transport replied, \"You shall not go without a\npresent; but what is the news you bring me?\" \"Dear sir,\" said she\n\"you shall not die; I shall speedily have the pleasure to see you\nin perfect health, and very well satisfied with me. Yesterday I\nwent to see the lady you love, and found her in good humour. As\nsoon as I entered, I put on a sad countenance heaved many deep\nsighs, and began to squeeze out some tears. \u0091My good mother,'\ndemanded she \u0091what is the matter with you, why are you so cast\ndown?' \u0091Alas, my dear and honourable lady,' I replied, \u0091I have\njust been with the young gentleman of whom I spoke to you the\nother day, who is dying on your account.' \u0091I am at a loss to\nknow,' said she, \u0091how you make me to be the cause of his death.\nHow can I have contributed to it?' \u0091How?' replied I; \u0091did not you\ntell me the other day, that he sat down before your window when\nyou opened it to water your flower-pot? He then saw that prodigy\nof beauty, those charms that your mirror daily represents to you.\nFrom that moment he languished, and his disorder has so\nincreased, that he is reduced to the deplorable condition I have\nmentioned.'\n\n\"\u0091You well remember,' added I, \u0091how harshly you treated me at our\nlast interview; when I was speaking to you of his illness, and\nproposing a way to save him from the threatened consequences of\nhis complaint. After I left you I went directly to his house, and\nhe no sooner learnt from my countenance that I had brought no\nfavourable answer than his distemper increased. From that time,\nmadam, he has been at the point of death; and I doubt whether\nyour compassion would not now come too late to save his life.'\nThe fear of your death alarmed her, and I saw her face change\ncolour. \u0091Is your account true?' she asked. \u0091Has he actually no\nother disorder than what is occasioned by his love of me?' \u0091Ah,\nmadam!' I replied, \u0091it is too true; would it were false!' \u0091Do you\nbelieve,' said she, \u0091that the hopes of seeing me would at all\ncontribute to rescue him from his danger?' I answered, \u0091Perhaps\nit may, and if you will permit me, I will try the remedy.'?\n\u0091Well,' resumed she, sighing, \u0091give him hopes of seeing me; but\nhe must pretend to no other favours, unless he aspire to marry\nme, and obtains my father's consent.' \u0091Madam,' replied I. \u0091your\ngoodness overcomes me; I will instantly seek the young gentleman,\nand tell him he is to have the pleasure of an interview with\nyou.' \u0091The best opportunity I can think of,' said she, \u0091for\ngranting him that favour, will be next Friday at the hour of noon\nprayers. Let him observe when my father goes out, and then, if\nhis health permits him to be abroad, come and place himself\nopposite the house. I shall then see him from my window, and will\ncome down and open the door for him: we will converse together\nduring prayer-time; but he must depart before my father returns.'\n\n\"It is now Tuesday,\" continued the old lady \"you have the\ninterval between this and Friday to recover your strength, and\nmake the necessary dispositions for the interview.\" While the\ngood old lady was speaking, I felt my illness decrease, or\nrather, by the time she had done, I found myself perfectly\nrecovered. \"Here, take this,\" said I, reaching out to her my\npurse, which was full, \"it is to you alone that I owe my cure. I\nreckon this money better employed than all that I gave the\nphysicians, who have only tormented me during my illness.\"\n\nWhen the lady was gone, I found I had strength enough to get up:\nand my relations finding me so well, complimented me on the\noccasion, and went home.\n\nOn Friday morning the old woman came, just as I was dressing, and\nchoosing out the richest clothes in my wardrobe, said, \"I do not\nask you how you are, what you are about is intimation enough of\nyour health; but will not you bathe before you go?\" \"That will\ntake up too much time,\" I replied; \"I will content myself with\nsending for a barber, to shave my head.\" Immediately I ordered\none of my slaves to call a barber that could do his business\ncleverly and expeditiously.\n\nThe slave brought me the wretch you see here, who came, and after\nsaluting me, said, \"Sir, you look as if you were not well.\" I\ntold him I was just recovered from a fit of sickness. \"May God,\"\nresumed he, \"deliver you from all mischance; may his grace always\ngo along with you.\" \"I hope he will grant your wish, for which I\nam obliged to you.\" \"Since you are recovering from a fit of\nsickness,\" he continued, \"I pray God preserve your health; but\nnow let me know what I am to do; I have brought my razors and my\nlancets, do you desire to be shaved or to be bled?\" I replied, \"I\nam just recovered from a fit of sickness, and you may readily\njudge I only want to be shaved: come, do not lose time in\nprattling; for I am in haste, and have an appointment precisely\nat noon.\"\n\nThe barber spent much time in opening his case, and preparing his\nrazors Instead of putting water into the basin, he took a very\nhandsome astrolabe out of his case, and went very gravely out of\nmy room to the middle of the court to take the height of the sun:\nhe returned with the same grave pace, and entering my room, said,\n\"Sir, you will be pleased to know this day is Friday the 18th of\nthe moon Suffir, in the year 653, from the retreat of our great\nprophet from Mecca to Medina, and in the year 7320 of the epocha\nof the great Iskender with two horns; and that the conjunction of\nMars and Mercury signifies you cannot choose a better time than\nthis very day and hour for being shaved. But, on the other hand,\nthe same conjunction is a bad presage to you. I learn from it,\nthat this day you run a great risk, not indeed of losing your\nlife, but of an inconvenience which will attend you while you\nlive. You are obliged to me for the advice I now give you, to\navoid this accident; I shall be sorry if it befall you.\"\n\nYou may guess, gentlemen, how vexed I was at having fallen into\nthe hands of such a prattling, impertinent fellow; what an\nunseasonable adventure was it for a lover preparing for an\ninterview with his mistress! I was quite irritated. \"I care not,\"\nsaid I, in anger, \"for your advice and predictions; I did not\ncall you to consult your astrology; you came hither to shave me;\nshave me, or begone.\" \"I will call another barber, sir,\" replied\nhe, with a coolness that put me out of all patience; \"what reason\nhave you to be angry with me? You do not know, that all of my\nprofession are not like me; and that if you made it your business\nto search, you would not find such another. You only sent for a\nbarber; but here, in my person, you have the best barber in\nBagdad, an experienced physician, a profound chemist, an\ninfallible astrologer, a finished grammarian, a complete orator,\na subtle logician, a mathematician perfectly well versed in\ngeometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and all the refinements of\nalgebra; an historian fully master of the histories of all the\nkingdoms of the universe. Besides, I understand all parts of\nphilosophy. I have all our sacred traditions by heart. I am a\npoet, I am an architect; and what is it I am not? There is\nnothing in nature hidden from me. Your deceased father, to whose\nmemory I pay a tribute of tears every time I think of him, was\nfully convinced of my merit; he was fond of me, and spoke of me\nin all companies as the first man in the world. Out of gratitude\nand friendship for him, I am willing to attach myself to you, to\ntake you under my protection, and guard you from all the evils\nthat your stars may threaten.\"\n\nWhen I heard all this jargon, I could not forbear laughing,\nnotwithstanding my anger. \"You impertinent prattler!\" said I,\n\"will you have done, and begin to shave me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the barber, \"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, whom you might justly have\ncalled prattlers. These indeed were impertinent chatterers, but\nfor me, who am a younger brother, I am grave and concise in my\ndiscourse.\"\n\nFor God's sake, gentlemen, do but suppose you had been in my\nplace. What could I say when I saw myself so cruelly delayed?\n\"Give him three pieces of gold,\" said I to the slave who was my\nhousekeeper, \"and send him away, that he may disturb me no more;\nI will not be shaved this day.\" \"Sir,\" said the barber, \"pray\nwhat do you mean? I did not come to seek for you, you sent for\nme; and as that is the case I swear by the faith of a Moosulmaun,\nI will not stir out of these doors till I have shaved you. If you\ndo not know my value, it is not my fault. Your deceased father\ndid me more justice. Every time he sent for me to let him blood,\nhe made me sit down by him, and was charmed with hearing what\nwitty things I said. I kept him in a continual strain of\nadmiration; I elevated him; and when I had finished my discourse,\n\u0091My God,' he would exclaim, \u0091you are an inexhaustible source of\nscience, no man can reach the depth of your knowledge.' \u0091My dear\nsir,' I would answer, \u0091you do me more honour than deserve. If I\nsay anything that is worth hearing, it is owing to the favourable\naudience you vouchsafe me; it is your liberality that inspires me\nwith the sublime thoughts which have the happiness to please\nyou.' One day, when he was charmed with an admirable discourse I\nhad made him, he said, \u0091Give him a hundred pieces of gold, and\ninvest him with one of my richest robes.' I instantly received\nthe present. I then drew his horoscope, and found it the happiest\nin the world. Nav. I carried my gratitude further; I let him\nblood with cupping-glasses.\"\n\nThis was not all; he spun out another harangue that was a full\nhalf hour long. Tired with hearing him, and fretted at the loss\nof time, which was almost spent before I was half ready, I did\nnot know what to say. \"It is impossible,\" I exclaimed, \"there\nshould be such another man in the world who takes pleasure, as\nyou do, in making people mad.\"\n\nI thought I might perhaps succeed better if I dealt mildly with\nmy barber. \"In the name of God,\" said I, \"leave off talking, and\nshave me directly: business of the last importance calls me, as I\nhave already told you.\" At these words he fell a laughing: \"It\nwould be fortunate,\" said he, \"if our minds were always in the\nsame state; if we were always wise and prudent. I am willing,\nhowever, to believe, that if you are angry with me, it is your\ndisorder that has caused the change in your temper, for which\nreason you stand in need of some instructions, and you cannot do\nbetter than follow the example of your father and grandfather.\nThey came and consulted me upon all occasions, and I can say,\nwithout vanity, that they always highly prized my advice. Pray\nobserve, sir, men never succeed in their undertakings without the\ncounsel of persons of understanding. A man cannot, says the\nproverb, be wise without receiving advice from the wise. I am\nentirely at service, and you have only to command me.\"\n\n\"What! cannot I prevail with you then,\" I demanded,, interrupting\nhim, \"to leave off these long speeches, that tend to nothing but\nto distract my head, and detain me from my business? Shave me, I\nsay, or begone:\" with that I started up in anger, stamping my\nfoot against the ground.\n\n\nWhen he saw I was in earnest, he said, \"Sir, do not be angry, we\nare going to begin.\" He lathered my head, and began to shave me;\nbut had not given four strokes with his razor before he stopped,\nand addressed me, \"Sir, you are hasty, you should avoid these\ntransports that only come from the devil. I am entitled to some\nconsideration on account of my age, my knowledge, and my great\nvirtues.\"\n\n\"Go on and shave me,\" said I, interrupting him again, \"and talk\nno more.\" \"That is to say,\" replied he, \"you have some urgent\nbusiness to go about; I will lay you a wager I guess right.\" \"Why\nI told you two hours ago,\" I returned, \"you ought to have shaved\nme before.\" \"Moderate your passion,\" replied he; \"perhaps you\nhave not maturely weighed what you are going about; when things\nare done precipitately, they are generally repented of. I wish\nyou would tell me what mighty business this is you are so earnest\nupon. I would tell you my opinion of it; besides, you have time\nenough, since your appointment is not till noon, and it wants\nthree hours of that yet.\"  \"I do not mind that,\" said I; \"persons\nof honour and of their word are rather before their time than\nafter. But I forget that by reasoning with you, I give into the\nfaults of you prattling barbers; have done, have done; shave me.\"\n\nThe more haste I was in, the less speed he made. He laid down the\nrazor, and took up his astrolabe; then laid down his astrolabe,\nand took up his razor again.\n\nThe barber quitted his razor again, and took up his astrolabe a\nsecond time; and so left me half shaved, to go and see precisely\nwhat hour it was. Back he came, and exclaimed, \"Sir, I knew I was\nnot mistaken, it wants three hours of noon. I am sure of it, or\nelse all the rules of astronomy are false.\" \"Just heaven!\" cried\nI, \"my patience is exhausted, I can bear this no longer. You\ncursed barber, you barber of mischief, I can scarcely forbear\nfalling upon you and strangling you.\" \"Softly, sir,\" said he,\nvery calmly, without being moved by my anger: \"are you not afraid\nof a relapse? Be not in a passion, I am going to shave you this\nminute.\" In speaking these words, he clapped his astrolabe in his\ncase, took up his razor, and passing it over the strap which was\nfixed to his belt, fell to shaving me again; but all the while he\nwas thus employed, the dog could not forbear prattling. \"If you\nwould be pleased, sir,\" said he, \"to tell me what the business is\nyou are going about at noon, I could give you some advice that\nmight be of use to you.\" To satisfy the fellow, I told him I was\ngoing to meet some friends at an entertainment at noon, to make\nmerry with me on the recovery of ray health.\n\nWhen the barber heard me talk of regaling; \"God bless you this\nday, as well as all other days!\" he cried: \"you put me in mind\nthat yesterday I invited four or five friends to come and eat\nwith me as this day; indeed I had forgotten the engagement, and\nhave made no preparation for them.\" \"Do not let that trouble\nyou,\" said I; \"though I dine abroad, my larder is always well\nfurnished. I make you a present of all that it contains; and\nbesides, I will order you as much wine as you have occasion for;\nI have excellent wine in my cellar; only you must hasten to\nfinish shaving me: and pray remember, as my father made you\npresents to encourage you to speak, I give you mine to induce you\nto be silent.\"\n\nHe was not satisfied with my promise, but exclaimed, \"God reward\nyou, sir, for your kindness: pray shew me these provisions now,\nthat I may see if there will be enough to entertain my friends. I\nwould have them satisfied with the good fare I make them.\" \"I\nhave,\" said I, \"a lamb, six capons, a dozen chickens, and enough\nto make four courses.\" I ordered a slave to bring all before him,\nwith four great pitchers of wine. \"It is very well,\" returned the\nbarber; \"but we shall want fruit, and sauce for the meat.\" These\nI ordered likewise; but then he left off shaving, to look over\nevery thing one after another; and this survey lasted almost half\nan hour. I raged and stormed like a madman; but it signified\nnothing, the wretch made no more haste. However, he took up his\nrazor again, and shaved me for some minutes; then stopping\nsuddenly, exclaimed, \"I could not have believed, sir, that you\nwould have been so liberal; I begin to perceive that your\ndeceased father lives again in you. Most certainly, I do not\ndeserve the favours with which you have loaded me; and I assure\nyou I shall have them in perpetual remembrance; for, sir, to let\nyou know, I have nothing but what I obtain from the generosity of\nsuch gentlemen as you: in which respect, I am like to Zantout,\nwho rubs the people in the baths; to Sali, who cries boiled peas\nin the streets; to Salout, who sells beans; to Akerscha, who\nsells greens; to Aboumecarez, who sprinkles the streets to lay\nthe dust; and to Cassem, the caliph's lifeguard man. Of all these\npersons, not one is apt so be melancholy; they are neither\nimpertinent nor quarrelsome; they are more contented with their\nlot, than the caliph in the midst of his court; they are always\ngay, ready to sing and dance, and have each of them their\npeculiar 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, any more than your slave, that has bow the honour to\nspeak to you. Here, sir, is the song and dance of Zantout, who\nrubs the people in the 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\nlet me say what I could to oblige him to finish his buffooneries,\nhe did not cease till he had imitated, in like manner, the songs\nand dances of the other persons he had named. \"After that,\"\naddressing himself to me, \"I am going,\" said he, \"to invite all\nthese honest men to my house; if you will take my advice you will\njoin us, and disappoint your friends, who perhaps are great\ntalkers. They will only teaze you to death with their impertinent\ndiscourse, and make you relapse into a disorder worse than that\nfrom which you are so lately recovered; whereas at my house you\nshall have nothing 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,\"\nI replied, \"I would accept your invitation, and go with all my\nheart to partake of your entertainment; but I beg to be excused,\nI am too much engaged; another day I shall be more at leisure,\nand then we will make up the same party. Come, finish shaving me,\nand make haste home; perhaps your friends are already arrived at\nyour house.\" \"Sir,\" replied he, \"do not refuse me the favour I\nask of you; were you but once in our company, it would afford you\nso much pleasure as abundantly to compensate you for forsaking\nyour friends.\" \"Let us talk no more of that,\" said I; \"I cannot\nbe your guest.\"\n\nI found I gained no ground by mild terms. \"Since you will not\ncome to my house,\" replied the barber, \"you must allow me to go\nalong with you: I will carry these things to my house, where my\nfriends may eat of them if they like, and I will return\nimmediately; I would not be so uncivil as to leave you alone. You\ndeserve this piece of complaisance at my hands.\" \"Heavens!\" cried\nI, \"then I shall not get clear of this troublesome fellow to-day.\nIn the name of the living God, leave off your unreasonable\njargon; go to your friends, drink, eat, and be merry with them,\nand leave me at liberty to go to mine. I must go alone, I have no\noccasion for company; besides, I must needs tell you, the place\nto which I go is not one where you can be received.\" \"You jest,\nsir,\" said he; \"if your friends have invited you to a feast, what\nshould prevent you from allowing me to go with you? You will\nplease them, I am sure, by introducing to them a man who can talk\nwittily like me, and knows how to divert company. But say what\nyou will, I am determined to accompany you.\"\n\nThese words, gentlemen, perplexed me much. \"How,\" thought I,\n\"shall I get rid of this cursed barber? If I persist in\ncontradicting him, we shall never have done.\"\n\nBesides, I heard at this instant the first call to noon-prayers,\nand it was time for me to go. In fine, I resolved to say nothing,\nand to make as if I consented to his accompanying me. He then\nfinished shaving me, and I said to him, \"Take some of my servants\nto carry these provisions along with you, and return hither; I\nwill stay for you, and shall not go without you.\"\n\nAt last he went, and I dressed myself as expeditiously as I\ncould. I heard the last call to prayers, and hastened to set out:\nbut the malicious barber, who guessed my intention, went with my\nservants only within sight of the house and stood there till he\nsaw them enter it, after which he concealed himself at the corner\nof the street, with an intent to observe and follow me. In fine,\nwhen I arrived at the cauzee's door, I looked back and saw him at\nthe head of the street which alarmed me to the last degree.\n\nThe cauzee'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 who was the object of my\nlove; but we had scarcely begun to converse, when we heard a\nnoise in the streets. The young lady put her head to the window,\nand saw through the gate that it was her father already returning\nfrom prayers. At the same time I looked, and saw the barber\nsitting over-against the house, on the bench from which I had\nfirst seen the young lady.\n\nI had then two things to fear, the arrival of the cauzee, and the\npresence of the barber. The young lady mitigated my apprehension\non the first head, by assuring me the cauzee, came but seldom to\nher chamber, and as she had forseen that this misadventure might\nhappen, she had contrived a way to convey me out safely: but the\nindiscretion of the accursed barber made me very uneasy; and you\nshall hear that my uneasiness was not without ground.\n\nAs soon as the cauzee was come in, he caned one of his slaves,\nwho had deserved chastisement. This slave made a horrid noise,\nwhich was heard in the streets; the barber thought it was I who\ncried out, and was maltreated. Prepossessed with this thought, he\nroared out aloud, rent his clothes, threw dust upon his head, and\ncalled the neighbourhood to his assistance. The neighbours\ncollected, and asked what assistance he wanted? \"Alas!\" cried he,\n\"they are assassinating my master, my dear patron;\" and without\nsaying anything more, he ran all the way to my house, with the\nvery same cry in his mouth. From thence he returned, followed by\nall my domestics armed with sticks. They knocked with\ninconceivable fury at the door, and the cauzee sent slave to see\nwhat was the matter; but the slave being frightened, returned to\nhis master, crying, \"Sir, above ten thousand men are going to\nbreak into your house by force.\"\n\nImmediately the cauzee himself ran, opened the door, and asked\nwhat they wanted. His venerable presence could not inspire them\nwith respect. They insolently said to him, \"You cursed cauzee,\nwhat reason have you to assassinate our master? What has he done\nto you?\" \"Good people,\" replied the magistrate, \"for what should\nI assassinate your master, whom I do not know and who has done me\nno harm? my house is open to you, come and search.\" \"You\nbastinadoed him,\" said the barber; \"I heard his cries not a\nminute ago.\" \"What harm could your master do to me,\" replied the\ncauzee, \"to oblige me to abuse him at that rate? Is he in my\nhouse? If he is, how came he in, or who could have introduced\nhim?\"  \"Ah! wretched cauzee, cried the barber, \"you and your long\nbeard shall never make me believe you; I know your daughter is in\nlove with our master, and appointed him a meeting during the time\nof noon-prayer, you without doubt have had notice of it, returned\nhome, and surprised him, and made your slaves bastinado him: but\nthis your wicked action shall not pass with impunity; the caliph\nshall be acquainted with it, and he will give true and brief\njustice. Let him come out, deliver him to us immediately; or if\nyou do not, we will go in and take him out to your shame.\" \"There\nis no occasion for so many words,\" replied the cauzee, \"nor to\nmake so great a noise: if what you say is true, go and find him\nout, I give you free liberty.\" Thereupon the barber and my\ndomestics rushed into the house like furies, and looked for me\nall about.\n\nAs I heard all that the barber said to the cauzee, I sought for a\nplace to conceal myself, and could find nothing but a large empty\ntrunk, in which I lay down, and shut it upon me. The barber,\nafter he had searched everywhere, came into the chamber where I\nwas, and opened the trunk. As soon as he saw me, he took it upon\nhis head and carried it away. He descended a high staircase into\na court, which he crossed hastily, and at length reached the\nstreet door. While he was carrying me, the trunk unfortunately\nflew open, and not being able to endure the shame of being\nexposed to the view and shouts of the mob who followed us, I\nleaped out into the street with so much haste, that I have been\nlame ever since. I was not sensible of the hurt at first, and\ntherefore got up quickly to avoid the people, who laughed at me;\nnay, I threw handfuls of gold and silver among them, and whilst\nthey were gathering it up, I made my escape by cross streets and\nalleys. But the cursed barber followed me close, crying, \"Stay,\nsir; why do you run so fast? If you knew how much I am afflicted\nat the ill treatment you received from the cauzee, you, who are\nso generous, and to whom I and my friends are so much obliged!\nDid I not tell you truly, that you would expose your life by your\nobstinate refusal to let me go with you? See what has happened to\nyou, by your own fault; and if I had not resolutely followed, to\nsee whither you went, what would have become of you? Whither do\nyou go, sir? Stay for me.\"\n\nThus the barber cried aloud in the street it was not enough for\nhim to have occasioned so great a scandal in the quarter where\nthe cauzee lived, but he would have it known through the whole\ntown. I was in such a rage, that I had a great mind to stop and\ncut his throat; but considering this would have perplexed me\nfarther, I chose another course. Perceiving that his calling\nafter me exposed me to vast numbers of people, who crowded to the\ndoors or windows, or stopped in the street to gaze at me, I\nentered an inn, the chamberlain of which knew me, and finding him\nat the gate, whither the noise had brought him, I prayed him, for\nthe sake of heaven, to hinder that madman from coming in after\nme. He promised to do so, and was as good as his word, but not\nwithout a great deal of trouble; for the obstinate barber would\nenter in spite of him, and did not retire without calling him a\nthousand names. After the chamberlain had shut the gate, the\nbarber continued telling all he met what great service he had\ndone me. Thus I rid myself of that troublesome fellow. After\nthis, the chamberlain prayed me to tell him my adventure, which I\ndid, and then desired him to let me have an apartment until I was\ncured . \"But sir,\" said he, \"will it not be more convenient for\nyou to go home?\" \"I will not return thither,\" replied I: \"for the\ndetestable barber will continue plaguing me there, and I shall\ndie of vexation to be continually teazed by him. Besides, after\nwhat has befallen me to-day, I cannot think of staying any longer\nin this town; I must go whither my ill-fortune leads me.\"\nAccordingly, when I was. cured, I took all the money I thought\nnecessary for my travels, and divided the rest of my property\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 find him amongst you. Be not\nsurprised then at my haste to be gone: you may easily judge how\nunpleasant to me is the sight of a man who was the occasion of my\nlameness, and of my being reduced to the melancholy necessity of\nliving so far from my kindred, friends, and country.\n\nWhen he had spoken these words, the lame young man rose up and\nwent out; the master of the house conducted him to the gate, and\ntold him, he was sorry that he had given him, though innocently,\nso great a subject of mortification.\n\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 to-blame, if what we had just heard was true.\n\"Gentlemen,\" answered he, raising up his head, which till then he\nhad held down, \"my silence during the young man's discourse is\nsufficient to testify that he advanced nothing that was not true:\nbut for all that he has said to you, I maintain that I ought to\nhave done what I did; I leave you to be judges. Did not he throw\nhimself into danger, and could he have come off so well without\nmy assistance? He may think himself happy to have escaped with\nthe lame leg Did not I expose myself to greater danger to get him\nout of a house where I thought he was ill-treated? Has he any\nreason to complain of and abuse me? 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 speak\nleast, and have most wit to my share; and to convince you of\nthis, gentlemen, I need only relate my own story and theirs.\nHonour me, I beseech you, with your attention.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Barber.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Mustunsir Billah, that is, seeking\nvictory of God, a prince so famous for his liberality towards the\npoor, ten highwaymen infested the roads about Bagdad, and for a\nlong time committed unheard-of robberies and cruelties. The\ncaliph, having notice of this, sent for the judge of the police,\nsome days before the feast of Bairam, and ordered him, on pain of\ndeath, to bring all the ten to him.\n\n\nThe judge of the police used so much diligence, and sent so many\npeople in pursuit of the ten robbers, that they were taken on the\nvery day of Bairam. I was walking at the time on the banks of the\nTigris, and saw ten men richly appareled go into a boat. Had I\nbut observed the guards who had them in custody, I might have\nconcluded they were robbers; but my attention was fixed on the\nmen themselves, and thinking they were people who designed to\nspend the festival in jollity, I entered the boat with them,\nhoping they would not object to my making one of the company. We\ndescended the Tigris, and landed before the caliph's palace: I\nhad by this time had leisure to reflect, and to discover my\nmistake. When we quitted the boat, we were surrounded by a new\ntroop of the judge of the police's guard, who bound us all, and\ncarried us before the caliph. I suffered myself to be bound as\nwell as the rest, without speaking one word: for what would it\nhave availed to have spoken, or made any resistance? That had\nbeen the way to have got myself 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, and that was enough\nto make them believe me to be one of their number.\n\nWhen we had been brought before the caliph, he ordered the ten\nhighwaymen's heads to be cut off immediately. The executioner\ndrew us up in a file within reach of his arm, and by good fortune\nI was placed last. He cut off the heads of the ten highwaymen,\nbeginning at the first; and when he came to me, he stopped. The\ncaliph perceiving that he did not strike me, grew angry: \"Did not\nI command thee,\" said he, \"to cut off the heads of ten\nhighwaymen, and why hast thou cut off but nine?\" \"Commander of\nthe faithful,\" he replied, \"Heaven preserve me from disobeying\nyour majesty's orders: here are ten bodies upon the ground, and\nas many heads which I have cut off; your majesty may count them.\"\nWhen the caliph saw that what the executioner said was true, he\nlooked at me with amazement, and perceiving that I had not the\nface of a highwayman, said to me, \"Good old man, how came you to\nbe among those wretches, who have deserved a thousand deaths?\" I\nanswered, \"Commander of the faithful, I will make a true\nconfession. This morning I saw those ten persons, whose\npunishment is a proof of your majesty's justice, take boat: I\nembarked with them, thinking they were men going to celebrate\nthis day, which is the most distinguished in our religion.\" The\ncaliph could not forbear laughing at my adventure; and instead of\ntreating me as a prattling fellow, as this lame young man did, he\nadmired my discretion and taciturnity. \"Commander of the\nfaithful,\" I resumed, \"your majesty need not wonder at my silence\non such an occasion, as would have made another apt to speak. I\nmake a particular profession of holding my peace, and on that\naccount have acquired the glorious title of Silent; by which I am\ndistinguished from my six brothers. This is the effect of my\nphilosophy; and, in a word, in this virtue consists my glory and\nhappiness.\" \"I am glad,\" said the caliph, smiling, \"that they\ngave you a title which you know so well how to use. But tell me\nwhat sort of men were your brothers, were they like you?\" \"By no\nmeans,\" I replied; \"they were all of them loquacious, prating\nfellows. And as to their persons, there was still a greater\ndifference betwixt them and me. The first was hump-backed; the\nsecond had rotten teeth; the third had but one eye; the fourth\nwas blind; the fifth had his ears cut off; and the sixth had\nhare-lips. They had met with such adventures as would enable you\nto judge of their characters, had I the honour of relating them\nto your majesty:\" and the caliph seemed desirous to hear their\nseveral stories, I went on without waiting his commands.\n\n\f\n\nThe Story of the Barber's Eldest Brother.\n\n\n\nMy eldest brother, whose name was Bacbouc the hump-back, was a\ntailor: when he came out of his apprenticeship, he hired a shop\nopposite a mill, and having but very little business, could\nscarcely maintain himself. The miller, on the contrary, was very\nwealthy, and had a handsome wife. One day as my brother was at\nwork in his shop, he saw the miller's wife looking out of the\nwindow, and was charmed with her beauty. The woman took no notice\nof him, but shut her window, and made her appearance no more that\nday The poor tailor did nothing all day long but lift up his eyes\ntowards the mill. He pricked his finger oftener than once, and\nhis work was not very regular. At night, when he was to shut his\nshop, he could scarcely tell how to do it, because he still hoped\nthe miller's wife would once more come to the window; but at last\nhe was forced to shut up, and go home, where he passed but a very\nuncomfortable night. He arose betimes in the morning, and ran to\nhis shop, in hopes to see his mistress; but he was no happier\nthan the day before, for the miller's wife did not appear at the\nwindow above a minute in the course of the day, but that minute\nmade the tailor the most amorous man that ever lived. The third\nday he had more ground of satisfaction, for the miller's wife\ncast her eyes upon him by chance, and surprised him as he was\ngazing at her, which convinced her of what passed in his mind.\n\nNo sooner did the miller's wife perceive my brother's\ninclination, than, instead of allowing it to excite her\nresentment, she resolved to divert herself with it. She looked at\nhim with a smiling countenance, and my brother returned her\nsmile, but in so ludicrous a way, that the miller's wife hastily\nshut her window, lest her loud laughter should make him sensible\nthat she only ridiculed him. Poor Bacbouc interpreted her\ncarriage to his own advantage, and flattered himself that she\nlooked upon him with pleasure.\n\nThe miller's wife resolved to have sport with my brother: she had\na piece of very fine stuff, with which she had a long time\ndesigned to make a vest; she wrapped it up in a fine embroidered\nsilk handkerchief, and sent it to him by a young slave whom she\nkept; who being taught her lesson, went to the tailor's shop, and\ntold him, \"My mistress gives you her service, and prays you to\nmake her a vest of this stuff according to this pattern; she\nchanges her dress often, so that her custom will be profitable to\nyou.\" My brother doubted not but the miller's wife loved him, and\nthought she had sent him work so soon after what had passed\nbetwixt them, only to signify that she knew his mind, and\nconvince him that he had obtained her favour. He charged the\nslave to tell her mistress, that he would lay aside all work for\nhers and that the vest should be ready next morning. He worked at\nit with so much diligence, that he finished it in the course of\nthe same day. Next morning the young slave came to see if the\nvest was ready. Bacbouc delivered it to her neatly folded up,\ntelling her, \"I am too much concerned to please your mistress to\nneglect her work; I would engage her by my diligence to employ no\nother than myself for the time to come.\" The young slave went\nsome steps as if she had intended to go away, and then coming\nback, whispered to my brother, \"I had forgotten part of my\ncommission; my mistress charged me to make her compliments to\nyou, and to ask how you passed the night; as for her, poor woman,\nshe loves you to that degree that she could not sleep.\" \"Tell\nher,\" answered my silly brother, \"I have so strong a passion for\nher, that for these four nights I have not slept one wink.\" After\nsuch a compliment from the miller's wife, my brother thought she\nwould not let him languish long in expectation of her favours.\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 vest, nothing in the world can fit her\nbetter, and as it is very handsome, she will not wear it without\na new pair of drawers; she prays you to make her one, as soon as\nyou can, of this piece of satin.\" \"Enough,\" said Bacbouc, \"I will\ndo it before I leave my shop: you shall have it in the evening.\"\nThe miller's wife shewed herself often at her window, and was\nvery prodigal of her charms, to encourage my brother. You would\nhave laughed to see him work. The pair of drawers was soon made,\nand the slave came for it, but brought the tailor no money,\nneither for the trimming he had bought for the vest, nor for the\nmaking. In the mean time, this unfortunate lover, whom they only\namused, though he could not see it, had eaten nothing all that\nday, and was forced to borrow money at night to buy his supper.\nNext morning, as soon as he arrived at his shop, the young slave\ncame to tell him that the miller wanted to speak to him. \"My\nmistress,\" said she, \"spoke to him so much in your praise, when\nshe shewed him your work, that he has a mind you should work for\nhim also; she does this on purpose, that the connection she\nwishes to form betwixt you and him may crown your mutual wishes\nwith success.\" My brother was easily persuaded, and went to the\nmill with the slave. The miller received him very kindly, and\nshewed him a piece of cloth, and told him he wanted shirts, bade\nhim make it into twenty, and return him again what was left.\n\nMy brother had work enough for five or six days to make twenty\nshirts for the miller, who afterwards gave him another piece of\ncloth to make him as many pair of drawers. When they were\nfinished, Bacbouc carried them to the miller, who asked him what\nhe must have for his pains. My brother answered, he would be\ncontent with twenty dirhems of silver. The miller immediately\ncalled the young slave, and bade her bring him his weights to see\nif his money was right. The slave, who had her lesson, looked at\nmy brother with an angry countenance, to signify to him, that he\nwould spoil all if he took money. He knew her meaning, and\nrefused to take any, though he wanted it so much that he was\nforced to borrow some to buy the thread to sew the shirts and\ndrawers. When he left the miller, he came to me to borrow money\nto purchase provisions, and told me they did not pay him. I gave\nhim some copper money I had in my purse, and upon that he\nsubsisted for some days. It is true, indeed, he lived upon\nnothing but broth, nor had he his fill of that.\n\nOne day he went to the miller, who was busy at his work, and\nthinking my brother came for money, offered him some; but the\nyoung slave being present, made him another sign not to take it,\nwhich he complied with, and told the miller he did not come for\nhis money, but only to know how he did. The miller thanked him,\nand gave him an upper garment to make. Bacbouc carried it to him\nthe next day. When the miller drew out his purse, the young slave\ngave my brother the usual sign, on which he said to the miller,\n\"Neighbour, there is no haste, we will reckon another time;\"  so\nthat the poor ninny went to his shop again, with three terrible\ndistempers, love, hunger, and an empty purse. The miller's wife\nwas not only avaricious, but ill-natured; for, not content with\ncheating my brother of his due, she provoked her husband to\nrevenge himself upon him for making love to her, which they\naccomplished thus. The miller invited Bacbouc one night to\nsupper, and after giving him a very sorry treat, said to him,\n\"Brother, it is too late for you to return home, you had better\nstay here all night,\" and then took him to a place in the mill,\nwhere there was a bed; there he left him, and went to bed with\nhis wife. About the middle of the night, the miller came to my\nbrother, and said, \"Neighbour, are you asleep? My mule is ill,\nand I have a quantity of corn to grind; you will do me a great\nkindness if you will turn the mill in her stead.\" Bacbouc, to\nshew his good nature, told him, he was ready to do him that\nservice, if he would shew him how. The miller tied him by the\nmiddle in the mule's place, and whipping him soundly over the\nback, said to him, \"Go on, neighbour.\" \"Ho!\" exclaimed my\nbrother, \"why do you beat me?\" \"It is to make you brisk,\" replied\nthe miller, \"for without a whip my mule will not go.\" Bacbouc was\namazed at this treatment, but durst not complain. When he had\ngone five or six rounds, he would fain have rested; but the\nmiller gave him a dozen sound lashes, saying, \"Courage,\nneighbour! do not stop, pray; you must go on without taking\nbreath, otherwise you will spoil my meal.\"\n\nThe miller obliged my brother to turn the mill thus all night.\nAbout break of day he left him without untying him, and went to\nhis wife's chamber. Bacbouc continued there for some time, and at\nlast the young slave came and untied him. \"Ah!\" said the\ntreacherous wretch, \"how my mistress and I pitied you! We had no\nhand in this wicked trick which her husband has played you.\" The\nwretched Bacbouc answered not a word, he was so much fatigued\nwith work and blows; but crept home to his house, resolving never\nto think more of the miller's wife.\n\nThe telling of this story, continued the barber, made the caliph\nlaugh. \"Go home,\" said he to me, \"I have ordered something to be\ngiven you to make up for the loss of the good dinner you\nexpected.\" \"Commander of the faithful,\" I replied, \"I pray your\nmajesty to let me stay till I have told the story of my other\nbrothers.\" The caliph having signified by his silence that he was\nwilling to hear me, I went on thus.\n\n\n\n\nThe 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 in a distant street an old woman,\nwho came up to him, and said, \"I want one word with you, pray\nstop a moment.\" He did so, and asked what she would have. \"If you\nhave time to come 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 much pleasure, and treat you with\nexcellent wine. I need say no more.\" \"But is what you say true?\"\ndemanded my brother. \"I am no lying hussy,\" replied the old\nwoman. \"I say nothing to you but what is true. But hark, I have\nsomething to ask of you. You must be prudent, say but little, and\nbe extremely polite.\" Backbarah agreed to all this. The old woman\nwent on, and he followed her. They came to the gate of a great\npalace, where there was a number of officers and domestics. Some\nof them would have stopped my brother, but no sooner did the old\nwoman speak to them than they let him pass. Then turning to my\nbrother, she said to him, \"You must remember that the young lady\nI bring you to loves good-nature and modesty, and cannot endure\nto be contradicted; if you please her in these respects, you may\nbe sure to obtain of her what you please.\" Backbarah thanked her\nfor this advice, and promised to follow it.\n\nShe brought him into a superb court, answerable to the\nmagnificence of the palace. There was a gallery round it, and a\ngarden in the middle. The old woman made him sit down on a\nhandsome sofa, and bade him stay a moment, till she went to\nacquaint the young lady with his arrival.\n\nMy brother, who had never been in such a stately palace before,\ngazed on 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. In a short time he heard a great\nnoise, occasioned by a troop of merry slaves, who came towards\nhim with loud fits of laughter; and in the middle of them he\nperceived a young lady of extraordinary beauty, who was easily\nknown to be their mistress by the respect they paid her.\nBackbarah, who expected private conversation with the lady, was\nextremely surprised when he saw so much company with her. In the\nmean time, the slaves, as they drew near, put on a grave\ncountenance; and when the young lady came up to the sofa, my\nbrother rose and made her a low obeisance. She took the upper\nseat, prayed him to sit down, and said to him with a smiling\ncountenance, \"I am much pleased to see you, and wish you all the\nhappiness you can desire.\" \"Madam,\" replied Backbarah, \"I cannot\ndesire a greater happiness than to be in your company.\" \"You seem\nto be of a pleasant humour,\" said she, \"and to be disposed to\npass the time agreeably.\"\n\nShe commanded a collation to be brought; and immediately a table\nwas covered with several baskets of fruit and sweetmeats. The\nlady sat down at the table with the slaves and my brother; and he\nbeing placed just opposite to her, when he opened his mouth to\neat, she perceived he had no teeth; and taking notice of this to\nher slaves, she and they laughed heartily. Backbarah, from time\nto time, lifted up his head to look at her, and perceiving her\nlaugh, concluded it was from the pleasure she derived from his\ncompany, and flattered himself that she would speedily send away\nher slaves, and remain with him alone. She guessed his thoughts,\nand amusing herself to flatter him in this mistake, addressed him\nin the most pleasant language, and presented him the best of\nevery thing with her own hand. The entertainment being finished,\nthey rose from the table; ten slaves took musical instruments,\nand began to play and sing, and others to dance. My brother, to\nplease them, danced likewise, and the lady danced with them.\nAfter they had danced some time, they sat down to take breath,\nand the young lady calling for a glass of wine, looked upon my\nbrother with a smiling countenance, to signify that she was going\nto drink his health. He rose and stood while she drank. When she\nhad done instead of giving back the glass, she ordered it to be\nfilled, and presented it to my brother, that he might pledge her.\n\nMy brother took the glass from the young lady's hand, which he\nkissed at the same time and stood and drank to her, in return for\nthe favour she had done him. The lady then made him sit down by\nher, and began to caress him. She put her hand behind his head,\nand gave him some tips from time to time with her fingers:\nravished with these favours, he thought himself the happiest man\nin the world, and felt disposed to kiss the charming lady, but\ndurst not take that liberty before so many slaves, who had their\neyes upon him, and laughed at their lady's wanton tricks. The\nyoung lady continued to tip him with her fingers, but at last\ngave him such a sound box on the ear, that he grew angry; the\ncolour came into his face, and he rose up to remove to a greater\ndistance from such a rude playfellow. Then the old woman, who\nbrought him thither, gave him a look, to let him know that he was\nin the wrong, and that he had forgotten her advice, to be very\ncomplaisant. He owned his fault, and to make amends, went near\nthe young lady again, pretending that he did not remove out of\nany ill-humour. She drew him by the arm, made him sit down by\nher, and gave him a thousand malicious squeezes. Her slaves took\ntheir part in the diversion; one gave poor Backbarah several\nfillips on the nose with all her might; another pulled him by the\nears, as if she would have pulled them off; and others boxed him\nin a manner that might have made it appear they were not in jest.\nMy brother bore all this with admirable patience, affecting a gay\nair, and looking at the old woman, said to her with a forced\nsmile, \"You told me, indeed, that I should find the lady\nperfectly kind, pleasant, and charming; I am mightily obliged to\nyou!\" \"All this is nothing,\" replied the old woman; \"let her go\non, you will see other things by and by.\" Then the young lady\nsaid to him, \"Brother, you are a brave man; I am glad to find you\nare so good-humoured and complaisant to bear with my little\ncaprices, and that your humour is so conformable to mine.\"\n\"Madam,\" replied Backbarah, who was charmed with this address, \"l\nam no more at my own disposal, I am wholly yours, you may do with\nme as you please.\" \"How you oblige me,\" returned the lady, \"by\nsuch submission! I am well pleased with you, and would have you\nbe so with me: bring him perfume, and rose-water.\" Upon this, two\nslaves went out and returned speedily, one with a silver casket,\nfilled with the best of aloes wood, with which she perfumed him;\nand the other with rose-water, which she sprinkled on his face\nand hands. My brother was quite enraptured with this handsome\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 while they were thus\nemployed, the lady called another slave, and ordered her to take\nmy brother with her, and do what she knew, and bring him back to\nher again. Backbarah, who heard this order, got up quickly, and\ngoing to the old woman, who also rose to accompany him and the\nslave, prayed her to inform him what they were to do with him.\n\"My mistress is only curious,\" replied the old woman softly; \"she\nhas a mind to see how you look in a woman's dress, and this\nslave, who is desired to take you with her, has orders to paint\nyour eyebrows, to cut off your whiskers, and to dress you like a\nwoman.\" \"You may paint my eyebrows as much as you please,\" said\nmy brother, \"I consent to that, because I can wash it off again;\nbut to shave me, you know I must not permit. How can I appear\nabroad again without moustaches?\" \"Beware of refusing what is\nasked of you,\" returned the old woman, you will spoil your\nfortune, which is now in as favourable a train as heart can wish.\nThe lady loves you, and has a mind to make you happy; and will\nyou, for a nasty whisker, renounce the most delicious favours\nthat man can obtain?\" Backbarah listened to the old woman, and\nwithout saying a word went to a chamber with the slave, where\nthey painted his eyebrows with red, cut off his whiskers, and\nwere going to do the like with his beard.. My brother's patience\nthen began to fail: \"Oh!\" said he, \"I will never part with my\nbeard.\" The slave told him, that it was to no purpose to have\nparted with his whiskers, if he would not also part with his\nbeard, which could never comport with \"woman's dress; and she\nwondered that a man, who was upon the point of being loved by the\nfinest lady in Bagdad, should be concerned about his beard. The\nold woman threatened him with the loss of the young lady's\nfavour; so that at last he allowed them to do what they would.\nWhen he was dressed in female attire, they brought him before the\nyoung lady, who laughed so heartily when she saw him, that she\nfell backward on the sofa. The slaves laughed and clapped their\nhands, so that my brother was quite out of countenance. The young\nlady got up, and still laughing, said to him, \"After so much\ncomplaisance, I should be very much to blame 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\nher slaves danced with him, laughing as if they had been mad.\nAfter they had danced some time, 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, bade him take\ncourage, and whispered in his ear, that all his sufferings were\nat an end, and that he was just about to receive his reward.\n\nThe old woman continued her discourse to Backbarah thus: \"You\nhave only one thing more to do, and that is but a small one. You\nmust know that my mistress has a custom, when she has drunk a\nlittle, as you see she has done to-day, to let no one that she\nloves come near her, except they be stripped to their shirt; and\nwhen they have done so, she takes a little advantage of them and\nbegins 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, you will soon overtake her; strip yourself then to\nyour shirt, undress yourself without ceremony.\"\n\nMy silly brother had done too much to hesitate at anything now.\nHe undressed himself; and in the mean time the young lady was\nstripped to her shift and drawers, that she might run the more\nnimbly. When they were ready, the young lady took the advantage\nof twenty paces, and then began to run with surprising swiftness:\nmy brother followed as fast as he could, the slaves in the mean\ntime laughing heartily and clapping their hands. The young lady,\ninstead of losing ground, gained upon my brother: she made him\nrun two or three times round the gallery, and then entering a\nlong dark passage, made her escape. Backbarah, who still\nfollowed, having lost sight of her in the passage, 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 after him. You may imagine how he was\nsurprised to find himself in a street inhabited by curriers, and\nthey were no less surprised to see him in his shirt, his eyes\npainted red, and without beard or moustaches: they began to clap\ntheir hands and shout at him, and some of them ran after him and\nlashed his back with leather straps. They then took him and set\nhim upon an ass which they met by chance, and carried him through\nthe town exposed to the laughter of the people.\n\nTo complete his misfortune, as he went by the judge's house, he\nwould needs know the cause of the tumult. The curriers told him,\nthat they saw him come in that condition from the gate of the\napartments of the grand vizier's women, which opened into their\nstreet; upon which the judge ordered unfortunate Backbarah to\nhave a hundred blows with a cane on the soles of his feet, and\nsent him out of the town with orders never to return.\n\n\"Thus, commander of the faithful,\" said I to the caliph, \"I have\ngiven an account of the adventure of my second brother, who did\nnot know that our greatest ladies divert themselves sometimes by\nputting such tricks upon young people, who are so foolish as to\nbe caught in the snare.\"\n\nThe barber, without breaking off, told the story of his third\nbrother in the following manner.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Barber's Third Brother.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, my third brother, whose name was\nBackbac, was blind, and his evil destiny reduced him to beg from\ndoor to door. He had been so long accustomed to walk through the\nstreets alone, that he wanted none to lead him: he had a custom\nto knock at people's doors, and not to answer till they opened to\nhim. One day he knocked thus, and the master of the house, who\nwas alone, cried, \"Who is there?\" My brother made no answer, and\nknocked a second time: the master of the house asked again and\nagain, \"Who is there?\" but to no purpose, no one answered; upon\nwhich he came down, opened the door, and asked my brother what he\nwanted? \"Give me something for Heaven's sake,\" said Backbac. \"You\nseem to be blind,\" replied the master of the house. \"Yes, to my\nsorrow,\" answered my brother. \"Give me your hand,\" resumed the\nmaster of the house. My brother did so, thinking he was going to\ngive him alms; but he only took him by the hand to lead him up to\nhis chamber. Backbac thought he had been carrying him to dine\nwith him, as many other people had done. When they reached the\nchamber, the man let go his hand, and sitting down, asked him\nagain what he wanted? \"I have already told you,\" said Backbac,\n\"that I want something for God's sake.\" \"Good blind man,\" replied\nthe master of the house, \"all that I can do for you is to wish\nthat God may restore you your sight.\" \"You might have told me\nthat at the door,\" replied my brother, \"and not have given me the\ntrouble to come up stairs.\" \"And why, fool,\" said the man of the\nhouse, \"do not you answer at first, when people ask you who is\nthere? Why do you give any body the trouble to come and open the\ndoor when they speak to you?\" \"What will you do with me then?\"\nasked my brother. \"I tell you again,\" said the man of the house,\n\"I have nothing to give you.\" \"Help me down the stairs then, as\nyou brought me up.\" \"The stairs are before you,\" said the man of\nthe house, \"and you may go down by yourself if you will.\" My\nbrother attempted to descend, but missing a step about the middle\nof the stairs, fell to the bottom and hurt his head and his back:\nhe got up again with much difficulty, and went out cursing the\nmaster of the house. who laughed at his fall.\n\nAs my brother went out of the house, two blind men, his\ncompanions, were going by, knew him by his voice, and asked him\nwhat was the matter? He told them what had happened; and\nafterwards said, \"I have eaten nothing to-day; I conjure you to\ngo along with me to my house, that I may take some of the money\nthat we three have in common to buy me something for supper.\" The\ntwo blind men agreed, 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 robber, and of a cunning and malicious\ndisposition. He overheard from his window what Backbac had said\nto his companions, and came down and followed them to my\nbrother's house. The blind men being seated, Backbac said to\nthem, \"Brothers, we must shut the door, and take care there be no\nstranger with us.\" At this the robber 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, and had sat down\nagain in their places, the robber left his rope, and seated\nhimself softly by my brother, who thinking himself alone with his\nblind comrades, said to them, \"Brothers, since you have trusted\nme with the money, which we have been a long time gathering, I\nwill show you that I am not unworthy of the confidence you repose\nin me. The last time we reckoned, you know we had ten thousand\ndirhems, and that we put them into ten bags; I will shew you that\nI have not touched one of them:\" having so said, he put his hand\namong some old clothes, 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 need,\nthey did not mistrust him; so he opened one of the bags, and took\nout ten dirhems, and each of the other blind men did the like.\n\nMy brother put the bags into their place again: after which, one\nof the blind men said to him, \"There is no need to lay out\nanything for supper, for I have collected as much victuals from\ngood people as will serve us all.\" At the same time he took out\nof his bag bread and cheese, and some fruit, and putting all upon\nthe table, they began to eat, The robber, who sat at my brother's\nright hand, picked out the best, and eat with them; but whatever\ncare he took to make no noise, Backbac heard his chaps going, and\ncried out immediately, \"We are undone, there is a stranger among\nus:\" having so said, he stretched out his hand, and caught hold\nof the robber by the arm, cried out \"Thieves!\" fell upon him, and\nstruck him. The other blind men fell upon him in like manner; the\nrobber defended himself as well as he could, and being young and\nvigorous, besides having the advantage of his eyes, gave furious\nblows, sometimes to one, sometimes to another, and cried out\n\"Thieves!\" louder than they did. The neighbours came running at\nthe noise, broke open the door, and had much ado to separate the\ncombatants; but having at last succeeded, they asked the cause of\ntheir quarrel. My brother, who still had hold of the robber,\ncried out, \"Gentlemen, this man I have hold of is a thief, and\nstole in with us on purpose to rob us of the little money we\nhave.\" The thief, who shut his eyes as soon as the neighbours\ncame, feigned himself blind, and exclaimed, \"Gentlemen, he is a\nliar. I swear to you by heaven, and by the life of the caliph,\nthat I am their companion, and they refuse to give me my just\nshare. They have all three fallen upon me, and I demand justice.\"\nThe neighbours would not interfere in their quarrel, but carried\nthem all before the judge.\n\nWhen they came before the magistrate, the robber, without staying\nto be examined, cried out, still feigning himself blind, \"Sir,\nsince you are deputed to administer justice by the caliph, whom\nGod prosper, I declare to you that we are equally criminal, my\nthree comrades and I; but we have all engaged, upon oath, to\nconfess nothing except we be bastinadoed; so that if you would\nknow our crime, you need only order us to be bastinadoed, and\nbegin with me.\" My brother would have spoken, but was not allowed\nto do so: and the robber was put under the bastinado.\n\nThe robber being under the bastinado, had the courage to bear\ntwenty or thirty blows; when, pretended to be overcome with pain,\nhe first opened one eve, 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 robber, \"I will discover to you an\nimportant secret, if you will pardon me, and give me, as a pledge\nthat you will keep your word, the seal-ring which you have on\nyour finger.\" The judge consented, gave him his ring, and\npromised him pardon. \"Under this promise,\" continued the robber,\n\"I must confess to you sir, that I and my three comrades do all\nof us see very well. We feigned ourselves to be blind, that we\nmight freely enter people's houses, and women's apartments, where\nwe abuse their weakness. I must farther confess to you, that by\nthis trick we have gained together ten thousand dirhems. This day\nI demanded of my partners two thousand five hundred that belonged\nto my share, but they refused because I told them I would leave\nthem; and they were afraid I should accuse them. Upon my pressing\nstill to have my share, they fell upon me; for which I appeal to\nthose people who brought us before you. I expect from your\njustice, sir, that you will make them deliver me the two thousand\nfive hundred dirhems which is my due; and if you have a mind that\nmy comrades should confess the truth, you must order them three\ntimes as many blows as I have had, and you will find they will\nopen their eyes as well as I have done.\"\n\nMy brother and the other two blind men would have cleared\nthemselves of this horrid charge, but the judge would not hear\nthem: \"Villains,\" said he, \"do you feign yourselves blind then,\nand, under that pretext of moving their compassion, cheat people,\nand commit such crimes?\" \"He is an impostor,\" cried my brother,\n\"and we take God to 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 expected them\nto open their eyes, and ascribed to their obstinacy what really\nthey could not do. All the while the robber said to the blind\nmen, \"Poor fools that you are, open your eyes, and do not suffer\nyourselves to be beaten to death.\" Then addressing himself to the\njudge, said, \"I perceive, sir, that they will be maliciously\nobstinate to the last, and will never open their eyes. They wish\ncertainly to avoid the shame of reading their own condemnation in\nthe face of every one that looks upon them; it were better, if\nyou think fit, to pardon them, and to send some person along with\nme for the ten thousand dirhems they have hidden.\"\n\nThe judge consented to give the robber two thousand five hundred\ndirhems, and kept the rest himself; and as for my brother and his\ntwo companions, he thought he shewed them pity by sentencing them\nonly to be banished. As soon as I heard what had befallen my\nbrother, I went to him; he told me his misfortune, and I brought\nhim back secretly to the town. I could easily have justified him\nto the judge, and have had the robber punished as he deserved,\nbut durst not make the attempt, for fear of bringing myself into\ndanger of assassination. Thus I finished the sad adventure of my\nhonest blind brother. The caliph laughed at it, as much as at\nthose he had heard before, and ordered again that something\nshould be given me; but without staying for it, I began the story\nof my fourth brother.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Barber's Fourth Brother.\n\n\n\nAlcouz was the name of the fourth brother who lost one of his\neyes, upon an occasion that I shall have the honour to relate to\nyour majesty. He was a butcher by profession, and had a\nparticular way of teaching rams to fight, by which he gained the\nacquaintance and friendship of the chief lords of the country,\nwho loved that sport, and for that end kept rams at their houses.\nHe had besides a very good trade, and had his shop always full of\nthe best meat, because he spared no cost for the prime of every\nsort. One day when he was in his shop, an old man with a long\nwhite beard came and bought six pounds of meat of him, gave him\nmoney for it, and went his way. My brother thought the money so\npure and well coined, that he put it apart by itself: the same\nold man came every day for five months together, bought a like\nquantity of meat, and paid for it in the same kind of money,\nwhich my brother continued to lay apart.\n\nAt the end of five months, Alcouz having a mind to buy a lot of\nsheep, and to pay for them in this money, opened his chest; but\ninstead of finding his money, was extremely surprised to see\nnothing in the place where he had laid it, but a parcel of leaves\nclipped round. He beat his head, and cried out aloud, which\npresently brought the neighbours about him, who were as much\nsurprised as he, when he told them the story. \"O!\" cried my\nbrother, weeping, \"that this treacherous old fellow would come\nnow with his hypocritical looks!\" He had scarcely spoken, when he\nsaw him at a distance; he ran to him, and laid hands on him;\n\"Moosulmauns,\" 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 said\nto him very gravely and calmly, \"You had better let me go, and by\nthat means make amends for the affront you have put upon me\nbefore so many people, for fear I should put a greater affront\nupon you, which I should be sorry to do.\" \"How,\" said my brother,\n\"what have you to say against me? I am an honest man in my\nbusiness, and fear not you, nor any body.\" \"You would have me\nspeak out then,\" resumed the old man in the same tone; and\nturning to the crowd, said to them, \"Know, good people, that this\nfellow, instead of selling mutton as he ought to do, sells human\nflesh.\" \"You are a cheat,\" said my brother. \"No, no,\" continued\nthe old man; \"good people, this very minute while I am speaking\nto him, there is a man with his throat cut hung up in the shop\nlike a sheep; do any of you go thither, and see if what I say be\nnot true.\"\n\nJust before my brother had opened his chest he had killed a\nsheep, dressed it, and exposed it in the shop, according to\ncustom: he protested that what the old man said was false; but\nnotwithstanding all his protestations, the credulous mob,\nprejudiced against a man accused of such a heinous crime, would\ngo to see whether the charge were true. They obliged my brother\nto quit the old man, laid hold of him, and ran like madmen into\nhis shop, where they saw, to all appearance, a man hung up with\nhis throat cut, as the old man had told them; for he was a\nmagician, and deceived the eyes of all people, as he did my\nbrother, when he made him take leaves instead of money. At this\nsight, one of those who held Alcouz gave him a violent blow with\nhis fist, and said to him, \"Thou wicked villain, dost thou make\nus eat man's flesh instead of mutton?\" And at the same time the\nold man gave him another blow, which beat out one of his eyes.\nEvery body that could get near him struck him; and not content\nwith that, they carried him before a judge, with the pretended\ncarcase of the man, to be evidence against him.\" \"Sir,\" said the\nold magician to the judge, \"we have brought you a man, who is so\nbarbarous as to murder people, and to sell their flesh instead of\nmutton. The public expects that you will punish him in an\nexemplary manner.\" The judge heard my brother with patience, but\nwould believe nothing of the story of the money changed into\nleaves, called my brother a cheat, told him he would believe his\nown eyes, and ordered him to receive five hundred blows. He\nafterwards made him tell him where his money was, took it all\nfrom him, and banished him for ever, after having made him ride\nthree days through the city upon a camel, exposed to the insults\nof the people.\n\nI was not at Bagdad when this tragical adventure befell 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\nmangled. When he was able to walk, he went by night to a certain\ntown where nobody knew him; and there he took a lodging, from\nwhence he seldom moved; but being weary of this confined life, he\nwent to walk in one of the suburbs, where suddenly he heard a\nnoise of horsemen coming behind him. He was then by chance near\nthe gate of a house, and fearing, after what had befallen him,\nthat these horsemen were pursuing him, he opened the gate in\norder to hide himself, and after he had shut it, entered a court,\nwhere immediately two servants came and collared him, saying,\n\"Heaven be praised, that you have come of your own accord to\nsurrender yourself; you have alarmed us so much these three last\nnights, that we could not sleep; nor would you have spared our\nlives, if we had not prevented your design.\" You may well imagine\nmy brother was much surprised. \"Good people,\" said he, \"I know\nnot what you mean; you certainly take me for somebody else.\" \"No,\nno,\" replied they, \"we know that you and your comrades are\nrobbers: you were not contented to rob our master of all that he\nhad, and to reduce him to beggary, but you conspired to take his\nlife. Let us see if you have not a knife about you, which you had\nin your hand when you pursued us last night.\" Having said thus,\nthey searched him, and found he had a knife. \"Ho! ho!\" cried\nthey, laying hold of him, \"and dare you say that you are not a\nrobber?\" \"Why,\" said my brother, \"cannot a man carry a knife\nabout him without being a robber? If you will hearken to my\nstory, instead of having so bad an opinion of me, you will be\ntouched with compassion at my misfortunes.\" But far from\nattending to him, they fell upon him, trod upon him, took away\nhis clothes, and tore his shirt. Then seeing the scars on his\nback, \"O dog,\" said they, redoubling their blows, \"would you have\nus believe you are an honest man, when your back shews us the\ncontrary?\" \"Alas!\" said my brother, \"my crimes must be very\ngreat, since, after having been abused already so unjustly, I am\nthus treated a second time without being more culpable!\"\n\nThe two servants, no way moved with his complaint, carried him\nbefore the judge, who asked him how he durst presume to go into\ntheir house, and pursue them with a drawn knife? \"Sir,\" replied\nthe unfortunate Alcouz, \"I am the most innocent man in the world,\nand am undone if you will not be pleased to hear me patiently: no\none deserves more compassion.\" \"Sir,\" exclaimed one of the\ndomestics, \"will you listen to a robber, who enters people's\nhouses to plunder and murder them? If you will not believe us,\nonly look upon his back;\" and while he said so he uncovered my\nbrother's back, and shewed it to the judge, who, without any\nother information, commanded his officers immediately to give him\na hundred lashes over the shoulders, and made him afterwards be\ncarried through the town on a camel, with one crying before him,\n\"Thus are men punished who enter people's houses by force.\" After\nhaving treated him thus, they banished him the town, and forbad\nhim ever to return. Some people, who met him after the second\nmisfortune, brought me word where he was; I went, brought him to\nBagdad privately, and gave him all the assistance I could. The\ncaliph did not laugh so much at this story as at the other. He\nwas pleased to pity the unfortunate Alcouz, and ordered something\nto be given me. But without giving his servants time to obey his\norders, I continued my discourse, and said to him: \"My sovereign\nlord and master, you see that I do not talk much; and since your\nmajesty has been pleased to do me the favour to listen to me so\nfar, I beg you would likewise hear the adventures of my two other\nbrothers; I hope they will be as diverting as those of the\nformer. You may make a complete history of them, that will not be\nunworthy of your library: I shall do myself the honour then to\nacquaint you, that the fifth brother was called Alnaschar.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Barber's Fifth Brother.\n\n\n\nAlnaschar, as long as our father lived, was very lazy; instead of\nworking he used to beg in the evening, and live upon what he got.\nOur father died at a very old age, and left among us seven\nhundred dirhems: we divided equally, so that each of us had a\nhundred for his share. Alnaschar, who had never before possessed\nso much money, was much perplexed to know what he should do with\nit. He consulted a long time with himself, and at last resolved\nto lay it out in glass-ware which he bought of a wholesale\ndealer. He put all in an open basket, and sat with it before him,\nand his back against a wall, in a place where he might sell it.\nIn this posture, with his eyes fixed on his basket, he began to\nmeditate; during which he spoke as follows: \"This basket cost me\na hundred dirhems, which is all I have in the world. I shall make\ntwo hundred of them by retailing my glass, and of these two\nhundred, which I will again lay out in glass-ware, I shall make\nfour hundred; and going on thus, I shall at last make four\nthousand dirhems; of four thousand I shall easily make eight\nthousand, and when I come to ten thousand, I will leave off\nselling glass and turn jeweller; I will trade in diamonds,\npearls, and all sorts of precious stones: then when I am as rich\nas I can wish, I will buy a fine mansion, a great estate, slaves,\neunuchs, and horses. I will keep a good house, and make a great\nfigure in the world; I will send for all the musicians and\ndancers of both sexes in town. Nor will I stop here, for, I will,\nby the favour of Heaven, go on till I get one hundred thousand\ndirhems, and when I have amassed so much, I will send to demand\nthe grand vizier's daughter in marriage; and represent to that\nminister, that I have heard much of the wonderful beauty,\nunderstanding, wit, and all the other qualities of his daughter;\nin a word, that I will give him a thousand pieces of gold the\nfirst night after we are married; and if the vizier be so uncivil\nas to refuse his daughter, which cannot be supposed, I will go\nand carry her off before his face, and take her to my house\nwhether he will or no. As soon as I have married the grand\nvizier's daughter, I will buy her ten young black eunuchs, the\nhandsomest that can be had; I will clothe my self like a prince,\nand mounted upon a fine horse, with a saddle of fine gold, with\nhousings of cloth of gold, finely embroidered with diamonds and\npearls, I will ride through the city, attended by slaves before\nand behind. I will go to the vizier's palace in view of all the\npeople great and small, who will show me the most profound\nrespect. When I alight at the foot of the vizier's staircase, I\nwill ascend through my own people, ranged in files on the right\nand left; and the grand vizier, receiving me as his son-in-law,\nshall give me the right hand and set me above him, to do me the\nmore honour. If this comes to pass, as I hope it will, two of my\npeople shall each of them have a purse with a thousand pieces of\ngold, which they shall carry with them. I will take one, and\npresenting it to the grand vizier, tell him, \u0091There is the\nthousand pieces of gold that I promised the first night of\nmarriage:' and I will offer him the other and say to him, \u0091There\nis as much more, to shew you that I am a man of my word, and even\nbetter than my promise.' After such an action as this, all the\nworld will talk of my generosity. I will return to my own house\nin the same pomp. My wife will send some officer to compliment\nme, on account of my visit to the vizier, her father: I will\nhonour the officer with a fine robe, and send him back with a\nrich present. If she send me a present, I will not accept it, but\ndismiss the bearer. I will not suffer her to go out of her\napartment on any account whatever, without giving me notice: and\nwhen I have a mind to come to her apartment, it shall be in such\na manner as to make her respect me. In short, no house shall be\nbetter ordered than mine. I will be always richly clad. When I\nretire with my wife in the evening, I will sit on the upper seat,\nI will affect a grave air, without turning my head to one side or\nthe other. I will speak little; and whilst my wife, beautiful as\nthe full moon, stands before me in all her charms, I will make as\nif I did not see her. Her women about her will say to me, \u0091Our\ndear lord and master, here is your spouse, your humble servant,\nbefore you, ready to receive your caresses, but much mortified\nthat you do not vouchsafe to look upon her; she is wearied with\nstanding so long, bid her, at least, sit down.' I will make no\nanswer, which will increase their surprise and grief. They will\nprostrate themselves at my feet; and after they have for a\nconsiderable time entreated me to relent, I will at last lift up\nmy head, give her a careless look, and resume my former posture:\nthey will suppose that my wife is not handsomely enough dressed,\nand will carry her to her closet to change her apparel. At the\nsame time I will get up and put on a more magnificent suit; they\nwill return and address me as before, but I will not so much as\nlook upon my wife, till they have prayed and entreated as long as\nthey did at first. Thus I will begin on the first day of\nmarriage, to teach her what she is to expect during the rest of\nher life.\n\n\"After the ceremonies of the marriage, I will take from one of my\nservants, who shall be about me, a purse of five hundred pieces\nof gold, which I will give to the tire-women, that they may leave\nme alone with my spouse: when they are gone, my wife shall go to\nbed first; then I will lie down by her with my back towards her,\nand will not say one wore to her all night. The next morning she\nwill certainly complain of my contempt and of my pride, to her\nmother the grand vizier's wife, which will rejoice my heart. Her\nmother will come to wait upon me, respectfully kiss my hands, and\nsay to me, \u0091Sir' (for she will not dare to call me son-in-law,\nfor fear of provoking me by such a familiar style), \u0091I entreat\nyou not to disdain to look on my daughter, and refuse to come\nnear her. I assure you that her chief delight is to please you,\nand that she loves you with all her soul.' But in spite of all my\nmother-in-law can say, I will not answer her one word, but keep\nan obstinate gravity. Then she will throw herself at my feet,\nkiss them repeatedly, and say to me, \u0091Sir, is it possible that\nyou can suspect my daughter's virtue? You are the first man who\never saw her face: do not mortify her so much; do her the favour\nto look upon her, to speak to her, and confirm her in her good\nintentions to satisfy you in every thing.' But nothing of this\nshall prevail with me. Upon which my mother-in-law will take a\nglass of wine, and putting it in the hand of her daughter my\nwife, will say, \u0091Go, present him this glass of wine yourself;\nperhaps he will not be so cruel as to refuse it from so fair a\nhand.' My wife will come with the glass and stand trembling\nbefore me; and when she finds that I do not look towards her, but\nthat I continue to disdain her, she will say to me with tears in\nher eyes, \u0091My heart, my dear soul, my amiable lord, I conjure\nyou, by the favours which heaven heaps upon you, to receive this\nglass of wine from the hand of your most humble servant:' but I\nwill not look upon her still, nor answer her. \u0091My charming\nspouse,' will she say, redoubling her tears, and putting the\nglass to my mouth, \"I will never cease till I prevail with you to\ndrink;' then, wearied with her entreaties, I will dart a terrible\nlook at her, shake my hand in her face, and spurn her from me\nwith my foot.\"\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 to his basket and glasses, that\nthey were thrown down, and broken into a thousand pieces,\n\nOn this fatal accident, he came to himself, and perceiving that\nhe had brought misfortune upon himself by his insupportable\npride, beat his face, tore his clothes, and cried so loud, that\nthe neighbours came about him; and the people, who were going to\ntheir noon prayers, stopped to know what was the matter. Being on\na Friday, more people went to prayers than usual; some of them\ntook pity on Alnaschar, and others only laughed at his\nextravagance. In the mean time, his vanity being dispersed with\nhis property, he bitterly bewailed his loss; and a lady of rank\npassing by upon a mule richly caparisoned, my brother's situation\nmoved her compassion. She asked who he was, and what he cried\nfor? They told her, that he was a poor man, who had laid out the\nlittle money he possessed in the purchase of a basket of\nglassware, that the basket had fallen, and all his glasses were\nbroken. The lady immediately turned to an eunuch who attended\nher, and said to him, \"Give the poor man what you have about\nyou.\" The eunuch obeyed, and put into my brother's hands a purse\nwith five hundred pieces of gold. Alnaschar was ready to die with\njoy when he received it. He gave a thousand blessings to the\nlady, and shutting up his shop, where he had no more occasion to\nsit, went to his house.\n\nWhile he was pondering over his good luck, he heard somebody\nknock at his door. Before he opened, he asked who it was, and\nknowing by the voice that it was a woman, he let her in. \"My\nson,\" said she, \"I have a favour to beg of you: the hour of\nprayer is come, let me perform my ablutions in your house, that I\nmay be fit to say my prayers.\" My brother looking at her, and\nseeing that she was well advanced in years, though he knew her\nnot, granted her request, and sat down again still full of his\nnew adventure. He put his gold in a long strait purse, proper to\ncarry at his girdle. The old woman in the mean time said her\nprayers, and when she had done, came to my brother and bowed\ntwice to the ground, so low, that she touched it with her\nforehead: then rising up, she wished him all happiness.\n\nThe old woman then bowed again, and thanked him for his civility.\nBeing meanly clad, and very humble, he thought she asked alms;\nupon which he offered her two pieces of gold. The old woman\nstepped back in a sort of surprise, as if my brother had\naffronted her. \"Good God!\" said she, \"what is the meaning of\nthis? Is it possible, sir, that you took me for one of those\nimpudent beggars who push into people's houses to ask alms? Take\nback your money: thank heaven, I need it not. I belong to a young\nlady of this city, who is a perfect beauty, and very rich; she\nlets me want for nothing.\"\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\nmight catch more. He asked her, if she could not procure him the\nhonour of seeing that lady. \"With all my heart,\" she replied;\n\"she will be very glad to marry you, and to put you in possession\nof her fortune, by making you master of her person. Take up your\nmoney, and follow me.\" My brother, transported with his good luck\nin finding so great a sum of money, and almost at the same time a\nbeautiful and rich wife, shut his eyes to all other\nconsiderations; so that he took his five hundred pieces of gold,\nand followed the old woman. She walked on, and he followed at a\ndistance, to the gate of a great house, where she knocked. He\ncame up just as a young Greek slave opened the gate. The old\nwoman made him enter first, crossed a well-paved court, and\nintroduced him into a hall, the furniture of which confirmed him\nin the good opinion he had conceived of the mistress of the\nhouse. While the old woman went to acquaint the lady, he sat\ndown, and the weather being hot, put off his turban, and laid it\nby him. He speedily saw the young lady enter: her beauty and rich\napparel perfectly surprised him; he arose as soon as he saw her.\nThe lady, with a smiling countenance, prayed him to sit down\nagain, and placed herself by him. She told him, she was very glad\nto see him; and after having spoken some engaging words, said,\n\"We do not sit here at our ease. Come, give me your hand.\" At\nthese words she presented him hers, and conducted him into an\ninner chamber, where she conversed with him for some time: she\nthen left him, saying that she would be with him in a moment. He\nwaited for her; but instead of the lady came in a great black\nslave with a cimeter in his hand, and looking upon my brother\nwith a terrible aspect, said to him fiercely, \"What have you to\ndo here?\" Alnaschar was so frightened, that he had no power to\nanswer. The black stripped him, carried off his gold, and gave\nhim several flesh wounds with his cimeter. My unhappy brother\nfell to the ground, where he lay without motion, though he had\nstill the use of his senses. The black thinking him to be dead,\nasked for salt: the Greek slave brought him a basin full: they\nrubbed my brother's wounds with it, but he had so much command of\nhimself, notwithstanding the intolerable pain it put him to, that\nhe lay still without giving any sign of life. The black and the\nGreek slave having retired, the old woman, who had enticed my\nbrother into the snare, came and dragged him by the feet to a\ntrapdoor, which she opened, and threw him into a place under\nground, among the bodies of several other people who had been\nmurdered. He perceived this as soon as he came to himself, for\nthe violence of the fall had taken away his senses. The salt\nrubbed into his wounds preserved his life, and he recovered\nstrength by degrees, so as to be able to walk. After two days he\nopened the trap-door in the night, and finding in the court a\nplace proper to hide himself in, continued there till break of\nday, when he saw the cursed old woman open the street gate, and\ngo out to seek another victim. He stayed in the place some time\nafter she was gone, that she might not see him, and then came to\nme for shelter, when he told me of his adventures.\n\nIn a month's time he was perfectly cured of his wounds by\nmedicines that I gave him, and resolved to avenge himself of the\nold woman, who had put such a barbarous cheat upon him. To this\nend he took a bag, large enough to contain five hundred pieces of\ngold, and filled it with pieces of glass.\n\n\nMy brother fastened the bag of glass about him, disguised himself\nlike an old woman, and took a cimeter under his gown. One morning\nhe met the old woman walking through the town to seek her prey;\nhe went up to her, and counterfeiting a woman's voice, said,\n\"Cannot you lend me a pair of scales? I am newly come from\nPersia, have brought five hundred pieces of gold with me, and\nwould know if they are weight.\" \"Good woman,\" answered the old\nhag, \"you could not have applied to a fitter person: follow me, I\nwill conduct you to my son, who changes money, and will weigh\nthem himself to save you the trouble. Let us make haste, for fear\nhe should go to his shop.\" My brother followed her to the house\nwhere she carried him at first, and the Greek slave opened the\ndoor.\n\nThe old woman took my brother to the hall where she desired him\nto wait till she called her son. The pretended son came, and\nproved to be the villainous black slave. \"Come, old woman,\" said\nhe to my brother, \"rise and follow me:\" having spoken thus, he\nwent before to conduct him to the place where he designed to\nmurder him. Alnaschar got up, followed him, and drawing his\ncimeter, gave him such a dexterous blow behind on the neck, that\nhe cut off his head, which he took in one hand, and dragging the\ncorpse with the other, threw them both into the place under\nground before-mentioned. The Greek slave, who was accustomed to\nthe trade, came presently with a basin of salt; but when she saw\nAlnaschar with his cimeter in his hand, and without his veil, she\nlaid down the basin, and fled. But my brother overtaking her, cut\noff her head also. The wicked old woman came running at the\nnoise, and my brother seizing her, said to her, \"Treacherous\nwretch, do not you know me?\" \"Alas, Sir!\" answered she trembling,\n\"who are you? I do not remember that I ever saw you.\" \"I am,\"\nreplied he, \"the person to whose house you came the other day to\nwash and say your prayers. Hypocritical hag, do not you\nremember?\" Then she fell on her knees to beg his pardon, but he\ncut 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\nsuch wicked people, as I have so justly revenged myself upon?\" \"I\nwas,\" she answered, \"wife to an honest merchant; and the old\nwoman, whose wickedness I did not then know, used sometimes to\ncome to see me; \u0091Madam,' said she to me one day, \u0091we have a\nwedding at our house, which you will be pleased to see, if you\nwill give us the honour of your company:' I was persuaded by her,\nput on my best apparel, and took with me a hundred pieces of\ngold. I followed her; she brought me to this house, where the\nblack has since kept me by force, and I have been three years\nhere to my great sorrow.\" \"By the trade which that cursed black\nfollowed,\" replied my brother, \"he must have gathered together a\nvast deal of riches.\" \"There is so much,\" said she \"that you will\nbe made for ever, if you can carry them off: follow me, and you\nshall see them.\" Alnaschar followed her to a chamber, where she\nshewed him several coffers full of gold, which he beheld with\nadmiration. \"Go,\" said she, \"and fetch people to carry it all\noff.\" My brother went out, got ten men together, and brought them\nwith him, but was much surprised to find the gate open, the lady\nand the coffers gone, for she being more diligent than he, had\nconveyed them all off and disappeared. However, being resolved\nnot to return empty-handed, he carried off all the furniture of\nthe house, which was a great deal more than enough to make up the\nfive hundred pieces of gold he had been robbed of; 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, for they looked upon my brother's\nconduct as suspicious. Alnaschar slept well enough all night, but\nthe next morning, when he came out of his house, twenty of the\nmagistrate's men seized him. \"Come along with us,\" said they,\n\"our 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 with them. They met in the street an old\nacquaintance of my brother's, who stopped them awhile, asked them\nwhy they had seized my brother, offered them a considerable sum\nto let him escape, and tell the magistrate they could not find\nhim, but in vain.\n\nWhen the officers brought him before the magistrate, he asked him\nwhere he had the goods which he had carried home the preceding\nevening? \"Sir,\" replied Alnaschar, \"I am ready to tell you all\nthe truth; but allow me first to have recourse to your clemency,\nand to beg your promise, that I shall not be punished.\" \"I give\nit you,\" said the magistrate. My brother then told him the whole\nstory without disguise, from the period the old woman came into\nhis house to say her prayers, to the time the lady made her\nescape, after he had killed the black, the Greek slave, and the\nold woman: and as for what he had carried to his house, he prayed\nthe judge to leave him part of it, for the five hundred pieces of\ngold of which he had been robbed.\n\nThe judge, without promising any thing, sent his officers to\nbring off the whole, and having put the goods into his own\nwarehouse, commanded my brother to quit the town immediately, and\nnever to return, for he was afraid, if he had stayed 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 secretly\ninto the town, where I took the like care of him as I did of his\nother brothers.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Barber's Sixth Brother.\n\n\n\nI have now only to relate the story of my sixth brother, called\nSchacabac, with the hare lips. At first he was industrious enough\nto improve the hundred dirhems of silver which fell to his share,\nand went on very well; but a reverse of fortune brought him to\nbeg his bread, which he did with a great deal of dexterity. He\nstudied chiefly to get into great men's houses by means of their\nservants and officers, that he might have access to their\nmasters, and obtain their charity. One day as he passed by a\nmagnificent house, whose high gate shewed a very spacious court,\nwhere there was a multitude of servants, he went to one of them,\nand asked him to whom that house belonged? \"Good man,\" replied\nthe servant, \"whence do you come that you ask me such a question?\nDoes not all that you behold point out to you that it is the\npalace of a Barmecide?\" \"My brother, who very well knew the\nliberality and generosity of the Barmecides, addressed himself to\none of his porters (for he had more than one), and prayed him to\ngive him alms. \"Go in,\" said he, \"nobody hinders you, and address\nyourself to the master of the house; he will send you back\nsatisfied.\"\n\nMy brother, who expected no such civility, thanked the porters,\nand with their permission entered the palace, which was so large,\nthat it took him a considerable time to reach the Barmecide's.\napartment; at last he came to an arcade square building of an\nexcellent architecture, and entered by parterres of flowers\nintersected by walks of several colours, extremely pleasant to\nthe eye: the lower apartments round this square were most of them\nopen, and were shut only with great curtains to keep out the sun,\nwhich were opened again when the heat was over to let in the\nfresh air.\n\nSuch an agreeable place would have struck my brother with\nadmiration, even if his mind had been more at ease than it was.\nHe went on till he came into a hall richly furnished and adorned\nwith painting of gold and azure foliage, where he saw a venerable\nman with a long white beard, sitting at the upper end on a sofa,\nwhence he concluded him to be the master of the house; and in\nfact it was the Barmecide 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\na poor man who stands in need of the help of such rich and\ngenerous persons as yourself.\" He could not have addressed\nhimself to a fitter person than this lord, who had a thousand\ngood qualities.\n\nThe Barmecide seemed to be astonished at my brother's answer, and\nputting both his hands to his stomach, as if he would rend his\nclothes 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 happiness. \"It shall not be said,\"\nreplied the Barmecide, \"that I will abandon you, nor will I have\nyou leave me.\" \"Sir,\" replied my brother, \"I swear to you I have\nnot eaten one bit to-day.\" \"Is it true,\" demanded the Barmecide,\n\"that you are fasting till now? Alas, poor man! he is ready to\ndie for hunger. Ho, boy,\" cried he, with a loud voice, \"bring a\nbasin and water presently, that we may wash our hands.\" Though no\nboy appeared, and my brother saw neither water nor basin, the\nBarmecide fell to rubbing his hands as if one had poured water\nupon them, and bade my brother come and wash with him. Schacabac\njudged by this, that the Barmecide lord loved to be merry, and he\nhimself understanding raillery, and knowing that the poor must be\ncomplaisant to the rich, if they would have any thing from them,\ncame forward and did as he was required.\n\n\"Come on,\" said the Barmecide, \"bring us something to eat, and do\nnot let us wait.\" When he had spoken, though nothing appeared, he\nbegan to cut as if something had been brought him 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;\ncome, eat; you said you were like to die of hunger, but you eat\nas if you had no appetite.\" \"Pardon me, my lord,\" said Schacabac,\nwho perfectly imitated what he did, \"you see I lose no time, and\nthat I play my part well enough.\" \"How like you this bread,\" said\nthe Barmecide; \"do not you find it very good?\" \"O! my lord,\"\nreplied my brother, who saw neither bread nor meat, \"I have never\neaten anything so white and so fine.\" \"Eat your belly-full,\" said\nthe Barmecide; \"I assure you the woman who bakes me this good\nbread cost me five hundred pieces of gold to purchase her.\"\n\nThe Barmecide, after having boasted so much of his bread, which\nmy brother ate only in idea, cried, \"Boy, bring us another dish:\"\nand though no boy appeared, \"Come, my good friend,\" continued he,\n\"taste this new dish; and tell me if ever you ate better mutton\nand barley-broth than this.\" \"It is admirably good,\" replied my\nbrother, \"and therefore you see I eat heartily.\" \"You oblige me\nhighly,\" resumed the Barmecide; \"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\nfor a goose and sweet sauce, made up of vinegar, honey, dry\nraisins, grey peas, and dry figs, which were brought just in the\nsame manner as the others had. \"The goose is very fat,\" said the\nBarmecide, \"eat only a leg and a wing; we must save our stomachs,\nfor we have abundance of other dishes to come.\" He actually\ncalled for several others, of which my brother, who was ready to\ndie of hunger, pretended to eat; but what he boasted of more than\nall the rest was a lamb fed with pistachio nuts, which he ordered\nto be brought up in the same manner. \"Here is a dish,\" said the\nBarmecide \"that you will see at nobody's table but my own; I\nwould have you eat your belly-full of it.\" Having spoken thus, he\nstretched out his hand as if he had had a piece of lamb in it,\nand putting it to my brother's mouth, \"There,\" said he, \"swallow\nthat, and you will judge whether I had not reason to boast of\nthis dish.\" My brother thrust out his head, opened his mouth, and\nmade as if he took the piece of lamb, and eat it with extreme\npleasure. \"I knew you would like it,\" said the Barmecide. \"There\nis nothing in the world finer,\" replied my brother; \"your table\nis most delicious.\" \"Come, bring the ragout; I fancy you will\nlike that as well as you did the lamb: Well, how do you relish\nit?\" \"O! it is wonderful,\" replied Schacabac; \"for here we taste\nall at once, amber, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, pepper, and the most\nodoriferous herbs, and all these delicacies are so well mixed,\nthat one does not prevent our tasting the other.\" \"How pleasant!\nHonour this ragout,\" said the Barmecide, \"by eating heartily of\nit. Ho, boy, bring us another ragout.\" \"No, my lord, if it please\nyou,\" replied my brother, \"for indeed I can eat no more.\"\n\n\"Come, take away then,\" said the Barmecide, \"and bring the\nfruit.\" He stayed a moment as it were to give time for his\nservants to carry away; after which, he addressed my brother,\n\"Taste these almonds, they are good and fresh gathered.\" Both of\nthem made as if they had peeled the almonds, and eaten them;\nafter this, the Barmecide invited my brother to eat something\nelse. \"Look,\" said he, \"there are all sorts of fruits, cakes, dry\nsweetmeats, and conserves, take what you like;\" then stretching\nout his hand, as if he had reached my brother something, \"Look,\"\nhe continued, \"there is a lozenge, very good for digestion.\"\nSchacabac made as if he ate it, and said, \"My lord, there is no\nwant of musk here.\" \"These lozenges,\" replied the Barmecide, \"are\nmade at my own house, where nothing is wanting to make every\narticle good.\" He still bade my brother eat, and said to him,\n\"Methinks you do not eat as if you had been so hungry as you\ncomplained you were when you came in.\" \"My lord,\" replied\nSchacabac, whose jaws ached with moving and having nothing to\neat, \"I assure you I am so full that I cannot eat one bit more.\"\n\n\"Well, then, friend,\" resumed the Barmecide, \"we must drink now,\nafter we have eaten so well.\" \"You may drink wine, my lord,\"\nreplied my brother, \"but I will drink none if you please, because\nI am forbidden.\" \"You are too scrupulous,\" rejoined the\nBarmecide; \"do as I do.\" \"I will drink then out of complaisance,\"\nsaid Schacabac, \"for I see you will have nothing wanting to make\nyour treat complete; but since I am not accustomed to drink wine,\nI am afraid I shall commit some error in point of good breeding,\nand contrary to the respect that is due to you; therefore I pray\nyou, once more, to excuse me from drinking any wine; I will be\ncontent with water.\" \"No, no,\" said the Barmecide, \"you shall\ndrink wine,\" and at the same time he commanded some to be\nbrought, in the same manner as the meat and fruit had been served\nbefore. He made as if he poured out wine, and drank first\nhimself, and then pouring out for my brother, presented him the\nglass, saying, \"Drink my health, and let us know if you think\nthis wine good.\" My brother made as if he took the glass, and\nlooked as if the colour was good, and put it to his nose to try\nthe flavour: he then made a low salute to the Barmecide, to\nsignify that he took the liberty to drink his health, and lastly\nhe appeared to drink with all the signs of a man that 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,\"\nanswered the Barmecide, \"you need only speak, for I have several\nsorts in my cellar. Try how you like this.\" Upon which he made as\nif he poured out another glass for himself, and one for my\nbrother; and did this so often, that Schacabac, feigning to be\nintoxicated with the wine, and acting a drunken man, lifted up\nhis hand, and gave the Barmecide such a box on the ear as made\nhim fall down. He was going to give him another blow, but the\nBarmecide holding up his hand to ward it off, cried, \"Are you\nmad?\" Then my brother, making as if he had come to himself again,\nsaid, \"My lord, you have been so good as to admit your slave into\nyour house, and give him a treat; you should have been satisfied\nwith making me eat, and not have obliged me to drink wine; for I\ntold you beforehand, that it might occasion me to fail in my\nrespect for you. I am very sorry for it, and beg you a thousand\npardons.\"\n\nScarcely had he finished these words, when the Barmecide, instead\nof being in a passion, fell a laughing with all his might. \"I\nhave been long,\" said he, \"seeking a man of your character.\"\n\nThe Barmecide caressed Schacabac mightily, and told him, \"I not\nonly forgive the blow you have given me, but I desire\nhenceforward we should be friends, and that you take my house for\nyour home: you have had the complaisance to accommodate yourself\nto my humour, and the patience to keep the jest up to the last;\nwe will now eat in good earnest.\" When he had finished these\nwords, he clapped his hands, and commanded his servants, who then\nappeared, to cover the table; which was speedily done, and my\nbrother was treated with all those dishes in reality, which he\nate of before in fancy. At last they cleared the table, and\nbrought in the wine, and at the same time a number of handsome\nslaves, richly appareled, came and sung some agreeable airs to\ntheir musical instruments. In a word, Schacabac had all the\nreason in the world to be satisfied with the Barmecide's civility\nand bounty; for he treated him as his familiar friend, and\nordered him a suit from his wardrobe.\n\nThe Barmecide found my brother to be a man of so much wit and\nunderstanding, that in a few days after he entrusted him with the\ncare of his household and all his affairs. My brother acquitted\nhimself very well in that employment for twenty years; at the end\nof which the generous Barmecide died, and leaving no heirs, all\nhis property was confiscated to the use of the prince; and my\nbrother lost all he had acquired. Being reduced to his first\ncondition, he joined a caravan of pilgrims going to Mecca,\ndesigning to accomplish that pilgrimage by their charity; but\nunfortunately the caravan was attacked and plundered by a number\nof Bedouins, superior to that of the pilgrims. My brother was\nthen taken as a slave by one of the Bedouins, who put him under\nthe bastinado for several days, to oblige him to ransom himself.\nSchacabac protested that it was all in vain. \"I am your slave,\"\nsaid he, \"you may dispose of me as you please; but I declare to\nyou that I am extremely poor, and not able to redeem myself.\" In\na word, my brother discovered to him all his misfortunes, and\nendeavoured to soften him with tears; but the Bedouin was not to\nbe moved, and being vexed to find himself disappointed of a\nconsiderable sum of which he reckoned himself sure, he took his\nknife and slit my brother's lips. to avenge himself by this\ninhumanity for the loss that he thought he had sustained.\n\nThe Bedouin had a handsome wife, and frequently when he went on\nhis excursions left my brother alone with her. At such times she\nused all her endeavours to comfort my brother under the rigour of\nhis slavery. She gave him tokens enough that she loved him, but\nhe durst not return her passion, for fear he should repent; and\ntherefore avoided being alone with her, as much as she sought the\nopportunity to be alone with him. She was so much in the habit of\ncaressing and playing with the miserable Schacabac, whenever she\nsaw him, that one day she happened to act in the same manner, in\nthe presence of her husband. My brother, without taking notice\nthat he observed them (so his sins would have it), played\nlikewise with her. The Bedouin, immediately supposing that they\nlived together in a criminal manner, fell upon my brother in a\nrage, and after he had mutilated him in a barbarous manner,\ncarried him on a camel to the top of a desert mountain, where he\nleft him. The mountain was on the road to Bagdad, so that the\npassengers who saw him there informed me where he was. I went\nthither speedily, and found 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; that prince applauded me with new\nfits of laughter. \"Now,\" said he, \"I cannot doubt but they justly\ngive you the surname of Silent. No one can say the contrary for\ncertain reasons, however, I command you to depart this town\nimmediately, and let me hear no more of you.\" I yielded to\nnecessity, and travelled for several years in distant countries.\nUnderstanding at last that the caliph was dead, I returned to\nBagdad, where I found not one of my brothers alive. It was on my\nreturn to this city that I did the lame young man the important\nservice which you have heard. You are, however, witnesses of his\ningratitude, and of the injurious manner in which he treated me;\ninstead of testifying his obligation, he rather chose to fly from\nme and leave his own country. When I understood that he was not\nat Bagdad, though no one could tell me whither he was gone, I\ndetermined to seek him. I travelled from province to province a\nlong time; and when I least expected, met him this day, but I\nlittle thought to find him so incensed against me.\n\nWhen the barber had concluded his story, we found that the young\nman was not to blame for calling him a great chatterer. However,\nhe wished him to stay with us, and partake of the entertainment\nwhich the master of the house had prepared. We sat down to table,\nand were merry together till afternoon prayers; when all the\ncompany parted, and I went to my shop, till it was time to return\nhome. It was during this interval that humpback came half drunk\nbefore my shop, where he sung and played on his tabor. I thought\nthat, by carrying him home with me, I should divert my wife,\ntherefore I took him in: my wife gave us a dish of fish, and I\npresented humpback with some, which he ate, without taking notice\nof a bone. He fell down dead before us, and after having in vain\nessayed to help him, in the trouble and fear occasioned by such\nan unlucky accident, we carried the corpse out, and dexterously\nlodged him with the Jewish doctor. The Jewish doctor put him into\nthe chamber of the purveyor, and the purveyor carried him out\ninto the street, where it was believed the merchant had killed\nhim. \"This sir,\" added the tailor, \"is what I had to say to\nsatisfy your majesty, who must pronounce whether we be worthy of\nmercy or wrath, life or death.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar shewed a satisfaction in his countenance,\nwhich restored the tailor and his comrades to life. \"I cannot but\nacknowledge,\" said he, \"that I am more struck with the history of\nthe young cripple, with that of the barber, and with the\nadventures of his brothers, than with the story of my jester: but\nbefore I send you all away, and we proceed to bury humpback, I\nshould like to see the barber who is the occasion of my pardoning\nyou; since he is in my capital, it is easy to satisfy my\ncuriosity.\" At the same time he sent an officer with the tailor\nto find him.\n\nThe officer and the tailor went immediately and brought the\nbarber, whom they presented to the sultan: the barber was a\nvenerable man about ninety years of age; his eye-brows and beard\nwere white as snow, his ears hanging down, and his nose very\nlong. The sultan could not forbear laughing when he saw him.\n\"Silent man,\" said he to him, \"I understand that you know\nwonderful stories, will you tell me some of them?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the barber, \"let us forbear the stories, if you\nplease, at present. I most humbly beg your majesty to permit me\nto ask what that Christian, that Jew, that Moosulmaun and that\ndead humpback, who ties on the ground, do here before your\nmajesty?\" The sultan smiled at the barber's freedom, and replied,\n\"Why do you ask?\" \"Sir,\" replied the barber, \"it concerns me to\nask, that your majesty may know I am not so great a talker as\nsome represent me, but a man justly called Silent.\"\n\nThe sultan commanded them to tell him the story of the humpback,\nwhich he seemed earnestly to wish for. When the barber heard it,\nhe shook his head, as if he would say, there was something under\nthis which he did not understand. \"Truly,\" cried he, \"this is a\nsurprising story; but I wish to examine humpback a little\nnearer.\" He approached him, sat down on the ground, took his head\nbetween his knees, and after he had looked upon him steadfastly,\nfell into so great a fit of laughter, and had so little command\nof himself, that he fell backwards on the ground, without\nconsidering that he was before the sultan of Casgar. As soon as\nhe came to himself, \"It is said,\" cried he, \"and not without\nreason, that no man dies without a cause. If ever any history\ndeserved to be written in letters of gold, it is that of this\nhumpback.\"\n\nAt this all the people looked on the barber as a buffoon, or an\nold dotard. \"Silent man,\" said the sultan, \"why do you laugh?\"\n\"Sir,\" answered the barber, \"I swear by your majesty's\nbenevolence, that humpback is not dead: he is yet alive, and I\nshall be content to pass for a madman if I do not convince you\nthis minute.\" So saying, he took a box wherein he had several\nmedicines that he carried about him to use as occasion might\nrequire; and drew out a little phial of balsam, with which he\nrubbed humpback's neck a long time; then he took out of his case\na neat iron instrument, which he put betwixt his teeth, and after\nhe had opened his mouth, he thrust down his throat a pair of\nsmall pincers, with which he took out a bit of fish and bone,\nwhich he shewed to all the people. Immediately humpback sneezed,\nstretched forth his arms and feet, opened his eyes, and shewed\nseveral other signs of life.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar, and all who were witnesses of this\noperation, were less surprised to see humpback revive, after he\nhad passed a whole night, and great part of a day, without giving\nany sign of life, than at the merit and capacity of the barber,\nwho performed this; and notwithstanding all his faults, began to\nlook upon him as a great physician. The sultan, transported with\njoy and admiration, ordered the story of humpback to be written\ndown, with that of the barber, that the memory of them might, as\nit deserved, be preserved for ever. Nor did he stop here; but,\nthat the tailor, Jewish doctor, purveyor, and Christian merchant\nmight remember the adventure, which the accident of humpback had\noccasioned to them, with pleasure, he did not send them away till\nhe had given each of them a very rich robe, with which he caused\nthem to be clothed in his presence. As for the barber, he\nhonoured him with a great pension, and kept him near his person.\n\n\n\n\n\n         The History of Aboulhassen Ali Ebn Becar, and\n     Schemselnihar, Favourite of Caliph Maroon Al Rusheed.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there lived at\nBagdad a druggist, named Alboussan Ebn Thaher, a very rich\nhandsome man. He had more wit and politeness than people of his\nprofession generally possess: his integrity, sincerity, and good\nhumour made him beloved and sought after by all sorts of people.\nThe caliph, who knew his merit, had entire confidence in him. He\nheld him in such high esteem, that he entrusted him to provide\nhis favourite ladies with all the things they stood in need of.\nHe chose for them their clothes, furniture, and jewels, with\nadmirable taste.\n\nHis good qualities, and the favour of the caliph, occasioned the\nsons of emirs, and other officers of the first rank, to be always\nabout him: his house was the rendezvous of all the nobility of\nthe court Among the young lords that went daily to visit him, was\none whom he took more notice of than the rest, and with whom he\ncontrasted 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 conquest of that\nkingdom. Nature seemed to have taken pleasure in endowing this\nyoung prince with the rarest qualities of body and mind: his face\nwas so very beautiful, his shape so fine, his air so easy, and\nhis physiognomy so engaging, that it was impossible to see him\nwithout immediately loving him. When he spoke, he expressed\nhimself in terms proper and well chosen, with a new and agreeable\nturn, and his voice charmed all that heard him: he had besides so\nmuch wit and judgment, that he thought and spoke of all subjects\nwith admirable exactness. He was so reserved and modest, that he\nadvanced nothing till after he had taken all possible care to\navoid giving any ground of suspicion that he preferred his own\nopinion 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 the vices which composed\nthe opposites to his virtues. One day, when the prince was with\nEbn Thaher, there came a lady mounted on a piebald mule, in the\nmidst of ten female slaves who accompanied her on foot, all very\nhandsome, as far as could be judged by their air, and through\ntheir veils which covered their faces. The lady had a girdle of a\nrose colour, four inches broad, embroidered with pearls and\ndiamonds of an extraordinary bigness; and for beauty it was easy\nto perceive that she surpassed all her women, as far as the full\nmoon does that of two days old. She came to buy something, and as\nshe wanted to speak to Ebn Thaher, entered his shop, which was\nvery neat and spacious; and he received her with all the marks of\nthe most profound respect, entreating her to sit down, and\ndirecting her to the most honourable place.\n\nIn the mean time, the prince of Persia, unwilling to lose such an\nopportunity of strewing his good breeding and gallantry, adjusted\nthe cushion of cloth of gold, for the lady to lean on; after\nwhich he hastily retired, that she might sit down; and having\nsaluted her, by kissing the carpet under her feet, rose and stood\nbefore her at the lower end of the sofa. It being her custom to\nbe free with Ebn Thaher, she lifted up her veil, and discovered\nto the prince of Persia such an extraordinary beauty as struck\nhim to the heart. On the other hand, the lady could not refrain\nfrom looking upon the prince, the sight of whom had made the same\nimpressions upon her. \"My lord,\" said she to him, with an\nobliging air, \"pray sit down.\" The prince of Persia obeyed, and\nsat on the edge of the sofa. He had his eyes constantly fixed\nupon her, and swallowed large draughts of the sweet poison of\nlove. She quickly perceived what passed in his heart, and this\ndiscovery served to inflame her the more towards him. She arose,\nwent to Ebn Thaher, and after she had whispered to him the cause\nof her coming, asked the name and country of the prince. \"Madam,\"\nanswered Ebn Thaher, \"this young nobleman's name is Aboulhassen\nAli Ebn Becar, and he is a prince of the blood royal of Persia.\"\n\nThe lady was transported at hearing that the person she already\nloved so passionately was of so high a rank. \"Do you really\nmean,\" said she, \"that he is descended from the kings of Persia?\"\n\"Yes, madam,\" replied Ebn Thaher, \"the last kings of Persia were\nhis ancestors, and since the conquest of that kingdom, the\nprinces of his family have always made themselves very acceptable\nat the court of our caliphs.\" \"You will oblige me much,\" added\nshe, \"by making me acquainted with this young nobleman: when I\nsend this woman,\" pointing to one of her slaves, \"to give you\nnotice to come and see me, pray bring him with you; I shall be\nglad to afford him the opportunity of seeing the magnificence of\nmy house, that he may have it in his power to say, that avarice\ndoes not reign at Bagdad among persons of quality. You know what\nI mean.\"\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,\n\"God preserve me from giving you any occasion of anger: I shall\nalways make it a law to obey your commands.\" At this answer, the\nlady bowed to Ebn Thaher, and took her leave; and after she had\ngiven a favorable look to the prince of Persia, she remounted her\nmule, and departed.\n\nThe prince of Persia was so deeply in love with the lady, that he\nlooked after her as far as he could; and long after she was out\nof sight directed his eyes that way. Ebn Thaher told him, that he\nremarked several persons observing him, and began to laugh to see\nhim in this posture. \"Alas!\" said the prince, \"the world and you\nwould pity me, if you knew that the beautiful lady, who is just\ngone from you, has carried with her the best part of me, and that\nthe remaining part seeks for an opportunity to go after her. Tell\nme, I conjure you,\" added he, \"what cruel lady is this, who\nforces people to love her, without giving them time to reflect?\"\n\"My lord,\" answered Ebn Thaher, \"this is the celebrated\nSchemselnihar, the principal favourite of the caliph, our\nmaster.\" \"She is justly so called,\" added the prince, \"since she\nis more beautiful than the sun at noonday.\" \"True,\" replied Ebn\nThaher; \"therefore the commander of the faithful loves, or rather\nadores her. He gave me express orders to furnish her with all\nthat she asked for, and to anticipate her wishes as far as lies\nin my power.\"\n\nHe spoke thus to hinder him from engaging in a passion which\ncould not but prove unfortunate to him; but this served only to\ninflame it the more. \"I feared, charming Schemselnihar,\" cried\nhe, \"I should not be allowed so much as to think of you; I\nperceive, however, that without hopes of being loved in return, I\ncannot forbear loving you; I will love you then, and bless my lot\nthat I am the slave of an object fairer than the meridian sun.\"\n\nWhile the prince of Persia thus consecrated his heart to the fair\nSchemselnihar, this lady, as she went home, contrived how she\nmight see, and have free converse with him. She no sooner entered\nher palace, than she sent to Ebn Thaher the woman she had pointed\nout to him, and in whom she placed all her confidence, to tell\nhim to come and see her without delay, and bring the prince of\nPersia with him. The slave came to Ebn Thaher's shop, while he\nwas speaking to the prince, and endeavouring to dissuade him, by\nvery strong arguments, from loving the caliph's favourite. When\nshe saw them together, \"Gentlemen,\" said she, \"my honourable\nmistress Schemselnihar the chief favourite of the commander of\nthe faithful, entreats you to come to her palace, where she waits\nfor you.\" Ebn Thaher, to testify his obedience, rose up\nimmediately, without answering the slave, and followed her, not\nwithout some reluctance. The prince also followed he, without\nreflecting on the danger there might be in such a visit. The\npresence of Ebn Thaher, who had liberty to go to the favourite\nwhen he pleased, made the prince very easy: they followed the\nslave, who went a little before them, and entered after her into\nthe caliph's palace, and joined her at the gate of\nSchemselnihar's pavilion, which was ready open. She introduced\nthem into a great hall, where she prayed them to be seated.\n\nThe prince of Persia thought himself in one of those delicious\npalaces that are promised to us in the other world: he had never\nseen any thing that came near the magnificence of the place. The\ncarpets, cushions, and other appendages of the sofa, the\nfurniture, ornaments, and architecture, were surprisingly rich\nand beautiful. A little time after Ebn Thaher and he had seated\nthemselves, a very handsome black slave brought in a table\ncovered with several delicacies, the admirable smell of which\nevinced how deliciously they were seasoned. While they were\neating, the slave who brought them in waited upon them; she took\nparticular care to invite them to eat of what she knew to be the\ngreatest dainties. The other slaves brought them excellent wine\nafter they had eaten. When they had done, there was presented to\neach of them a gold basin full of water to wash their hands;\nafter which, they brought them a golden pot full of the wood of\naloes, with which they perfumed their beards and clothes.\nOdoriferous water was not forgotten, but served in a golden\nvessel enriched with diamonds and rubies, and it was thrown upon\ntheir beards and faces according to custom; they then resumed\ntheir places, but had scarcely sat down, when the slave entreated\nthem to arise and follow her. She opened a door, and conducted\nthem into a large saloon of wonderful structure. It was a dome of\nthe most agreeable form, supported by a hundred pillars of\nmarble, white as alabaster. The bases and chapiters of the\npillars were adorned with four-footed beasts, and birds of\nvarious sorts, gilded. The carpet of this noble saloon consisted\nof one piece of cloth of gold, embroidered with bunches of roses\nin red and white silk; and the dome painted in the same manner,\nafter the Arabian fashion, presented to the mind one of the most\ncharming objects. In every space between the columns was a little\nsofa adorned in the same manner, and great vessels of china,\ncrystal, jasper, jet, porphyry, agate, and other precious\nmaterials, garnished with gold and jewels; in these spaces were\nalso so many large windows, with balconies projecting breast\nhigh, fitted up as the sofas, and looking out into the most\ndelicious garden; the walks were of little pebbles of different\ncolours, of the same pattern as the carpet of the saloon; so\nthat, looking upon the carpet within and without it seemed as if\nthe dome and the garden with all its ornaments had been upon the\nsame carpet. The prospect was, at the end of the walks,\nterminated by two canals of clear water, of the same circular\nfigure as the dome, one of which being higher than the other,\nemptied its water into the lowermost, in form of a sheet; and\ncurious pots of gilt brass, with flowers and shrubs, were set\nupon the banks of the canals at equal distances. Those walks lay\nbetwixt great plots of ground planted with straight and bushy\ntrees, where a thousand birds formed a melodious concert, and\ndiverted the eye by flying about, and playing together, or\nfighting in the air.\n\nThe prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher were a long time engaged in\nviewing the magnificence of the place, and expressed their\nsurprise at every thing thing saw, especially the prince, who had\nnever beheld any thing like it. Ebn Thaher, though he had been\nseveral times in that delicious place, could not but observe many\nnew beauties, In a word they never grew weary in admiring so many\nsingularities, and were thus agreeably employed, when they\nperceived a company of ladies richly appareled sitting without,\nat some distance from the dome, each of them upon a seat of\nIndian plane wood inlaid with silver filigree in compartments,\nwith instruments of music in their hands, waiting for orders to\nplay. They both went forward, and had a full view of the ladies,\nand on the right they saw a great court with a stair up from the\ngarden, encompassed with beautiful apartments. The slave had left\nthem, and being alone, they conversed together; \"For you, who are\na wise man,\" said the prince of Persia, \"I doubt not but you look\nwith a great deal of satisfaction upon all these marks of\ngrandeur and power; for my part, I do not think there is any\nthing in the world more surprising. But when I consider that this\nis the glorious habitation of the lovely Schemselnihar, and that\nthe greatest monarch of the earth keeps her here, I confess to\nyou that I look upon myself to be the most unfortunate of all\nmankind, and that no destiny can be more cruel than mine, to love\nan object possessed by my rival, and that too in a place where he\nis so potent, that I cannot think myself sure of my life one\nmoment.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, hearing the prince of Persia speak, replied, \"Sir, I\nwish you could give me as good assurance of the happy success of\nyour passion, as I can give you of the safety of your life.\nThough this stately palace belongs to the caliph, who built it on\npurpose for Schemselnihar, and called it the palace of eternal\npleasures, and though it makes part of his own palace, yet you\nmust know that this lady lives here at absolute liberty. She is\nnot beset by eunuchs to be spies upon her; this is her private\nhouse, absolutely at her disposal. She goes into the city when\nshe pleases, and returns again, without asking leave of any body:\nand the caliph never comes to see her, but he sends Mesrour, the\nchief of his eunuchs, to give her notice, that she may be\nprepared to receive him. Therefore you may be easy, and give full\nattention to the concert of music, which, I perceive,\nSchemselnihar is preparing for you.\"\n\nJust as Ebn Thaher had spoken these words, the prince of Persia,\nand he, saw the favourite's trusty slave giving orders to the\nladies to begin to sing, and play with the instruments: they all\nbegan immediately to play together as a prelude, and after they\nhad played some time, one of them began to sing alone, and\naccompanied herself at the same time admirably upon her lute,\nbeing informed beforehand upon what subject 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\ncouplet. \"Is it possible,\" cried he, \"that you have the gift of\nknowing people's hearts, and that the knowledge of what is\npassing in my mind has occasioned you to give us a taste of your\ncharming voice by those words? I should not express myself\notherwise, were I to choose.\" The lady made no reply, but went on\nand sung several other stanzas, with which the prince was so\naffected, that he repeated some of them with tears in his eyes;\nwhich discovered plainly enough that he applied them to himself.\nWhen she had finished, she and her companions rose up and sung a\nchorus, signifying by their words, that the full moon was going\nto rise in all her splendour, and that they should speedily see\nher approach the sun. Intimating, that Schemselnihar was coming,\nand that the prince of Persia would soon have the pleasure of\nbeholding her.\n\nIn fact, as they looked towards the court, they saw\nSchemselnihar's confidant coming towards them, followed by ten\nblack women, who, with much difficulty, carried a throne of\nmassive silver curiously wrought, which they set down before them\nat a certain distance; the black slaves then retired behind the\ntrees, to the entrance of a walk. After this came twenty handsome\nladies richly appareled alike; they advanced in two rows, each\nsinging and playing upon instruments which she held in her hands,\nand placed themselves on each side of the throne.\n\nAll these things kept the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher in so\nmuch the greater expectation, as they were curious to know how\nthey would end. At length they saw advancing from the gate\nthrough which the ten black women had proceeded ten other ladies\nequally handsome, and well dressed, who halted 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 a very\nfine stuff of gold and sky-blue, fastened to her shoulders, over\nher other apparel, which was the most handsome, most magnificent,\nand best contrived that could be imagined.\n\nThe pearls, rubies, and diamonds, which adorned her, were well\ndisposed; not many in number, but chosen with taste, and of\ninestimable value. She came forward, with a majesty resembling\nthe sun in its course amidst the clouds, which receive his\nsplendour without hiding his lustre, and sat upon the silver\nthrone that had been brought for her.\n\nAs soon as the prince of Persia saw Schemselnihar, his eyes were\nrivetted on her. \"We cease inquiring,\" said he to Ebn Thaher,\n\"after what we seek, when once it is in view; and no doubt\nremains, when once the truth is made apparent. Do you see this\ncharming beauty? She is the cause of all my sufferings, which I\nbless, and will never forbear to bless, however severe and\nlasting. At the sight of this objets, I am not my own master; my\nsoul is disturbed, and rebels, and seems disposed to leave me. Go\nthen, my soul, I allow thee; but let it be for the welfare and\npreservation of this weak body. It is you, cruel Ebn Thaher, who\nare the cause of this disorder, in bringing me hither. You\nthought to do me a great pleasure; but I perceive I am only come\nto complete my ruin. Pardon me,\" he continued, interrupting\nhimself; \"I am mistaken. I would come, and can blame no one but\nmyself;\" and at these words he burst into tears. \"I am glad,\"\nsaid Ebn Thaher, \"that you do me justice. When I told you at\nfirst, that Schemselnihar was the caliph's chief favourite, I did\nit on purpose to prevent that fatal passion which you please\nyourself with entertaining. All that you see here ought to\ndisengage you, and you are to think of nothing but of\nacknowledging the honour which Schemselnihar has done you, by\nordering me to bring you with me; recall then your wandering\nreason, and prepare to appear before her, as good breeding\nrequires. See, she advances: were we to begin again, I would take\nother measures, but since the thing is done, I pray God we may\nnot have cause to repent. All that I have now to say to you is,\nthat love is a traitor, who may involve you in difficulties from\nwhich you will never be able to extricate yourself.\"\n\nEbn Thaher had no time to say more, because Schemselnihar\napproached, and sitting down upon her throne, saluted them both\nby bowing her 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 more\nthan they could have done by words in a much longer time. The\nmore Schemselnihar, looked upon the prince, the more she found in\nhis looks to confirm her opinion that he was in love with her;\nand being thus persuaded of his passion, thought herself the\nhappiest woman in the world. At last she turned her eyes from\nhim, to command the women, who began to sing first, to come near;\nthey rose, and as they advanced, the black women, who came out of\nthe walk into which they had retired, brought their seats, and\nplaced them near the window, in the front of the dome where Ebn\nThaher and the prince of Persia stood, and their seats were so\ndisposed, that, with the favourite's throne and the women on each\nside of her, they formed a semicircle before them.\n\nThe women, who were sitting before she came resumed their places,\nwith the permission of Schemselnihar, who ordered them by a sign;\nthat charming favourite chose one of those women to sing, who,\nafter she had spent some moments in tuning her lute, sung a song,\nthe meaning whereof was, that when two lovers entirely loved one\nanother with affection boundless, their hearts, though in two\nbodies, were united; and, when any thing opposed their desires,\ncould say with tears in their eyes, \"If we love because we find\none another amiable, ought we to be blamed? Let destiny bear the\nblame.\"\n\nSchemselnihar evinced so plainly by her eyes and gestures that\nthose words were applicable to herself and the prince of Persia,\nthat he could not contain himself. He arose, and advancing to a\nbalustrade, which he leaned upon, beckoned to one of the\ncompanions of the woman who had just done singing, to approach.\nWhen she had got near enough, he said to her, \"Do me the favour\nto accompany me with your lute, in a song which you shall hear me\nsing.\" He then sung with an air so tender and passionate, as\nperfectly expressed the violence of his love. As soon as he had\ndone, Schemselnihar, following his example, said to one of the\nwomen, \"Attend to me likewise, and accompany my song.\" At the\nsame time she sung in such a manner, as more deeply to penetrate\nthe heart of the prince of Persia, who answered her by a new air,\nmore passionate than the former.\n\nThe two lovers having declared their mutual affection by their\nsongs, Schemselnihar yielded to the force of hers. She arose from\nher throne in transport, and advanced towards the door of the\nhall. The prince, who perceived her design, rose up immediately,\nand went to meet her. They met at the door, where they took one\nanother by the hand, and embraced with so much passion, that they\nfainted, and would have fallen, if the woman who followed\nSchemselnihar had not hindered them. They supported them to a\nsofa, where they were brought to themselves, by throwing\nodoriferous water on their faces, and applying pungent odours to\ntheir nostrils.\n\nWhen they had recovered, the first thing Schemselnihar did was to\nlook about: and not seeing Ebn Thaher, she asked, with eagerness,\nwhere he was? He had withdrawn out of respect whilst her women\nwere engaged in recovering her, and dreaded, not without reason,\nthat some disagreeable consequence might follow what he had seen;\nbut as soon as he heard Schemselnihar inquire for him, he came\nforward.\n\nSchemselnihar was much pleased to see Ebn Thaher, and expressed\nher joy in the most obliging terms: \"Ebn Thaher, I know not how\nto make you proper returns for the great obligations you have put\nupon me; without you, I should never have seen the prince of\nPersia, nor have loved the most amiable person in the world.\nAssure yourself I shall not die ungrateful, and that my\ngratitude, if possible, shall be equal to the obligation.\" Ebn\nThaher answered this compliment by a low obeisance, and wished\nthe favourite the accomplishment of all her desires.\n\nSchemselnihar, turning towards the prince of Persia, who sat by\nher, and looking upon him with some confusion after what had\npassed, said to him, \"I am well assured you love me, and how\ngreat soever your love may be to me, you need not doubt but mine\nis as great towards you: but let us not flatter ourselves; for,\nnotwithstanding this conformity of our sentiments, I see nothing\nfor you and me but trouble, impatience, and tormenting grief.\nThere is no other remedy for our evils but to love one another\nconstantly, to refer ourselves to the disposal of Heaven, and to\nwait its determination of our destiny.\" \"Madam,\" replied the\nprince of Persia, \"you will do me the greatest injustice, if you\ndoubt for a moment the continuance of my love. It is so\ninterwoven with my soul, that I can justly say it makes the best\npart of it, and will continue so after death. Pains, torments,\nobstacles, nothing shall prevent my loving you.\" Speaking these\nwords he shed tears in abundance, and Schemselnihar was not able\nto restrain hers.\n\nEbn Thaher took this opportunity to speak to the favourite.\n\"Madam, allow me to represent to you, that, instead of melting\ninto tears, you ought to rejoice that you are now together. I\nunderstand not this grief. What will it be when you are obliged\nto part? But why do I talk of that? We have been a long while\nhere, and you know, madam, it is time for us to be going.\" \"Ah!\nhow cruel are you!\" replied Schemselnihar, \"You, who know the\ncause of my tears, have you no pity for my unfortunate condition?\nOh! sad fatality! What have I done to subject myself to the\nsevere law of not being able to join with the only person I\nlove?\"\n\nPersuaded as she was that Ebn Thaher spoke to her only out of\nfriendship, she did not take amiss what he said, but made a\nproper use of his intimation She made a sign to the slave her\nconfidant, who immediately went out, and in a little time brought\na collation of fruits upon a small silver table, which she set\ndown betwixt her mistress and the prince of Persia. Schemselnihar\ntook some of the best, and presented it to the prince, praying\nhim to eat it for her sake; he took it, and put to his mouth that\npart which she had touched; and then he presented some to her,\nwhich she took, and ate in the same manner. She did not forget to\ninvite Ebn Thaher to eat with them; but he thinking himself not\nsafe in that place, and wishing himself at home, ate only out of\ncomplaisance. After the collation was taken away, they brought a\nsilver basin, with water in a vessel of gold, and washed\ntogether; they afterwards returned to their places, and three of\nthe ten black women brought each a cup of rock crystal full of\nexquisite wine, upon a golden salver; which they placed before\nSchemselnihar, the prince of Persia, and Ebn Thaher. That they\nmight be the more private, Schemselnihar kept with her only ten\nblack women, with ten others who began to sing, and play upon\ninstruments; and after she had sent away all the rest, she took\nup one of the cups, and holding it in her hand sung some tender\nwords, which one of her women accompanied with her lute. When she\nhad done, she drank, and afterwards took up one of the other cups\nand presented it to the prince, praying him to drink for love of\nher, as she had drunk for love of him. He received the cup with a\ntransport of love and joy; but before he drank, he sung also a\nsong, which another woman accompanied with an instrument: and as\nhe sang the tears fell from his eyes in such abundance, that he\ncould not forbear expressing in his song, that he knew not\nwhether he was going to drink the wine she had presented to him,\nor his own tears. Schemselnihar at last presented the third cup\nto Ebn Thaher, who thanked her for her kindness, and for the\nhonour she did him.\n\nAfter this she took a lute from one of her women, and sung to it\nin such a passionate manner, that she seemed to be transported\nout of herself: and the prince of Persia stood with his eyes\nfixed upon her, as if he had been enchanted. At this instant, her\ntrusty slave came in great alarm, 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\nEbn Thaher heard these words, they changed colour, and began to\ntremble as if they had been undone: but Schemselnihar who\nperceived their agitation, revived their courage by a sigh.\n\nAfter Schemselnihar had quieted the fears of the prince of Persia\nand Ebn Thaher, she ordered the slave, her confidant, to go and\nspeak to Mesrour, and the two other officers, till she had put\nherself in a condition to receive them, and could send her to\nintroduce them. Immediately she ordered all the windows of' the\nsaloon to be shut, and the painted cloth on the side of the\ngarden to be let down: and after having assured the prince and\nEbn Thaher that they might continue there without any fear, she\nwent out at the gate leading to the garden, and closed it upon\nthem: but whatever assurance she had given them of their safety,\nthey were full of apprehension all the while they remained there.\n\nAs soon as Schemselnihar had reached the garden with the women\nthat had followed her, she ordered all the seats, which served\nthe women who played on the instruments, to be placed near the\nwindow, where the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher heard them; and\nhaving got things in order, she sat down upon her silver throne:\nshe then sent notice to the slave her confidant to bring in the\nchief of the eunuchs, and his two subaltern officers.\n\nThey appeared, followed by twenty black eunuchs all handsomely\nclothed, with cimeters 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 approached,\nshe arose and went to meet Mesrour, who advanced first; she asked\nwhat news 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 do himself that pleasure this\nnight, and I am come to give you notice, that you may be ready to\nreceive him. He hopes, madam, that you will receive him with as\nmuch pleasure as he feels impatience to see you.\"\n\nAt these words the favourite Schemselnihar prostrated herself to\nthe ground, as a mark of that submission with which she received\nthe caliph's order. When she rose, she said, \"Pray tell the\ncommander of the faithful, that I shall always reckon it my glory\nto execute his majesty's commands, and that his slave will do her\nutmost to receive him with all the respect that is due to him.\"\nAt the same time she ordered the slave her confidant to tell the\nblack women appointed for that service to get the palace ready to\nreceive the caliph, and dismissing the chief of the eunuchs, said\nto him, \"You see it requires some time to get all things ready,\ntherefore I entreat you to curb his majesty's impatience, 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 had intended. She came up to him again with tears\nin her eyes, which heightened Ebn Thaher's fear, who thought it\nno good omen. \"Madam,\" said the prince to her, \"I perceive you\nare come to tell me that we must part: if there be nothing more\nto dread, I hope Heaven will give me the patience which is\nnecessary to support your absence.\" \"Alas!\" replied the too\ntender Schemselnihar, \"how happy do I think you, and how unhappy\ndo I think myself, when I compare your lot with my sad destiny!\nNo doubt you will suffer by my absence, but that is all, and you\nmay comfort yourself with hopes of seeing me again; but as for\nme, just Heaven! what a terrible trial am I brought to! I must\nnot only be deprived of the sight of the only person whom I love,\nbut I must be tormented with the presence of one whom you have\nmade hateful to me. Will not the arrival of the caliph put me in\nmind of your departure? And how can I, when I am taken up with\nyour dear image, express to that prince the joy which he always\nobserved in my eyes whenever he came to see me? I shall have my\nmind perplexed when I speak to him, and the least complaisance\nwhich I shew to his love will stab me to the heart. Can I relish\nhis kind words and caresses? Think, prince, to what torments I\nshall be exposed when I can see you no more.\" Her tears and sighs\nhindered her from going on, and the prince of Persia would have\nreplied, but his own grief, and that of his mistress, deprived\nhim of the power of speech.\n\nEbn Thaher, who only wished to get out of the palace, was obliged\nto comfort them, and to exhort them to have patience: but the\ntrusty slave again 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.\" \"O\nHeaven! how cruel is this separation!\" cried the favourite. \"Make\nhaste,\" said she to the confidant, \"take 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 conducted the prince and Ebn\nThaher to the gallery, as Schemselnihar had appointed; and left\nthem there, assuring them, as she closed the door upon them, that\nthey had nothing to fear, and that she would come for them when\nit was time\n\nWhen Schemselnihar's trusty slave had left the prince of Persia\nand Ebn Thaher, they forgot she had assured them they had nothing\nto apprehend. They examined the gallery, and were seized with\nextreme fear, because they knew no means of escape, if the caliph\nor any of his officers should happen to come there.\n\nA great light, which they suddenly beheld through the lattices on\nthe garden side, caused them to approach them 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 more\nthan a hundred others, who guarded the ladies of the caliph's\npalace, clothed, and armed with cimeters, in the same manner as\nthose I spoke of before; and the caliph came after them, betwixt\nMesrour their captain on his right, and Vassif their second\nofficer on his left hand.\n\nSchemselnihar waited for the caliph at the entrance of a walk,\naccompanied by twenty women all of surprising beauty, adorned\nwith necklaces and ear-rings of large diamonds; they played and\nsung on their instruments, and formed a charming concert. The\nfavourite no sooner saw the prince appear, but she advanced and\nprostrated herself at his feet; and while she was doing this,\n\"Prince of Persia,\" said she, within herself, \"if your sad eyes\nwitness what I do, judge of my hard lot; if I were humbling\nmyself so before you, my heart would feel no reluctance.\"\n\nThe caliph was delighted to see Schemselnihar: \"Rise, madam,\"\nsaid he to her, \"come near, I am angry with myself that I should\nhave deprived myself so long of the pleasure of seeing you.\" As\nhe spoke, he took her by the hand, and, with many tender\nexpressions, went and sat down upon the silver throne which\nSchemselnihar caused to be brought for him, and she sat down on a\nseat before him. The twenty women made a circle round them upon\nother seats, while the young eunuchs, who carried flambeaux,\ndispersed themselves at a certain distance from one another, that\nthe caliph might the better enjoy the cool of the evening.\n\nWhen the caliph had seated himself, he looked round him, and\nbeheld with great satisfaction the garden illuminated with many\nother lights, besides those flambeaux which the young eunuchs\nheld; but taking notice that the saloon was shut, expressed his\nsurprise, and demanded the reason. It was done on purpose to\nsurprise him; for he had no sooner spoken, than all the windows\nflew open at once, and he saw it illuminated within and without,\nin a much better manner than ever he had beheld it before.\n\"Charming Schemselnihar,\" cried he, at this sight, \"I understand\nyou; you would have me know there are as fine nights as days.\nAfter what I have seen, I cannot deny this.\"\n\nLet us return to the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher, whom we\nleft in the gallery. Ebn Thaher could not enough admire all that\nhe saw: \"I am not young,\" said he, \"and I have seen great\nentertainments in my time; but I do not think any thing can be\nseen so surprising and magnificent! All that is said of enchanted\npalaces does not come up to the prodigious spectacle we now\nbehold. What riches and magnificence united!\"\n\nThe prince of Persia was not at all interested by the objects\nwhich so delighted Ebn Thaher; he could look on nothing but\nSchemselnihar, and the presence of the caliph threw him into\ninconceivable grief. \"Dear Ebn Thaher,\" he exclaimed, \"would to\nGod I had my mind as much at liberty to attend to those objects\nof admiration as you! But alas! I am in a quite different\nsituation, all these things serve only to increase my torment.\nCan I see the caliph familiar with the objets of my love, and not\ndie of grief? Must so ardent a passion as mine be disturbed with\nso potent a rival? O heavens! How cruel and strange is my\ndestiny! It is but a moment since I esteemed myself the most\nfortunate lover in the world, and at this instant I feel a death\nstroke to my heart. I cannot resist it, my dear Ebn Thaher; my\npatience is exhausted, my disorder overwhelms me, and my courage\nfails.\" While he was speaking, he saw something pass in the\ngarden, which obliged him to be silent and to turn all his\nattention that way.\n\nThe caliph had ordered one of the women, who was near him, to\nplay upon her lute, and she began to sing. The words she sung\nwere very passionate, and the caliph, persuaded that she sung\nthus by order of Schemselnihar, who had frequently entertained\nhim with the like testimonies of her affection, interpreted them\nin his own favour. But this was not now Schemselnihar's meaning;\nshe applied them to her dear Ali Ebn Becar, and was so sensibly\ntouched with grief, to have before her an object whose presence\nshe could no longer enjoy, that she fainted and fell backwards\nupon her seat, which having no arms to support her, she must have\nfallen, had not some of the women given her timely assistance,\ntaken her up, and carried her into the saloon.\n\nEbn Thaher, who was in the gallery, being surprised at this\naccident, turned towards the prince of Persia; but instead of\nfinding him standing, and looking through the window as before,\nhe was extremely amazed to discover him Iying at his feet\nmotionless. This convinced him of the violence of the prince's\npassion for Schemselnihar, and he admired that strange effect of\nsympathy, which put him into a mortal fear on account of the\nplace they were in. He did all he could to recover the prince,\nbut in vain. Ebn Thaher was in this perplexity, when\nSchemselnihar's confidant opened the gallery door, and entered\nout of breath, as one who knew not where she was. \"Come\nspeedily,\" cried she \"that I may let you out; all is in confusion\nhere; and I fear this will be the last of our days.\" \"Alas! how\nwould you have us go?\" replied Ebn Thaher, with a mournful voice;\n\"approach, and see what a condition the prince of Persia is in.\"\nWhen the slave saw him in a swoon, she ran for water, and\nreturned in an instant.\n\nAt last the prince of Persia, after they had thrown water on his\nface, recovered. \"Prince,\" said Ebn Thaher to him, \"we run the\nrisk of perishing if we stay here any longer; exert yourself,\ntherefore, let us endeavour to save our lives.\" He was so feeble,\nthat he could not rise alone; Ebn Thaher and the confidant lent\nhim their hands, and supported him on each side. They reached a\nlittle iron gate which opened towards the Tigris, went out at it,\nand came to the side of a little canal which communicated with\nthe river. The confidant clapped her hands, and immediately a\nlittle boat appeared, and came towards them with one rower. Ali\nEbn Becar and his comrade went aboard, and the confidant remained\nat the side of the canal. As soon as the prince was seated in the\nboat, he stretched out one hand towards the palace, and laying\nthe other on his heart, exclaimed with a feeble voice, \"Dear\nobject of my soul, receive my faith with this hand, while I\nassure you with the other, that my heart shall for ever preserve\nthe fire with which it burns for you.\"\n\nIn the mean time the boatman rowed with all his might, and\nSchemselnihar's confidant accompanied the prince of Persia and\nEbn Thaher walking along the side of the canal, until they came\nto the Tigris, and when she could go no farther she took leave of\nthem 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 walk before we reach\nmy house, and I would not advise you to go to your palace, which\nis a great deal farther, at this hour and in this condition.\" At\nlast they went out of the boat, but the prince had so little\nstrength that he could not walk, which put Ebn Thaher into great\nperplexity. He recollected he had a friend in the neighbourhood,\nand carried the prince thither with great difficulty. His friend\nreceived him very cheerfully, and when he had made them sit down,\nhe asked them where they had been so late. Ebn Thaher answered,\n\"I heard this evening that a man who owed me a considerable sum\nof money was setting out on a long voyage. I lost no time to find\nhim, and by the way I met with this young nobleman, to whom I am\nunder a thousand obligations; for knowing my debtor, he did me\nthe favour to go along with me. We had a great deal of trouble to\nbring the man to reason. We have at length succeeded, and that is\nthe cause of our being so late. In our return home, this good\nlord, to whom I am for ever bound to shew all possible respect,\nwas attacked by a sudden illness, which made me take the liberty\nto knock at your door, flattering myself that you would be\npleased to lodge us this night.\"\n\nEbn Thaher's friend took all this for truth, 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 such a nature as to\nrequire nothing but rest. His friend understood by this that they\ndesired to go to bed. Upon which he conducted them to an\napartment, where he left them.\n\nThough the prince of Persia slept, he was interrupted by\ntroublesome dreams, which represented Schemselnihar in a swoon at\nthe caliph's feet, and increased his affliction. Ebn Thaher was\nvery impatient to be at home, and doubted not but his family was\nunder great apprehension, because he never used to sleep out. He\narose and departed early in the morning, after he had taken leave\nof his friend, who rose at break of day to prayers At last he\nreached his house, and the first thing the prince of Persia did,\nwho had walked so far with much trouble, was to lie down upon a\nsofa, as weary as if he had been a long journey. Not being in a\nstate to go to his own palace, Ebn Thaher ordered a chamber to be\nprepared for him, and sent to acquaint his friends with his\ncondition, and where he was. In the mean time he begged him to\ncompose himself, to command in his house, and to dispose of all\nthings as he pleased. \"I thank you heartily for your obliging\noffers,\" said the prince; \"but that I may not be any ways\ntroublesome to you, I conjure you to deal with me as if I were\nnot at your house. I would not stay one moment, if I thought my\npresence would 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 had been in. The prince of Persia's principal domestics came\nto receive his orders at Ebn Thaher's house, and in a little time\nthere arrived several of his friends, who had notice of his\nindisposition. Those friends passed the greatest part of the day\nwith him; and though their conversation could not extinguish\nthose melancholy ideas which were the cause of his trouble, yet\nit afforded him some relief. He would have taken his leave of Ebn\nThaher towards the evening; but this faithful friend found him\nstill so weak, that he obliged him to stay till next day, and in\nthe mean time, to divert him, gave a concert of vocal and\ninstrumental music in the evening; but this concert served only\nto remind him of the preceding night, and renewed his trouble,\ninstead of assuaging it; so that next day his distemper seemed to\nincrease. Upon this Ebn Thaher did not oppose his going home, but\ntook care to accompany him; and when he was with him alone in his\nchamber, he represented to him all those arguments which might\ninfluence him to a generous effort to overcome his passion, which\nin the end would neither prove fortunate to himself nor to the\nfavourite. \"Ah! dear Ebn Thaher,\" exclaimed the prince, \"how easy\nis it for you to give this advice, but how hard 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 to the grave the love\nI bear to Schemselnihar.\" When Ebn Thaher saw that he could gain\nnothing upon the prince, he took his leave, and would have\nretired.\n\nThe prince of Persia interrupted 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 would 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 of her.\nThe uncertainty I am in concerning her fate, and the\napprehensions her fainting have occasioned in me, keep me in this\nlanguishing condition you reproach me with.\" \"My lord,\" answered\nEbn Thaher, \"you have reason to hope that her fainting was not\nattended with any bad consequences: her confidant will quickly\ncome and inform me of the issue; and as soon as I know the\nparticulars, I will not fail to impart them.\"\n\nEbn Thaher left the prince in this hope, and returned home, where\nhe expected Schemselnihar's confidant all the rest of the day,\nbut in vain, nor did she come on the following. His uneasiness to\nknow the state of the prince of Persia's health would not suffer\nhim to wait any longer without seeing him. He went to his palace\nto exhort him to patience, and found him lying on his bed as ill\nas ever, surrounded by a great many of his friends, and several\nphysicians, who used all their art to discover the cause of his\ndisorder. As soon as he saw Ebn Thaher, he looked at him with a\nsmile, to signify that he had two things to tell him; the one,\nthat he was glad to see him; the other how much the physicians,\nwho could not discover the cause of his illness, were out in\ntheir reasonings.\n\nHis friends and physicians retired one after another, so that Ebn\nThaher being alone with him, approached his bed to ask him how he\nhad been since he had last seen him. \"I must tell you,\" answered\nthe prince, \"that my passion, which continually gathers new\nstrength, and the uncertainty of the lovely Schemselnihar's fate,\naugment my disorder every moment, and cast me into such a state\nas afflicts my kindred and friends, and breaks the measures of my\nphysicians, who do not understand it. You cannot think,\" he\nadded, \"how much I suffer by seeing so many people about me, who\nimportune me, and whom I cannot in civility put away. Your\ncompany alone relieves me; but I conjure you not to dissemble\nwith me: what news do you bring of Schemselnihar? Have you seen\nher confidant? What says she to you?\" Ebn Thaher answered, that\nhe had not seen her yet. No sooner had he communicated to the\nprince of Persia this sad intelligence, than the tears came into\nhis eyes; he could not answer one word, his heart was so\noppressed. \"Prince,\" added Ebn Thaher, \"suffer me to tell you,\nthat you are too ingenious in tormenting yourself. In the name of\nGod, wipe away your tears: if any of your people should come in,\nthey would discover you by this, notwithstanding the care you\nought to take to conceal your thoughts.\" Whatever his judicious\nadviser could say, it was not possible for the prince to refrain\nfrom weeping. \"Wise Ebn Thaher,\" said he, when he had recovered\nhis speech, \"I may indeed hinder my tongue from revealing the\nsecrets of my heart, but I have no power over my tears, upon such\nan alarming subject as Schemselnihar's danger. If that adorable\nand only objets of my desires be no longer in the world, I shall\nnot survive her a moment.\" \"Reject so afflicting a thought,\"\nreplied Ebn Thaher; \"Schemselnihar is yet alive, you need not\ndoubt it: if you have heard no news of her, it is because she\ncould find no opportunity to send to you, and I hope you will\nhear from her to-day.\" To this he added several other consoling\narguments, and then withdrew.\n\nEbn Thaher had scarcely reached his own house, when\nSchemselnihar's confidant arrived with a melancholy countenance,\nwhich he reckoned a bad omen. He asked news of her mistress.\n\"Tell me yours first,\" said the confidant, \"for I was in great\ntrouble to see the prince of Persia go away in that condition.\"\nEbn Thaher told her all that she wished to know, and when he had\ndone, the slave began thus: \"If the prince of Persia has\nsuffered, and does still suffer for my mistress, she suffers no\nless for him. After I departed from you, I returned to the\nsaloon, where I found Schemselnihar not yet recovered from her\nswoon, notwithstanding all the assistance they endeavoured to\ngive her. The caliph was sitting near her with all the signs of\nreal grief. He asked all the women, and me in particular, if we\nknew the cause of her disorder; but we kept all secret, and told\nhim we were altogether ignorant of it. In the mean time we all\nwept to see her suffer so long, and forgot nothing that might any\nways relieve her. In a word, it was almost midnight before she\ncame to herself. The caliph, who had the patience to wait the\nevent, was rejoiced at her recovery, and asked Schemselnihar the\ncause of her illness. As soon as she heard him speak, she\nendeavoured to recover her seat; and after she had kissed his\nfeet, before he could hinder her, \u0091Sir,' said she, \u0091I have reason\nto complain 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\n\"\u0091I am persuaded you love me,' replied the caliph, \u0091and I command\nyou to preserve yourself for my sake. You have probably exceeded\nin something to-day, which has occasioned this indisposition;\ntake care, I entreat you; abstain from it for the future. I am\nglad to see you better, and advise you to stay here to-night, and\nnot return to your chamber, for fear the motion should affect\nyou.' He then commanded a little wine to be brought to strengthen\nher; and taking leave of her, returned to his apartment.\n\n\"As soon as the caliph had departed, my mistress gave me a sign\nto come near her. She asked me earnestly concerning you: I\nassured her that you had been gone a long time, which made her\neasy on that head. I took care not to speak of the prince of\nPersia's fainting, lest she should fall into the same state, from\nwhich we had so much trouble to recover her: but my precautions\nwere in vain, as you shall hear. \u0091Prince,' exclaimed she, \u0091I\nhenceforth renounce all pleasure as long as I am deprived of the\nsight of you. If I have understood your heart right, I only\nfollow your example. You will not cease to weep and mourn until I\nsee you.' At these words, which she uttered in a manner\nexpressive of the violence of her passion, she fainted a second\ntime in my arms.\n\n\"My companions and I were a long time recovering her; at last she\ncame to herself; and then I said to her, \u0091Madam, are you resolved\nto kill yourself, and to make us also die with you? I entreat\nyou, in the name of the prince of Persia, who is so deeply\ninterested in your life, to preserve it.' \u0091I am much obliged to\nyou,' replied she, \u0091 for your care, your zeal, and your advice;\nbut alas! they are useless to me: you are not to flatter us with\nany hopes, for we can expect no end of our torment but in the\ngrave'\n\n\"One of my companions would have diverted these sad thoughts by\nplaying on the lute, but she commanded her to be silent, and\nordered all of them to retire, except me, whom she kept all night\nwith her. O heavens! what a night it was! she passed it in tears\nand groans, and incessantly naming the prince of Persia. She\nlamented her lot, that had destined her to the caliph, whom she\ncould not love, and not for him whom she loved so dearly.\n\n\"Next morning, as she was not commodiously lodged in the saloon,\nI helped her to her chamber, which she had no sooner reached,\nthan all the physicians of the palace came to see her, by order\nof the caliph, who was not long before he arrived himself. The\nmedicines which the physicians prescribed to Schemselnihar were\nineffectual, because they were ignorant of the cause of her\nmalady, which was augmented by the presence of the caliph. She\ngot a little rest however this night, and as soon as she awoke,\nshe charged me to come to you, to learn some news of the prince\nof Persia.\" \"I have already informed you of his case,\" said Ebn\nThaher; \"so return to your mistress, and assure her, that the\nprince of Persia waits for some account of her with an impatience\nequal to her own. Above all, exhort her to moderation, and to\novercome her feelings, for fear she should drop before the caliph\nsome word, which may prove fatal to us all.\" \"As for me,\" replied\nthe confidant, \"I confess I dread her transports. I have taken\nthe liberty to tell her my mind, and am persuaded that she will\nnot take it ill that I 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; he therefore went not till the\nevening. The prince was alone, and no better than in the morning.\n\"Ebn Thaher,\" said he to him, as soon as he saw him, \"you have\ndoubtless many friends, but they do not know your worth, which\nyou discover to me by your zeal, your care, and the trouble you\ngive yourself to oblige me. I am confounded with all that you do\nfor me with so much affection, and I know not how I shall be able\nto express my gratitude.\" \"Prince,\" answered Ebn Thaher, \"do not\nspeak thus, I entreat you. I am ready, not only to give one of my\neyes to save one of yours, but to sacrifice my life for you. But\nthis is not the present business. I come to tell you that\nSchemselnihar sent her confidant to ask me about you, and at the\nsame time to inform me of her condition. You may assure yourself\nthat I said nothing but what might confirm the excess of your\npassion for her mistress, and the constancy with which you love\nher.\" Then Ebn Thaher gave him a particular account of all that\nhad passed betwixt the trusty slave and him. The prince listened\nwith all the different emotions of fear, jealousy, affection, and\ncompassion, which this conversation could inspire, making, upon\nevery 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. The next morning, as this trusty friend returned home,\nthere came a woman to him whom he knew to be Schemselnihar's\nconfidant, and immediately she spoke to him thus: \"My mistress\nsalutes you, and I am come to entreat you in her name to deliver\nthis letter to the prince of Persia.\" The zealous Ebn Thaher took\nthe letter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the\nconfidant slave.\n\nWhen Ebn Thaher entered the prince of Persia's house with\nSchemselnihar's confidant, he prayed her to stay, and wait for\nhim a moment in the ante-room. As soon as the prince saw him, he\nasked earnestly what news he had to communicate? \"The best you\ncan expect,\" answered Ebn Thaher: \"you are as dearly beloved as\nyou love; Schemselnihar's confidant is in your anteroom; she has\nbrought you a letter from her mistress, and waits for your orders\nto come in.\" \"Let her enter,\" cried the prince, with a transport\nof joy; and so saying, sat up 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 opened the door\nhimself, and brought in the confidant. The prince knew her, and\nreceived her with great politeness. \"My lord,\" said she to him,\n\"I am sensible of the affliction you have endured since I had the\nhonour to conduct you to the boat which waited to bring you back;\nbut I hope the letter I have brought will contribute to your\ncure.\" So saying, she presented him the letter. He took it, and\nafter he had kissed it several times, opened it, and read as\nfollows:\n\n\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.\n\n\n\"The person who will deliver to you this letter will give you\nmore correct information concerning me than I can, for I have not\nbeen myself since I saw you. Deprived of your presence, I\nendeavour to deceive myself by conversing with you by these ill-\nwritten lines, with the same pleasure as if I had the happiness\nof speaking to you in person.\n\n\"It is said that patience is a cure for all evils, but instead of\nrelieving it heightens my sufferings. Although your picture is\ndeeply engraver in my heart, my eyes desire to have the original\ncontinually before them; and they will lose all their light, if\nthey be any considerable time deprived of this felicity. May I\nflatter myself that yours have the same impatience to see me?\nYes, I can; their tender glances have sufficiently assured me of\nthis. How happy, prince, would it be for you, how happy for\nSchemselnihar, if our united desires were not thwarted by\ninvincible obstacles; obstacles which afflict me the more\nsensibly as they affect you.\n\n\"These thoughts which my fingers write, and which I express with\nincredible pleasure, repeating them again and again, proceed from\nthe bottom of my heart, and from the incurable wound which you\nhave made in it; a wound which I bless a thousand times,\nnotwithstanding the cruel torments I endure through your absence.\nI would reckon all that opposes our love nothing, were I only\nallowed to see you sometimes with freedom; I should then enjoy\nyour company, and what could I desire more?\n\n\"Do not imagine that I say more than I think. Alas! whatever\nexpressions I use, I feel that I think more than I can tell you.\nMy eyes, which are continually watching and weeping for your\nreturn; my afflicted heart, which desires you alone; the sighs\nthat escape me as often as I think on you, and that is every\nmoment; my imagination, which represents no other object to me\nthan my dear prince; the complaints that I make to heaven for the\nrigour of my destiny; m a word, my grief, my distress, my\ntorments, which have allowed me no ease since I was deprived of\nyour presence, will vouch for what I write.\n\n\"Am not I unhappy to be born to dove, without hope of enjoying\nthe object of my passion? This afflicting thought oppresses me so\nthat I should die, were I not persuaded that you love me: but\nthis sweet comfort balances my despair, and preserves my life.\nTell me that you love me always. I will keep your letter\ncarefully, and read it a thousand times a-day: I shall endure my\nafflictions with less impatience: I pray heaven may cease to be\nangry at us, and grant us an opportunity to say that we love one\nanother without fear; and that we shall never cease thus to love.\nAdieu. I salute Ebn Thaher, to whom we are so much obliged.\"\n\n\nThe prince of Persia was not satisfied with reading the letter\nonce; he thought he had perused it with too little attention, and\ntherefore read it again with more leisure; and while so doing,\nsometimes heaved deep sighs, sometimes shed tears, and sometimes\nbroke out into transports of joy and tenderness as the contents\naffected him. In short, he could not keep his eyes off those\ncharacters drawn by so beloved a hand, and was beginning to read\nit a third time, when Ebn Thaher observed to him that the\nconfidant had no time to lose, and that he ought to think of\ngiving an answer. \"Alas!\" cried the prince, \"how would you have\nme reply to so kind a letter! In what terms shall I express\nmyself in my present disturbed state! My mind is tossed with a\nthousand tormenting thoughts, which are lost the moment they are\nconceived, to make way for others. So long as my body is\ninfluenced by the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to\nhold the paper, or guide a reed to write.\"\n\nSo saying, he took out of a little desk which was near him,\npaper, a cane ready cut, and an inkhorn.\n\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\nthe better see 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 fall the more freely. At last he\nfinished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, \"Read it, I\npray,\" said he, \"and do me the favour to see if the disorder of\nmy mind has allowed me to give a favourable answer.\" Ebn Thaher\ntook it, and read as follows:\n\n\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar's Letter.\n\n\n\"I was plunged in the deepest grief when I received your letter,\nbut at the sight of it I was transported with unspeakable joy.\nWhen I beheld the characters written by your fair hand, my eyes\nwere enlightened by a stronger light than they lost, when yours\nwere suddenly closed at the feet of my rival. The words contained\nin your kind epistle are so many rays which have dispelled the\ndarkness wherewith my soul was obscured; they shew me how much\nyou suffer from your love of me, and that you are not ignorant of\nwhat I endure on your account. Thus they comfort me in my\nafflictions. On the one hand they cause me to shed tears in\nabundance; and on the other, inflame my heart with a fire which\nsupports it, and prevents my dying of grief. I have not had one\nmoment's rest since our cruel separation. Your letter alone gave\nme some ease. I kept a mournful silence till the moment I\nreceived it, and then recovered my speech. I was buried in\nprofound melancholy, but it inspired me with joy, which\nimmediately appeared in my eyes and countenance. But my surprise\nat receiving a favour which I had not yet deserved was so great,\nthat I knew not how to begin to testify my thankfulness. In a\nword, after having kissed it several times, as a precious pledge\nof your goodness, I read it over and over, and was confounded at\nthe excess of my good fortune. You would have me declare that I\nalways love you. Ah! did I not love you so perfectly as I do, I\ncould not forbear adoring you, after all the marks you have given\nme of an affection so uncommon: yes, I love you, my dear soul,\nand shall account it my glory to burn all my days with that sweet\nfire you have kindled in my heart. I will never complain of that\nardour with which I feel it consumes me: and how rigorous soever\nthe evils I suffer, I will bear them with fortitude, in hopes\nsome time or other to see you. Would to heaven it were to-day,\nand that, instead of sending you my letter, I might be allowed to\ncome and assure you in person, that I die for you! My tears\nhinder me from saying more. Adieu.\"\n\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 closed it, and when he had\nsealed it, he desired the trusty slave to come near, and said to\nher, \"This is my answer to you dear mistress's letter. I conjure\nyou to carry it to her, and to salute her in my name.\" The slave\ntook the letter, and retired with Ebn Thaher.\n\nAfter Ebn Thaher had walked some way with the slave, he left her,\nand went to his house, and began to think in earnest upon the\namorous intrigue in which he found himself unhappily engaged. He\nconsidered, that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar,\nnotwithstanding their interest to conceal their correspondence,\nconducted themselves with so little discretion, that it could not\nbe long a secret. He drew all the consequences from it, which a\nman of good sense might have anticipated. \"Were Schemselnihar,\"\nsaid he to himself, \"a lady of common rank, I would contribute\nall in my power to make her and her lover happy; but she is the\ncaliph's favourite, and no man can without danger attempt to\nengage the affections of the objets of his choice. His anger\nwould fall in the first instance on Schemselnihar; it will next\ncost the prince of Persia his life, and I should be involved in\nhis misfortune. In the mean time I have my honour, my quiet, my\nfamily, and my property to preserve. I must, while I can,\nextricate myself out of such a perilous situation.\"\n\nThese thoughts occupied his mind all that day. Next morning he\nwent to the prince of Persia, with a design of making one more\neffort to induce him to conquer his passion. He represented to\nhim what he had before urged in vain; that it would be much\nbetter for him to summon all his resolution, to overcome his\ninclination for Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be\nhurried away by it; and that his passion was so much the more\ndangerous, as his rival was powerful. \"In short, sir,\" added he,\n\"if you will hearken to me, you ought to think of nothing but to\ntriumph over your love; otherwise you run the risk of destroying\nyourself with Schemselnihar, whose life ought to be dearer to you\nthan your own. I give you this advice as a friend, for which you\nwill some time or other thank me.\"\n\nThe prince heard Ebn Thaher with great impatience, but suffered\nhim to speak his mind, and then replied to him thus: \"Ebn Thaher,\ndo you think I can cease to love Schemselnihar, who loves me so\ntenderly? She is not afraid to expose her life for me, and would\nyou have me regard mine? No; whatever misfortunes befall me, I\nwill love Schemselnihar to my last breath.\"\n\nAbn Thaher, shocked at the obstinacy of the prince of Persia,\nleft him hastily, and going to his own house, recalled his former\nreflections, and began to think seriously what he should do. In\nthe mean time a jeweller, one of his intimate friends, came to\nsee him. The jeweller had perceived that Schemselnihar's\nconfidant came oftener to Ebn Thaher than usual, and that he was\nconstantly with the prince of Persia, whose sickness was known to\nevery one, though not the cause. This had awakened the jeweller's\nsuspicions, and finding Ebn Thaher very pensive, he presently\njudged that he was perplexed with some important affair, and\nfancying that he knew the cause, he asked what Schemselnihar's\nconfidant wanted with him? Ebn Thaher being struck with this\nquestion, would have dissembled, and told him, that it was on\nsome trifling errand she came so frequently to him. \"You do not\ntell me the truth,\" said the jeweller, \"and your dissimulation\nonly serves to prove to me that this trifle is a more important\naffair than at first I thought it to be.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, perceiving that his friend pressed him so much, said\nto him, \"It is true, that it is an affair of the greatest\nconsequence. I had resolved to keep it secret, but since I know\nhow much you are my friend, I choose rather to make you my\nconfidant, than to suffer you to be under a mistake about it. I\ndo not bind you to secrecy, for you will easily judge by what I\nam going to tell you how impossible it is to keep it unknown.\"\nAfter this preamble, he told him the amour between Schemselnihar\nand the prince of Persia. \"You know,\" he continued, \"in what\nesteem I am at court, in the city, and with lords and ladies of\nthe greatest quality; what a disgrace would it be for me, should\nthis rash amour come to be discovered? But what do I say; should\nnot I and my family be completely ruined! That is what perplexes\nmy mind; but I have just formed my resolution: I will go\nimmediately and satisfy my creditors, and recover my debts, and\nwhen I have secured my property, will retire to Bussorah, and\nstay till the storm, that I foresee, is blown over. My friendship\nfor Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia makes me very sensible\nto what dangers they are exposed. I pray heaven to convince them\nof their peril, and to preserve them; but if their evil destiny\nshould bring their attachment to the knowledge of the caliph, I\nshall, at least, be out of the reach of his resentment; for I do\nnot think them so wicked as to design to involve me in their\nmisfortunes. It would be the height of ingratitude, and a bad\nreward for the service I have done them, and the good advice I\nhave given, particularly to the prince of Persia, who may save\nboth himself and his mistress from this precipice. He may as\neasily leave Bagdad as I; and absence will insensibly disenage\nhim from a passion, which will only increase whilst he continues\nin this place.\"\n\nThe jeweller was extremely surprised at what Ebn Thaher told him.\n\"What you say,\" said he, \"is of so much importance, that I cannot\nunderstand how Schemselnihar and the prince could have abandoned\nthemselves to such a violent passion. What inclination soever\nthey may have for one another, instead of yielding to it, they\nought to resist it, and make a better use of their reason. Is it\npossible they can be insensible of the danger of their\ncorrespondence? How deplorable is their blindness! I anticipate\nall its consequences as well as yourself; but you are wise and\nprudent, and I approve your resolution; as it is the only way to\ndeliver yourself from the fatal events which you have reason to\nfear.\" After this conversation the jeweller rose, and took his\nleave of Ebn Thaher.\n\nBefore the jeweller retired, Ebn Thaher conjured him by the\nfriendship betwixt them, to say nothing of what he had heard.\n\"Fear not,\" replied the jeweller, \"I will keep this secret at the\nperil of my life.\"\n\nTwo days after, the jeweller went to Ebn Thaher's shop, and\nseeing it shut, he doubted not but he had executed his design;\nbut, to be more sure, he asked a neighbour, if he knew why it was\nnot opened? The neighbour answered that he knew not, unless Ebn\nThaher was gone a journey. There was no need of his enquiring\nfarther, and he immediately thought of the prince of Persia:\n\"Unhappy prince,\" said he to himself, \"what will be your grief\nwhen you hear this news? How will you now carry on your\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar? I fear you will die of\ndespair. I pity you, and must repair your loss of a too timid\nconfidant.\"\n\nThe business that obliged him to come abroad was of no\nconsequence, so that he neglected it, and though he had no\nknowledge of the prince of Persia, only by having sold him some\njewels, he went to his house. He addressed himself to one of his\nservants, and desired him to tell his master, that he wished to\nspeak with him about business of very great importance. The\nservant returned immediately to the jeweller, and introduced him\nto the prince's chamber. He was leaning on a sofa, with his head\non a cushion. As soon as the prince saw him, he rose up to\nreceive and welcome him, and entreated him to sit down; asked him\nif he could serve him in any thing, or if he came to tell him any\nthing interesting concerning himself. \"Prince,\" answered the\njeweller, \"though I have not the honour to be particularly\nacquainted with you, yet the desire of testifying my zeal has\nmade me take the liberty to come to your house, to impart to you\na piece of news that concerns you. I hope you will pardon my\nboldness for my good intention.\"\n\nAfter this introduction, the jeweller entered upon the matter,\nand continued: \"Prince, I shall have the honour to tell you, that\nit is a long time since conformity of disposition, and some\nbusiness we have had together, united Ebn Thaher and myself in\nstrict friendship. I know you are acquainted with him, and that\nhe has employed himself in obliging you to his utmost. I have\nlearnt this from himself, for he keeps nothing secret from me,\nnor I from him. I went just now to his shop, and was surprised to\nfind it shut. I addressed myself to one of his neighbours, to ask\nthe reason; he answered me, that two days ago Ebn Thaher took\nleave of him, and other neighbours, offering them his service at\nBussorah, whither he is gone, said he, about an affair of great\nimportance. Not being satisfied with this answer, my concern for\nhis welfare determined me to come and ask if you knew any thing\nparticular concerning this his sudden departure.\"\n\nAt this discourse, which the jeweller accommodated to the\nsubject, the better to compass his design, the prince of Persia\nchanged colour, and looked at the jeweller in a manner which\nconvinced him how much he was disconcerted at the intelligence.\n\"I am surprised at what you inform me,\" said he; \"a greater\nmisfortune could not befall me: Ah!\" he continued, with tears in\nhis eyes, \"if what you tell me be true, I am undone! Has Ebn\nThaher, who was all my comfort, in whom I put all my confidence,\nleft me? I cannot think of living 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 of:\nmere friendship would not make him speak so; nothing but love\ncould produce such lively sensations.\n\nThe prince continued some moments absorbed in melancholy\nthoughts; at last he lifted up his head, and calling one of his\nservants, said, \"Go, to Ebn Thaher's house, and ask some of his\ndomestics if he be gone to Bussorah: run, and come back quickly\nwith the answer.\" While the servant was gone, the jeweller\nendeavoured to entertain the prince of Persia with indifferent\nsubjects; but the prince gave little heed to him. He was a prey\nto fatal grief: sometimes he could not persuade himself that Ebn\nThaher was gone, and at others he did not doubt of it, when he\nreflected upon the conversation he had had with him the last time\nhe had seen him, and the abrupt manner in which he had left him.\n\nAt last the prince's servant returned, and reported that he had\nspoken with one of Ebn Thaher's servants, who assured him that he\nhad been gone two days to Bussorah. \"As I came from Ebn Thaher's\nhouse,\" added the servant. \"a slave well dressed met me, and\nafter she had asked me if I had the honour to belong to you, told\nme she wanted to speak with you, and begged at the same time that\nshe might accompany me: she is in the outer room, and I believe\nhas a letter to deliver to you from some person of consequence.\"\nThe prince commanded her to be immediately introduced, not\ndoubting but it was Schemselnihar's confidant slave, as indeed it\nwas. The jeweller knew her, having seen her several times at Ebn\nThaher's house: she could not have come at a better time to save\nthe prince from despair. She saluted him. The prince of Persia\nreturned the salute of Schemselnihar's confidant. The jeweller\narose as soon as he saw her and retired, to leave them at liberty\nto converse together. The confidant, after she had spoken some\ntime with the prince, took her leave and departed. She left him\nquite another person from what he was before; his eyes appeared\nbrighter, and his countenance more gay, which satisfied the\njeweller that the good slave came to tell him something\nfavourable to his amour.\n\n\nThe jeweller having taken his place again near the prince, said\nto him smiling, \"I see, prince, you have business of importance\nat the caliph's palace.\" The prince of Persia, astonished and\nalarmed at these words, answered the jeweller, \"What leads you to\nsuppose that I have business at the caliph's palace?\" \"I judge\nso,\" replied the jeweller, \"by the slave who has just left you.\"\n\"And to whom, think you, belongs this slave?\" demanded the\nprince. \"To Schemselnihar the caliph's favourite,\" answered the\njeweller: \"I know,\" continued he, \"both the slave and her\nmistress, who has several times done me the honour to come to my\nhouse, and buy jewels. Besides, I know that Schemselnihar keeps\nnothing secret from this slave; and I have seen her pass\nbackwards and forwards for several days along the streets, as I\nthought very much troubled; I imagined that it was for some\naffair of consequence concerning her mistress.\"\n\nThe jeweller's words greatly troubled the prince of Persia. \"He\nwould not say so,\" said he to himself, \"if he did not suspect, or\nrather were not acquainted with my secret.\" He remained silent\nfor some time, not knowing what course to take. At last he began,\nand said to the jeweller, \"You have told me things which make me\nbelieve that you know yet more than you have acquainted me with;\nit concerns my repose that I be perfectly informed; I conjure you\ntherefore not to conceal any thing from me.\"\n\nThen the jeweller, who desired nothing more, gave him a\nparticular account of what had passed betwixt Ebn Thaher and\nhimself. He informed him that he was apprised of his\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar. and forgot not to tell him\nthat Ebn Thaher, alarmed at the danger of being his confidant in\nthe matter, had communicated to him his intention of retiring to\nBussorah, until the storm which he dreaded should be blown over.\n\"This he has executed,\" added the jeweller, \"and I am surprised\nhow he could determine to abandon you, in the condition he\ninformed me you were in. As for me, prince, I confess, I am moved\nwith compassion towards you, and am come to offer you my service.\nIf you do me the favour to accept of it, I engage myself to be as\nfaithful to you as Ebn Thaher; besides, I promise to be more\nresolute. I am ready to sacrifice my honour and life for you:\nand, that you may not doubt of my sincerity, I swear by all that\nis sacred in our religion, to keep your secret inviolable. Be\npersuaded then, prince, that you will find in me the friend whom\nyou have lost.\" This declaration encouraged the prince, and\ncomforted him under Ebn Thaher's absence. \"I am glad,\" said he to\nthe jeweller, \"to find in you a reparation of my loss; I want\nwords to express the obligations I am under to you. I pray God to\nrecompense your generosity, and I accept your obliging offer with\nall my heart. Believe me,\" continued he, \"Schemselnihar's\nconfidant came to speak to me concerning you. She told me that it\nwas you who advised Ebn Thaher to go from Bagdad; these were the\nlast words she spoke to me, as she went away, and she seemed\npersuaded of what she said; but they do not do you justice. I\ndoubt not, after what you have told me, she is deceived.\"\n\"Prince\" replied the jeweller, \"I have had the honour to give you\na faithful account of my conversation with Ebn Thaher. It is\ntrue, when he told me he meant to retire to Bussorah, I did not\noppose his design; but let not this prevent your putting\nconfidence in me. I am ready to serve you with all imaginable\nzeal. If you do not use my service, this shall not hinder me from\nkeeping your secret religiously, according to my oath.\" \"I have\nalready told you,\" replied the prince, \"that I did not believe\nwhat the confidant said: it is her zeal which 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 about the most convenient means to keep up the prince's\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar. They agreed to begin by\nundeceiving the confidant, who was so unjustly prepossessed\nagainst the jeweller. The prince engaged to remove her mistake\nthe first time he saw her again, and to intreat her to address\nherself to the jeweller whenever she might bring letters, or any\nother information from her mistress to him. In short, they\ndetermined, that she ought not to come so frequently to the\nprince's house, because thereby she might lead to the discovery\nof what it was of so great importance to conceal. At last the\njeweller arose, and, after having again intreated the prince of\nPersia to place an unreserved confidence in him, withdrew.\n\nThe jeweller returning to his house perceived before him a\nletter, which somebody had dropped in the street. He took it up,\nand as it was not sealed, he opened it, and read as follows:\n\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.\n\n\"I have received from my confidant intelligence which gives me no\nless concern than it must give you. In Ebn Thaher, we have indeed\nsustained a great loss; but let this not hinder you, dear prince,\nfrom thinking of your own preservation. If our friend has\nabandoned us through fear, let us consider that it is a\nmisfortune which we could not avoid. I confess Ebn Thaher has\nleft us at a time when we most needed his assistance; but let us\nbear this unexpected stroke with patience, and let us not forbear\nto love one another constantly. Fortify your heart under this\nmisfortune. The object of our wishes is not to be obtained\nwithout trouble. Let us not be discouraged, but hope that heaven\nwill favour us, and that, after so many afflictions, we shall see\na happy accomplishment of our desires. Adieu.\"\n\n\nWhile the jeweller was conversing with the prince of Persia, the\nconfidant had time to return to the palace and communicate to her\nmistress the ill news of Ebn Thaher's departure. Schemselnihar\nimmediately wrote this letter, and sent back her confidant with\nit to the prince of Persia, but she negligently dropped it on her\nway.\n\nThe jeweller was glad to find it, for it furnished him with an\nopportunity of justifying himself to the confidant, and bringing\nher to the point he desired. When he had read it, he perceived\nthe slave seeking for it with the greatest anxiety. He closed it\nagain quickly, and put it into his bosom; but the slave observed\nhim, and running to him, said, \"Sir, I have dropped a letter,\nwhich you had just now in your hand; I beseech you to restore\nit.\" The jeweller, pretending not to hear her, continued his way\ntill he came to his house. He left his door open, that the\nconfidant, who followed him, might enter after him. She followed\nhim in, and when she came to his apartment, said, \"Sir, you can\nmake no use of that letter you have found, and you would not\nhesitate to return it to me, if you knew from whom it came, and\nto whom it is directed. Besides, allow me to tell you, you cannot\nhonestly keep it.\"\n\nBefore the jeweller returned her any answer he made her sit down,\nand then said to her, \"Is not this letter from Schemselnihar, and\nis it not directed to the prince of Persia?\" The slave, who\nexpected no such question, blushed. \"The question embarrasses\nyou,\" continued he; \"but I assure you I do not put it rashly: I\ncould have given you the letter in the street, but I wished you\nto follow me, on purpose that I might come to some explanation\nwith you. Is it just, tell me, to impute a misfortune to persons\nwho have no ways contributed towards it? Yet this you have done,\nin telling the prince of Persia that it was I who advised Ebn\nThaher to leave Bagdad for his own safety. I do not intend to\nwaste time in justifying myself; it is enough that the prince of\nPersia is fully persuaded of my innocence; I will only tell you,\nthat instead of contributing to Ebn Thaher's departure, I have\nbeen extremely afflicted at it, not so much from my friendship to\nhim, as out of compassion for the condition in which he left the\nprince of Persia, whose correspondence with Schemselnihar he has\ndiscovered to me. As soon as I knew certainly that Ebn Thaher was\ngone from Bagdad, I went and presented myself to the prince, in\nwhose house you found me, to inform him of this event, and to\noffer to undertake the service in which he had been employed; and\nprovided you put the same confidence in me, that you did in Ebn\nThaher, it will be your own fault if you do not make my\nassistance of use to you. Inform your mistress of what I have\ntold you, and assure her, that though I should die for engaging\nin so dangerous an intrigue, I should not repent of having\nsacrificed myself for two lovers so worthy of one another.\"\n\nThe confidant, after having heard the jeweller with great\nsatisfaction, begged him to pardon the ill opinion she had\nconceived of him, for the zeal she had for her mistress's\ninterest.? I am beyond measure glad,\" she added, \"that\nSchemselnihar and the prince have found in you a person so fit to\nsupply Ebn Thaher's place I will not fail to convince my mistress\nof the good-will you bear her.\"\n\nAfter the confidant had testified to the jeweller her joy to see\nhim 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,\nand return this way that I may see his reply. Forget not to give\nhim an account of our conversation.\"\n\nThe confidant took the letter and carried it to the prince, who\nanswered it immediately. She returned to the jeweller's house to\nshew him the answer, which was in these words:\n\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar.\n\n\"Your precious letter has had a great effect upon me, but not so\ngreat as I could have wished. You endeavour to comfort me for the\nloss of Ebn Thaher; alas! however sensible I am of this, it is\nbut the least of my troubles. You know these troubles, and you\nknow also that your presence alone can cure me. When will the\ntime come that I shall enjoy it without fear of a separation? How\ndistant does it seem to me! or shall we flatter ourselves that we\nmay ever see it? You command me to preserve myself; I will obey\nyou, since I have renounced my own will to follow only yours.\nAdieu.\"\n\n\nAfter the jeweller had read this letter, he returned it to the\nconfidant, who said, as she was going away, \"I will desire my\nmistress to put the same confidence in you that she did in Ebn\nThaher. You shall hear of me to-morrow.\" Accordingly, next day\nshe returned with a pleasant countenance. \"Your very looks,\" said\nhe to her, \"inform me that you have brought Schemselnihar to the\npoint you wished.\" \"It is true,\" replied the confidant, \"and you\nshall hear how I succeeded. I found yesterday, on my return,\nSchemselnihar expecting me with impatience, I gave her the prince\nof Persia's letter, and she read it with tears in her eyes. When\nshe had done, I saw that she had abandoned herself to her usual\nsorrow. \u0091Madam,' said I to her, \u0091it is doubtless Ebn Thaher's\nremoval that troubles you; but suffer me to conjure you in the\nname of God, to alarm yourself no farther on this account. We\nhave found another Ebn Thaher, who offers to oblige you with\nequal zeal; and, what is yet more important, with greater\ncourage.' Then I spoke to her of you,\" continued the slave, \"and\nacquainted her with the motive which led you to the prince of\nPersia's house. In short, I assured her that you would keep\ninviolably the secret betwixt her and the prince of Persia, and\nthat you were resolved to favour their amour with all your might.\nShe seemed to be much relieved by my discourse. \u0091Ah! what\nobligations,' said she, \u0091are the prince of Persia and I under to\nthat honest man you speak of! I must be acquainted with him and\nsee him, that I may hear from his own mouth what you tell me, and\nthank him for such unheard-of generosity towards persons on whose\naccount he is no way obliged to interest himself. The sight of\nhim will give me pleasure, and I shall omit nothing to confirm\nhim in those good sentiments. Fail not to bring him to me to-\nmorrow.' Therefore, sir, be so good as to accompany me to the\npalace.\"\n\nThe confidant's proposal perplexed the jeweller. \"Your mistress,\"\nreplied he, \"must allow me to say that she has not duly\nconsidered what she requires of me. Ebn Thaher's access to the\ncaliph gave him admission every where; and the officers who knew\nhim, allowed him free access to Schemselnihar's palace; but as\nfor me, how dare I enter? You see clearly that it is impossible.\nI entreat you to represent to Schemselnihar the reasons which\nprevent me from affording her that satisfaction; and acquaint her\nwith all the ill consequences that would attend my compliance. lf\nshe considered it ever so little, she would find that it would\nexpose me needlessly to very imminent danger.\"\n\nThe confidant endeavoured to encourage the jeweller. \"Can you\nbelieve,\" said she, \"that Schemselnihar is so unreasonable as to\nexpose you to the least danger by bringing you to her, from whom\nshe expects such important services? Consider with yourself that\nthere is not the least appearance of risk. My mistress and I are\ntoo much interested in this affair to involve you in any danger.\nYou may depend upon me, and leave yourself to my conduit. After\nthe thing is over you will be the first to confess that your\napprehensions were groundless.\"\n\nThe jeweller yielded to the confidant's assurances, and rose up\nto follow her, but notwithstanding his boasted courage, he was\nseized with such terror that his whole body trembled. \"In your\npresent state,\" said she, \"I perceive it will be better for you\nto remain at home, and that Schemselnihar should take other\nmeasures to see you. It is not to be doubted but that to satisfy\nher desire she will come hither herself: the case being so, sir,\nI would not have you go: I am persuaded it will not be long ere\nyou see her here.\" The confidant foresaw this; for she no sooner\ninformed Schemselnihar of the jeweller's fear, but she prepared\nto go to his house.\n\nHe received her with all the expressions of profound respect.\nWhen she sat down, being a little fatigued, she unveiled herself,\nand exhibited to the jeweller such beauty as convinced him that\nthe prince of Persia was excusable in giving his heart to the\ncaliph's favourite. Then she saluted the jeweller with a graceful\nair, and said to him, \"I could not hear with what zeal you have\nengaged in the prince of Persia's concerns and mine, without\nimmediately determining to express my gratitude in person. I\nthank heaven for having so soon made up to us the loss of Ebn\nThaher.\"\n\nSchemselnihar said many 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 it does not relieve me. Whatever the lovely\nSchemselnihar says, I dare not hope, and my patience is\nexhausted; I know not now what measures to pursue; Ebn Thaher's\ndeparture reduces me to despair. He was my only support: in him I\nhave lost every thing. I had flattered myself with some hopes by\nreason of his access to Schemselnihar.\"\n\nAfter these words, which the prince spoke with so much eagerness,\nthat he gave the jeweller no time to interrupt him, he said to\nthe prince, \"No man can take more interest in your affliction\nthan I do; and if you will have patience to hear me you will\nperceive that I can relieve you.\" Upon this the prince became\nsilent, and listened to him. \"I see,\" said the jeweller, \"that\nthe only way to give you satisfaction is to devise a plan that\nwill afford you an opportunity of conversing freely with\nSchemselnihar. This I wish to procure you, and to-morrow will\nmake the attempt. You must by no means expose yourself to enter\nSchemselnihar's palace; you know by experience the danger of that\nstep. I know a fitter place for this interview, where you will be\nsafe.\" When the jeweller had finished, the prince embraced him\nwith transports of joy. \"You revive,\" said he, \"by this promise,\na wretched lover, who was condemned to die. You have fully\nrepaired the loss of Ebn Thaher; whatever you do will be well\nperformed; I leave myself entirely to your conduct.\"\n\nAfter the prince had thus thanked him for his zeal, the jeweller\nreturned home, and next morning Schemselnihar's confidant came to\nhim. He told her that he had given the prince of Persia hopes\nthat he should shortly see her mistress. \"I am come on purpose,\"\nanswered she, \"to concert measures with you for that end. I think\nthis 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 no one\nresides at present; I will immediately furnish it for their\nreception.\" \"There remains nothing then for me to do,\" replied\nthe confidant, \"but to bring Schemselnihar to consent to this. I\nwill go and speak to 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\npurse, and told him it was to prepare a collation. He carried her\nimmediately to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she\nmight know whither to bring her mistress: and when she was gone,\nhe went to borrow from his friends gold and silver plate,\ntapestry, rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he\nfurnished the house very magnificently; and when he had put all\nthings in order, went 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 made him\nforget all his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and\nwent without his retinue along with the jeweller; who led him\nthrough several by-streets that nobody might observe them, and at\nlast brought him to the house, where they conversed together\nuntil Schemselnihar's arrival.\n\nThey did not wait long for this passionate lover. She came after\nevening prayer, with her confidant, and two other slaves. It is\nimpossible to express the excess of joy that seized these two\nlovers when they saw one another. They sat down together upon a\nsofa, looking upon one another for some time, without being able\nto speak, they were so much overjoyed: but when their speech\nreturned, they soon made up for their silence. They said to each\nother so many tender things, as made the jeweller, the confidant,\nand the two other slaves weep. The jeweller however restrained\nhis tears, to attend the collation, which he brought in himself.\nThe lovers ate and drank little, after which they sat down again\nupon the sofa: Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if he had a lute,\nor any other instrument, The jeweller, who took care to provide\nall that could please her, brought her a lute: she spent some\ntime in tuning it, and then sung.\n\nWhile Schemselnihar was 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 had\nbrought with him, came in great alarm to tell him that some\npeople were breaking in at the gate; that he asked who they were,\nbut instead of any answer the blows were redoubled. The jeweller,\nbeing alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince to inform\nhimself of the truth of this intelligence. No sooner had he got\nto the court, than he perceived, notwithstanding the darkness of\nthe night, a company of men armed with spears and cimeters, who\nhad broken the gate, and came directly towards him. He stood\nclose to a wall for fear of his life, and saw ten of them pass\nwithout being perceived by them. Finding he could give no great\nassistance to the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he\ncontented himself with lamenting their fate, and fled for refuge\nto a neighbour's house, who was not yet gone to bed. He did not\ndoubt but this unexpected violence was by the caliph's order,\nwho, he thought, had been informed of his favourite's meeting the\nprince of Persia there. He heard a great noise in his house,\nwhich continued till midnight: and when all was quiet, as he\nthought, he desired his neighbour to lend him a cimeter; and\nbeing thus armed, went on till he came to the gate of his own\nhouse: he entered the court full of fear, and perceived a man,\nwho asked him who he was; he knew by his voice that it was his\nown slave. \"How did you manage,\" said he, \"to avoid being taken\nby the watch?\" \"Sir,\" answered the slave, \"I hid myself in a\ncorner of the court, and I went out as soon as I heard the noise.\nBut it was not the watch who broke into your house: they were\nrobbers, who within these few days robbed another house in this\nneighbourhood. They doubtless had notice of the rich furniture\nyou brought hither, and had that in view.\"\n\nThe jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable enough. He\nentered the house, and saw that the robbers had taken all the\nfurniture out of the apartment where he received Schemselnihar\nand her lover, that they had also carried off the gold and silver\nplate, and, in a word, had left nothing. Perceiving this\ndesolation, he exclaimed, \"O heaven! I am irrecoverably ruined!\nWhat will my friends say, and what excuse can I make when I shall\ntell them that the robbers have broken into my house, and robbed\nme of all they had generously lent me? I shall never be able to\nmake up their loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and\nthe prince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it\nwill be impossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will\nget notice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his\nfury.\" The slave, who was very much attached to him, endeavoured\nto comfort him. \"As to Schemselnihar,\" said he, \"the robbers\nwould probably consent themselves with stripping her, and you\nhave reason to think that she is retired to her palace with her\nslaves. The prince of Persia too has probably escaped, so that\nyou have reason to hope the caliph will never know of this\nadventure. As for the loss your friends have sustained, that is a\nmisfortune that you could not avoid. They know very well the\nrobbers are numerous, that they have not only pillaged the house\nI have already 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\nbeen yet 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 will have enough left.\"\n\nWhile they were waiting for day-light, the jeweller ordered the\nslave to mend the street door, which was broken, as well as he\ncould: after which he returned to his usual residence with his\nslave, making melancholy reflections on what had happened. \"Ebn\nThaher,\" said he to himself, \"has been wiser than I; he foresaw\nthe misfortune into which I have blindly thrown myself: would to\nGod I had never meddled in this intrigue, which will, perhaps,\ncost me my life!\"\n\nIt was scarcely day when the report of the robbery spread through\nthe city, and a great many of his friends and neighbours came to\nhis house to express their concern for his misfortune; but were\ncurious to know the particulars. He thanked them for their\naffection, and had at least the consolation, that he heard no one\nmention Schemselnihar. or the prince of Persia: which made him\nbelieve they were at their houses, or in some secure place.\n\nWhen the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something\nto eat, but he had no appetite. About noon one of his slaves came\nto tell him there was a man at the gate, whom he knew not, that\ndesired to speak with him. The jeweller, not choosing to receive\na stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak to him.\n\"Though you do not know me,\" said the man; \"I know you, and I am\ncome to talk to you about an important affair.\" The jeweller\ndesired him to come in. \"No,\" answered the stranger \"if you\nplease, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other\nhouse.\" \"How know you,\" asked the jeweller, \"that I have another\nhouse?\" \"I know very well,\" answered the stranger; \"follow me,\nand do not fear any thing: I have something to communicate 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 had been robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive\nhim.\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\nme the truth. I will conduct you to a place where we shall be\nbetter accommodated.\" When he had thus spoken, he went on, and\nwalked all the rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller\nbeing fatigued with his walk, vexed to see night approach, and\nthat the stranger went on without telling him where he was going,\nbegan to lose his patience, when they came to a path which led to\nthe Tigris. As soon as they reached the river, they embarked in a\nlittle boat, and went over. The stranger led the jeweller through\na long street, where he had never been before; and after he had\nbrought him through several by-streets, he stopped at a gate,\nwhich he opened. He made the jeweller go in before him, he then\nshut and bolted the gate, with a huge iron bolt, and conducted\nhim to a chamber, where there were ten other men, all of them as\ngreat strangers to the jeweller as he who had brought him hither.\n\n\nThese ten men received him without much ceremony. They desired\nhim to sit down, of which he had great need; for he was not only\nout of breath with walking so far, but his terror at finding\nhimself with people whom he thought he had reason to fear would\nhave disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to\ngo to supper, and as soon as he came it was served up. They\nwashed their hands, obliged the jeweller to do the like, and to\nsit at table with them. After supper the men asked him, if he\nknew whom he spoke to? He answered, \"No; and that he knew not the\nplace he was in.\" \"Tell us your last night's adventure,\" said\nthey to him, \"and conceal nothing from us.\" The jeweller, being\nastonished at this request, answered, \"Gentlemen, it is probable\nyou know it already.\" \"That is true,\" replied they; \"the young\nman and the young lady, who were at your house yesternight, told\nit us; but we would know it from your own mouth.\" The jeweller\nneeded no more to inform him that he spoke to the robbers who had\nbroken into and plundered his house. \"Gentlemen,\" said he, \"I am\nmuch troubled for that young man and lady; can you give me any\ntidings of them?\"\n\nUpon the jeweller's inquiry of the thieves, if they knew any\nthing of the young man and the young lady, they answered, \"Be not\nconcerned for them, they are safe and well,\" so saying, they\nshewed him two closets, where they assured him they were\nseparately shut up. They added, \"We are informed you alone know\nwhat relates to them, which we no sooner came to understand, but\nwe shewed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing\nthem any injury, that we treated them with all possible kindness\non your account. We answer for the same,\" proceeded they, \"for\nyour own person, you may put unlimited confidence in us.\"\n\nThe jeweller being encouraged by this assurance, and overjoyed to\nhear that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe,\nresolved to engage the robbers yet farther in their interest. He\ncommended them, flattered them, and gave them a thousand\nbenedictions. \"Gentlemen,\" said he, \"I must confess I have not\nthe honour to know you, yet it is no small happiness to me that I\nam not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be sufficiently\ngrateful for the favours which that knowledge has procured me at\nyour hands. Not to mention your great humanity, I am fully\npersuaded now, that persons of your character are capable of\nkeeping a secret faithfully, and none are so fit to undertake a\ngreat enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by\nyour zeal, courage, and intrepidity. Confiding in these\nqualities, which are so much your due, I hesitate not to tell you\nmy whole history, with that of those two persons you found in my\nhouse, with all the fidelity you desire me.\"\n\nAfter the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the\nconfidence of the robbers, he made no scruple to relate to them\nthe whole amour of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from\nthe beginning of it to the time he had received them into his\nhouse.\n\nThe robbers were greatly astonished at all the particulars they\nheard, and could not forbear exclaiming, \"How! is it possible\nthat the young man should be the illustrious Ali Ebn Becar,\nprince of Persia, and the young lady the fair and celebrated\nbeauty Schemselnihar?\" The jeweller assured them nothing was more\ncertain, and that they need not think it strange, that persons of\nso distinguished a character should wish not to be known.\n\nUpon this assurance of their quality, the robbers went\nimmediately, one after another, and threw themselves at their\nfeet, imploring their pardon, and protesting that nothing of the\nkind would have happened to them, had they been informed of the\nquality of their persons before they broke into the house; and\nthat they would by their future conduct endeavour to make amends\nfor the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Then turning to\nthe jeweller, they told him, they were heartily sorry they could\nnot restore to him all that had been taken from him, part of it\nbeing no longer in their possession. but as for what remained, if\nhe would content himself with his plate, it should be forthwith\nput into his hand.\n\nThe jeweller was overjoyed at the favour done him, and after the\nrobbers had delivered to him the plate, they required of the\nprince, Schemselnihar, and him, to promise them upon oath, that\nthey would not betray them, and they would carry them to a place\nwhence they might easily return to their respective homes. The\nprince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, replied, that they might\nrely on their words, but since they desired an oath of them, they\nsolemnly swore not to discover them. The thieves, satisfied with\nthis, immediately went out with them.\n\nOn the way, the jeweller, uneasy at not seeing the confidant and\nthe two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar, and begged her to\ninform him what was become of them. She answered, she knew\nnothing of them, and that all she could tell him was, that she\nwas carried away from his house, ferried over the river, and\nbrought to the place from whence they were just come.\n\nSchemselnihar and the jeweller had no farther conversation; they\nlet the robbers conduit them with the prince to the river's side,\nwhen the robbers immediately took boat, and carried them over to\nthe opposite bank.\n\nWhile the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller were landing,\nthey heard the noise of the horse patrol coming towards them,\njust as the boat had conveyed the robbers back.\n\nThe commander of the brigade demanded of the prince,\nSchemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they\nhad come so late? Frightened as they were, and apprehensive of\nsaying any thing that might prejudice them, they could not speak;\nbut at length it was necessary they should. The jeweller's mind\nbeing most at ease, he said, \"Sir, I can assure you, we are\nrespectable people of the city. The persons who have just landed\nus, and are now returned to the other side of the water, are\nthieves, who having last night broke open the house where we\nwere, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to their quarters,\nwhence by fair words, we prevailed on them to let us have our\nliberty; and they brought us hither. They have restored us part\nof the booty they had taken from us.\" At which words he shewed\nthe parcel of plate he had recovered.\n\nThe commander, not satisfied with what the jeweller had told him,\ncame up to him and the prince of Persia, and looking steadfastly\nat them, said, \"Tell me truly, who is this lady? How came you to\nknow her?\"\n\nThese questions embarrassed them so much that neither of them\ncould answer; till at length Schemselnihar extricated them from\ntheir difficulty, and taking the commander aside, told him who\nshe was; which he no sooner heard, than he alighted with\nexpressions of great respect and politeness, and ordered his men\nto bring two boats.\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 boat; with orders to accompany each of them\nwhithersoever they were bound. The boats took different routes,\nbut we shall at present speak only of that which contained the\nprince and the jeweller.\n\nThe prince, to save his guides trouble, bade them land the\njeweller at his house, naming the place. The guide, by this\ndirection, stopped just before the caliph's palace, which put\nboth him and the jeweller into great alarm; for although they had\nheard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help\nimagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, to be\nbrought before the caliph next morning.\n\nThis nevertheless was not the intention of the guides. For after\nthey had landed them, they, by their master's command,\nrecommended them to an officer of the caliph's guard who assigned\nthem two soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's house,\nwhich was at some distance from the river. They arrived there,\nbut so tired and weary that they could hardly move.\n\nThe prince being come home, with the fatigue of his journey, and\nthis misadventure to himself and Schemselnihar, which deprived\nhim of all hope of ever seeing her more, fell into a swoon on his\nsofa. While the greatest part of his servants were endeavoring to\nrecover him, the rest gathered about the jeweller, and begged him\nto tell them what had happened to the prince their lord, whose\nabsence had occasioned them such inexpressible uneasiness.\n\nWhile the greatest part of the prince's domestics were\nendeavouring to recover him from his swoon, others of them got\nabout the jeweller, desiring to know what had happened to their\nlord. The jeweller, who took care to discover nothing that was\nnot proper for them to know, told them that it was an\nextraordinary case, but that it was not a time to relate it, and\nthat they would do better to go and assist the prince. By good\nfortune the prince came to himself that moment, and those that\nbut just before required his history with so much earnestness\nretreated to a respectful distance.\n\nAlthough the prince had in some measure recovered his\nrecollection, he continued so weak that he could not open his\nmouth to speak. He answered only by signs, even to his nearest\nrelations, when they spoke to him. He remained in this condition\ntill next morning, when the jeweller came to take leave of him.\nHe could answer only by a movement of his eyes, and holding out\nhis right hand; but when he saw he was laden with a bundle of\nplate, which the thieves had returned to him, he made a sign to\nhis servants that they should take it and carry it to his house.\n\nThe jeweller had been expected with great impatience by his\nfamily the day he departed with the stranger; but now he was\nquite given over, and it was no longer doubted but some disaster\nhad befallen him. His wife, children, and servants, were in the\ngreatest alarm, and lamenting him. When he arrived, their joy was\nexcessive; yet they were troubled to see that he was so much\naltered in the short interval, that he was hardly to be known.\nThis was occasioned by the great fatigue of the preceding day,\nand the fears he had undergone all night, which would not permit\nhim to sleep. Finding himself much indisposed, he continued at\nhome two days, and would admit only one of his intimate friends\nto visit him.\n\nThe third day, finding himself something better, he thought he\nmight recover strength by going abroad to take the air; and\ntherefore went to the shop of a rich merchant of his\nacquaintance, with whom he continued long in conversation. As he\nwas rising to take leave of his friend to return home, he\nobserved a woman making a sign to him, whom he presently knew to\nbe the confidant of Schemselnihar. Between fear and joy, he made\nwhat haste he could away, without looking at her; but she\nfollowed him, as he feared she would, the place they were in\nbeing by no means proper to converse in. As he quickened his\npace, she, not being able to overtake him, every now and then\ncalled out to him to stay.\n\nHe heard her; but after what had happened, he did not think fit\nto speak to her in public, for fear of giving cause to suspect\nthat he was connected with Schemselnihar. It was known to every\nbody in Bagdad, that this woman belonged to her, and executed all\nher little commissions. He continued the same pace, and at length\nreached a mosque, where he knew but few people came. He entered,\nand she followed him, and they had a long conversation together,\nwithout any body overhearing them.\n\nBoth the jeweller and confidant expressed much joy at seeing each\nother, after the strange adventure of the robbers, and their\nreciprocal apprehension for each other, without regarding their\nown particular persons.\n\nThe jeweller wished her to relate to him how she escaped with the\ntwo slaves, and what she knew of Schemselnihar from the time he\nlost sight of her; but so great was her eagerness to know what\nhad happened to him from the time of their unexpected separation,\nthat he found himself obliged to satisfy her. \"Having given you\nthe detail you desired,\" said he, \"oblige me in your turn,\" which\nshe did in the following manner.\n\n\"When I first saw the robbers, I hastily imagined that they were\nsoldiers of the caliph's guard, and that the caliph being\ninformed of Schemselnihar's going out, had sent them to put her,\nthe prince, and all of us to death. Under this impression I\nimmediately got up to the terrace of your house, when the thieves\nentered the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar were,\nand I was soon after followed by that lady's two slaves. From\nterrace to terrace, we came at last to a house of very honest\npeople, who received us with much civility, and with whom we\nlodged that night.\n\n\"Next morning, after thanking the master of the house for our\ngood usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's palace, where we\nentered in great disorder and distress, because we could not\nlearn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women of\nSchemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their\nlady. We told them, we had left her at the house of one of her\nfemale friends, and that she would send for us when she wished to\ncome home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.\n\n\"For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness, and when night\narrived, opening a small private gate, I espied a little boat on\nthe canal which seemed driven by the stream. I called to the\nwaterman, and desired him to row up each side of the river, and\nlook if he could not see a lady; and if he found her, to bring\nher along with him. The two slaves and I waited impatiently for\nhis return, and at length, about midnight, we saw the boat coming\ndown with two men in it, and a woman lying along in the stern.\nWhen the boat was come up, the two men helped the woman to rise,\nand then it was I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I cannot express\nmy joy at seeing her.\n\n\"I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat; she\nhad great need of my assistance, for she could hardly stand. When\nshe was landed, she whispered me in a tone expressive of her\naffliction, and bade me go and take a purse of one thousand\npieces of gold and give it to the two soldiers that had\naccompanied her. I left her to the care of the two slaves to\nsupport her, and having ordered the two soldiers to wait for me a\nmoment, I took the purse, and returned instantly; I gave it to\nthem, and having paid the waterman, shut the door.\n\n\"I then followed my lady, and overtook her before she had reached\nher chamber. We immediately undressed her, and put her to bed,\nwhere she had not long been, before she became so ill that for\nthe whole of the night we almost despaired of her life. The day\nfollowing, her other women expressed a great desire to see her;\nbut I told them she had been greatly fatigued, and wanted rest.\nThe other two women and I gave her all the assistance in our\npower; but we should have given over every hope of her recovery,\nhad I not at last perceived that the wine which we every now and\nthen gave her had a sensible effect in recruiting her strength.\nBy importunity we at length prevailed with her to eat.\n\n\"When she recovered the use of her speech, for she had hitherto\nonly wept, groaned, and sighed, I begged of her to tell me how\nshe had escaped out of the hands of the robbers. \u0091Why would you\nrequire of me,' said she, with a profound sigh, \u0091to renew my\ngrief? Would to God the robbers had taken away my life, rather\nthan have preserved it; my misfortunes would then have had an\nend, whereas I live but to increase my sufferings.'\n\n\"Madam,' I replied, \u0091I beg you would not refuse me this favour.\nYou cannot but know that the wretched feel a consolation in\nrelating their greatest misfortunes; what I ask would alleviate\nyours, if you would have the goodness to gratify me.'\n\n\"\u0091Hear then,' said she, \u0091the most afflicting adventure that could\npossibly have happened to one so deeply in love as myself, who\nconsidered myself as at the utmost point of my wishes. You must\nknow, when I first saw the robbers enter, sword in hand, I\nconsidered it as the last moment of our lives. But death was not\nan object of regret, since I thought I was to die with the prince\nof Persia. However, instead of murdering us, as I expected, two\nof the robbers were ordered to take care of us, whilst their\ncompanions were busied in packing up the goods they found in the\nhouse. When they had done, and got their bundles upon their\nbacks, they went out, and took us with them.\n\n\"\u0091As we went along, one of those that had charge of us demanded\nof me who I was? I answered, I was a dancer. He put the same\nquestion to the prince, who replied, he was a citizen.\n\n\"When we had reached the place of our destination, a new alarm\nseized us. They gathered about us, and after having considered my\ndress, and the rich jewels I was adorned with, they seemed to\nsuspect I had disguised my quality. \"Dancers,\" said they, \"do not\nuse to be dressed as you are. Tell us truly who you are?\"\n\n\"\u0091When they saw I made no reply, they asked the prince once more\nwho he was, for they told him they plainly perceived he was not\nthe person he pretended to be. He did not satisfy them much more\nthan I had done; he only told them he came to see the jeweller,\nnaming him, who was the owner of the house where they found us.\n\"I know this jeweller,\" replied one of the rogues, who seemed to\nhave some authority over the rest: \"I owe him some obligations,\nwhich he knows nothing of, and I take upon me to bring him hither\nto-morrow morning; but you must not expect,\" continued he, \"to be\nreleased till he arrives and tells us who you are; in the mean\ntime, I promise you there shall be no injury offered to you.\"\n\n\"\u0091 The jeweller was brought next morning, who thinking to oblige\nus, as he really did, declared to the robbers the whole truth.\nThey immediately came and asked my pardon, and I believe did the\nlike to the prince, who was shut up in another room. They\nprotested to me, they would not have broken open the house where\nwe were, had they known it was the jeweller's. They soon after\ntook us (the prince, the jeweller, and myself), carried us to the\nriver side, put us aboard a boat, and rowed us across the water;\nbut we were no sooner landed, than a party of horse-patrol came\nup to us.\n\n\"The robbers fled; I took the commander aside, and told him my\nname, and that the night before I had been seized by robbers, who\nforced me along with them; but having been told who I was,\nreleased me, and the two persons he saw with me, on my account.\nHe alighted out of respect to me; and expressing great joy at\nbeing able to oblige me, caused two boats to be brought: putting\nme and two of his soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, he\nescorted me hither: but what is become of the prince and his\nfriend I cannot tell.\n\n\"\u0091I trust,' added she, melting into tears, \u0091no harm has befallen\nthem since our separation; and I do not doubt but the prince's\nconcern for me is equal to mine for him. The jeweller, to whom we\nhave been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss\nhe has sustained on our account. Fail not, therefore, to take two\npurses of a thousand pieces of gold in each, and carry them to\nhim to-morrow morning in my name, and be sure to inquire after\nthe prince's welfare.'\n\n\"When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to\nthe last article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to\npersuade her to endeavour to triumph over her passion, after the\ndanger she had so lately escaped almost by miracle. \u0091Make me no\nanswer,' said she, \u0091but do what I require.'\n\n\"I was obliged to be silent, and am come hither to obey her\ncommands. I have been at your house, but not finding you at home,\nand uncertain as I was of where you might be found, was about\ngoing to the prince of Persia; but not daring to attempt the\njourney, I have left the two purses with a particular friend, and\nif you will wait here, I will go and fetch them immediately.\"\n\nThe confidant soon returned to the jeweller in the mosque, where\nshe had left him, and giving him the two purses, bade him out of\nthem satisfy his friends. \"They are much more than is necessary,\"\nsaid he, \"but I dare not refuse the present from so good and\ngenerous a lady to her most humble servant; I beseech you to\nassure her from me, that I shall preserve an eternal remembrance\nof her goodness.\" He then agreed with the confidant, that she\nshould find him at the house where she had first seen him,\nwhenever she had occasion to impart any thing from Schemselnihar,\nor to hear any tidings of the prince of Persia: and so they\nparted.\n\nThe jeweller returned home well pleased, not only that he had got\nwherewithal so fully to satisfy his friends, but also to think\nthat no person in Bagdad could possibly know that the prince and\nSchemselnihar had been in his other house when it was robbed. It\nis true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but on their\nsecrecy he thought he might very well depend. Next morning he\nvisited the friends who had obliged him, and found no difficulty\nin satisfying them. He had money in hand to furnish his other\nhouse, in which he placed servants. Thus he forgot all his past\ndanger, and the next evening waited on the prince of Persia.\n\nThe prince's domestics told the jeweller, that he came very\nopportunely, as the prince, since he had parted with him, was\nreduced to such a state that his life was in danger. They\nintroduced him softly into his chamber, and he found him in a\ncondition that excited his pity. He was lying on his bed, with\nhis eyes closed; but when the jeweller saluted him, and exhorted\nhim to take courage, he recollected him, opened his eyes, and\ngave him a look that sufficiently declared the greatness of his\naffliction, infinitely beyond what he felt after he first saw\nSchemselnihar. He grasped him by the hand, to testify his\nfriendship, and told him, in a feeble voice, that he was\nextremely obliged to him for coming so far to visit one so\nunhappy and wretched.\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the jeweller, \"mention not, I beseech you, any\nobligations you owe to me. I wish the good offices I have\nendeavoured to do you had had a better effect; but at present,\nlet us talk only of your health; which, in the state I see you, I\nfear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from proper\nnourishment.\"\n\nThe prince's servants took this opportunity to tell him, it was\nwith the greatest difficulty they had prevailed on their master\nto take the smallest refreshment, and that for some time he had\ntaken nothing. This obliged the jeweller to entreat the prince to\nlet his servants bring him something to eat.\n\nAfter the prince had, through the persuasion of the jeweller,\neaten more than he had hitherto done, he commanded the servants\nto leave him alone with his friend. When the room was clear, he\nsaid, \"Besides the misfortune that distracts me, I have been\nexceedingly concerned to think what a loss you have sustained on\nmy account; and it is but just I should make you some recompence.\nBut before I do this, after begging your pardon a thousand times,\nI conjure you to tell me whether you have learnt any tidings of\nSchemselnihar, since I had the misfortune to be parted from her.\"\n\nHere the jeweller, instructed by the confidant, related to him\nall that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her palace, her\nstate of health from that time till she recovered, and how she\nhad sent her confidant to him to inquire after his welfare.\n\nTo all this the prince replied only by sighs and tears. He made\nan effort to get up, and calling his servants, went himself to\nhis wardrobe, and having caused several bundles of rich furniture\nand plate to be packed up, he ordered them to be carried to the\njeweller's house.\n\nThe jeweller would fain have declined 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 was therefore obliged to make all\npossible acknowledgments, and protested how much he was\nconfounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken\nhis leave, but the prince desired him to stay, and they passed\ngood part of the night in conversation.\n\nNext morning the jeweller waited again on the prince, who made\nhim sit down by him. \"You know,\" said he, \"there is an end\nproposed in all things: that which the lover proposes, is to\nenjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If once he\nloses that hope, he must not think to live. Such is my hard case;\nfor twice when I have been at the very point of fulfilling my\ndesires, I have suddenly been torn from her I loved in the most\ncruell manner imaginable. It remains for me only to think of\ndeath, and I had sought it, but that our holy religion forbids\nsuicide; but I need not anticipate it; I need not wait long.\"\nHere he stopped, and vented his passion in groans, sighs, sobs,\nand tears, which flowed abundantly.\n\nThe jeweller, who knew no better way of diverting him from his\ndespair than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving\nhim some shadow of hope, told him, he feared the confidant might\nbe come from her lady, and therefore it would not be proper to\nstay any longer from home. \"I will let you go,\" said the prince,\n\"but conjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to\nassure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do shortly, I\nshall love her to the last moment, even in the grave.\"\n\nThe jeweller returned home, and waited in expectation of seeing\nthe confidant, who came some hours after, but all in tears, and\nin great affliction. The jeweller alarmed, asked her what was the\nmatter? She answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince, herself,\nand he, were all ruined. \"Hear the sad news,\" said she, \"as it\nwas told me just upon my entering the palace after I had left you\n\n\"Schemselnihar had for some fault chastised one of the slaves you\nsaw with her when you met in your other house. The slave, enraged\nat the ill treatment, ran immediately away, and finding the gate\nopen, went out; so that we have just reason to believe she has\ndiscovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her\nprotection.\n\n\"But this is not all; the other slave her companion has fled too,\nand has taken refuge in the caliph's palace. So that we may well\nfear she has borne her part in this discovery: for just as I came\naway, the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for\nSchemselnihar, who have carried her to the palace. I just found\nmeans to come and tell you this. I know not what has passed, yet\nI fear no good; but above all, I recommend to you to keep the\nsecret inviolate.\"\n\nThe confidant added to what she had related before to the\njeweller, that it was proper he should go immediately and\nacquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be\nprepared for every event, and keep faithful to the common cause.\nShe went away in haste, without staying for any answer.\n\n\nWhat answer could the jeweller have made in the condition he was\nin? He stood motionless as if thunderstruck. He found, however,\nthat there was no time to be lost, and immediately went to give\nthe prince information. He addressed him with an air, that\nsufficiently shewed the bad news he brought. \"Prince,\" said he,\n\"arm yourself with courage and patience, and prepare to receive\nthe most terrible shock that ever you had to encounter.\"\n\n\"Tell me in a few words,\" replied the prince, \"what is the\nmatter, without keeping me in suspense; I am, if necessary,\nprepared to die.\"\n\nThen the jeweller repeated all that he had learnt from the\nconfidant. \"You see,\" continued he, \"your destruction is\ninevitable. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the time is\nprecious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to the anger\nof the caliph, and, less than any, confess in the midst of\ntorture.\"\n\nAt these words the prince was ready to expire through grief,\naffliction, and fear. However, he recovered himself, and asked\nthe jeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this\nconjuncture, every moment of which ought to be employed. The\njeweller told him, he thought nothing remained, but that he\nshould immediately take horse, and hasten away towards Anbar,\nthat he might get thither before day. \"Take what servants and\nswift horses you think necessary,\" continued he, \"and suffer me\nto escape with you.\"\n\nThe prince, seeing nothing more to be done, immediately gave\norders to prepare such an equipage as would be least troublesome;\ntook money and jewels, and having taken leave of his mother,\ndeparted with the jeweller and such servants as he had chosen.\n\nThey travelled all night without stopping, till at length, both\ntheir horses and themselves being spent with so long a journey,\nthey halted to rest themselves.\n\nThey had hardly alighted before they found themselves surrounded\nand assaulted by a band of robbers. They defended their lives for\nsome time courageously; but at length the prince's servants being\nall killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield at\ndiscretion. The robbers, however, spared their dives, but after\nthey had seized the horses and baggage, they took away their\nclothes and left them naked.\n\nWhen the thieves were gone, the prince said to the jeweller,\n\"What think you of our adventure and condition? Had I not better\nhave tarried in Bagdad, and awaited my death?\" \"Prince,\" replied\nthe jeweller, \"it is the decree of Heaven that we should thus\nsuffer. It has pleased God to add affliction to affliction. and\nwe must not murmur, but receive his chastisements with\nsubmission. Let us stay no longer here, but seek for some retreat\nwhere we may perhaps be relieved.\"\n\n\"Let me die,\" said the prince; \"for what signifies it whether I\ndie here or elsewhere. Perhaps while we are talking,\nSchemselnihar is no more, and why should I endeavour to live\nafter she is dead!\" The jeweller, by his entreaty, at length\nprevailed on him, and they had not gone far before they came to a\nmosque, which was open; they entered it, and passed there the\nremainder of the night.\n\n\nAt day-break a man came into the mosque. When he had ended his\nprayer, as he turned about to go away, he perceived the prince\nand jeweller, who were sitting in a corner. He came up to them,\nand after having saluted them with a great deal of civility,\nsaid, \"I perceive you are strangers.\"\n\nThe jeweller answered, \"You are not deceived. We have been robbed\nto-night in coming from Bagdad, as you may see, and have retired\nhither for shelter, but we know not to whom to apply.\" \"If you\nthink fit to accompany me to my house,\" answered the man, \"I will\ngive you all the assistance in my power.\"\n\nUpon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and\nwhispered, \"This man, as you perceive, sir, does not know us, and\nwe have reason to fear that somebody else may come who does. We\ncannot, I think, refuse his offer.\" \"Do as you please,\" said the\nprince; \"I am willing to be guided by your discretion.\"\n\nThe man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together,\nand thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked\nthem if they were resolved what to do? The jeweller answered \"We\nare ready to follow you; all we hesitate about is that we are\nashamed to appear thus naked.\"\n\nFortunately the man had it in his power to cover them\nsufficiently till they could get to his house. As soon as they\nhad entered, he brought a very handsome suit for each of them. As\nhe thought they must be hungry, and might wish to be alone, he\nhad several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate\nlittle, especially the prince who was so dejected and dispirited,\nthat he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host\nvisited them several times in the course of the day, and in the\nevening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early. But he\nwas no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him\nagain to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found\nhim breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him reason to\nfear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince\nsaid, \"It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last\nwords. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not\ntell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is,\nthat I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always\nloved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. Let\nher know how much I was concerned at this, and request her in my\nname to have my body removed to Bagdad, that she may have an\nopportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my\ndeparted soul with her prayers.\" He then took notice of the\nmaster of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking\nhim in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till\nit should be conveyed to Bagdad, he 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 in safety. He first went home to change his\nclothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace, where every\nbody was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired\nthem to acquaint the prince's mother that he wished to speak with\nher, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a\nhall, with several of her women about her. \"Madam,\" said he to\nher, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he\nbrought, \"God preserve you, and shower down upon you the choicest\nof his blessings. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes\nof us at his pleasure.\"\n\n\nThe princess would not permit him to proceed, but exclaimed,\n\"Alas! you bring me the news of my son's death?\" She and her\nwomen at the same time wept and sobbed loudly. At length she\nchecked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue\nwithout concealing from her the least circumstance of such a\nmelancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done,\nshe farther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given\nhim in charge something more particular in his last moments? He\nassured her his last words were, that it was to him the most\nafflicting circumstance that he must die so far distant from his\ndear mother, and that the only thing he wished was, that she\nwould have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly early\nnext morning the princess set out with her women and great part\nof her slaves, to bring her son's body to her own palace.\n\nWhen the jeweller, whom she had detained, had seen her depart, he\nreturned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so\naccomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower\nof his age.\n\nAs he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a\nwoman standing before him. He recognized her to be\nSchemselnihar's confidant. At the sight of her, his tears began\nto flow afresh but he said nothing to her; and going into his own\nhouse, she followed him.\n\nThey sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation,\nasked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the\ndeath of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that\nshe grieved. \"Alas!\" answered she, \"What! is that charming prince\nthen dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar.\nBeauteous souls,\" continued she, \"in whatsoever place ye now are,\nye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted.\nYour bodies were an obstacle to your wishes; but Heaven has\ndelivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union.\"\n\nThe jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and\nhad not reflected that the confidant was in mourning, suffered\nfresh grief at this intelligence. \"Is Schemselnihar then dead?\"\ncried he. \"She is,\" replied the confidant, weeping afresh, \"and\nit is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death\nwere extraordinary,\" continued she, \"and deserve to be known to\nyou: but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to\nacquaint me with those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my\ndearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.\"\n\nThe jeweller then gave the confidant the information she desired;\nand after he had told her all, even to the departure of the\nprince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began and\nsaid, \"You have not forgotten that I told you the caliph had sent\nfor Schemselnihar to his palace. He had, as we had every reason\nto believe, been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince\nby the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You may imagine,\nhe would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar's conduct, and\ngive striking proofs of his jealousy and of his impending\nvengeance against the prince. But this was by no means the case.\nHe pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for\nwhat had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about\nthe city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only\nconclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behavior\ntowards her, as you will hear.\n\n\"He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed\nthat the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty\n(for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear), with\na goodness worthy himself, he said \u0091Schemselnihar, I cannot bear\nyour appearing before me thus with an air which gives me infinite\npain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved\nyou, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the\ncontinued demonstrations I have given of it. I can never change\nmy mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies,\nSchemselnihar,' proceeded he, \u0091and those enemies have insinuated\nthings against your conduct, but all they have said against you\nhas not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this\nmelancholy, and prepare to entertain me this night with some\namusing conversation, after your accustomed manner.' He said many\nother obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a\nmagnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.\n\n\"The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the caliph's\nkindness; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the\nmore she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for\never, from her prince, without whom she could not live.\n\n\"This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,\" continued\nthe confidant, \"took place whilst I was come to speak to you, and\nI learned the particulars of it from my companions who were\npresent. But I had no sooner left you,\" proceeded she, \"than I\nwent to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what\nhappened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you\nof; and as she though I came from you, she drew near me, and\nwhispering me, said, \u0091I am much obliged to you for the service\nyou have done me, but I feel it will be the last.' She said no\nmore; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to\ncomfort her.\n\n\"The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments\nwhich her women played upon, and the collation was immediately\nserved up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit\ndown with him on the sofa; she put such a force upon herself to\nplease him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she\nwas hardly set down, when she fell backwards. The caliph believed\nshe had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never\nrecovered, and in this manner we lost her.\n\n\"The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able\nto refrain from tears; and before he left the room ordered all\nthe musical instruments to be broken; this was immediately done.\nI stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and\ndressed her for her funeral, bathing her with my tears. The\ncaliph had her interred in a magnificent tomb he had erected for\nher in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in.\nNow since you tell me,\" said she, \"the prince of Persia's body is\nto be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he\nshall be interred in the same tomb.\"\n\nThe jeweller was much surprised at this resolution of the\nconfidant, and said, \"Certainly you do not consider that the\ncaliph will never suffer this?\" \"You think the thing impossible,\"\nreplied she; \"it is not. You will alter your opinion when I tell\nyou that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves, with a\npension to each for their support. He has committed to me the\ncare and keeping of my mistress's tomb, and allotted me an annual\nincome for that purpose, and for my maintenance. Besides, the\ncaliph, who was not ignorant of the amour between Schemselnihar\nand the prince, as I have already told you, without being\noffended, will not be sorry if after her death he be buried with\nher.\" To all this the jeweller had not a word to say. He\nearnestly entreated the confidant to conduct him to her\nmistress's tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he\ncame in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast\nconcourse of people of both sexes, who were come thither from all\nparts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his\nprayers at a distance; and then going to the confidant, who was\nwaiting hard by, said to her, \"I am now so far from thinking that\nwhat you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need\nonly publish abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate\ncouple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his\nmistress. Before his corpse arrives, all Bagdad will concur to\ndesire that two such faithful lovers, whom nothing could divide\nin affection whilst they lived, should not be separated when\ndead.\" It happened as he said; for as soon as it was known that\nthe corpse was within a day's journey of the city, an infinite\nnumber of people went above twenty miles to meet it, and\nafterwards walked before it till it came to the city gate; where\nthe confidant, waiting for that purpose, presented herself before\nthe prince's mother, and begged of her in the name of the whole\ncity, who earnestly desired it, that she would be pleased to\nconsent that the bodies of the two lovers, who had but one heart\nwhilst they lived, from the time their mutual passion commenced,\nmight be buried in the same tomb. The princess immediately\nconsented; and the corpse of the prince, instead of being\ndeposited in his own burying-place, was laid by Schemselnihar's\nside, after it had been carried along in procession at the head\nof an infinite number of people of all ranks. From that time all\nthe inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of\nthe world where the Mahummedan religion prevails have held that\ntomb in the highest veneration, and pay their devotions at it.\n\n\n\n\n\n     The Story of the Loves of Kummir Al Zummaun, Prince of\n     the Isles of the Children of Khaledan, and of Badoura,\n                       Princess of China.\n\n\n\nAbout twenty days' sail from the coast of Persia, there are\nislands in 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,\nforming together a powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by\na king named Shaw Zummaun, who had four lawful wives, all\ndaughters of kings, and sixty concubines.\n\nShaw Zummaun thought himself the most happy monarch of the world,\non account of his peaceful and prosperous reign. One thing only\ndisturbed his happiness; which was, that he was advanced in\nyears, and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew\nnot to what to attribute this barrenness; and what increased his\naffliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a\nsuccessor. He dissembled his discontent, and this dissimulation\nonly heightened his uneasiness. At length he broke silence; and\none day after he had complained bitterly of his misfortune to his\ngrand vizier, he asked 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 rules of human wisdom, you had soon\nhad an answer to your satisfaction; but my experience and\nknowledge fall far short of your question. It is to God only that\nwe can apply in cases of this kind. In the midst of our\nprosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, he is pleased\nto mortify us in some instance, that we may address our thoughts\nto him, acknowledge his omnipotence, and ask of him what we ought\nto expect from him alone. Your majesty has subjects,\" proceeded\nhe \"who make a profession of honouring and serving God, and\nsuffering great hardships for his sake; to them I would advise\nyou to have recourse, and engage them, by alms, to join their\nprayers with yours. Perhaps some one among them may be so pure\nand pleasing to God as to obtain a hearing for your prayers.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun approved this advice, and thanked his vizier. He\nimmediately caused alms to be given to every community of these\nholy men in his dominions: and having sent for the superiors,\ndeclared to them his intention, and desired them to acquaint\ntheir devout men with it.\n\nThe king obtained of Heaven what he requested, for in nine\nmonths' time he had a son by one of his wives. To express his\ngratitude to Heaven, he sent fresh alms to the communities of\ndevotees, and the prince's birth-day was celebrated not only in\nhis capital, but throughout his dominions, for a whole week. The\nprince was brought to him as soon as born, and he found him so\nbeautiful that he gave him the name of Kummir al Zummaun, or Moon\nof the Age.\n\nHe was brought up with all imaginable care; and when he had\narrived at a proper age, his father appointed him an experienced\ngovernor and able preceptors. These persons, distinguished by\ntheir capacity, found in him a ready wit capable of receiving all\nthe instructions that were proper to be given him, as well in\nrelation to morals as other knowledge which a prince ought to\npossess. As he grew up, he learned all his exercises, and\nacquitted himself with such grace and wonderful address, as to\ncharm all that saw him, and particularly the sultan his father.\n\nWhen he had attained the age of fifteen, the sultan, who tenderly\nloved him, and gave him every day new marks of his affection,\nproposed to afford a still higher demonstration by resigning his\nthrone to him, and he accordingly acquainted his grand vizier\nwith his intentions. \"I fear,\" said he, \"lest my son should lose\nin the inactivity of youth those advantages which nature and my\neducation have give him; therefore, since I am advanced in age,\nand ought to think of retirement I propose to resign the\ngovernment to him, and pass the remainder of my days in the\nsatisfaction of seeing him reign. I have borne the fatigue of a\ncrown till I am weary of it, and think it is now proper for me to\nretire.\"\n\nThe grand vizier declined offering all the reasons he could have\nalleged to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the\ncontrary, he appeared to acquiesce with him in his opinion.\n\"Sir,\" replied he, \"the prince is yet but young, and it would\nnot, in my humble opinion, be advisable to burden him with the\nweight of a crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with great reason,\nhis youth may be corrupted by indolence: but to avoid this\ndanger, do not you think it would be proper to marry him?\nMarriage forms attachment, and prevents dissipation. Your majesty\nmight then admit him of your council, where he would learn by\ndegrees the art of reigning; and so be prepared to receive your\nauthority, whenever by your own experience you shall think him\nqualified.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun approved the advice of his prime minister; and\nsummoned the prince to appear before him, at the same time that\nhe dismissed the grand vizier.\n\nThe prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at\ncertain times without being sent for, was a little startled at\nthis summons; when, therefore, he came into his presence, he\nsaluted him with great respect, and stood with his eyes fixed on\nthe ground.\n\nThe sultan perceiving his constraint, addressed him with great\nmildness, \"Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for\nyou?\" The prince modestly replied, \"God alone knows the heart: I\nshall hear it from your majesty with pleasure.\" \"I sent for you,\"\nresumed the sultan, \"to inform you that it is my intention to\nprovide a proper marriage for you: what do you think of my\ndesign?\"\n\nThe prince heard this with great uneasiness: he was greatly\nagitated, and knew not what answer to make. After a few moments\nsilence, he replied, \"Sir, I beseech you to pardon me if I seem\nsurprised at the declaration you have made. I did not expect such\nproposals at my present age. I know not whether I could prevail\non myself to marry, on account of the trouble incident to a\nmarried life, and the many treacheries of women, which I have\nread of. I may not be always of the same mind, yet I conceive it\nwill require time to determine on what your majesty requires of\nme.\"\n\nThe prince's answer extremely afflicted his father. He was not a\nlittle grieved to discover his aversion to marriage; yet would\nnot charge him with disobedience, nor exert his paternal\nauthority. He contented himself with telling him, he would not\nforce his inclinations, but give him time to consider of the\nproposal; and reflect, that a prince destined to govern a great\nkingdom ought to take some care to leave a successor; and that in\ngiving himself that satisfaction he communicated it to his\nfather, who would be glad to see himself revive in his son and\nhis issue.\n\nShaw Zummaun said no more to the prince but admitted him into his\ncouncil, and gave him every reason to be satisfied. At the end of\nthe year he took him aside, and said to him; \"My son, have you\nthoroughly considered what I proposed to you last year about\nmarrying? Will you still refuse me that pleasure I expect from\nyour obedience, and suffer me to die without affording me that\nsatisfaction?\"\n\nThe prince seemed less disconcerted than before; and was not long\nanswering his father to this effect: \"Sir, I have not neglected\nto consider of your proposal; but after the maturest reflection\nfind myself more confirmed in my resolution to continue in a\nstate of celibacy. The infinite mischief which women have caused\nin the world, and which are on record in our histories, and the\naccounts I daily hear to their disadvantage, are the motives\nwhich powerfully influence me against having any thing to do with\nthem; so that I hope your majesty will pardon me if I presume to\ntell you, it will be in vain to solicit me any further upon this\nsubject.\" As soon as he had thus spoken, he quitted the sultan\nabruptly without waiting his answer.\n\nAny monarch but Shaw Zummaun would have been angry at such\nfreedom in a son, and would have made him repent; but he loved\nhim, and preferred gentle methods before he proceeded to\ncompulsion. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his\nprime minister. \"I have followed your advice,\" said he, \"but\nKummir al Zummaun is farther than ever from complying with my\ndesires. He delivered his determination in such free terms, that\nit required all my reason and moderation to keep my temper.\nFathers who so earnestly desire children as I did this son are\nfools, who seek to deprive themselves of that rest which it is in\ntheir own power to enjoy without control. Tell me, I beseech you,\nhow I shall reclaim a disposition so rebellious to my will?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the grand vizier, \"patience brings many things\nabout that before seemed impracticable; but it may be this affair\nis of a nature not likely to succeed that way. Your majesty will\nhave no cause to reproach yourself for precipitation, if you\nwould give the prince another year to consider your proposal. If\nin this interval he return to his duty, you will have the greater\nsatisfaction, as you will have employed only paternal love to\ninduce him; and if he still continue averse when this is expired,\nyour majesty may in full council observe, that it is highly\nnecessary for the good of the state that he should marry; and it\nis not likely he will refuse to comply before so grave an\nassembly, which you honour with your presence.\"\n\nThe sultan, who so anxiously desired to see his son married,\nthought this long delay an age; however, though with much\ndifficulty, he yielded to his grand vizier's reasons, which he\ncould not disapprove.\n\nAfter the grand vizier was gone, the sultan went to the apartment\nof the mother of prince Kummir al Zummaun, to whom he had often\nexpressed his desire to see the prince married. When he had told\nher, with much concern, how his son had a second time refused to\ncomply with his wishes, and the indulgence which, by the advice\nof his grand vizier, he was inclined to shew him; he said, \"I\nknow he has more confidence in you than he has in me, and will be\nmore likely to attend to your advice. I therefore desire you\nwould take an opportunity to talk to him seriously, and urge upon\nhim, that if he persists in his obstinacy, he will oblige me to\nhave recourse to measures which would be disagreeable to me, and\nwhich would give him cause to repent having disobeyed me.\"\n\nFatima, for so was the lady called, told the prince the first\ntime she saw him, that she had been informed of his second\nrefusal to marry; and how much chagrin his resolution had\noccasioned his father. \"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"I beseech\nyou not to renew my grief upon that head. I fear, under my\npresent uneasiness, something may escape me, which may not be\nconsistent with the respect I owe you.\" Fatima judged from this\nanswer that this was not a proper time to speak to him, and\ntherefore deferred what she had to say to another opportunity.\n\nSome considerable time after, Fatima thought she had found a more\nfavourable season, which gave her hopes of being heard upon that\nsubject. \"Son,\" said she, \"I beg of you, if it be not\ndisagreeable, to tell me what reason you have for your great\naversion to marriage? If it be the wickedness of some women,\nnothing can be more unreasonable and weak. I will not undertake\nthe defence of those that are bad; there are a great number of\nthem undoubtedly; but it would be the height of injustice on\ntheir account to condemn all the sex. Alas! my son, you have in\nyour books read of many bad women, who have occasioned great\nmischief, and I will not excuse them: but you do not consider how\nmany monarchs, sultans, and other princes there have been in the\nworld, whose tyrannies, barbarities, and cruelties astonish those\nthat read of them, as well as myself. Now, for one wicked woman,\nyou will meet with a thousand tyrants and barbarians; and what\ntorment do you think must a good woman undergo, who is matched\nwith any of these wretches?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"I doubt not there are a great\nnumber of wise, virtuous, good, affable, and well-behaved women\nin the world; would to God they all resembled you! But what\ndeters me is, the hazardous choice a man is obliged to make, and\noftentimes one has not the liberty of following his inclination.\n\n\"Let us suppose then, madam,\" continued he, \"that I had a mind to\nmarry, as the sultan my father so earnestly desires; what wife,\nthink you, would he be likely to provide for me? Probably a\nprincess whom he would demand of some neighbouring prince, and\nwho would think it an honour done him to send her. Handsome or\nugly, she must be taken; nay, suppose no other princess excelled\nher in beauty, who can be certain that her temper would be good;\nthat she would be affable, complaisant, easy, obliging, and the\nlike? That her conversation would generally turn on solid\nsubjects, and not on dress, fashions, ornaments, and a thousand\nsuch fooleries, which would disgust any man of sense? In a word,\nthat she would not be haughty, proud, arrogant, impertinent,\nscornful, and waste an estate in frivolous expenses, such as gay\nclothes, jewels, toys, and foolish mistaken magnificence?\n\n\"You see, madam,\" continued he, \"by one single article, how many\nreasons a man may have to be disgusted at marriage. Let this\nprincess be ever so perfect, accomplished, and irreproachable in\nher conduct, I have yet a great many more reasons not to alter my\nopinion and resolution.\"\n\n\"What, son,\" exclaimed Fatima; \"have you then more reasons after\nthose you have already alleged? I do not doubt of being able to\nanswer them, and stop your mouth with a word.\" \"You may proceed,\nmadam,\" returned the prince, \"and perhaps I may find a reply to\nyour answer.\"\n\n\"I mean, son,\" said Fatima, \"that it is easy for a prince, who\nhas had the misfortune to marry such a wife as you describe, to\nget rid of her, and take care that she may not ruin the state.\"\n\"Ah, madam,\" replied the prince, \"but you do not consider what a\nmortification it would be to a person of my quality to be obliged\nto come to such an extremity. Would it not have been more for his\nhonour and quiet that he had never run such a risk?\"\n\n\"But, son,\" said Fatima once more, \"as you take the case, I\napprehend you have a mind to be the last king of your race, who\nhave reigned so long and gloriously over the isles of the\nchildren of Khaledan?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"for myself I do not desire to\nsurvive the king my father; and if I should die before him, it\nwould be no great matter of wonder, since so many children have\ndied before their parents. But it is always glorious to a race of\nkings, that it should end with a prince worthy to be so, as I\nshould endeavour to make myself like my predecessors, and like\nthe first of our race.\"\n\nFrom that time Fatima had frequent conferences with her son the\nprince on the same subject; and she omitted no opportunity or\nargument to endeavour to root out his aversion to the fair sex;\nbut he eluded all her reasonings by such arguments as she could\nnot well answer, and continued unaltered.\n\nThe year expired, and, to the great regret of the sultan, prince\nKummir al Zummaun gave not the least proof of having changed his\nsentiments. One day, therefore, when there was a great council\nheld, the prime vizier, the other viziers, the principal officers\nof the crown, and the generals of the army being present, the\nsultan thus addressed the prince: \"My son, it is now a long while\nsince I expressed to you my earnest desire to see you married,\nand I imagined you would have had more complaisance for a father,\nwho required nothing unreasonable of you, than to oppose him so\nlong. But after such a resistance on your part, which has almost\nworn out my patience, I have thought fit to propose the same\nthing once more to you in the presence of my council. It is not\nmerely to oblige a parent that you ought to have acceded to my\nwish, the well-being of my dominions requires your compliance,\nand this assembly join with me in expecting it: declare yourself,\nthen; that your answer may regulate my proceedings.\"\n\nThe prince answered with so little reserve, or rather with so\nmuch warmth, that the sultan, enraged to see himself thwarted by\nhim in full council, exclaimed, \"How, unnatural son! have you the\ninsolence to talk thus to your father and sultan?\" He ordered the\nguards to take him away, and carry him to an old tower that had\nbeen long unoccupied; where he was shut up, with only a bed, a\nlittle furniture, some books, and one slave to attend him.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, thus deprived of liberty, was nevertheless\npleased that he had the freedom to converse with his books, which\nmade him regard his confinement with indifference. In the evening\nhe bathed and said his prayers; and after having read some\nchapters in the Koraun, with the same tranquillity of mind as if\nhe had been in the sultan's palace, he undressed himself and went\nto bed, leaving his lamp burning by him while he slept.\n\nIn this tower was a well, which served in the daytime for a\nretreat to a certain fairy, named Maimoune, daughter of Damriat,\nking or head of a legion of genies. It was about midnight when\nMaimoune sprung lightly to the mouth of the well, to wander about\nthe world after her wonted custom, where her curiosity led her.\nShe was surprised to see a light in the prince's chamber. She\nentered, and without stopping at the slave who lay at the door,\napproached the bed.\n\nThe prince had but half covered his face with the bed-clothes,\nwhich Maimoune lifted up, and perceived the finest young man she\nhad ever seen in her rambles through the world. \"What beauty, or\nrather what prodigy of beauty,\" said she within herself, \"must\nthis youth appear, when the eyes, concealed by such well-formed\neyelids, shall be open? What crime can he have committed, that a\nman of his high rank can deserve to be treated thus rigorously?\"\nfor she had already heard his story, and could hardly believe it.\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 was ascending into the middle region, she heard a great\nflapping of wings, towards which she directed her course; and\nwhen she approached, she knew it was a genie who made the noise,\nbut it was one of those that are rebellious against God. As for\nMaimoune, she belonged to that class whom the great Solomon had\ncompelled to acknowledge him.\n\nThis genie, whose name was Danhasch, and son of Schamhourasch,\nknew Maimoune, and was seized with fear, being sensible how much\npower she had over him by her submission to the Almighty. He\nwould fain have avoided her, but she was so near him, he must\neither fight or yield. He therefore broke silence first.\n\n\"Brave Maimoune,\" said he, in the tone of a suppliant, \"swear to\nme in the name of the great God, that you will not hurt me; and I\nswear also on my part not to do you any harm.\"\n\n\"Cursed genie,\" replied Maimoune, \"what hurt canst thou do me? I\nfear thee not; but I will grant thee this favour; I will swear\nnot to do thee any harm. Tell me then, wandering spirit, whence\nthou comest, what thou hast seen, and what thou hast done this\nnight?\" \"Fair lady,\" answered Danhasch, \"you meet me in a good\ntime to hear something very wonderful.\"\n\nDanhasch, the genie rebellious against God, proceeded and said to\nMaimoune, \"Since you desire, I will inform you that I have come\nfrom the utmost limits of China, which comprise the remotest\nislands of this hemisphere. . . . . But, charming Maimoune,\" said\nDanhasch, who trembled with fear at the sight of this fairy, so\nthat he could hardly speak, \"promise me at least you will forgive\nme, and let me proceed after I have satisfied your request.\"\n\n\"Go on, cursed spirit,\" replied Maimoune; \"go on, and fear\nnothing. Dost thou think I am as perfidious as thyself, and\ncapable of breaking the solemn oath I have made? Be sure you\nrelate nothing but what is true, or I shall clip thy wings, and\ntreat thee as thou deserves\"\n\nDanhasch, a little encouraged by the words of Maimoune, said, \"My\ndear lady, I will tell you nothing but what is strictly true, if\nyou will but have the goodness to hear me. The country of China,\nfrom whence I come, is one of the largest and most powerful\nkingdoms of the earth, on which depend the remotest islands of\nthis hemisphere, as I have already told you. The king of this\ncountry is at present Gaiour, who has an only daughter, the\nfinest woman that ever was seen in the world since it has been a\nworld. Neither you nor I, neither your class nor mine, nor all\nour respective genies, have expressions forcible enough, nor\neloquence sufficient to convey an adequate description of her\ncharms. Her hair is brown, and of such length as to trail on the\nground; and so thick, that when she has fastened it in buckles on\nher head, it may be fitly compared to one of those fine clusters\nof grapes whose fruit is so very large. Her forehead is as smooth\nas the best polished mirror, and admirably formed. Her eyes are\nblack, sparkling, and full of fire. Her nose is neither too long\nnor too short, and her mouth small and of a vermilion colour. Her\nteeth are like two rows of pearls, and surpass the finest in\nwhiteness. When she moves her tongue to speak, she utters a sweet\nand most agreeable voice; and expresses herself in such terms, as\nsufficiently indicate the vivacity of her wit. The whitest\nalabaster is not fairer than her neck. In a word, by this\nimperfect sketch, you may guess there is no beauty likely to\nexceed her in the world.\n\n\n\"Any one that did not know the king, the father of this\nincomparable princess, would be apt to imagine, from the great\nrespect and kindness he shews her, that he was enamoured with\nher. Never did a lover more for the most beloved mistress than he\nhas been seen to do for her. The most violent jealousy never\nsuggested such measures as his care has led him to adopt, to keep\nher from every one but the man who is to marry her: and that the\nretreat in which he has resolved to place her may not seem\nirksome, he has built for her seven palaces, the most\nextraordinary and magnificent that ever were known.\n\n\"The first palace is of rock crystal, the second of brass, the\nthird of fine steel, the fourth of another kind of brass more\nvaluable than the former and also than steel, the fifth of\ntouchstone, the sixth of silver, and the seventh of massive gold.\nHe has furnished these palaces most sumptuously, each in a manner\ncorresponding to the materials of the structure. He has\nembellished the gardens with parterres of grass and flowers,\nintermixed with pieces of water, water-works, jets d'eau, canals,\ncascades, and several great groves of trees, where the eye is\nlost in the perspective, and where the sun never enters, and all\ndifferently arranged. King Gaiour, in a word, has shewn that his\npaternal love has led him to spare no expense.\n\n\"Upon the fame of this incomparable princess's beauty, the most\npowerful neighbouring kings have sent ambassadors to solicit her\nin marriage. The king of China received them all in the same\nobliging manner; but as he resolved not to marry his daughter\nwithout her consent, and she did not like any of the parties, the\nambassadors were forced to return as they came, as to the subject\nof their embassy; they were perfectly satisfied with the great\nhonours and civilities they had received.\n\n\"\u0091Sir,' said the princess to the king her father, \u0091 you have an\ninclination to see me married, and think to oblige me by it; but\nwhere shall I find such stately palaces and delicious gardens as\nare furnished me by your majesty? Through your good pleasure I am\nunder no constraint, and have the same honours shewn to me as are\npaid to yourself. These are advantages I cannot expect to find\nany where else, whoever may be my husband; men love to be\nmasters, and I have no inclination to be commanded.'\n\n\"After several other embassies on the same occasion, there\narrived one from a king more opulent and powerful than any of the\npreceding. This prince the king of China recommended to his\ndaughter for her husband, urging many forcible arguments to shew\nhow much it would be to her advantage to accept him, but she\nentreated her father to excuse her compliance for the reasons she\nhad before urged. He pressed her; but instead of consenting, she\nlost all the respect due to the king her father: \u0091 Sir,' said\nshe, in anger, \u0091talk to me no more of this or any other match,\nunless you would have me plunge this dagger in my bosom, to\ndeliver myself from your importunities'\n\n\"The king, greatly enraged, said, \u0091Daughter, you are mad, and I\nmust treat you accordingly.' In a word, he had her shut up in a\nsingle apartment of one of his palaces, and allowed her only ten\nold women to wait upon her, and keep her company, the chief of\nwhom had been her nurse That the kings his neighbours, who had\nsent embassies to him on her account, might not think any more of\nher, he despatched envoys to them severally, to let them know how\naverse his daughter was to marriage; and as he did not doubt but\nshe was really mad, he charged them to make known in every court,\nthat if there were any physician that would undertake to cure\nher, he should, if he succeeded, have her for his pains.\n\n\"Fair Maimoune,\" continued Danhasch, \"all that I have told you is\ntrue; and I have gone every day regularly to contemplate this\nincomparable beauty, to whom I would be sorry to do the least\nharm, notwithstanding my natural inclination to mischief. Come\nand see her, I conjure you; it would be well worth your while.\nWhen you have seen from your own observation that I am no liar, I\nam persuaded you will think yourself obliged to me for the sight\nof a princess unequalled in beauty.\"\n\nInstead of answering Danhasch, Maimoune burst out into violent\nlaughter, which lasted for some time; and Danhasch, not knowing\nwhat might be the occasion of it, was astonished beyond measure.\nWhen she had done laughing, she exclaimed, \"Good, good, very\ngood! You would have me then believe all you have told me? I\nthought you designed to tell me something surprising and\nextraordinary, and you have been talking all this while of a mad\nwoman. Fie, fie! what would you say, cursed genie, if you had\nseen the beautiful prince from whom I am just come, and whom I\nlove as he deserves. I am confident you would soon give up the\ncontest, and not pretend to compare your choice with mine.\"\n\n\"Agreeable Maimoune,\" replied Danhasch, \"may I presume to ask who\nthis prince you speak of is?\" \"Know,\" answered Maimoune, \"the\nsame thing has happened to him as to your princess. The king his\nfather would have married him against his will; but after much\nimportunity, he frankly told him he would have nothing to do with\na wife. For this reason he is at this moment imprisoned in an old\ntower where I reside.\"\n\n\"I will not absolutely contradict you,\" replied Danhasch; \"but,\nmy pretty lady, you must give me leave to be of opinion, till I\nhave seen your prince, that no mortal upon earth can equal my\nprincess in beauty.\" \"Hold thy tongue, cursed sprite,\" replied\nMaimoune. \"I tell thee once more thou art wrong.\" \"I will not\ncontend with you,\" said Danhasch, \"but the way to be convinced,\nwhether what I say be true or false, is to accept of my proposal\nto go and see my princess, and after that I will go with you to\nyour prince.\"\n\n\"There is no need I should be at so much trouble,\" replied\nMaimoune; \"there is another way to satisfy us both; and that is,\nfor you to bring your princess, and place her at my prince's bed-\nside: by this means it will be easy for us to compare them\ntogether, and determine the dispute.\"\n\nDanhasch consented, and determined to set out immediately for\nChina. But Maimoune drew him aside, and told him, she must first\nshew him the tower whither he was to bring the princess. They\nflew together to the tower, and when Maimoune had strewn it to\nDanhasch, she cried, \"Go fetch your princess, and do it quickly,\nyou will 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 received him, and introduced him into\nthe chamber of Kummir al Zummaun, where they placed the princess\nby the prince's side.\n\nWhen the prince and princess were thus laid together, there arose\na sharp contest between the genie and the fairy about the\npreference of their beauty. They were some time admiring and\ncomparing them without speaking; at length Danhasch said to\nMaimoune, \"You see, and I have already told you, my princess was\nhandsomer than your prince; now, I hope, you are convinced.\"\n\n\"How! convinced!\" replied Maimoune; \"I am not convinced, and you\nmust be blind, if you cannot see that my prince excels in the\ncomparison. That the princess is fair, I do not deny; but if you\ncompare them together without prejudice, you will soon see the\ndifference.\"\n\n\"How much soever I may compare them,\" returned Danhasch, \"I shall\nnever change my opinion. I saw at first sight what I now behold,\nand time will not make me see differently: however, this shall\nnot hinder my yielding to you, charming Maimoune, if you desire\nit.\" \"What! have you yield to me as a favour! I scorn it,\" said\nMaimoune, \"I would not receive a favour at the hand of such a\nwicked genie. I will refer the matter to an umpire, and if you do\nnot consent, I shall win by your refusal.\"\n\nDanhasch, who was ready to have shewn a different kind of\ncomplaisance, no sooner gave his consent, than Maimoune stamped\nwith her foot. The earth opened, and out came a hideous, hump-\nbacked, squinting, and lame genie, with six horns upon his head,\nand claws on his hands and feet. As soon as he was come out, and\nthe earth had closed, perceiving Maimoune, he threw himself at\nher feet, and then rising on one knee, inquired her commands.\n\n\"Rise, Caschcasch,\" said Maimoune, \"I brought you hither to\ndetermine a difference between me and this cursed Danhasch. Look\non that bed, and tell me without partiality who is the handsomer\nof those two that lie there asleep, the young man or the young\nlady.\"\n\nCaschcasch 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, he turned to\nMaimoune, and said, \"Madam, I must confess I should deceive you,\nand betray myself, if I pretended to say one was handsomer than\nthe other. The more I examine them, the more clearly it appears\nto me each possesses, in a sovereign degree, the beauty of which\nboth partake. Neither of them appears to have the least defect,\nto yield to the other the palm of superiority; but if there be\nany difference, the best way to determine it is, to awaken them\none after the other, and to agree that the person who shall\nexpress most love for the other by ardour, eagerness, and\npassion, shall be deemed to have in some respect less beauty.\"\n\nThis proposal of Caschcasch's pleased both Maimoune and Danhasch.\nMaimoune then changed herself into a flea, and leaping on the\nprince's neck, stung him so smartly, that he awoke, and put up\nhis hand to the place; but Maimoune skipped away, and resumed her\npristine form, which, like those of the two genies, was\ninvisible, the better to observe 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 lying by him a lady of the greatest\nbeauty. He raised his head, and leaned on his elbow, the better\nto observe her. Her blooming youth and incomparable beauty fired\nhim in a moment with a flame of which he had never yet been\nsensible, and from which he had hitherto guarded himself with the\ngreatest attention.\n\nLove seized on his heart in the most lively manner, and he\nexclaimed, \"What beauty! what charms! my heart! my soul!\" As he\nspoke he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her mouth with so\nlittle caution, that he would have awakened her, had she not\nslept sounder than ordinary, through the enchantment of Danhasch.\n\n\"How!\" said the prince, \"do you not awake at these testimonies of\nlove?\" He was going to awake her, but suddenly refrained. \"Is not\nthis she,\" said he, \"that the sultan my father would have had me\nmarry? He was in the wrong not to let me see her sooner. I should\nnot have offended him by my disobedience and passionate language\nto him in public, and he would have spared himself the confusion\nwhich I have occasioned him.\"\n\nThe prince began to repent sincerely of the fault he had\ncommitted, and was once more on the point of awaking the princess\nof China. \"It may be,\" said he, \"that the sultan my father has a\nmind to surprise me; and has sent this young lady to try if I had\nreally that aversion to marriage which I pretended. Who knows but\nhe has brought her himself, and is hidden behind the hangings, to\nobserve me, and make me ashamed of my dissimulation? The second\nfault would be greater than the first. At all events, I will\ncontent myself with this ring, as a remembrance of her.\"\n\nHe then gently drew off a ring which the princess had on her\nfinger, and immediately replaced it with one of his own. After\nthis he fell into a more profound sleep than before, through the\nenchantment of the genies.\n\nDanhasch now transformed himself into a flea in his turn, and bit\nthe princess so rudely on the lip, that she awoke, started up,\nand on opening her eyes, was not a little surprised to see a man\nlying by her side. From surprise she proceeded to admiration, and\nfrom admiration to a transport of joy, at beholding so beautiful\nand lovely a youth.\n\n\"What!\" cried she, \"is it you the king my father has designed me\nfor a husband? Would that I had known it, for then I should not\nhave displeased him, nor been deprived of a husband whom I cannot\nforbear loving. Wake then, awake!\"\n\nSo saying, she took the prince by the arm, and shook him so\nviolently, that he would have awaked, had not Maimoune increased\nhis sleep by her enchantment. She shook him several times, and\nfinding he did not awake, exclaimed, \"What is come to thee? what\njealous rival, envying thy happiness and mine, has had recourse\nto magic to throw thee into this unconquerable drowsiness when\nthou shouldst be most awake?\" Tired at length with her fruitless\nendeavours to awaken the prince; \"Since,\" said she, \"I find it is\nnot in my power to awake thee, I will no longer disturb thy\nrepose, but wait our next meeting.\" After having kissed his\ncheek, she lay down and fell asleep by enchantment.\n\nMaimoune now cried out to Danhasch, \"Ah, cursed genie, art thou\nnot now convinced how much thy princess is inferior to my prince?\nAnother time believe me when I assert any thing.\" Then turning to\nCaschcasch, \"As for you,\" said she, \"I thank you for your\ntrouble; take the princess, in conjunction with Danhasch, and\nconvey her back again to her bed, from whence he has taken her.\"\nDanhasch and Caschcasch did as they were commanded, and Maimoune\nretired to her well.\n\nKummir al Zummaun on waking next morning, looked if the lady whom\nhe had seen the night before were by him. When he found she was\ngone, he cried out, \"I thought indeed this was a trick the king\nmy father designed to play me. I am glad I was aware of it.\" He\nthen awaked the slave, who was still asleep, and after he had\nwashed and said his prayers, took a book and read some time.\n\nAfter these usual exercises, he called the slave, and said to\nhim, \"Come hither, and be sure you do not tell me a lie. How came\nthe lady hither who lay with me to-night, and who brought her?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered the slave with great astonishment, \"I know\nnot what lady your highness speaks of.\" \"I speak,\" said the\nprince, \"of her who came, or rather was brought hither, and lay\nwith me to-night.\" \"My lord,\" replied the slave, \"I swear I know\nof no such lady; and how should she come in without my knowledge,\nsince I lay at the door?\"\n\n\"You are a lying knave,\" replied the prince, \"and in the plot to\nvex and provoke me.\" He then gave him a box on the ear, which\nknocked him down; and after having stamped upon him for some\ntime, he tied the well-rope under his arms, and plunged him\nseveral times into the water, neck and heels. \"I will drown\nthee,\" cried he, \"if thou dost not tell me directly who this lady\nwas, and who brought her.\"\n\nThe slave, perplexed and half dead, said within himself, \"The\nprince must have lost his senses through grief, and I shall not\nescape if I do not tell him a falsehood. My lord,\" cried he, in a\nsuppliant tone, \"I beseech your highness to spare my life, and I\nwill tell you the truth.\"\n\nThe prince drew the slave up, and pressed him to tell him. As\nsoon as he was out of the well, \"My lord,\" said he, trembling,\n\"your highness must perceive it is impossible for me to satisfy\nyou in my present condition; I beg you to give me leave first to\ngo and change my clothes.\" \"I permit you, but do it quickly,\"\nsaid the prince; \"and be sure you conceal nothing.\"\n\nThe slave went out, and having locked the door upon the prince,\nran to the palace just as he was. The king was at that time in\ndiscourse with his prime vizier, to whom he had just related the\ngrief in which he had passed the night on account of his son's\ndisobedience and opposition to his will.\n\nThe minister endeavoured to comfort his master, by telling him,\nthe prince himself had given him cause for his severity. \"Sir,\"\nsaid he, \"your majesty need not repent of having treated your son\nin this manner. Have but patience to let him continue a while in\nprison, and assure yourself his heat will abate, and he will\nsubmit to all you require.\"\n\nThe grand vizier had but just done speaking when the slave came\nin, and cast himself at the feet of the sovereign. \"My lord,\"\nsaid he, \"I am sorry to be the messenger of ill news to your\nmajesty, which I know must occasion you fresh affliction. The\nprince is distracted; he raves of a lady having lain with him all\nnight, and his treatment of me, as you may see, too plainly\nproves the state of his mind.\" Then he proceeded to relate the\nparticulars of what the prince had said, and the violence with\nwhich he had been treated.\n\nThe king, who did not expect to hear any thing of this afflicting\nkind, said to the prime minister, \"This is a melancholy turn,\nvery different from the hopes you gave me: go immediately and\nexamine the condition of my son.\"\n\nThe grand vizier obeyed; and coming into the prince's chamber,\nfound him sitting on his bed with a book in his hand, which he\nwas reading.\n\nAfter mutual salutations, the vizier said, \"My lord, I wish that\na slave of yours were punished for coming to alarm the king your\nfather by news that he has brought him.\"\n\n\"What is it,\" demanded the prince, \"that could give my father so\nmuch uneasiness?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" answered the vizier, \"God forbid that the intelligence\nhe has conveyed to your father concerning you should be true;\nindeed, I find it to be false, by the calm temper in which I\nobserve you, and which I pray you to continue.\"\n\n\"It may be,\" replied the prince, \"he did not make himself well\nunderstood; but since you are come, who ought to know something\nof the matter, permit me to ask you who that lady was that lay\nwith me last night?\"\n\nThe grand vizier was thunderstruck at this question; he recovered\nhimself and said, \"My lord, be not surprised at my astonishment\nat your question. Is it possible, that a lady or any other person\nshould penetrate by night into this place without entering at the\ndoor, and walking over the body of your slave? I beseech you,\nrecollect yourself, and you will find it is only a dream which\nhas made this impression on you.\"\n\n\"I give no ear to what you say,\" replied the prince, raising his\nvoice. \"I must know from you absolutely what is become of the\nlady; and if you hesitate, I am in a place where I shall soon be\nable to force you to obey me.\"\n\nAt this stern language, the grand vizier began to feel more\nalarmed than before, and to think how he could extricate himself.\nHe endeavoured to pacify the prince, and begged of him, in the\nmost humble and guarded manner, to tell him if he had seen this\nlady.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" answered the prince, \"I have seen her, and am very\nwell satisfied you sent her here to tempt me. She played the part\nin which you had instructed her admirably well. She pretended to\nbe asleep, and I had no sooner fallen into a slumber, than she\narose and left me. You know all this; for I doubt not she has\nbeen to make her report to you.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the vizier, \"I swear to you nothing of this\nkind has been acted; neither your father nor I sent this lady you\nspeak of; permit me therefore once more to suggest to your\nhighness, that you have only seen this lady in a dream.\"\n\n\"Do you come to affront and contradict me,\" said the prince in a\nrage, \"and to tell me to my face, that what I have told you is a\ndream?\" At the same time he took him by the beard, and loaded him\nwith blows, as long as he could stand.\n\nThe grand vizier endured with respectful patience all the\nviolence of the prince's indignation, and could not help saying\nwithin himself, \"Now am I in as bad a condition as the slave, and\nshall think myself happy, if I can, like him, escape from any\nfurther danger.\" In the midst of repeated blows, he cried out but\nfor a moment's audience, which the prince, after he had nearly\ntired himself with beating him, consented to give him.\n\n\"I own, my prince,\" said the grand vizier dissembling, \"there is\nsomething in what your highness suspects; but you cannot be\nignorant of the necessity a minister is under to obey his royal\nmaster's commands: yet, if you will but be pleased to set me at\nliberty, I will go and tell him any thing on your behalf that you\nshall think fit to require.\" \"Go then,\" said the prince, \"and\ntell him from me, if he pleases, I will marry the lady he sent\nme, or, rather, that was brought to me last night. Do this\nimmediately, and bring me a speedy answer.\" The grand vizier made\na profound reverence and went away, not thinking himself\naltogether safe till he had got out of the tower, and had closed\nthe door on the prince.\n\nHe came and presented himself before Shaw Zummaun, with a\ncountenance that sufficiently shewed he had been ill used, and\nwhich the king could not behold without concern. \"Well,\" said the\nking, \"in what condition did you find my son?\" \"Sir,\" answered\nthe vizier, \"what the slave reported to your majesty is but too\ntrue.\" He then began to relate his interview with the prince, how\nhe flew into a passion upon his endeavouring to persuade him it\nwas impossible the lady he spoke of should have been introduced;\nthe ill treatment he had received from him; how he had used him,\nand by what means he had made his escape.\n\nThe king, the more concerned as he loved the prince with\nexcessive tenderness, resolved to find out the truth, and\ntherefore proposed to go himself and see his son in the tower,\naccompanied by the grand vizier.\n\nThe prince received his father in the tower, where he was\nconfined, with great respect. The king put several questions to\nhim, which he answered calmly. The king every now and then looked\non the grand vizier, as intimating he did not find his son had\nlost his wits, but rather thought he had lost his.\n\nThe king at length spoke of the lady to the prince. \"My son,\"\nsaid he, \"I desire you to tell me what lady it was who lay with\nyou last night.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the prince, \"I beg of your majesty not to give me\nmore vexation on that head, but rather to oblige me by letting me\nhave her in marriage; whatever aversion I may hitherto have\ndiscovered for women, this young lady has charmed me to that\ndegree, that I cannot help confessing my weakness. I am ready to\nreceive her at your majesty's hands, with the deepest gratitude.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun was surprised at this answer of the prince, so\nremote, as he thought, from the good sense he had strewn before.\n\"My son,\" said he, \"you fill me with the greatest astonishment by\nwhat you say: I swear to you I know nothing of the lady you\nmention; and if any such has come to you, it was without my\nknowledge or privily. But how could she get into this tower\nwithout my consent? For whatever my grand vizier told you, it was\nonly to appease your anger, it must therefore be a mere dream;\nand I beg of you not to believe otherwise, but recover your\nsenses.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the prince, \"I should be for ever unworthy of your\nmajesty's favour, if I did not give entire credit to what you are\npleased to say but I humbly beseech you at the same time to give\na patient hearing to what I shall relate, and then to judge\nwhether what I have the honour to tell you be a dream or not.\"\n\nThe prince then related to his father how he had been awaked,\nexaggerating the beauty and charms of the lady he found by his\nside, the instantaneous love he conceived for her, and the pains\nhe took to awaken her without effect. Shewing the king the ring\nhe had taken from her finger he added, \"After this, I hope you\nwill be convinced that I have not lost my senses, as you have\nbeen almost made to believe.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun was so perfectly convinced of the truth of what his\nson had been telling him, that he could make no reply, remaining\nastonished for some time, and not being able to utter a syllable.\n\nThe prince took advantage of this opportunity, and said, \"The\npassion I have conceived for this charming lady, whose lovely\nimage I bear continually in my mind, is so ardent, that I cannot\nresist it. I entreat you therefore to have compassion, and\nprocure me the happiness of being united to her.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied the king, \"after what I have just heard, and what\nI see by the ring on your finger, I cannot doubt but that your\npassion is real, and that you have seen this lady, who is the\nobject of it. Would to God I knew who she was. I would instantly\ncomply with your wishes, and should be the happiest father in the\nworld! But where shall I seek her? How came she here, and by what\nconveyance, without my consent? Why did she come to sleep with\nyou only to display her beauty, to kindle a flame of love while\nshe slept, and then leave you while you were in a slumber? These\nthings, I must confess, I do not understand; and if heaven do not\nfavour us in our perplexity, I fear we must both go down to the\ngrave together.\" As he spoke, he took the prince by the hand, and\nsaid, \"Come then, my son, let us go and grieve together; you with\nhopeless love, and I with seeing your affliction, without being\nable to afford you relief.\"\n\n\nShaw Zummaun then led his son out of the tower, and conveyed him\nto the palace, where he had no sooner arrived, than in despair at\nloving an unknown object he fell sick, and took to his bed; the\nking shut himself up with him, without attending to the affairs\nof his kingdom for many days.\n\nThe prime minister, who was the only person that had admittance,\nat length informed him, that the whole court, and even the\npeople, began to murmur at not seeing him, and that he did not\nadminister justice every day as he was wont to do; adding, he\nknew not what disorder it might occasion. \"I humbly beg your\nmajesty, therefore,\" proceeded he, \"to pay some attention. I am\nsensible your majesty's company is a great comfort to the prince,\nand that his tends to relieve your grief; but you must not run\nthe risk of letting all be lost. Permit me to propose to your\nmajesty, to remove with the prince to the castle near the port,\nwhere you may give audience to your subjects twice a week only.\nDuring these absences the prince will be so agreeably amused with\nthe beauty, prospect, and good air of the place, that he will\nbear them with the less uneasiness.\"\n\nThe king approved this proposal: he removed thither with the\nprince; and, excepting when he gave audience, never left him, but\npassed all his time endeavouring to comfort him by sharing his\ndistress.\n\nWhilst matters passed thus in the capital of Shaw Zummaun, the\ntwo genies, Danhasch and Caschcasch, had carried the princess of\nChina back to the palace where the king her father had confined\nher, and laid her in her bed as before.\n\nWhen she awoke next morning, and found that prince Kummir al\nZummaun was not by her, she cried out in such a manner to her\nwomen, that she soon brought them to her bed. Her nurse, who\narrived first, desired to be informed if any thing disagreeable\nhad happened to her.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the princess, \"what is become of the young man\nthat has passed the night with me, and whom I love with all my\nsoul?\" \"Madam,\" replied the nurse, \"we cannot understand your\nhighness, unless you will be pleased to explain yourself.\"\n\n\"A young man, the handsomest and most amiable,\" said the\nprincess, \"slept with me last night, whom, with all my caresses,\nI could not awake; I ask you where he is?\"'\n\n\"Madam,\"answered the nurse, \"your highness asks us these\nquestions in jest. I beseech you to rise.\" \"I am in earnest,\"\nsaid the princess, \"and I must know where this young man is.\"\n\"Madam,\" insisted the nurse, \"you were alone when you went to bed\nlast night; and how any man could come to you without our\nknowledge we cannot imagine, for we all lay about the door of\nyour chamber, which was locked, and I had the key in my pocket.\"\n\nAt this the princess lost all patience,and taking her nurse by\nthe hair of her head, and giving her two or three sound cuffs,\ncried, \"You shall tell me where this young man is, you old\nsorceress, or I will put you to death.\"\n\nThe nurse struggled to get from her, and at last succeeded. She\nwent immediately with tears in her eyes, and her face all bloody,\nto complain to the queen, who was not a little surprised to see\nher in this condition, and asked who had misused her.\n\n\"Madam,\" began the nurse, \"you see how the princess has treated\nme; she had certainly murdered me, if I had not had the good\nfortune to escape out of her hands.\" She then related what had\nbeen the cause of all that violent passion in the princess. The\nqueen was surprised at her account, and could not guess how she\ncame to be so infatuated as to take that for a reality which\ncould be no other than a dream. \"Your majesty must conclude from\nall this,\" continued the nurse, \"that the princess is out of her\nsenses. You will think so yourself if you will go and see her.\"\n\nThe queen's affection for the princess deeply interested her in\nwhat she heard; she ordered the nurse to follow her; and they\nimmediately went together to the princess's palace.\n\nThe queen of China sat down by her daughter's bed-side on her\narrival in her apartment, and after she had informed herself\nabout her health began to ask her what had made her so angry with\nher nurse, as to treat her in the manner she had done.\n\"Daughter,\" said she, \"this is not right, and a great princess\nlike you should not suffer herself to be so transported by\npassion,\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the princess, \"I plainly perceive your majesty\nis come to mock me; but I declare I will never let you rest till\nyou consent to my marrying the young man who lay with me last\nnight. You must know where he is, and therefore I beg of your\nmajesty to let him come to me again.\"\n\n\"Daughter,\" answered the queen, \"you surprise me; I do not\nunderstand your meaning.\" The princess now forgot all respect for\nthe queen; \"Madam,\" replied she, \"the king my father and you have\npersecuted me about marrying, when I had no inclination; I now\nhave an inclination, and I will have this young man I told you of\nfor my husband, or I will destroy myself.\"\n\nThe queen endeavoured to calm the princess by conciliatory\nlanguage: \"Daughter,\" said she, \"you know well you are guarded in\nthis apartment, how then could any man come to you?\" But instead\nof attending to her, the princess interrupted her, by such\nextravagancies as obliged the queen to leave her, and retire in\ngreat affliction, to inform the king of all that had passed.\n\nWhen the king had heard the account, he wished likewise to be\nsatisfied in person, and coming to his daughter's apartment,\nasked her, if what he had been told was true? \"Sir,\" replied the\nprincess, \"let us talk no more of that; I only beseech your\nmajesty to grant me the favour, that I may marry the young man I\nlay with last night.\"\n\n\"What! daughter,\" said the king, \"has any one lain with you last\nnight?\" \"How, sir,\" replied the princess, without giving him time\nto go on, \"do you ask me if any one lay with me last night? Your\nmajesty knows that but too well. He was the most beautiful youth\nthe sun ever saw: I ask him of you for my husband; I entreat you\ndo not refuse me. But that your majesty may not longer doubt\nwhether I have seen this young man, whether he has lain with me,\nwhether I have caressed him, or whether I did not my utmost to\nawake him without succeeding, see, if you please, this ring.\" She\nthen reached forth her hand, and shewed the king a man's ring on\nher finger. The king was perplexed what to think. He had confined\nhis daughter as mad, he began now to think her more insane than\never. Without saying any thing more to her, lest she might do\nviolence to herself or somebody about her, he had her chained,\nand confined more closely than before, allowing her only the\nnurse to wait on her, with a good guard at the door.\n\nThe king, exceedingly concerned at this indisposition of his\ndaughter, sought all possible means to effect her cure. He\nassembled his council, and after having acquainted them with her\ncondition \"If any of you,\" said he, \"is capable of undertaking to\nrestore her to health, and succeed, I will give her to him in\nmarriage, and make him heir to my dominions.\"\n\nThe desire of obtaining a handsome young princess, and the hopes\nof one day governing so great a kingdom as that of China, had a\npowerful effect on an emir, already advanced in years, who was\npresent at this council. As he was well skilled in magic, he\noffered the king to recover his daughter, and flattered himself\nwith success. \"I consent to the trial,\" said the king; \"but I\nforgot to tell you one condition, and that is, that if you do not\nsucceed, you shall lose your head. It would not be reasonable you\nshould have so great a reward, and yet run no risk: and what I\nsay to you,\" continued the king, \"I say to all others who shall\ncome after you, that they may consider beforehand what they\nundertake.\"\n\nThe emir accepted the condition, and the king conducted him to\nthe princess's place of confinement. She covered her face as soon\nas she saw them enter, and exclaimed, \"Your majesty surprises me,\nin bringing with you a man whom I do not know, and by whom my\nreligion forbids me to let myself be seen.\" \"Daughter,\" replied\nthe king, \"you need not be scandalized, it is only one of my\nemirs who is come to demand you in marriage.\" \"It is not, I\nperceive, the person that you have already given me, and whose\nfaith is plighted by the ring I wear,\" replied the princess; \"be\nnot offended that I will never marry any other.\"\n\nThe 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 concluded\nthat her disease was nothing but a violent and deep-rooted\npassion. He therefore threw himself at his majesty's feet, and\nsaid, \"After what I have heard and observed, sir, it will be to\nno purpose for me to think of curing the princess, since I have\nno remedies proper for her malady; for which reason I humbly\nsubmit my life to your majesty's pleasure.\" The king, enraged at\nhis incapacity, and the trouble he had given him, caused him to\nbe immediately beheaded.\n\nSome days after, unwilling to have it said that he had neglected\nhis daughter's cure, the king put forth a proclamation in his\ncapital, importing, that if there were any physician, astrologer,\nor magician who would undertake to restore the princess to her\nsenses, he needed only to offer himself, and he should be\nemployed, on condition of losing his head if he failed. He had\nthe same published in the other principal cities and towns of his\ndominions, and in the courts of the princes his neighbours.\n\nThe first that presented himself was an astrologer and magician,\nwhom the king caused to be conducted to the princess's prison by\nan eunuch. The astrologer drew forth, out of a bag he carried\nunder his arm, an astrolabe, a small sphere, a chafing-dish,\nseveral sorts of drugs proper for fumigations, a brass pot, with\nmany other articles, and desired he might have a fire.\n\nThe princess demanded what all these preparations were for.\n\"Madam,\" answered the eunuch, \"they are to exorcise the evil\nspirit that possesses you, to shut him up in this pot, and throw\nhim into the sea.\"\n\n\"Foolish astrologer,\" replied the princess, \"I have no occasion\nfor any of your preparations, but am in my perfect senses, and\nyou alone 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 the king your father only can remove your\ndisorder:\" so putting up his trinkets again, he marched away,\nmuch concerned that he had so easily undertaken to cure an\nimaginary malady.\n\nThe eunuch conducted the astrologer to the king, whom the\nastrologer thus addressed: \"According to what your majesty\npublished in your proclamation, and what you were pleased to\nconfirm to me yourself, I thought the princess was insane, and\ndepended on being able to recover her by the secrets I have long\nbeen acquainted with; but I soon found she had no other disease\nbut that of love, over which my art has no power: your majesty\nalone is the physician who can cure her, by giving her in\nmarriage the person whom she desires.\"\n\nThe king was much enraged at the astrologer, and had his head\ninstantly cut off. A hundred and fifty astrologers, physicians,\nand magicians, came on this account, who all underwent the same\nfate; and their heads were set upon poles on every gate of the\ncity.\n\nThe princess of China's nurse had a son whose name was Marzavan,\nwho had been foster-brother to the princess, and brought up with\nher, The friendship was so great during their childhood, and all\nthe time they had been together, that as they grew up, even some\ntime after their separation, they treated each other as brother\nand sister.\n\nMarzavan, among other studies, had from his youth been much\naddicted to judicial astrology, geomancy, and the like secret\narts, wherein he became exceedingly skilful. Not satisfied with\nwhat he had learned from masters, he travelled, and there was\nhardly any person of note in any science or art, but he sought\nhim in the most remote cities, to obtain information, so great\nwas his thirst after knowledge.\n\nAfter several years' absence in foreign parts, he returned to the\ncapital of his native country, where, seeing so many heads on the\ngate by which he entered, he was exceedingly surprised, and\ndemanded for what reason they had been placed there; but he more\nparticularly inquired after the princess his foster-sister. As he\ncould not receive an answer to one inquiry without the other, he\nheard at length a general account of what had happened, and\nwaited for further particulars till he could see his mother, the\nprincess's nurse.\n\nAlthough the nurse, the mother of Marzavan, was much employed\nabout the princess, yet she no sooner heard her son was returned,\nthan she found time to come out, embrace him, and converse with\nhim a little. Having told him, with tears in her eyes, the\nunhappy condition of the princess, and for what reason the king\nher father had confined her; her son desired to know if she could\nnot procure him a private view of her royal mistress, without the\nking's knowledge. After some pause, she told him she could give\nhim no answer for the present; but if he would meet her the next\nday at the same hour, she would inform him.\n\nThe nurse knowing none could approach the princess but herself;\nwithout leave of the eunuch, who commanded the guard at the gate,\naddressed: herself to him, and said, \"You know I have brought up\nand suckled the princess, and you may likewise have heard that I\nhad a daughter whom I brought up along with her. This daughter\nhas been since married, yet the princess still does her the\nhonour to love her, and wishes to see her, without any person's\nobserving her enter or depart.\"\n\nThe nurse was proceeding, but the eunuch interrupted her and\nexclaimed, \"Say no more, I will with pleasure do any thing to\noblige the princess; go and fetch your daughter, or send for her\nabout midnight,and the gate shall be open for you.\"\n\nAs soon as it was dark, the nurse went to Marzavan, and having\ndressed him so well in women's clothes, that nobody could suspect\nhe was a man, carried him along with her; and the eunuch\nbelieving it was her daughter, admitted them.\n\nThe nurse, before she presented Marzavan, went to the princess,\nand said, \"Madam, this is not a woman I have brought to you, it\nis my son Marzavan in disguise, newly arrived from his travels;\nhaving a great desire to kiss your hand, I hope your highness\nwill vouchsafe him that honour.\"\n\n\"What! my brother Marzavan,\" exclaimed the princess, with great\njoy; \"approach, and take off that veil; for it is not\nunreasonable that a brother and a sister should see each other\nwithout covering their faces.\"\n\nMarzavan saluted her with profound respect, while, without giving\nhim time to speak, she continued, \"I rejoice to see you returned\nin good health, after so many years' absence, and without sending\nany account of your welfare, even to your good mother.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Marzavan, \"I am infinitely obliged to your\ngoodness. I hoped to have heard a better account of your health\nthan has been given me, and which I lament to find confirmed by\nyour appearance. It gives me pleasure, however, to have come so\nseasonably to bring your highness that remedy which your\nsituation requires. Should I reap no other benefit from my\nstudies and travels, I should think myself amply recompensed.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, Marzavan drew out of his pocket a book and\nsome other things, which from the account he had had from his\nmother of the princess's distemper, he thought he might want. The\nprincess, observing these preparations, exclaimed, \"What!\nbrother, are you one of those who believe me mad? Undeceive\nyourself, and hear me.\"\n\nThe princess then related to Marzavan all the particulars of her\nstory, without omitting the least circumstance, even to the ring\nwhich was exchanged for hers, and which she shewed him. \"I have\nnot concealed the least incident from you,\" continued she; \"there\nis something in this business which I cannot comprehend, and\nwhich has given occasion for some persons to think me mad. But no\none will attend to the rest, which is literally as I have\nstated.\"\n\nAfter the princess had concluded, Marzavan, filled with wonder\nand astonishment, remained for some time with his eyes fixed on\nthe ground, without speaking a word; but at length he lifted up\nhis head, and said, \"If it be as your highness says, and which I\ndo not in the least doubt, I do not despair of being able to\nprocure you the gratification of your wishes. But I must first\nentreat your highness to arm yourself with patience, till I have\ntravelled over kingdoms which I have not yet visited, and when\nyou hear of my return, be assured the object of your desire is\nnot far distant.\" Having thus spoken, Marzavan took leave of the\nprincess, and set out the next morning on his intended travels.\n\nHe journeyed from city to city, from province to province, and\nfrom island to island; and in every place he visited, he could\nhear of nothing but the princess Badoura (which was the princess\nof China's name) and her history.\n\nAbout four months after, our traveller arrived at Torf, a sea-\nport town, large and populous, where the theme was changed; he no\nmore heard of the princess Badoura, but all the talk was of\nprince Kummir al Zummaun, who was sick, and whose history greatly\nresembled hers. Marzavan was extremely delighted on hearing this,\nand informed himself where the prince was to be found. There were\ntwo ways to it; one, by land and sea; the other, by sea only,\nwhich was the shortest.\n\nMarzavan chose the latter; and embarking on board a merchant\nship, arrived safely in sight of Shaw Zummaun's capital; but just\nbefore it entered the port, the ship struck upon a rock, by the\nunskilfulness of the pilot, and foundered: it went down in sight\nof the castle, where at that time were the king and his grand\nvizier.\n\nMarzavan, who could swim well, immediately upon the ship's\nsinking cast himself into the sea, and got safe on shore under\nthe castle, where he was soon relieved by the grand vizier's\norder. After he had changed his clothes, and been well treated,\nhe was introduced to the grand vizier, who lead sent for him.\n\nMarzavan being a young man of good address, the minister received\nhim with great politeness; and was induced, from the just and\npertinent answers he returned to the questions put to him, to\nregard him with great esteem. Finding by degrees that he\npossessed great variety and extent of information, he said to\nhim, \"From what I can understand, I perceive you are no common\nman; you have travelled much: would to God you had discovered\nsome remedy for a malady which has been long a source of great\naffliction at this court.\"\n\nMarzavan replied, if he knew what malady it was, he might perhaps\nfind a remedy applicable to it.\n\nThe grand vizier then related to him the story of prince Kummir\nal Zummaun. He concealed nothing relating to his birth, which had\nbeen so earnestly desired, his education, the wish of the king\nhis father to see him early married, his resistance and\nextraordinary aversion from marriage, his disobeying his father\nin full council, his imprisonment, his extravagancies in prison,\nwhich were afterwards changed into a violent passion for some\nunknown lady, who, he pretended, had exchanged a ring with him,\nthough, for his part, he verily believed there was no such person\nin the world.\n\nMarzavan gave great attention to all the grand vizier said, and\nwas infinitely rejoiced to find that, by means of his shipwreck,\nhe had so fortunately lighted on the person he was seeking. He\nsaw no reason to doubt that the prince was the man whom the\nprincess of China so ardently loved, and that this princess was\nequally the object of his passion. Without explaining himself\nfarther to the vizier, he desired to see the prince, that he\nmight be better able to judge of his disorder and its cure.\n\"Follow me,\" said the grand vizier, \"and you will find the king\nwith him, who has already desired I should introduce you.\"\n\nOn entering the prince's chamber, the first thing Marzavan\nobserved was the prince upon his bed languishing, and with his\neyes shut. Notwithstanding his condition, and regardless of the\npresence of the king his father, who was sitting by him, he could\nnot avoid exclaiming, \"Heavens! was there ever a greater\nresemblance?\" He meant to the princess of China; for it seems the\nprincess and the prince were much alike.\n\nThis exclamation of Marzavan excited the prince's curiosity; he\nopened his eyes and looked at him. Marzavan, who had a ready wit,\nseized that opportunity, and made his compliment in extempore\nverse; but in such a disguised manner, that neither the king nor\nthe grand vizier under stood his meaning. He represented so\nexactly what had happened to him with the princess of China, that\nthe prince had no reason to doubt he knew her, and could give him\ntidings of her. His countenance immediately brightened up with\njoy.\n\nAfter Marzavan had finished his compliment in verse, which\nsurprised Kummir al Zummaun so agreeably, the prince took the\nliberty of making a sign to the king his father, to give his\nplace to Marzavan, and allow him to sit by him.\n\nThe king, overjoyed at this alteration, which inspired him with\nhopes of his son's speedy recovery, quitted his place, and taking\nMarzavan by the hand, led him to it, obliging him to sit. He then\ndemanded of him who he was, and whence he had come? And upon\nMarzavan's answering he was a subject of China, and came from\nthat kingdom, the king exclaimed, \"Heaven grant you may be able\nto recover my son from this profound melancholy; I shall be\neternally obliged to you, and all the world shall see how\nhandsomely I will reward you.\" Having said thus, he left the\nprince to converse at full liberty with the stranger, whilst he\nwent and rejoiced with the grand vizier on this happy incident.\n\nMarzavan leaning down to the prince, addressed him in a low\nvoice: \"Prince, it is time you should cease to grieve. The lady,\nfor whom you suffer, is the princess Badoura, daughter of Gaiour,\nking of China. This I can assure your highness from what she has\ntold me of her adventure, and what I have learned of yours. She\nhas suffered no less on your account than you have on hers.\" Here\nhe related all that he knew of the princess's story, from the\nnight of their extraordinary interview.\n\nHe omitted not to acquaint him how the king had treated those who\nhad failed in their endeavours to cure the princess of her\nindisposition. \"But your highness is the only person,\" added he,\n\"that can cure her effectually, and you may present yourself\nwithout fear. However, before you undertake so long a voyage, I\nwould have you perfectly recovered, and then we will take what\nmeasures may be necessary. Think then immediately of the recovery\nof your health.\"\n\nThis account had a marvellous effect on the prince. The hopes of\nspeedily fulfilling his desires so much relieved him, that he\nfelt he had strength sufficient to rise, and begged permission of\nhis father to dress himself, with such an air as gave him\nincredible pleasure.\n\nShaw Zummaun, without inquiring into the means he had used to\nproduce this wonderful effect, could not refrain from embracing\nMarzavan, and soon after went out of the prince's chamber with\nthe grand vizier, to publish the agreeable tidings. He ordered\npublic rejoicings for several days together, gave great largesses\nto his officers and the people, and alms to the poor, and caused\nthe prisoners to be set at liberty throughout his kingdom The joy\nwas soon general in the capital, and in every part of his\ndominions.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, though extremely weakened by almost continual\nprivation of sleep and long abstinence, soon recovered his\nhealth. When he found himself in a condition to undertake the\nvoyage, he took Marzavan aside, and said, \"Dear Marzavan, it is\nnow time to perform the promise you have made me. My impatience\nto behold the charming princess, and to relieve her of the\ntorments she is now suffering on my account, is such, that if we\ndo not shortly depart, I shall relapse into my former\nindisposition. One thing still afflicts me,\" continued he, \"and\nthat is the difficulty I shall find, from his tender affection\nfor me, to obtain my father's permission to travel into a distant\ncountry. You observe he scarcely allows me to be a moment out of\nhis sight.\"\n\nAt these words the prince wept. Marzavan then replied, \"I foresaw\nthis difficulty, and I will take care it shall not obstruct us.\nMy principal design in this voyage was to cure the princess of\nChina of her malady, and this on account of the mutual affection\nwhich we have borne to each other from our birth, as well as from\nthe zeal and affection I otherwise owe her. I should therefore be\nwanting in my duty to her, if I did not use my best endeavours to\neffect her cure and yours. This is then the mode I have devised\nto obtain the king your father's consent. You have not stirred\nabroad for some time, therefore request his permission to go upon\na hunting party with me. He will no doubt comply. When you have\nobtained his leave, obtain two fleet coursers for each of us to\nbe got ready, one to mount, the other to change, and leave the\nrest to me.\"\n\nThe following day the prince did as he had been instructed. He\nacquainted the king he was desirous of taking the air, and, if he\npleased, would go and hunt for two or three days with Marzavan.\nThe king gave his consent, but wished him not to be absent more\nthan one night, since too much exercise at first might impair his\nhealth and a longer absence would make him uneasy. He then\nordered him to choose the best horses in the royal stable, and\ntook particular care that nothing should be wanting for his\naccommodation. When all was ready, he embraced the prince, and\nhaving recommended to Marzavan to be careful of him, he let him\ngo. Kummir al Zummaun and Marzavan were soon mounted, when, to\namuse the two grooms who led the spare horses, they made as if\nthey were going to hunt, and under this pretence got as far from\nthe city and out of the high road as was possible. When night\nbegan to approach, they alighted at a caravanserai or inn, where\nthey supped, and slept till about midnight; when Marzavan\nawakened the prince, and desired his highness to let him have his\ndress, and to take another for himself, which was brought in his\nbaggage. Thus equipped, they mounted the fresh horses, and after\nMarzavan had taken one of the grooms' horses by the bridle, they\nleft the caravanserai.\n\nAt day-break they found themselves in a forest, where four roads\nmet. Here Marzavan, desiring the prince to wait for him a little,\nwent into the wood. He then cut the throat of the groom's horse,\nand after having torn the suit which the prince had taken off,\nand besmeared it with blood, threw it into the highway.\n\nThe prince inquired his reason for what he had done. He replied,\nhe was sure that when the king his father found he did not\nreturn, and should learn that he had departed without the grooms,\nhe would suspect something wrong, and immediately send in quest\nof them. \"they who may come this way, finding this bloody habit,\nwill conclude you are devoured by wild beasts, and that I have\nescaped to avoid the king's anger. The king, concluding you are\ndead, will stop further pursuit, and we may have leisure to\ncontinue our journey without fear of being followed.\" \"I must\nconfess,\" continued Marzavan, \"it is a violent way of proceeding,\nto alarm a fond father with the death of his son, but his joy\nwill be the greater when he shall hear you are alive and happy.\"\n\"Breve Marzavan,\" replied the prince, \"I cannot but approve such\nan ingenious stratagem, or sufficiently admire your conduct: you\nplace me under fresh obligations to you.\"\n\nThe prince and Marzavan being well provided for their expenses,\ncontinued their journey both by land and sea, and found no other\nobstacle but the length of the time which it necessarily took up.\nThey arrived at length at the capital of China, where Marzavan,\ninstead of going to his house, carried the prince to a public\ninn. They remained there incognito three days, to rest themselves\nafter the fatigue of the voyage; during which time Marzavan\ncaused an astrologer's habit to be made for the prince. The three\ndays being expired, they went together to the bath, where the\nprince put on his astrologer's dress: from thence Marzavan\nconducted him to the neighbourhood of the king of China's palace,\nwhere he left him, to go and inform his mother of his arrival.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, instructed by Marzavan what he was to do, came\nnext morning to the gate of the king's palace, and cried aloud,\n\"I am an astrologer, and am come to cure the illustrious princess\nBadoura, daughter of the most high and mighty monarch Gaiour king\nof China, on the conditions proposed by his majesty, to marry her\nif I succeed, or else to lose my life for my fruitless and\npresumptuous attempt.\"\n\nBesides the guards and porters at the gate, this incident drew\ntogether a great number of people about the prince. There had no\nphysician, astrologer, or magician appeared for a long time on\nthis account, being deterred by the many tragical examples of ill\nsuccess that appeared before; it was therefore thought there\nremained no more of these professions in the world, or none so\nmad as those that had already forfeited their lives.\n\nThe prince's appearance, his noble air, and blooming youth, made\nevery one who saw him pity him. \"What mean you, sir,\" said some\nthat were nearest to him, \"thus to expose a life of such\npromising expectations to certain death? Cannot the heads you see\non all the gates of this city deter you from such an undertaking?\nIn the name of God consider what you do! abandon this rash\nattempt, and depart.\"\n\nThe prince continued firm, notwithstanding all these\nremonstrances; and as he saw no one coming to introduce him, he\nrepeated the same cry with a boldness that made every body\ntremble. They all then exclaimed, \"Let him alone, he is resolved\nto die; God have mercy on his youth and his soul!\"\" He then\nproceeded to cry a third time in the same manner, when the grand\nvizier came in person, and introduced him to the king of China.\n\nAs soon as the prince came into the presence, he bowed and kissed\nthe ground. The king, who, among all that had hitherto\npresumptuously exposed their lives on this occasion, had not\nbefore seen one worthy of his attention, felt real compassion for\nKummir al Zummaun, on account of the danger to which he exposed\nhimself. \"Young man,\" said he, \"I can hardly believe that at this\nage you can have acquired experience enough to dare attempt the\ncure of my daughter. I wish you may succeed, and would give her\nto you in marriage with all my heart, and with the greatest joy,\nmore willingly than I should have done to others that have\noffered themselves before you; but I must declare to you at the\nsame time, though with great concern, that if you fail,\nnotwithstanding your noble appearance and your youth, you must\nlose your head.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the prince, \"I have infinite obligations to your\nmajesty for the honour you design me, and the great goodness you\nshew to a stranger; but I desire your majesty to believe I would\nnot have come from so remote a country as I have done, the name\nof which perhaps may be unknown in your dominions, if I had not\nbeen certain of the cure I propose. What would not the world say\nof my fickleness, if, after such great fatigues and so many\ndangers as I have undergone in the pursuit, I should abandon this\ngenerous enterprise? Even your majesty would lose that esteem you\nhave conceived for me. If I perish, I shall die with the\nsatisfaction of not having forfeited your good opinion. I beseech\nyour majesty therefore to keep me no longer from displaying the\ncertainty of my art, by the proof I am ready to afford.\"\n\nThe king now commanded the eunuch, who had the custody of the\nprincess, to introduce Kummir al Zummaun into her apartment: but\nbefore he would let him go, reminded him once more that he was at\nliberty to renounce his design; but the prince paid no regard to\nthis, and with astonishing resolution and eagerness followed the\neunuch.\n\nWhen they had entered a long gallery, at the end of which was the\nprincess's apartment, the prince, who saw himself so near the\nobjets of his wishes, who had occasioned him so many tears,\npushed on, and got before the eunuch.\n\nThe eunuch redoubling his pace, with difficulty got up to him,\n\"Wither so fast?\"\" cried he, taking him by the arm; \"you cannot\nget in without me; and it should seem you have a great desire for\ndeath, thus to run to it headlong. Not one of all those many\nastrologers and magicians I have introduced before made such\nhaste as yourself, to a place whence I fear you will come but too\nsoon.\"\n\n\"Friend,\" replied the prince, looking earnestly on the eunuch,\nand continuing his pace, \"this was because none of the\nastrologers you speak of were so confident in their art as I am:\nthey were certain indeed they should die, if they did not\nsucceed, .but they had no certainty of their success. On this\naccount they had reason to tremble on approaching this spot,\nwhere I am sure to find my happiness.\" He had just spoken these\nwords when he reached the door. The eunuch opened it, and\nintroduced him into a great hall, whence was an entrance into the\nprincess's apartment, divided from it only by a piece of\ntapestry.\n\nThe prince stopped before he entered, speaking more softly to the\neunuch for fear of being heard by the princess. \"To convince\nyou,\" said he; \"there is neither presumption, nor whim, nor\nyouthful conceit in my undertaking, I leave it to your choice\nwhether I shall cure the princess in her presence, or where we\nare, without going any farther, or seeing her?\"\n\nThe eunuch was amazed to hear the prince talk to him with such\nconfidence: he left off jeering, and said seriously to him, \"It\nis no matter where it is done, provided it be effected: cure her\nhow you will, if you succeed you will gain immortal honour, not\nonly in this court, but over all the world.\"\n\nThe prince replied, \"It will be best then to cure her without\nseeing her, that you may be witness of my skill; notwithstanding\nmy impatience to see a princess of her rank, who is to be my\nwife, yet out of respect to you, I will deprive myself of that\npleasure for a little while.\" Being furnished with every thing\nproper for an astrologer to carry about him, he took pen, ink,\nand paper our of his pocket, and wrote the following billet to\nthe princess.\n\n\n\"The impassioned Kummir al Zummaun cannot recite the\ninexpressible pain he has endured since that fatal night in which\nyour charms deprived him of the liberty which he had resolved to\npreserve. He only tells you that he devoted his heart to you in\nyour charming slumbers; those obstinate slumbers which hindered\nhim from beholding the brightness of your piercing eyes,\nnotwithstanding all his endeavours to oblige you to open them. He\npresumed to present you with his ring as a token of his passion;\nand to take yours in exchange, which he encloses. If you\ncondescend to return his as a reciprocal pledge of love, he will\nesteem himself the happiest of mankind. If not, the sentence of\ndeath, which your refusal must draw upon him, will be received\nwith resignation, since he will perish on account of his love for\nyou.\"\n\nWhen the prince had finished his billet, he folded it up, and\nenclosed in it the princess's ring. \"There, friend,\" said he to\nthe eunuch, \"carry this to your mistress; if it does not cure her\nas soon as she reads it, and sees what it contains, I give you\nleave to tell every body, that I am the most ignorant and\nimpudent astrologer that ever existed.\"\n\nThe eunuch entering the princess of China's apartment, gave her\nthe packet, saying, \"The boldest astrologer that ever lived is\narrived here, and pretends, that on reading this letter and\nseeing what it encloses, 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\nindifference: but when she saw the ring, she had not patience to\nread it through: she rose hastily, broke the chain that held her,\nran to the door and opened it. They immediately recognized each\nother, tenderly embraced, and without being able to speak for\nexcess of joy, looked at one another, wondering how they met\nagain after their first interview. The princess's nurse, who ran\nto the door with her, made them come into her apartment, where\nthe princess Badoura gave the prince her ring, saying, \"Take it,\nI cannot keep it without restoring yours; which I will never part\nwith; neither can it be in better hands.\"\n\nThe eunuch went immediately to inform the king of China of what\nhad happened: \"Sir,\" said he, \"all the astrologers and doctors\nwho have hitherto pretended to cure the princess were fools\ncompared with the present. He made use neither of schemes nor\nconjurations, of perfumes, nor any thing else, but cured her\nwithout seeing her.\" The monarch was agreeably surprised at this\nintelligence, and going to the princess's apartment, he embraced\nher, and afterwards the prince, and taking his hand joined it to\nthe princess's, saying, \"Happy stranger, whoever you are, I will\nkeep my word, and give you my daughter for your wife; though, by\nwhat I see in you, it is impossible for me to believe you are\nreally what you pretend, and would have me take you to be.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun thanked the king in the most humble\nexpressions, that he might the better shew his gratitude. \"As for\nmy condition,\" said he, \"I must own I am not an astrologer, as\nyour majesty has guessed; I only put on the habit of one, that I\nmight succeed the more easily in my ambition to be allied to the\nmost potent monarch in the world. I was born a prince, and the\nson of a king and of a queen; my name is Kummir al Zummaun; my\nfather is Shaw Zummaun, who now reigns over the islands that are\nwell known by the name of the Islands of the Children of\nKhaledan.\" He then related to him his history, and how wonderful\nhad been the origin of his love; that the princess's was\naltogether as marvellous; and that both were confirmed by the\nexchange of the two rings.\n\nWhen the prince had done speaking, the king said to him, \"This\nhistory is so extraordinary, it deserves to be known to\nposterity; I will take care it shall; and the original being\ndeposited in my royal archives, I will spread copies of it\nabroad, that my own kingdoms and the kingdoms around me may know\nit.\"\n\nThe marriage was solemnized the same day, and the rejoicings were\nuniversal all over the empire of China. Nor was Marzavan\nforgotten: the king gave him an honourable post in his court, and\na promise of further advancement.\n\nThe prince and princess enjoyed the fulness of their wishes in\nthe sweets of marriage; and the king kept continual feastings for\nseveral months, to manifest his joy on the occasion.\n\nIn the midst of these pleasures Kummir al Zummaun dreamt one\nnight that he saw his father on his bed at the point of death,\nand heard him thus address his attendants: \"My son, to whom I\ngave birth; my son, whom I so tenderly loved whom I bred with so\nmuch fondness, so much care, has abandoned me, and is himself the\ncause of my death.\" He awoke with a profound sigh, which alarmed\nthe princess, who asked him the cause.\n\n\"Alas! my love,\" replied the prince, \"perhaps at the very moment\nwhile I am speaking, the king my father is no more.\" He then\nacquainted her with his melancholy dream, which occasioned him so\nmuch uneasiness. The princess, who studied to please him in every\nthing, went to her father the next day, kissed his hand, and thus\naddressed him: \"I have a favour to beg of your majesty, and I\nbeseech you not to deny me; but that you may not believe I ask it\nat the solicitation of the prince my husband, I assure you\nbeforehand he knows nothing of my request: it is, that you will\ngrant me your permission to go with him and visit his father.\"\n\n\"Daughter,\" replied the king, \"though I shall be sorry to part\nwith you for so long a time as a journey to a place so distant\nwill require, yet I cannot disapprove of your resolution; it is\nworthy of yourself: go, child, I give you leave, but on condition\nthat you stay no longer than a year in Shaw Zummaun's court. I\nhope the king will agree to this, that we shall alternately see,\nhe his son and his daughter-in-law, and I my daughter and my son-\nin-law.\"\n\nThe princess communicated the king of China's consent to her\nhusband, who was transported to receive it, and returned her\nthanks for this new token of her love.\n\nThe king of China gave orders for preparations to be made for\ntheir departure; and when all things were ready, he accompanied\nthe prince and princess several days' journey on their way; they\nparted at length with much affliction on both sides: the king\nembraced them; and having desired the prince to be kind to his\ndaughter, and to love her always with the same tenderness he now\ndid, he left them to proceed, and to divert himself, hunted as he\nreturned to his capital.\n\nWhen the prince and princess had recovered from their grief, they\ncomforted themselves with considering how glad Shaw Zummaun would\nbe to see them, and how they should rejoice to see the king.\n\nAfter travelling about a month, they one day entered a plain of\ngreat extent, planted at convenient distances with tall trees,\nforming an agreeable shade. The day being unusually hot, the\nprince thought it best to encamp there, and proposed it to\nBadoura, who, having the same wish, the more readily consented.\nThey alighted in one of the finest spots; a tent was presently\nset up; the princess, rising from the shade under which she had\nsat down, entered it. The prince then ordered his attendants to\npitch their tents, and went himself to give directions. The\nprincess, weary with the fatigues of the journey, bade her women\nuntie her girdle, which they laid down by her; and she falling\nasleep, they left her alone.\n\nKummir al Zummaun 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 repose himself; but\nobserving the princess's girdle lying by her, he took it up, and\nlooked at the diamonds and rubies one by one. In viewing it he\nobserved a little purse hanging to it, sewed neatly on the stuff,\nand tied fast with a riband; he felt it, and found it contained\nsomething solid. Desirous to know what it was, he opened the\npurse, and took out a cornelian, engraven with unknown figures\nand characters. \"This cornelian,\" said the prince to himself,\n\"must be something very valuable, or my princess would not carry\nit with so much care.\" It was Badoura's talisman, which the queen\nof China had given her daughter as a charm, that would keep her,\nas she said, from any harm as long as she had it about her.\n\nThe prince, the better to look at the talisman, took it out to\nthe light, 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\nfrom him.\n\nOne will easily conceive the concern and grief of the prince,\nwhen he saw the bird fly away with the talisman. He was more\ntroubled than words can express, and cursed his unseasonable\ncuriosity, by which his dear princess had lost a treasure, that\nwas so precious, and so valued by her.\n\nThe bird having got its prize, settled on the ground not far off,\nwith the talisman in its mouth. The prince drew near it, hoping\nit would drop it; but as he approached, the bird took wing, and\nsettled again on the ground further off. Kummir al Zummaun\nfollowed, and the bird took a further flight: the prince being\nvery dexterous at a mark, thought to kill it with a stone, and\nstill pursued; the further it flew, the more eager he grew in\npursuing, keeping it always in view. Thus the bird drew him along\nfrom hill to valley, and valley to hill, all the day, every step\nleading him out of the way from the plain where he had left his\ncamp and the princess Badoura: and instead of perching at night\non a bush, where he might probably have taken it, roosted on a\nhigh tree, safe from his pursuit. The prince, vexed to the heart\nat having taken so much pains to no purpose, thought of\nreturning; \"But,\" said he to himself, \"which way shall I return?\nShall I go down the hills and valleys which I have passed overt'\nShall I wander in darkness? and will my strength bear me out? How\nshall I dare appear before my princess without her talisman?\"\nOverwhelmed with such thoughts, and tired with the pursuit, sleep\ncame upon him, and he lay down under a tree, where he passed the\nnight.\n\nHe awoke the next morning before the bird had left the tree, and\nas soon as he saw it on the wing, followed it again the whole of\nthat day, with no better success than he had done the last,\neating nothing but herbs and fruits as he went. He did the same\nfor ten days together, pursuing the bird, and keeping it in view\nfrom morning to night, lying always under the tree where it\nroosted. On the eleventh day, the bird continued flying, and\nKummir al Zummaun pursuing it, came near a great city. When the\nbird had reached the walls, it flew over them, and the prince saw\nno more of it; so that he despaired of ever recovering the\nprincess Badoura's talisman.\n\nThe prince, whose grief was beyond expression, went into the\ncity, which was built on the seaside, 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 shore,\nhe perceived the gate of a garden open, and an old gardener at\nwork in it; the good man looking up, saw he was a stranger and a\nMoosulmaun, and asked him to come in, and shut the door after\nhim.\n\nKummir al Zummaun entered, and demanded of the gardener why he\nwas so cautious? \"Because,\" replied the old man, \"I see you are a\nstranger newly arrived; and this city is inhabited for the most\npart by idolaters, who have a mortal aversion to us Moosulmauns,\nand treat a few of us that are here with great barbarity. I\nsuppose you did not know this, and it is a miracle that you have\nescaped as you have thus far: these idolaters being very apt to\nfall upon strangers, or draw them into a snare. I bless God, who\nhas brought you into a place of safety.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun thanked the honest gardener for his advice, and\nthe security he offered him in his house; he would have said\nmore, but the good man interrupted him, saying, \"Let us leave\ncomplimenting; you are weary, and must want to refresh yourself.\nCome in, and rest.\" He conducted him into his little hut; and\nafter the prince had eaten heartily of what he set before him,\nwith a cordiality that charmed him, he requested him to relate\nhow he had come there.\n\nThe prince complied; and when he had finished his story, without\nconcealing any part of it, asked him which was the nearest route\nto his father's territories; saying, \"It is in vain for me to\nthink of finding my princess where I left her, after wandering\neleven days from the spot by so extraordinary an adventure. Ah!\"\ncontinued he, \"how do I know she is alive?\" and saying this, he\nburst into tears. The gardener replied, \"There was no possibility\nof his going thither by land, the ways were so difficult, and the\njourney so long; besides, there was no accommodation for his\nsubsistence; or, if there were, he must necessarily pass through\nthe countries of so many barbarous nations, that he would never\nreach his father's. It was a year's journey from the city where\nhe then was to any country inhabited only by Moosulmauns; that\nthe quickest passage for him would be to go to the isle of Ebene,\nwhence he might easily transport himself to the isles of the\nchildren of Khaledan; that a ship sailed from the port every year\nto Ebene, and he might take that opportunity of returning to\nthose islands. \"The ship departed,\" said he, \"but a few days ago;\nif you had come a little sooner, you might have taken your\npassage in it. You must wait till it makes the voyage again, and\nif you will stay with me and accept of my house, such as it is,\nyou shall be as welcome to it as to your own.\"\n\nThe prince was glad he had met with such an asylum, in a place\nwhere he had no acquaintance. He accepted the offer, and lived\nwith the gardener till the time arrived that the ship was to sail\nto the isle of Ebene. He spent the interval in working by day in\nthe garden, and passing the night in sighs, tears, and\ncomplaints, thinking of his dear princess Badoura. We must leave\nhim in this place, to return to the princess, whom we left asleep\nin her tent.\n\nThe princess slept a long time, and when she awoke, wondered that\nthe prince was not with her; she called her women, and asked if\nthey knew where he was. They told her they saw him enter the\ntent, but did not see him go out. While they were talking to her,\nshe took up her girdle, found her little purse open, and that the\ntalisman was gone. She did not doubt but that the prince had\ntaken it to see what it was, and that he would bring it back with\nhim. She waited for him impatiently till night, and could not\nimagine what made him stay away from her so long.\n\nWhen it was quite dark, and she could hear no tidings of him, she\nfell into violent grief: she cursed the talisman, and him that\nmade it; and, had not she been restrained by duty, would have\ncursed the queen her mother, who had given her such a fatal\npresent. She was the more troubled, because she could not imagine\nhow her talisman should have caused the prince's separation from\nher; she did not however lose her judgment, and came to a\ncourageous resolution, not common with persons of her sex.\n\nOnly herself and her women knew of the prince's absence; for his\nmen were reposing or asleep in their tents. The princess, fearing\nthey would betray her, if they had any knowledge of this\ncircumstance, moderated her grief, and forbade her women to say\nor do any thing that might create the least suspicion. She then\nlaid aside her own habit, and put on one of Kummir al Zummaun's.\nShe was so much like him, that the next day, when she came\nabroad, the male attendants took her for the prince.\n\nShe commanded them to pack up their baggage and begin their\nmarch; and when all things were ready, she ordered one of her\nwomen to go into her litter, she herself mounting on horseback,\nand riding by her side.\n\nShe travelled several months by land and sea; the princess\ncontinuing the journey under the name of Kummir al Zummaun. They\ntouched at Ebene in their way to the isles of the children of\nKhaledan, and went to the capital of the island, where a king\nreigned, whose name was Armanos. The persons who first landed,\ngiving out that the ship carried prince Kummir al Zummaun, who\nwas returning from a long voyage, and was forced in by a storm,\nthe news of his arrival was soon carried to court.\n\nKing Armanos, accompanied by his courtiers' went immediately to\nwait on the prince, and met the princess just as she was landing,\nand going to the palace that had been prepared for her. He\nreceived her as the son of a king, who was his friend, and with\nwhom he always kept up a good understanding: he conducted her to\nthe palace, where an apartment was prepared for her and all her\nattendants; though she would fain have excused herself. He shewed\nher all possible honour, and entertained her three days together\nwith extraordinary magnificence. At the end of this time king\nArmanos understanding that the princess intended proceeding on\nher voyage, charmed with the air and qualities of such an\naccomplished prince, as he supposed her, took an opportunity when\nshe was alone, and spoke to her in this manner: \"You see, prince,\nthat I am old, and to my great mortification have not a son to\nwhom I may leave my crown. Heaven has only blest me with one\ndaughter, whose beauty cannot be better matched than with a\nprince of your rank and accomplishments. Instead of going home,\nstay and accept my crown, which I will resign in your favour. It\nis time for me to rest, and nothing could be a greater pleasure\nto me in my retirement, than to see my people ruled by so worthy\na successor to my throne.\"\n\nThe king's offer to bestow his only daughter in marriage, and\nwith her his kingdom, on the princess Badoura, put her into\nunexpected perplexity. She thought it would not become a princess\nof her rank to undeceive the king, and to own that she was not\nprince Kummir al Zummaun, whose part she had hitherto acted so\nwell. She was also afraid to decline the honour he offered her,\nlest, being so much bent upon the conclusion of the marriage, his\nkindness might turn to aversion, and he might attempt something\neven against her life.\n\nThese considerations, added to the prospect of obtaining a\nkingdom for the prince her husband, in case she found him again,\ndetermined her to accept the proposal of king Armanos, and marry\nhis daughter. After having stood silent for some minutes, she\nwith blushes, which the king took for a sign of modesty,\nanswered, \"I am infinitely obliged to your majesty for your good\nopinion of me, for the honour you do me, and the great favour you\noffer, which I cannot pretend to merit, and dare not refuse.\"\n\n\"But,\" continued she, \"I cannot accept this great alliance on any\nother condition, than that your majesty will assist me with your\ncounsels, and that I do nothing without having first obtained\nyour approbation.\"\n\nThe marriage treaty being thus concluded, the ceremony was put\noff till the next day. In the mean time princess Badoura gave\nnotice to her officers, who still took her for their prince, of\nwhat she was about to do, that they might not be surprised,\nassuring them the princess Badoura consented. She talked also to\nher women, and charged them to continue to keep the secret she\nhad entrusted to them.\n\nThe king of the isle of Ebene, rejoicing that he had found a son-\nin-law so much to his satisfaction, next morning summoned his\ncouncil, and acquainted them with his design of marrying his\ndaughter to prince Kummir al Zummaun, whom he introduced to them,\nand told them he resigned the crown to him, and required them to\nacknowledge him for their king, and swear fealty to him. Having\nsaid this, he descended from his throne, and the princess\nBadoura, by his order, ascended it. As soon as the council broke\nup, the new king was proclaimed through the city, rejoicings were\nappointed for several days, and couriers despatched over all the\nkingdom, to see the same ceremonies observed with the usual\ndemonstrations of joy.\n\nAt night there were extraordinary feastings at the palace, and\nthe princess Haiatalnefous was conducted to the princess Badoura,\nwhom every body took for a man, dressed like a royal bride: the\nwedding was solemnized with the utmost splendour: they were left\ntogether, and retired to bed. In the morning, while the princess\nBadoura went to receive the compliments of the nobility in the\nhall of audience, where they congratulated her on her marriage\nand accession to the throne, king Armanos and his queen went to\nthe apartment of their daughter to inquire after her health.\nInstead of answering, she held down her head, and by her looks\nthey saw plainly enough that she was disappointed.\n\nKing Armanos, to comfort the princess Haiatalnefous, bade her not\nbe troubled. \"Prince Kummir al Zummaun,\" said he, \"when he landed\nhere might think only of going to his father's court. Though we\nhave engaged him to stay by arguments, with which he ought to be\nwell satisfied, yet it is probable he grieves at being so\nsuddenly deprived of the hopes of seeing either his father or any\nof his family. You must wait till those first emotions of filial\nlove are over; he will then conduct himself towards you as a good\nhusband ought to do.\"\n\nThe princess Badoura, under the name and character of Kummir al\nZummaun, the king of Ebene, spent the whole day in receiving the\ncompliments of the courtiers and the nobility of the. kingdom who\nwere in and about the city, and in reviewing the regular troops\nof her household; and entered on the administration of affairs\nwith so much dignity and judgment, that she gained the general\napplause of all who were witnesses of her conduct.\n\nIt was evening before she returned to queen Haiatalnefous's\napartment, and she perceived by the reception she gave her, that\nthe bride was not at all pleased with the preceding night. She\nendeavoured to dissipate her grief by a long conversation, in\nwhich she employed all the wit she had (and she possessed a good\nshare), to persuade her she loved her entirely. She then gave her\ntime to go to bed, and while she was undressing she went to her\ndevotions; her prayers were so long, that queen Haiatalnefous was\nasleep before they were ended. She then left off, and lay down\nsoftly by the new queen, without waking her, and was as much\nafflicted at being forced to act a part which did not belong to\nher, as in the loss of her dear Kummir al Zummaun, for whom she:\nceased not to sigh. She rose as soon as it was day, before\nHaiatalnefous was awake; and, being dressed in her royal robes as\nking, went to council.\n\nKing Armanos, as he had done the day before, came early to visit\nthe queen his daughter, whom he found in tears; he wanted nothing\nmore to be informed of the cause of her trouble. Provoked at the\ncontempt, as he thought, put upon his daughter, of which he could\nnot imagine the reason: \"Daughter,\" said he, \"have patience for\nanother night. I raised your husband to the throne, and can pull\nhim down again, and drive him thence with shame, unless he shews\nyou proper regard. His treatment of you has provoked me so much,\nI cannot tell to what my resentment may transport me; the affront\nis as great 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 after 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. \"Tell me, I\nbeseech you,\" said she, \"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 women in having so amiable a prince for\nher husband. Any body but me would be not merely offended but\nshocked by the slight, or rather the unpardonable affront you\nhave put upon me, and abandon you to your evil destiny. However,\nthough I did not love you so well as I do, yet out of pure good-\nnature and humanity, which makes me pity the misfortunes of\npersons for whom I am less concerned, I cannot forbear telling\nyou, that the king my father is enraged against you for your\nbehaviour towards me, and to-morrow will make you feel the weight\nof his just anger, if you continue to neglect me as you have\nhitherto done. Do not therefore drive to despair a princess, who,\nnotwithstanding all your ill usage, cannot help loving you.\"\n\nThis address embarrassed the princess Badoura inexpressibly. She\ndid not doubt the truth of what Haiatalnefous had said. King\nArmanos's coldness to her the day before had given her but too\nmuch reason to see he was highly dissatisfied with her. The only\nway to justify her conduit was, to communicate her sex to the\nprincess Haiatalnefous. But though she had foreseen she should be\nunder a necessity of making such a discovery to her, yet her\nuncertainty as to the manner in which she would receive it, made\nher tremble; but, considering that if Kummir al Zummaun was\nalive, he must necessarily touch at the isle of Ebene in his way\nto his father's kingdom, she ought to preserve herself for his\nsake; and that it was impossible to do this, if she did not let\nthe princess Haiatalnefous know who and what she was, she\nresolved to venture the experiment.\n\nThe princess Badoura stood as one who had been struck dumb, and\nHaiatalnefous being impatient to hear what she could say, was\nabout to speak to her again, when she prevented her by these\nwords: \"Lovely and too charming princess! I own I have been in\nthe wrong, and I condemn myself for it; but I hope you will\npardon me, and keep the secret I am going to reveal to you for my\njustification.\"\n\nShe then opened her bosom, and proceeded thus: \"See, princess, if\na woman like yourself does not deserve to be forgiven. I believe\nyou will be so generous, at least when you know my story, and the\nafflicting circumstance that forced me to act the part I have\ndone.\"\n\nThe princess Badoura having discovered her sex to the princess of\nthe isle of Ebene, she again prayed her to keep the secret, and\nto pretend to be satisfied with her as a husband, till the\nprince's arrival, which she hoped would be in a little time.\n\n\"Princess,\" replied Haiatalnefous, \"your fortune is indeed\nstrange, that a marriage, so happy as yours, should be shortened\nby so unaccountable an accident, after a passion so reciprocal\nand full of wonders. Pray heaven you may soon meet with your\nhusband again, and assure yourself I will keep religiously the\nsecret committed to me. It will be to me the greatest pleasure in\nthe world to be the only person in the great kingdom of the isle\nof Ebene who knows what and who you are, while you go on\ngoverning the people as happily as you have begun. I only ask of\nyou at present to be your friend.\" Then the two princesses\ntenderly embraced each other, and after a thousand expressions of\nmutual friendship lay down to rest.\n\nThe two princesses having decided on a way to make belief that\nthe marriage had been consummated: queen Haiatalnefous's women\nwere deceived themselves next morning, and it deceived Armanos,\nhis queen, and the whole court. From this time the princess\nBadoura rose in the king's esteem and affection, governing the\nkingdom peaceably and prosperously.\n\nWhile things passed as already mentioned in the court of the isle\nof Ebene, prince Kummir al Zummaun remained in the city of\nidolaters with the gardener, who had offered him his house for a\nretreat till the ship should sail to convey him away.\n\nOne morning early, when the prince was as usual preparing to work\nin the garden, the gardener prevented him, saying, \"This day is a\ngreat festival among the idolaters, and because they abstain from\nall work themselves, to spend the time in their assemblies and\npublic rejoicings, they will not let the Moosulmauns labour; who,\nto gain their favour, generally attend their shows, which are\nworth seeing. You will therefore have nothing to do to-day: I\nleave you here. As the time approaches, at which it is usual for\nthe ship to sail for the isle of Ebene, I will call on some of my\nfriends to know when it will depart, and secure you a passage.\"\nThe gardener put on his best apparel, and went out.\n\nWhen the prince was alone, instead of going out to share in the\npublic joy of the city, his solitude brought to his mind, with\nmore than usual violence, the loss of his dear princess. He\nwalked up and down the garden sighing and lamenting, till the\nnoise which two birds made on a neighbouring tree led him to lift\nup his head, to see what was the matter.\n\nKummir al Zummaun was surprised to observe that the birds were\nfighting furiously: in a very little while, one of them fell down\ndead at the foot of the tree; the victorious bird took wing\nagain, and flew away.\n\nIn an instant, two other large birds, that had beheld the battle\nat a distance, came from the other side of the garden, and\npitched on the ground, one at the feet, and the other at the head\nof the dead bird: they looked at it for some time, shaking their\nheads in token of grief; after which they dug a grave with their\ntalons, and buried it.\n\nWhen they had filled up the grave with the earth they had turned\nup, they flew away, but returned in a few minutes, bringing with\nthem the bird that had committed the murder, one holding one of\nits wings in its beak, and the other one of its legs; the\ncriminal all the while crying out in a doleful manner, and\nstruggling to escape. They carried it to the grave of the bird\nwhich it had lately sacrificed to its rage, and there killed it\nin just revenge for the murder it had committed. They opened its\nbelly, tore out the entrails, left the body on the spot unburied,\nand flew away.\n\nThe prince had remained in astonishment all the time that he\nstood beholding this singular spectacle. He now drew near the\ntree where this scene had passed, and casting his eyes on the\nscattered entrails of the bird that had been last killed, spied\nsomething red hanging out of the stomach. He took it up, and\nfound it was his beloved princess Badoura's talisman, which had\ncost him so much pain and sorrow, and so many sighs, since the\nbird had snatched it out of his hand. \"Ah, cruel!\" said he to\nhimself; still looking on the bird, \"thou took'st delight in\ndoing mischief, so I have the less reason to complain of that\nwhich thou didst to me: but the greater it was, the more do I\nwish well to those that revenged my quarrel, punishing thee for\nthe murder of one of their own kind.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express the prince's joy: \"Dear princess,\"\ncontinued he to himself, \"this happy minute, which restores to me\na treasure so precious to thee, is, without doubt, a presage of\nour meeting again, and perhaps sooner than I think of. Thank\nheaven who sent me this good fortune, and gives me hope of the\ngreatest 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. He had been almost every\nnight a stranger to rest, the recollection of his misfortunes\nkeeping him awake, but this night he enjoyed calm repose: he rose\nsomewhat later the next morning than he used to do, and went to\nthe gardener for orders. The good man bade him root up an old\ntree which bore no fruit.\n\nKummir al Zummaun took an axe and began his work. In cutting off\na branch of the root, he found his axe struck against something\nthat resisted the blow. He removed the earth, and discovered a\nbroad plate of brass, under which was a staircase of ten steps.\nHe went down, and at the bottom saw a cavity about six yards\nsquare with fifty brass urns placed in order, each with a cover\nover it. He opened them all, one after another, and found they\nwere all of them full of gold-dust. He came out of the cave,\nrejoicing that he had found such a vast treasure, put the brass\nplate on the staircase, and had the tree rooted up by the\ngardener's return.\n\nThe gardener had ascertained that the ship which was bound for\nthe isle of Ebene, would sail in a few days, but the exact time\nwas not yet fixed. His friend promised to let him know the day,\nif he called upon him on the morrow; and while the prince was\nrooting up the tree, he went to have his answer. He returned with\na joyful countenance, by which the prince guessed he brought him\ngood news. \"Son,\" said the old man (so he always called him on\naccount of the difference of years between him and the prince)\n\"be joyful, and prepare to embark in three days; the ship will\nthen certainly sail; I have agreed with the captain for your\npassage.\"\n\n\"In my present situation,\" replied Kummir al Zummaun, \"you could\nnot bring me more agreeable intelligence; and in return, I have\nalso tidings that will be as welcome to you: come along with me,\nand you 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, made him go down into the cave, shewed him what a\ntreasure he had discovered, thanking Providence for rewarding his\nvirtue, and the pains he had been at for so many years. \"What do\nyou mean?\" replied the gardener: \"do you imagine I will take\nthese riches as mine? The property is yours: I have no right to\nit. For fourscore years, since my father's death, I have done\nnothing but dig in this garden, and could not discover this\ntreasure, which is a sign it was destined for you, since God has\npermitted you to find it. It is better suited to a prince like\nyou than to me; I have one foot in the grave, and am in no want\nof any thing. Providence has bestowed it upon you, just when you\nare returning to that country, which will one day be your own,\nwhere you will make good use of it.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun would not be surpassed in generosity by the\ngardener. They disputed for some time. At last the prince\nsolemnly protested, that he would have none of it, unless the\ngardener would divide it with him. The good man, to please the\nprince, consented; so they shared it between them, and each had\ntwenty-five urns.\n\n\"Having thus divided it, son,\" said the gardener to the prince,\n\"it is not enough that you have got this treasure; we must now\ncontrive to carry it privately aboard, otherwise you will run the\nrisk of losing it. There are no olives in the isle of Ebene,\nthose that are exported hence are a good commodity there: you\nknow I have plenty of them, take what you will; fill fifty pots,\nhalf with the gold-dust and half with olives, and I will get them\ncarried to the ship when you embark.\"\n\nThe prince followed this advice, and spent the rest of the day in\npacking up the gold and the olives in the fifty pots, and fearing\nthe talisman, which he wore on his arm, might be lost again, he\ncarefully put it into one of the pots, with a particular mark to\ndistinguish it from the rest. When they were all ready to be\nshipped, night coming on, the prince retired with the gardener,\nand related to him the battle of the birds, with the circumstance\nby which he had found the talisman. The gardener was equally\nsurprised and joyful to hear it on his account. Whether the old\nman was quite worn out with age, or had exhausted himself too\nmuch that day, the gardener had a very bad night; he grew worse\nthe next day, and on the third day, when the prince was to\nembark, was so ill, that it was plain he was near his end. As\nsoon as day broke, the captain of the ship came with several\nseamen to the gardener's; they knocked at the garden-door, which\nthe prince opened to them. They asked him for the passenger who\nwas to go with them. The prince answered, \"I am he; the gardener\nwho agreed with you for my passage is sick, and cannot be spoken\nwith; come in, and let your men carry those pots of olives and my\nbaggage aboard for me; I will only take leave of the gardener,\nand follow you.\"\n\nThe seamen took the pots and the baggage, and the captain bade\nthe prince make haste, the wind being fair.\n\nWhen the captain and his men were gone, Kummir al Zummaun went to\nthe gardener to take his leave of him, and thanked him for all\nhis good offices; but found him in the agonies of death, and had\nscarcely time to bid him rehearse the articles of his faith,\nwhich all good Moosulmauns do before they die, before the\ngardener expired.\n\nThe prince being under the necessity of embarking immediately,\nhastened to pay the last duty to the deceased. He washed his\nbody, buried him in his own garden, and having nobody to assist\nhim, it was almost evening before he had put him into the ground.\nAs soon as he had done, he ran to the water-side, carrying with\nhim the key of the garden, designing, if he had time, to give it\nto the landlord; otherwise to deposit it in some trusty person's\nhand before a witness, that he might have it after he was gone.\nWhen he reached the port, he was told the ship had sailed several\nhours, and was already out of sight. It had waited three hours\nfor him, and the wind standing fair, the captain durst not stay\nlonger.\n\nIt is easy to imagine that Kummir al Zummaun was exceedingly\ngrieved at being forced to remain longer in a country where he\nneither had, nor wished to have, any acquaintance; to think that\nhe must wait another year for the opportunity he had lost. But\nthe greatest affliction of all was, his having parted with the\nprincess Badoura's talisman, which he now considered lost. The\nonly course left him was to return to the garden from whence he\nhad come, to rent it of the landlord and continue to cultivate it\nby himself, deploring his misery and misfortunes. He hired a boy\nto assist him to do some part of the drudgery: 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 into fifty other jars, which he filled up with olives, to be\nready against the ship's return.\n\nWhile the prince was beginning another year of labour, sorrow,\nand impatience, the ship having a fair wind, continued her voyage\nto the isle of Ebene, and happily arrived at the capital.\n\nThe palace being by the sea side, the new king, or rather the\nprincess Badoura, espying the ship as she was entering into the\nport, with all her flags, asked what vessel it was: she was\nanswered, that it came annually from the city of the idolaters,\nand was generally richly laden.\n\nThe princess, who always had Kummir al Zummaun in her mind,\nimagined that the prince might be aboard; and resolved to visit\nthe ship and meet him, without discovering herself; but to\nobserve him, and take proper measures for their making themselves\nmutually known. Under pretence of inquiring what merchandize was\non board, and having the first sight of the goods, she commanded\na horse to be brought, which she mounted, accompanied by several\nofficers in waiting, and arrived at the port, just as the captain\ncame ashore. She ordered him to be brought before her, asked\nwhence he had come, how long he had been on his voyage, and what\ngood or bad fortune he had met with: if he had no stranger of\nquality aboard, and particularly with what his ship was laden.\n\nThe captain gave a satisfactory answer to all her demands; and as\nto passengers, assured her there were none but merchants in his\nship, who used to come every year, and bring rich stuffs from\nseveral parts of the world to trade with, the finest linens\npainted and plain, diamonds, musk, ambergris, camphire, civet,\nspices, drugs, olives, and many other articles.\n\n\nThe princess Badoura loved olives extremely when she heard the\ncaptain speak of them, \"Land them,\" said she, \"I will take them\noff your hands; as to the other goods, tell the merchants to\nbring them to me, and let me see them before they dispose of, or\nshew them to any one.\"\n\nThe captain taking her for the king of the isle of Ebene,\nreplied, \"Sire, there are fifty great jars of olives, but they\nbelong to a merchant whom I was forced to leave behind. I gave\nhim notice myself that I stayed for him, and waited a long time,\nbut he not coming, and the wind offering, I was afraid of losing\nthe opportunity, and so set sail.\" The princess answered, \"No\nmatter, bring them ashore; we will nevertheless make a bargain\nfor them.\"\n\nThe captain sent the boat, which in a little time returned with\nthe olives. The princess demanded how much the fifty jars might\nbe worth in the isle of Ebene? \"Sir,\" replied the captain, \"the\nmerchant is very poor, and your majesty will do him a singular\nfavour if you give him one thousand pieces of silver.\"\n\n\"To satisfy him,\" said the princess, \"and because you tell me he\nis poor, I will order you one thousand pieces of gold for him,\nwhich do you take care to give him.\" The money was accordingly\npaid, and the jars carried to the palace.\n\nNight drawing on the princess withdrew into the inner palace, and\nwent to the princess Haiatalnefous's apartment, ordering the\nolives to be brought thither. She opened one jar to let the\nprincess Haiatalnefous taste them, and poured them into a dish.\nGreat was her astonishment, when she found the olives were\nmingled with gold-dust. \"What can this mean!\" said she, \"It is\nwonderful beyond comprehension.\" Her curiosity increasing from so\nextraordinary an adventure, she ordered Haiatalnefous's women to\nopen and empty all the jars in her presence; and her wonder was\nstill greater, when she saw that the olives in all of them were\nmixed with gold-dust; but when she saw her talisman drop out, she\nwas so surprised that she fainted away. Haiatalnefous and her\nwomen brought the princess to herself, by throwing cold water in\nher face. When she recovered, she took the talisman, and kissed\nit again and again; but not being willing that the princess\nHaiatalnefous's women, who were ignorant of her disguise, should\nhear what she said, and it growing late, she dismissed them.\n\"Princess,\" said she to Haiatalnefous, as soon as they were gone,\n\"you who have heard my story, doubtless, guessed it was at the\nsight of the talisman that I fainted. This is that talisman, and\nthe fatal cause of my dosing my husband; but as it was that which\ncaused our separation, so I foresee it will be the means of our\nmeeting.\"\n\nThe next day, as soon as it was light, she sent for the captain\nof the ship; and when he came, spoke to him thus: \"I want to know\nsomething more of the merchant to whom the olives belong, that 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 is his\nemployment there?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the captain, \"I can speak from my own knowledge. I\nagreed for his passage with a very old gardener, who told me I\nshould find him in his garden, where he worked under him. He\nshewed me the place, and for that reason I told your majesty he\nwas poor. I went thither to call him. I told him what haste I was\nin, spoke to him myself in the garden, and cannot be mistaken in\nthe man.\"\n\n\n\"If what you say is true,\" replied the princess, \"you must set\nsail this very day for the city of idolaters, and bring me that\ngardener's man, who is my debtor; else I will not only confiscate\nall your goods and those of your merchants, but your life and\ntheirs shall answer for his. I have ordered my seal to be put on\nthe warehouses where their goods are deposited, which shall not\nbe taken off till your return: this is all I have to say to you;\ngo and do as I command you.\"\n\nThe captain could make no reply to this order, the disobeying of\nwhich must have proved of such loss to him and his merchants. He\nacquainted them with it; and they hastened him away as fast as\nthey could, after he had laid in a stock of provisions and fresh\nwater for his voyage.\n\nThey were so diligent, that he set sail the same day. He had a\nprosperous voyage to the city of the idolaters, where he arrived\nin the night. When he was got as near the city as he thought\nconvenient, he would not cast anchor, but lay to off shore; and\ngoing into his boat, with six of his stoutest seamen, landed a\nlittle way off the port, whence he went directly to the garden of\nKummir al Zummaun.\n\nThough it was about midnight when he came there, the prince was\nnot asleep. His separation from the fair princess of China his\nwife afflicted him as usual. He cursed the minute in which his\ncuriosity tempted him to touch the fatal girdle.\n\nThus was he passing those hours which are devoted to rest, when\nhe heard somebody knock at the garden-door: he ran hastily to it;\nbut he had no sooner opened it than the captain and his seamen\ntook hold of him, and carried him to the boat, and so on ship-\nboard. As soon as he was safely lodged, they set sail, and made\nthe best of their way to the isle of Ebene.\n\nHitherto Kummir al Zummaun, the captain, and his men, had not\nsaid a word to one another; at last the prince asked the captain,\nwhom he knew again, why they had taken him away by force? The\ncaptain in his turn demanded of the prince, whether he was not a\ndebtor of the king of Ebene? \"I the king of Ebene's debtor!\"\nreplied the prince in amazement; \"I do not know him, and have\nnever set foot in his kingdom.\" The captain answered, \"You should\nknow that better than I; you will talk to him yourself in a\nlittle while; till then stay here and 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 his prisoner with him, hastened to the\npalace, where he demanded to be introduced to the king.\n\nThe princess Badoura had withdrawn into the inner palace, but as\nsoon as she heard of the captain's return, she came out to speak\nto him. Immediately as she cast her eyes on the prince, for whom\nshe had shed so many tears, she recognized him 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 could not enter into his thoughts, that the person whom\nhe so earnestly desired to see stood before him. If the princess\nhad followed the dictates of her inclination, she would have run\nto him, and, by embracing, discovered herself to him; but she put\na constraint on herself, believing that it was for the interest\nof both that she should act the king a little longer before she\nmade herself known. She contented herself for the present to put\nhim into the hands of an officer, who was then in waiting,\ncharging him to take care of him, and use him well, till the next\nday.\n\nWhen the princess Badoura had provided for Kummir al Zummaun, she\nturned to the captain, whom she was now to reward for the\nimportant service he had done her. She commanded another officer\nto go immediately to take the seal off the warehouse which\ncontained his goods, and gave him a rich diamond, worth much more\nthan the expense he had been at in both his voyages. She also\nbade him keep the thousand pieces of gold she had given for the\nolives, telling him she would make up the account with the\nmerchant whom he had brought with him.\n\nThis done, she returned to the princess of the isle of Ebene's\napartment, to whom she communicated her joy, praying her to keep\nthe secret still. She told how she intended to manage the\ndiscovering of herself to Kummir al Zumrnaun, and resignation of\nthe kingdom to him; adding, there was so vast a distance between\na gardener, as he would appear to the public, and a great prince,\nthat it might be dangerous to raise him at once from the lowest\ncondition of the people to the highest honour, however justice\nmight require it should be done. The princess of the isle of\nEbene was so far from betraying her, that she rejoiced with her,\nand entered into the design.\n\nThe next morning the princess of China ordered Kummir al Zummaun\nto be conducted early to the bath, and then to be appareled in\nthe robes of an emir or governor of a province. She commanded him\nto be introduced into the council, where his fine person and\nmajestic air drew upon him the eyes of all the lords present.\n\nThe princess Badoura herself was charmed to see him look as\nlovely as ever, and her pleasure inspired her to speak the more\nwarmly in his praise. When she spoke to the council, having\nordered the prince to take his seat among the emirs, she\naddressed them thus: \"My lords, Kummir al Zummaun, whom I have\nadvanced to the same dignity with yourselves, is not unworthy of\nthe place assigned him. I have known enough of him in my travels\nto answer for him, and I can assure you he will make his merit\nknown to all of you, as well by his velour, as by a thousand\nother brilliant qualities, and the extent of his genius.\"\n\nThe prince 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, while he\nthought himself certain he had never seen him before. He was much\nmore surprised when he heard him praise him so highly. Those\npraises however from the mouth of majesty did not disconcert him,\nthough he received them with such modesty, as shewed that he\ndeserved them. He prostrated himself before the throne of the\nking, and rising again, said, \"Sire, I want words to express my\ngratitude to your majesty for the honour you have done me; I\nshall do all in my power to render myself worthy of your royal\nfavour.\"\n\nFrom the council-board the prince was conducted to a palace,\nwhich the princess Badoura had ordered to be fitted up for him;\nwhere he found officers and domestics ready to obey his commands,\na stable full of fine horses, and every thing suitable to the\nquality of an emir. When he was in his closet, the steward of his\nhousehold brought him a strong box full of gold for his expenses.\n\n\nThe less he could conceive whence his happiness proceeded, the\nmore he wondered, but he never once imagined that he owed it to\nthe princess of China.\n\nTwo or three days after, the princess Badoura, that he might be\nnearer her person and in a more distinguished post, made him high\ntreasurer, which office had lately become vacant. He conducted\nhimself in his new charge with so much integrity, yet obliging\nevery body, that he not only gained the friendship of the great,\nbut also the affections of the people, by his uprightness and\nbounty.\n\nKummir al Zummaun had been the happiest man in the world, to see\nhimself in so high favour with a foreign king as he conceived,\nand increasing in the esteem of all his subjects, if he had had\nhis princess with him. In the midst of his good fortune he never\nceased lamenting her, and grieved that he could hear no tidings\nof her, especially in a country which she must necessarily have\nvisited in her way to his father's court after their separation.\nHe would have mistrusted something, had the princess still gone\nby the name of Kummir al Zummaun, which she took with his habit;\nbut on her accession to the throne, she had changed it, and taken\nthat of Armanos, in honour of the old king her father-in-law.\n\nThe princess desiring that her husband should owe the discovery\nof her to herself alone, resolved to put an end to her own\ntorments and his; for she had observed, that as often as she\ndiscoursed with him about the affairs of office, he heaved such\ndeep sighs, as could be addressed to nobody but her. While she\nherself lived in such a constraint, that she could endure it no\nlonger.\n\nThe princess Badoura had no sooner formed her resolution in\nconcert with the princess Haiatalnefous, than she the same day\ntook Kummir al Zummaun aside, saying, \"I must talk with you about\nan affair which requires much consideration, and on which I want\nyour advice. As I do not see how it can be done so conveniently\nas in the night, come hither in the evening, and leave word at\nhome not to be waited for; I will take care to provide you a\nlodging.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun came punctually to the palace at the hour\nappointed by the princess; she took him with her into the inner\napartment, and having told the chief eunuch, who prepared to\nfollow her, that she had no occasion for his service, conducted\nhim into a different apartment from that of the princess\nHaiatalnefous, where she used to sleep.\n\nWhen the prince and princess entered the chamber, she shut the\ndoor, and taking the talisman out of a little box, gave it to\nKummir al Zummaun, saying, \"It is not long since an astrologer\npresented me with this talisman; you being skilful in all things,\nmay perhaps tell me its use.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun took the talisman, and drew near a lamp to view\nit. As soon as he recollected it, with an astonishment which gave\nthe princess great pleasure, \"Sire,\" said he to the prince, \"your\nmajesty asked me the use of this talisman. Alas! its only purpose\nis to kill me with grief and despair, if I do not quickly find\nthe most charming and lovely princess in the world to whom it\nbelonged, whose loss it occasioned me by a strange adventure, the\nrecital of which will move your majesty to pity such an\nunfortunate husband and lover as I am.\"\n\n\n\"You shall tell me the particulars another time,\" replied the\nprincess; \"I know something of them already: remain here a\nlittle, and I will soon return to you.\"\n\nAt these words she went into her closet, put off her royal\nturban, and in a few minutes dressed herself in her female\nattire; and having the girdle round her, which she had on the day\nof their separation, re-entered the chamber.\n\nKummir al Zummaun immediately recognized his dear princess, ran\nto her, and tenderly embraced her, exclaiming, \"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, embracing\nhim in her turn, with tears in her eyes: \"you see him in me; sit\ndown, and I will explain this enigma to you.\"\n\nThey seated themselves, and the princess related the plan she had\nformed in the plain where they were encamped the last time they\nwere together, 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 her as a condition of the marriage: how the princess,\nwhose merit she highly extolled, had obliged her to make\ndeclaration of her sex: and how she found the talisman in the\npots of olives mingled with the gold-dust, which she had bought,\nand how this circumstance had proved the cause of her sending for\nhim from the city of the idolaters.\n\nWhen she had concluded her adventure, she obliged the prince to\ntell her by what means the talisman had occasioned their\nseparation. He satisfied her inquiries; after which, it growing\nlate, they retired to rest.\n\nThe princess Badoura and Kummir al Zummaun 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 female attire,\nand then sent the chief eunuch to king Armanos, her father-in-\nlaw, to desire he would oblige her by coming to her apartment.\n\nWhen the king entered the chamber, he was amazed at seeing a lady\nwho was unknown to him, and the high treasurer with her, who was\nnot by etiquette permitted to come within the inner palace. He\nsat down, and asked where the king was.\n\nThe princess answered, \"Yesterday I was king, but to-day I am\nonly princess of China, wife to the true prince Kummir al\nZummaun. If your majesty will have patience to hear our\nadventures, I hope you will not condemn me for putting an\ninnocent deceit upon you.\" The king bade her go on, and heard her\nnarrative from beginning to end with astonishment. The princess\non finishing said to him, \"Sir, though women do not easily comply\nwith the liberty assumed by men to have several wives; yet if\nyour majesty will consent to give your daughter the princess\nHaiatalnefous in marriage to the prince, I will with all my heart\nyield up to her the rank and quality of queen, which of right\nbelongs to her, and content myself with the second place. If this\nprecedence were not her due, I would resign it to her, after the\nobligation I have to her for keeping my secret so generously. If\nyour majesty refer it to her consent, I am sure of that, having\nalready consulted her; and I will pass my word that she will be\nvery well satisfied.\"\n\n\nKing Armanos listened to the princess with astonishment, and when\nshe had done, turned to Kummir al Zummaun, saying, \"Son, since\nthe princess Badoura your wife, whom I have all along thought to\nbe my son-in-law, through a deceit of which I cannot complain,\nassures me, that she will divide your bed with my daughter; I\nwould know if you are willing to marry her, and accept of the\ncrown, which the princess Badoura would deservedly wear, if she\ndid not quit it out of love to you.\" \"Sir,\" replied Kummir al\nZummaun, \"though I desire nothing so earnestly as to see the king\nmy father, yet the obligations I have to your majesty and the\nprincess Haiatalnefous are so weighty, I can refuse her nothing.\"\nThe prince was then proclaimed king, and married the same day\nwith all possible demonstrations of joy; and had every reason to\nbe well pleased with the princess Haiatalnefous's beauty, wit,\nand love for him.\n\nThe two queens lived together afterwards on the same friendly\nterms and in the same cordiality as they had done before, both\nbeing contented with Kummir al Zummaun's equal carriage towards\nthem.\n\nThe next year each brought him a son at the same time, and the\nbirths of the two princes were celebrated with extraordinary\nrejoicings: the first, whom the princess Badoura was delivered\nof, was named Amgiad (most illustrious); and the other, born of\nqueen Haiatalnefous, Assad (most virtuous).\n\n\n\n\n\n           The Story of the Princes Amgiad and Assad.\n\n\n\nThe two princes were brought up with great care; and, when they\nwere old enough, had the same governor, the same instructors in\nthe arts and sciences, and the same master for each exercise. The\naffection which from their infancy they conceived for each other\noccasioned an uniformity of manners and inclination, which\nincreased it. When they were of an age to have separate\nhouseholds, they loved one another so tenderly, that they begged\nthe king to let them live together. He consented, and they had\nthe same domestics, the same equipages, the same apartment, and\nthe same table. Kummir al Zummaun had formed so good an opinion\nof their capacity and integrity, that he made no scruple of\nadmitting them into his council at the age of eighteen, and\nletting them, by turns, preside there, while he took the\ndiversion of hunting, or amused himself with his queens at his\nhouses of pleasure.\n\nThe princes being equally handsome, the two queens loved them\nwith incredible tenderness; but the princess Badoura had a\ngreater kindness for prince Assad, queen Haiatalnefous's son,\nthan for her own; and queen Haiatalnefous loved Amgiad, the\nprincess Badoura's son, better than her own son Assad.\n\nThe two queens thought at first this inclination was nothing but\na regard which proceeded from an excess of their own friendship\nfor each other, which they still preserved: but as the two\nprinces advanced in years, that friendship grew into a violent\nlove, when they appeared in their eyes to possess graces that\nblinded their reason. They knew how criminal their passion was,\nand did all they could to resist it; but the familiar intercourse\nwith them, and the habit of admiring, praising, and caressing\nthem from their infancy, which they could not restrain when they\ngrew up, inflamed their desires to such a height as to overcome\ntheir reason and virtue. It was their and the princes' ill-\nfortune, that the latter being used to be so treated by them, had\nnot the least suspicion of their infamous passion.\n\nThe two queens had not concealed from each other this passion,\nbut had not the boldness to declare it to the princes they loved;\nthey at last resolved to do it by a letter, and to execute their\nwicked design, availed themselves of the king's absence, when he\nwas gone on a hunting party for three or four days.\n\nPrince Amgiad presided at the council on the day of his father's\ndeparture, and administered justice till two or three o'clock in\nthe afternoon. As he returned to the palace from the council-\nchamber, an eunuch took him aside, and gave him a letter from\nqueen Haiatalnefous. Amgiad took it, and read it with horror.\n\"Traitor,\" said he, to the eunuch. as soon as he had perused it\nthrough, \"is this the fidelity thou owest thy master and thy\nking?\" At these words he drew his sabre and cut off his head.\n\nHaving done this in a transport of anger he ran to the princess\nBadoura his mother, shewed her the letter, told her the contents\nof it, and from whom it came. Instead of hearkening to him, she\nfell into a passion, and said, \"Son, it is all a calumny and\nimposture; queen Haiatalnefous is a very discreet princess, and\nyou are very bold to talk to me against her.\" The prince, enraged\nat his mother, exclaimed, \"You are both equally wicked, and were\nit not for the respect I owe my father, this day should have been\nthe last of Haiatalnefous's life.\"\n\nQueen Badoura might have imagined by the example of her son\nAmgiad, that prince Assad, who was not less virtuous, would not\nreceive more favourably a declaration of love, similar to that\nwhich had been made to his brother. Yet that did not hinder her\npersisting in her abominable design; she, the next day, wrote him\na letter, which she entrusted to an old woman who had access to\nthe palace, to convey to him.\n\nThe old woman watched her opportunity to put it into his hands as\nhe was coming from the council-chamber, where he presided that\nday in his turn. The prince took it, and reading it, fell into\nsuch a rage, that, without giving himself time to finish it, he\ndrew his sabre and punished the old woman as she deserved. He ran\nimmediately to the apartment of his mother queen Haiatalnefous,\nwith the letter in his hand: he would have shewn it to her, but\nshe did not give him time, crying out, \"I know what you mean; you\nare as impertinent as your brother Amgiad: be gone, and never\ncome into my presence again.\"\n\nAssad stood as one thunder-struck at these words, so little\nexpected. He was so enraged, that he had like to have given fatal\ndemonstrations of his anger; but he contained himself, and\nwithdrew without making any reply, fearing if he stayed he might\nsay something unworthy the greatness of his soul. Amgiad had not\nmentioned to him the letter which he had received the preceding\nday; and finding by what his mother had said to him that she was\naltogether as criminal as queen Haiatalnefous, he went to his\nbrother, to chide him for not communicating the hated secret to\nhim, and to mingle his own sorrow with his.\n\nThe two queens, rendered desperate by finding in the two princes\nsuch virtue as should have made them look inwardly on themselves,\nrenounced all sentiments of nature and of mothers and conspired\ntogether to destroy them. They made their women believe the two\nprinces had attempted their virtue: they counterfeited the matter\nto the life by their tears, cries, and curses; and lay in the\nsame bed, as if the resistance they pretended to have made had\nreduced them almost to death's-door.\n\nWhen Kummir al Zummaun returned to the palace from hunting, he\nwas much surprised to find them in bed together, in tears, acting\ndespondency so well, that he was touched with compassion. He\nasked them with earnestness what had happened to them.\n\nAt this question, the dissembling queens wept and sobbed more\nbitterly than before; and after he had pressed them again and\nagain to tell him, queen Badoura at last answered him: \"Sir, our\ngrief is so well founded, that we ought not to see the light of\nthe sun, or live a day, after the violence that has been offered\nus by the unparalleled brutality of the princes your sons. They\nformed a horrid design, encouraged by your absence, and had the\nboldness and insolence to attempt our honour. Your majesty will\nexcuse us from saying any more; you may guess the rest by our\naffliction.\"\n\nThe king sent for the two princes, and would have killed them\nboth with his own hand, had not old king Armanos his father-in-\nlaw, who was present, held his hand: \"Son,\" said he, \"what are\nyou going to do? Will you stain your hands and your palace with\nyour own blood? There are other ways of punishing them, if they\nare really guilty.\"\n\nHe endeavoured thus to appease him, and desired him to examine\nwhether they did indeed commit the crime of which they were\naccused.\n\nIt was no difficult matter for Kummir al Zummaun to restrain\nhimself so far as not to butcher his own children. He ordered\nthem to be put under arrest, and sent for an emir called Jehaun-\ndar, whom he commanded to conduct them out of the city, and put\nthem to death, at a great distance, and in what place he pleased,\nbut not to see him again, unless he brought their clothes with\nhim, as a token of his having executed his orders.\n\nJehaun-dar travelled with them all night, and early next morning\nmade them alight, telling them, with tears in his eyes, the\ncommands he had received. \"Believe me, princes,\" said he, \"it is\na trying duty imposed on me by your father, to execute this cruel\norder: would to heaven I could avoid it!\" The princes replied,\n\"Do your duty; we know well you are not the cause of our death,\nand forgive you with all our hearts.\"\n\nThey then embraced, and bade each other a last 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,\" said he \"that I may not\nhave the affliction to see my dear brother Amgiad die.\" To this\nAmgiad objected; and Jehaun-dar could not, without weeping more\nthan before, be witness of this dispute between them; which\nshewed how perfect and sincere was their affection.\n\nAt last they determined the contest, by desiring Jehaun-dar to\ntie them together, and put them in the most convenient posture\nfor him to give them the fatal stroke at one blow. \"Do not refuse\nthe comfort of dying together to two unfortunate brothers, who\nfrom their birth have shared every thing, even their innocence,\"\nsaid the generous princes.\n\nJehaun-dar granted their request; he tied them to each other,\nbreast to breast; and when he had placed them so that he thought\nhe might strike the blow with more certainty, asked them if they\nhad any thing to command him before they died.\n\n\"We have only one thing to desire of you,\" replied the princes,\n\"which is, to assure the king our father on your return, that we\nare innocent; but that we do not charge him with our deaths,\nknowing he is not well informed of the truth of the crime of\nwhich we are accused.\"\n\nJehaun-dar promised to do what they desired and drew his sabre,\nwhen 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 into the country.\n\nHe was a very valuable horse, and so richly caparisoned, that the\nemir could not bear the loss of him. This accident so vexed him,\nthat instead of beheading the two princes, he threw away his\nsabre, and ran after his horse.\n\nThe horse galloped on before him, and led him several miles into\na wood. Jehaun-dar followed him, and the horse's neighing roused\na lion that was asleep. The lion started up, and instead of\nrunning after the horse, made directly towards Jehaun-dar, who\nthought no more of his horse, but how to save his life. He ran\ninto the thickest of the wood, the lion keeping him in view,\npursuing him among the trees. In this extremity he said to\nhimself, \"Heaven had not punished me in this manner, but to shew\nthe innocence of the princes whom I was commanded to put to\ndeath; and now, to my misfortune, I have not my sabre to defend\nmyself.\"\n\nWhile Jehaun-dar was gone, the two princes were seized with a\nviolent thirst, occasioned by the fear of death, notwithstanding\ntheir noble resolution to submit to the king their father's cruel\norder.\n\nPrince Amgiad told the prince his brother there was a spring not\nfar off. \"Ah! brother,\" said Assad, \"we have so little time to\nlive, what need have we to quench our thirst? We can bear it a\nfew minutes longer.\"\n\nAmgiad taking no notice of his brother's remonstrance, unbound\nhimself, and the prince his brother. They went to the spring, and\nhaving refreshed themselves, heard the roaring of the lion. They\nalso heard Jehaun-dar's dreadful cries in the wood, which he and\nthe horse had entered. Amgiad took up the sabre which lay on the\nground, saying to Assad, \"Come, brother, let us go and save the\nunfortunate Jehaun-dar; perhaps we may arrive soon enough to\ndeliver him from the danger to which he is now exposed.\"\n\nThe two princes ran to the wood, and entered it just as the lion\nwas going to fall on Jehaun-dar. The beast seeing prince Amgiad\nadvancing towards him with a sabre in his hand, left his prey,\nand rushed towards him with great fury. The prince met him\nintrepidly, and gave him a blow so forcibly and dexterously, that\nit felled him to the ground.\n\nWhen Jehaun-dar saw that he owed his life to the two princes, he\nthrew himself at their feet, and thanked them for the obligation,\nin words which sufficiently testified his gratitude. \"Princes,\"\nsaid he, rising up and kissing their hands, with tears in his\neyes, \"God forbid that ever I should attempt any thing against\nyour lives, after you have so kindly and bravely saved mine. It\nshall never he said, that the emir Jehaun-dar was guilty of such\ningratitude.\"\n\n\"The service we have done you,\" answered the princes, \"ought not\nto prevent you from executing the orders you have received: let\nus first catch your horse, and then return to the place where you\nleft us.\"--They were at no great trouble to take the horse, whose\nmettle was abated with running. When they had restored him to\nJehaun-dar, and were come near the fountain, they begged of him\nto do as their father had commanded; but all to no purpose. \"I\nonly take the liberty to desire,\" said Jehaun-dar, \"and I pray\nyou not to deny me, that you will divide my clothes between you,\nand give me yours; and go to such a distance, that the king your\nfather may never hear of you more.\"\n\nThe princes were forced to comply with his request. Each of them\ngave him his clothes, and covered themselves with what he could\nspare them of his. He also gave them all the money he had about\nhim, and took his leave of them.\n\nAfter the emir Jehaun-dar had parted from the princes, he passed\nthrough the wood where Amgiad had killed the lion, in whose blood\nhe dipped their clothes: which having done, he proceeded on his\nway to the capital of the isle of Ebene.\n\nOn his arrival there, Kummir al Zummaun inquired if he had done\nas commanded? Jehaun-dar replied, \"Behold, sir, the proofs of my\nobedience;\" giving him at the same time the princes' clothes.\n\n\"How did they bear their punishment?\" Jehaun-dar answered, \"With\nwonderful constancy and resignation to the decrees of heaven,\nwhich shewed how sincerely they made profession of their\nreligion: but particularly with great respect towards your\nmajesty, and an inconceivable submission to the sentence of\ndeath. \u0091We die innocent,' said they; \u0091but we do not murmur: we\ntake our death from the hand of heaven, and forgive our father;\nfor we know he has not been rightly informed of the truth.'\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun was sensibly touched at Jehaun-dar's relation.\nA thought occurred to him to search the princes' pockets; he\nbegan with prince Amgiad's where he found a letter open, which he\nread. He no sooner recognized the hand-writing than he was\nchilled with horror. He then, trembling, put his hand into that\nof Assad, and finding there queen Badoura's letter, his horror\nwas so great, that he fainted.\n\nNever was grief equal to Kummir all Zummaun's, when he recovered\nfrom his fit: \"Barbarous father,\" cried he, \"what hast thou done?\nThou hast murdered thy own children, thy innocent children! Did\nnot their wisdom, their modesty, their obedience, their\nsubmission to thy will in all things, their virtue, all plead in\ntheir behalf? Blind and insensible father! dost thou deserve to\nlive after the execrable crime thou hast committed? I have\nbrought this abomination on my own head; and heaven chastises me\nfor not persevering in that aversion to women with which I was\nborn. And, oh ye detestable wives! I will not, no, I will not, as\nye deserve, wash off the guilt of your sins with your blood; ye\nare unworthy of my rage: but I will never see you more!\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun 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 he never saw them again as long as he lived.\n\nWhile the king of the isle of Ebene was afflicting himself for\nthe loss of his sons, of whose death he thought he had been the\nauthor by his too rashly condemning them, the royal youths\nwandered through deserts, endeavouring to avoid all places that\nwere inhabited, and shun every human creature. They lived on\nherbs and wild fruits, and drank only rain-water, which they\nfound in the crevices of the rocks. They slept and watched by\nturns at night, for fear of wild beasts.\n\nWhen they had travelled about a month, they came to the foot of a\nfrightful mountain of black stones, and to all appearance\ninaccessible. They at last espied a kind of path, but so narrow\nand difficult that they durst not venture to follow it: this\nobliged them to go along by the foot of the mountain, in hopes of\nfinding a more easy way to reach the summit, but could discover\nnothing like a path, so they were forced to return to that which\nthey had neglected. They still thought it would be in vain for\nthem to attempt it. They deliberated for a long time what they\nshould do, and at last, encouraging one another, resolved to\nascend.\n\nThe more they advanced the higher and steeper the mountain\nappeared, which made them think several times of giving over\ntheir enterprise. When the one was weary, the other stopped, and\nthey took breath together; sometimes they were both so tired,\nthat they wanted strength to proceed: then despairing of being\nable to reach the top they thought they must lie down and die of\nfatigue and weariness. A few minutes after, when they found they\nrecovered strength, they animated each other and went on.\n\nNotwithstanding all their endeavours, their courage and\nperseverance, they could not reach the summit that day; night\ncame on, and prince Assad was so spent, that he stopped and said\nto Amgiad, \"Brother, I can go no farther, I am just dying.\" \"Let\nus rest ourselves,\" replied prince Amgiad, \"as long as you will,\nand have a good heart: it is but a little way to the top, and the\nmoon befriends us.\"\n\nThey rested about half an hour, and then Assad making a new\neffort, they ascended what remained of the way to the summit,\nwhere they both at last arrived, and lay down. Amgiad rose first,\nand advancing, saw a tree at a little distance. He went to it,\nand found it was a pomegranate, with large fruit upon it, and he\nperceived there was a spring at its foot: he ran to his brother\nAssad to tell him the good news, and conduct him to the tree by\nthe fountain side. Here they refreshed themselves by eating each\na pomegranate, after which they fell asleep.\n\nWhen they awoke the next morning, \"Come, brother,\" said Amgiad to\nAssad, \"let us go on; I see the mountain is easier to be\ntravelled over on this side than the other, all our way now is\ndown hill.\" But Assad was so tired with the preceding day's\nexertions, that he wanted three days' repose to recover himself.\n\nThey spent these days as they had done many before, in conversing\non their mothers' inordinate passion, which had reduced them to\nsuch a deplorable state: but, said they, \"Since heaven has so\nvisibly declared itself in our favour, we ought to bear our\nmisfortunes with patience, and comfort ourselves with hopes that\nwe shall see an end of them.\"\n\nAfter having rested three days, the two brothers continued their\ntravels. As the mountain on that side was composed of several\nshelves of extensive flat, they were five days in descending\nbefore they came into the plain. They then discovered a large\ncity, at which they rejoiced: \"Brother,\" said Amgiad to Assad,\n\"are not you of my opinion that you should stay in some place out\nof the city, where I may find you again, while I go and inform\nmyself what country we are in, and when I come back I will bring\nprovisions with me? It may not be safe for us to go there\ntogether.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" replied Assad, \"your plan is both safe and prudent,\nand I approve of what you say but if one of us must part from the\nother on that account, I will not suffer it shall be you; you\nmust allow me to go; for what shall I suffer, if any accident\nshould befall you?\"\n\n\"But, brother,\" answered Amgiad, \"the very accident you fear\nwould befall me, I have as much reason to fear would happen to\nyou: I entreat you to let me go, and do you remain here\npatiently.\" \"I will never consent to this,\" said Assad; \"if any\nill happen to me, it will be some comfort to think you are safe.\"\nAmgiad was forced to submit, and Assad going towards the city, he\nstayed under the trees at the foot of the mountain.\n\nPrince Assad took the purse of money which Amgiad had in charge,\nand went forwards towards the city. He had not proceeded far in\nthe first street, before he met with a reverend old man with a\ncane in his hand. He was neatly dressed, and the prince took him\nfor a man of note in the place, who would not put a trick upon\nhim, so he accosted him thus: \"Pray, my lord, which is the way to\nthe market-place?\" The old man looked at prince Assad smiling;\n\"Child,\" said he, \"it is plain you are a stranger, or you would\nnot have asked that question.\"\n\n\"Yes, 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\n\"My lord,\" replied Assad, \"it is near two months since my brother\nand I set out from our own country: we have not ceased\ntravelling, and we arrived here but to-day; my brother, tired\nwith such a long journey, stays at the foot of the mountain, and\nI am come to buy some provisions for him and myself.\"\n\n\"Son,\" said the old man, \"you could not have come in a better\ntime, and I am glad of it for your and your brother's sake. I\nmade a feast today for some friends of mine: come along with me;\nyou shall eat as much as you please; and when you have done, I\nwill give you enough to last your brother and yourself several\ndays. Do not spend your money, when there is no occasion;\ntravellers are always in want of it: while you are eating I will\ngive you an account of our city, which no one can do better than\nmyself, who have borne all the honourable offices in it. It is\nwell for you that you happen to light upon me; for I must tell\nyou, all our citizens cannot so well assist and inform you. I can\nassure you some of them are very wicked. Come, you shall see the\ndifference between a real honest man, as I am, and such as boast\nof being so, and are not.\"\n\n\"I am infinitely obliged to you,\" replied Assad, \"for your\nkindness; I put myself entirely into your hands, and am ready to\ngo with you where you please.\"\n\nThe old man, as he walked along by his side, laughed inwardly, to\nthink he had got the prince in his clutches; and all the way,\nlest he should perceive his dissimulation, talked of various\nsubjects, to preserve the favourable opinion Assad had of him.\nAmong other things, he said, \"It must be confessed you were very\nfortunate to have spoken to me, rather than to any one else: I\nthank God I met with you; you will know why, when you come to my\nhouse.\"\n\nAt length they arrived at the residence of the old man, who\nintroduced Assad into a hall, where there were forty such old\nfellows as himself, who made a circle round a flaming fire, which\nthey were adoring. The prince was not less struck with horror at\nthe sight of so many men mistakenly worshipping the creature for\nthe Creator, than he was with fear at finding himself betrayed\ninto so abominable a place.\n\nWhile the prince stood motionless with astonishment, the old\ncheat saluted the forty gray-headed men. \"Devout adorers of\nfire,\" said he to them, \"this is a happy day for us; where is\nGazban? call him.\"\n\nHe spake these words aloud, when a negro who waited at the lower\nend of the hall immediately came up to him. This black was\nGazban, who, as soon as he saw the disconsolate Assad, imagined\nfor what purpose he was called. He rushed upon him immediately,\nthrew him down, and bound his hands with wonderful activity. When\nhe had done, \"Carry him down,\" said the old man, \"and fail not to\norder my daughters, Bostama and Cavama, to give him every day a\nsevere bastinado, with only a loaf morning and night for his\nsubsistence; this is enough to keep him alive till the next ship\ndeparts for the blue sea and the fiery mountain, where he shall\nbe offered up an acceptable sacrifice to our divinity.\"\n\nAs soon as the old man had given the cruel order, Gazban hurried\nprince Assad under the hall, through several doors, till they\ncame to a dungeon, down to which led twenty steps; there he left\nhim in chains of prodigious weight and bigness, fastened to his\nfeet. When he had done, he went to give the old man's daughters\nnotice: but their father had before sent for them, and given them\ntheir instructions himself: \"Daughters,\" said he to them, \"go\ndown and give the Mussulmaun I just now brought in the bastinado:\ndo not spare him; you cannot better shew your zeal for the\nworship of the fire.\"\n\nBostama and Cavama, who were bred up in their hatred to the\nfaithful, received this order with joy. They descended into the\ndungeon that instant, stripped Assad, and bastinadoed him\nunmercifully, till the blood issued out of his wounds and he was\nalmost dead. After this cruel treatment, they put a loaf of bread\nand a pot of water by him, and retired.\n\nAssad did not come to himself again for a long time; when he\nrevived, he burst out into a flood of tears, deploring his\nmisery. His comfort however was, that this misfortune had not\nhappened to his brother.\n\nAmgiad waited for his brother till evening with impatience; as\ntwo, three, or four of the clock in the morning arrived, and\nAssad did not return, he was in despair. He spent the night in\nextreme uneasiness; and as soon as it was day went to the city,\nwhere he was surprised to see but very few Mussulmauns. He\naccosted the first he met, and asked him the name of the place.\nHe was told it was the city of the Magicians, so called from the\ngreat number of magicians, who adored the fire; and that it\ncontained but few Mussulmauns. Amgiad then demanded how far it\nwas to the isle of Ebene? He was answered, four months' voyage by\nsea, and a year's journey by land. The man he talked to left him\nhastily, having satisfied him as to these two questions.\n\nAmgiad, who had been but six weeks coming from the isle of Ebene\nwith his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they had reached\nthis city in so short a time, unless it was by enchantment, or\nthat the way across the mountain was a much shorter one, but not\nfrequented because of its difficulty.\n\nGoing farther into the town, he stopped at a tailor's shop, whom\nhe knew to be a Mussulmaun by his dress. Having saluted him, he\nsat down, and told him the occasion of the trouble he was in.\n\nWhen prince Amgiad had done talking, the tailor replied, \"If your\nbrother has fallen into the hands of some magicians, depend upon\nit you will never see him more. He is lost past all recovery; and\nI advise you to comfort yourself as well as you can, and to\nbeware of falling into the same misfortune: to which end, if you\nwill take my advice, you shall stay at my house, and I will tell\nyou all the tricks of these magicians, that you may take care of\nyourself, when you go out.\" Amgiad, afflicted for the loss of his\nbrother, accepted the tailor's offer and thanked him a thousand\ntimes for his kindness to him.\n\n\n\nThe Story of the Prince Amgiad and a Lady of the City of the\nMagicians.\n\n\n\nFor a whole month prince Amgiad never went out of the tailor's\nhouse without being accompanied by his host. At last he ventured\nto go alone to the bath. As he was returning home, he met a lady\non the way. Seeing a handsome young man, she lifted up her veil,\nasked him with a smiling air, and bewitching look, whither he was\ngoing? Amgiad was overpowered by her charms, and replied, \"Madam,\nI am going to my own house, or, if you please, I will go to\nyours.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" resumed the lady, with a smile, \"ladies of my quality\nnever take men to their houses, they always accompany them to\ntheirs.\"\n\nAmgiad was much perplexed by this unexpected reply. He durst not\nventure to take her home to his landlord's house, lest he should\ngive him offence, and thereby lose his protection, of which he\nhad so much need, in a city which required him to be always on\nhis guard. He knew so little of the town, that he could not tell\nwhere to convey her, and he could not make up his mind to suffer\nthe adventure to go unimproved. In this uncertainty, he\ndetermined to throw himself upon chance; and without making any\nanswer, went on, and the lady followed him. Amgiad led her from\nstreet to street, from square to square, till they were both\nweary with walking. At last they entered a street, at the end of\nwhich was a closed gateway leading to a handsome mansion. On each\nside of the gateway was a bench. Amgiad sat down on one of them,\nas if to take breath: and the lady, more weary than he, seated\nherself on the other.\n\nWhen she had taken her seat, she asked him, whether that was his\nhouse? \"You see it, madam,\" said Amgiad. \"Why do you not open the\ngate then,\" demanded the lady; \"what do you wait for?\" \"Fair\nlady,\" answered Amgiad, \"I have not the key; I left it with my\nslave, when I sent him on an errand, and he cannot be come back\nyet: besides, I ordered him afterwards to provide something good\nfor dinner; so that I am afraid we shall wait a long time for\nhim.\"\n\nThe prince, meeting with so many obstacles to the satisfying of\nhis passion, began to repent of having proceeded so far, and\ncontrived this answer, in hopes that the lady would take the\nhint, would leave him out of resentment, and seek elsewhere for a\nlover; but he was mistaken.\n\n\"This is a most impertinent slave,\" said the lady, \"to make us\nwait so long. I will chastise him myself as he deserves, if you\ndo not, when he comes back. It is not decent that I should sit\nhere alone with a man.\" Saying this, she arose, and took up a\nstone to break the lock, which was only of wood, and weak,\naccording to the fashion of the country.\n\nAmgiad gave himself over for a lost man, when he saw the door\nforced open. He paused to consider whether he should go into the\nhouse or make off as fast as he could, to avoid the danger which\nhe believed was inevitable; and he was going to fly when the lady\nreturned.\n\nSeeing he did not enter, she asked, \"Why do not you come into\nyour house?\" The prince answered, \"I am looking to see if my\nslave is coming, fearing we have nothing ready.\" \"Come in, come\nin,\" resumed she,  we had better wait for him within doors than\nwithout.\"\n\nAmgiad, much against his will, followed her into the house.\nPassing through a spacious court, neatly paved, they ascended by\nseveral steps into a grand vestibule, which led to a large open\nhall very well furnished, where he and the lady found a table\nready spread with all sorts of delicacies, another heaped with\nfruit, and a sideboard covered with bottles of wine.\n\nWhen Amgiad beheld these preparations, he gave himself up for\nlost. \"Unfortunate Amgiad,\" said he to himself, \"thou wilt soon\nfollow thy dear brother Assad.\"\n\nThe lady, on the contrary, transported at the sight, exclaimed,\n\"How, my lord, did you fear there was nothing ready? You see your\nslave has done more than you expected. But, if I am not mistaken,\nthese preparations were made for some other lady, and not for me:\nno matter, let her come, I promise you I will not be jealous; I\nonly beg the favour of you to permit me to wait on her and you.\"\n\nAmgiad, greatly as he was troubled at this accident, could not\nhelp laughing at the lady's pleasantry. \"Madam,\" said he,\nthinking of something else that tormented his mind, \"there is\nnothing in what you imagine; this is my common dinner, and no\nextraordinary preparation, I assure you.\" As he could not bring\nhimself to sit down at a. table which was not provided for him,\nhe would have taken his seat on a sofa, but the lady would not\npermit him. \"Come, sir,\" said she, \"you must be hungry after\nbathing, let us eat and enjoy ourselves.\"\n\nAmgiad was forced to comply: they both sat down, and began to\nregale themselves. After having taken a little, the lady took a\nbottle and glass, poured out some wine, and when she had drunk\nherself, filled another glass, and gave it to Amgiad, who pledged\nher. The more the prince reflected on this adventure, the more he\nwas amazed that the master of the house did not appear; and that\na mansion, so rich and well provided, should be left without a\nservant. \"It will be fortunate,\" said he to himself, \"if the\nmaster of the house do not return till I am got clear of this\nintrigue.\" While he was occupied with these thoughts, and others\nmore troublesome, she ate and drank heartily, and obliged him to\ndo the same. Just as they were proceeding to the dessert, the\nmaster of the house arrived.\n\nIt happened to be Bahader, master of the horse to the king of the\nmagicians. This mansion belonged to him, but he commonly resided\nin another; and seldom came to this, unless to regale himself\nwith two or three chosen friends He always sent provisions from\nhis other house on such occasions, and had done so this day by\nsome of his servants, who were just gone when the lady and Amgiad\nentered.\n\nBahader came as he used to do, in disguise, and without\nattendants, and a little before the time appointed for the\nassembling of his friends. He was not a little surprised to find\nthe door broken open; he entered, making no noise, and hearing\nsome persons talking and making merry in the hall, he stole along\nunder the wall, and put his head half way within the door to see\nwho they were.\n\nPerceiving a young man and a young lady eating at his table the\nvictuals that had been provided for his friends and himself, and\nthat there was no great harm done, he resolved to divert himself\nwith the adventure.\n\nThe lady's back was a little turned towards him, and she did not\nsee the master of the horse, but Amgiad perceived him\nimmediately. The glass was at the time in his hand, and he was\ngoing to drink; he changed colour at the sight of Bahader, who\nmade a sign to him not to say a word, but to come and speak to\nhim.\n\nAmgiad drank and rose: \"Where are you going?\" inquired the lady.\nThe prince answered, \"Pray, madam, stay here a little; I shall\nreturn directly.\" Bahader waited for him in the vestibule, and\nled him into the court to talk to him without being overheard by\nthe lady.\n\nWhen Bahader and Amgiad were in the court, Bahader demanded of\nthe prince, how the lady came into his house? and why they broke\nopen his door? \"My lord,\" replied Amgiad, \"you may very\nreasonably think me guilty of a very unwarrantable action: but if\nyou will have patience to hear me, I hope I shall convince you of\nmy innocence.\" He then related, in a few words, what had\nhappened, without disguising any part of the truth; and to shew\nhim that he was not capable of committing such an action as to\nbreak into a house, told him he was a prince, and informed him of\nthe reason of his coming to the city of the magicians.\n\nBahader, who was a good man, was pleased with an opportunity of\nobliging one of Amgiad's rank: for by his air, his actions, and\nhis well-turned conversation, he did not in the least doubt the\ntruth of what he had asserted. \"Prince,\" said Bahader, \"I am glad\nI can oblige you in so pleasent an adventure. Far from disturbing\nthe feast, it will gratify me to contribute to your satisfaction\nin any thing. Before I say any more on this subject, I must\ninform you my name is Bahader; I am master of the horse to the\nking of the magicians; I commonly reside in another house, which\nI have in the city, and come here sometimes to have the more\nliberty with my friends. You have made this lady believe you have\na slave, though you have none; I will personate that slave, and\nthat this may not make you uneasy, and to prevent your excuses, I\nrepeat again, that I will positively have it to be so; you will\nsoon know my reason. Go to your place, and continue to divert\nyourself. When I return again, and come to you in a slave's\nhabit, chide me for staying so long, do not be afraid even to\nstrike me. I will wait upon you while you are at table till\nnight; you shall sleep here, and so shall the lady, and to-morrow\nmorning you may send her home with honour. I shall afterwards\nendeavour to do you more important services: go, and lose no\ntime.\" Amgiad would have made him an answer, but the master of\nthe horse would not suffer him, forcing him to return to the\nlady. He had scarcely reentered the hall before Bahader's\nfriends, whom he had invited, arrived. Bahader excused himself\nfor not entertaining them that day, telling them they would\napprove of his reason when they should be informed of it, which\nthey should be in due time. When they were gone, he went and\ndressed himself in a slave's habit.\n\n\nPrince Amgiad returned to the lady much pleased at finding the\nhouse belonged to a man of quality, who had received him so\ncourteously. When he sat down again, he said, \"Madam, I beg a\nthousand pardons for my rudeness. I was vexed that my slave\nshould tarry so long; the rascal shall pay for it when he comes:\nI will teach him to make me wait so for him.\"\n\n\"Let not that trouble you,\" said the lady. \"The evil is his; if\nhe is guilty of any faults, let him pay for it: but do not let us\nthink of him, we will enjoy ourselves without him.\"\n\nThey continued at the table with the more pleasure, as Amgiad was\nunder no apprehensions of the consequence of the lady's\nindiscretion in breaking open the door. The prince was now as\nmerry as the lady: they said a thousand pleasant things, and\ndrank more than they ate, till Bahader arrived in his disguise.\n\nBahader entered like a slave who feared his master's displeasure\nfor staying out when he had company with him. He fell down at his\nfeet and kissed the ground, to implore his clemency; and when he\nhad done, stood behind him with his hands across, waiting his\ncommands.\n\n\"Sirrah,\" said Amgiad, with a fierce tone, and angry look, \"where\nhave you been? What have you been doing, that you came no\nsooner?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Bahader, \"I ask your pardon; I was executing\nyour orders, and did not think you would return home so early.\"\n\n\"You are a rascal,\" said Amgiad, \"and I will break your bones, to\nteach you to lie, and disappoint me.\" He then rose up, took a\nstick, and gave him two or three slight blows; after which he sat\ndown again.\n\nThe lady was not satisfied with this chastisement. She also rose,\ntook the stick, and fell upon Bahader so unmercifully, that the\ntears came into his eyes. Amgiad, offended to the last degree at\nthe freedom she took, and that she should use one of the king's\nchief officers so ill, called out to her in vain to forbear. \"Let\nme alone,\" said she \"I will give him enough, and teach him to be\nabsent so long another time.\" She continued beating him with\ngreat fury, till Amgiad rose from the table, and forced the stick\nout of her hand which she did not relinquish without much\nstruggling. When she found she could beat Bahader no longer, she\nsat down, railed at and cursed him.\n\nBahader wiped his eyes, and stood up to fill out wine When he saw\nthey had done eating and drinking, he took away the cloth,\ncleared the hall, put every thing in its place; and night coming\non, lighted up the lamps. Every time he came in, or went out, the\nlady muttered, threatened him, and gave him abusive language, to\nAmgiad's great regret, who would have hindered her, but could\nnot. When it was time for them to retire to bed, Bahader prepared\none for them on the sofa, and withdrew into a chamber, where he\nlaid himself down, and soon fell asleep, having been fatigued\nwith his beating. Amgiad and the lady entertained one another for\nsome time afterwards. The lady before she went to bed having\noccasion to go to another part of the house, passing through the\nvestibule, heard Bahader snore, and having seen a sabre hanging\nup in the hall, turned back, and said to Amgiad, \"My lord, as you\nlove me, do one thing for me.\" \"In what can I serve you?\" asked\nthe prince. \"Oblige me so far as to take down this sabre and cut\noff your slave's head.\" Amgiad was astonished at such a proposal\nfrom a lady, and made no doubt but it was the wine she had drunk\nthat induced her to make it. \"Madam,\" said he, \"let us suffer him\nto rest, he is not worthy of your farther notice: I have beaten\nhim, and you have beaten him: that ought to be sufficient;\nbesides, I am in other respects well satisfied with him.\"\n\n\"That shall not satisfy me,\" replied the lady, in a violent\npassion; \"the rascal shall die, if not by your hands, by mine.\"\nAs she spoke, she took down the sabre from the place where it\nhung, drew it out of the scabbard, and prepared to execute her\nwicked design.\n\nAmgiad met her in the vestibule, saying, \"You shall be satisfied,\nmadam, since you will have it so; but I should be sorry that any\none besides myself should kill my slave.\" When she had given him\nthe sabre, \"Come, follow me,\" said he; \"make no noise, lest we\nshould awaken him.\" They went into Bahader's chamber, where\nAmgiad, instead of striking him, aimed his blow at the lady, and\ncut off her head, which fell upon Bahader.\n\nBahader was awakened by the head of the lady falling upon him. He\nwas amazed to see Amgiad standing by him with a bloody sabre, and\nthe body of the lady lying headless on the ground. The prince\ntold him what had passed, and said, \"I had no other way to\nprevent this furious woman from killing you, but to take away her\nlife.\" \"My lord,\" replied Bahader, full of gratitude, \"persons of\nyour rank and generosity are incapable of doing such a wicked\naction: as she desired of you. You are my deliverer, and I cannot\nsufficiently thank you.\" After having embraced him, to evince the\nsense he entertained of his obligations to him, he said, \"We must\ncarry this corpse out before it is quite day; leave it to me, I\nwill do it.\" Amgiad would not consent to this, saying, \"He would\ncarry it away himself, since he had struck the blow.\" Bahader\nreplied, \"You are a stranger in this city, and cannot do it so\nwell as one who is acquainted with the place. I must do it, if\nfor no other reason, yet for the safety of both of us, to prevent\nour being questioned about her death. Remain you here, and if I\ndo not return before day, you may be sure the watch has seized\nme; and for fear of the worst, I will by writing give this house\nand furniture for your habitation.\"\n\nWhen he had written, signed, and delivered the paper to prince\nAmgiad, he put the lady's body in a bag, head and all; laid it on\nhis shoulder, and went out with it from one street to another,\ntaking the way to the sea-side. He had not proceeded far before\nhe met one of the judges of the city, who was going the rounds in\nperson. Bahader was stopped by the judge's followers, who,\nopening the bag, found the body of a murdered lady, bundled up\nwith the head. The judge, who knew the master of the horse\nnotwithstanding his disguise, took him home to his house, and not\ndaring to put him to death without telling the king, on account\nof his rank, carried him to court as soon as it was day. When the\nking had been informed by the judge of the crime Bahader had, as\nhe believed from the circumstances, committed, he addressed\nhimself to the master of the horse as follows: \"It is thus then\nthat thou murderess my subjects, to rob them, and then wouldst\nthrow their dead bodies into the sea, to hide thy villainy? Let\nus get rid of him; execute him immediately.\"\n\nInnocent as Bahader was, he received sentence of death with\nresignation, and said not a word in his justification. The judge\ncarried him to his house, and while the pale was preparing, sent\na crier to publish throughout the city, that at noon the master\nof the horse was to be impaled for a murder.\n\nPrince Amgiad, who had in vain expected Bahader's return, was\nstruck with consternation when he heard the crier publish the\napproaching execution of the master of the horse. \"If,\" said he\nto himself, \"any one ought to die for the murder of such a wicked\nwoman, it is I, and not Bahader; I will never suffer an innocent\nman to be punished for the guilty.\" Without deliberating, he then\nhastened to the place of execution, whither the people were\nrunning from all parts.\n\nWhen Amgiad saw the judge bringing Bahader to the pale, he went\nup to him, and said, \"I am come to assure you, that the master of\nthe horse, whom you are leading to execution, is wholly innocent\nof the lady's death; I alone am guilty of the crime, if it be\none, to have killed a detestable woman, who would have murdered\nBahader.\" He then related to him how it had happened.\n\nThe prince having informed the judge of the manner in which he\nhad met her coming from the bath; how she had occasioned his\ngoing into the master of the horse's pleasure-house, and all that\nhad passed to the moment in which he was forced to cut off her\nhead, to save Bahader's life; the judge ordered execution to be\nstopped, and conducted Amgiad to the king, taking the master of\nthe horse with them.\n\nThe king wished to hear the story from Amgiad himself; and the\nprince, the better to prove his own innocence and that of the\nmaster of the horse, embraced the opportunity to discover who he\nwas, and what had driven him and his brother Assad to that city,\nwith all the accidents that had befallen them, from their\ndeparture from the Isle of Ebene.\n\nThe prince having finished his account, the king said to him, \"I\nrejoice that I have by this means been made acquainted with you;\nI not only give you your own life, and that of my master of the\nhorse, whom I commend for his kindness to you, but I restore him\nto his office; and as for you, prince, I declare you my grand\nvizier, to make amends for your father's unjust usage, though it\nis also excusable, and I permit you to employ all the authority\nwith which I now invest you to find out prince Assad.\"\n\nAmgiad having thanked the king for the honour he had done him, on\ntaking possession of his office of grand vizier used every\npossible means to find out the prince his brother. He ordered the\ncommon criers to promise a great reward to any who should\ndiscover him, or give any tidings of him. He sent men up and down\nthe country to the same purpose; but in vain.\n\nAssad in the meanwhile continued in the dungeon in chains;\nBostama and Cavama, the cunning old conjuror'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 his religion. He loaded it with\nproper merchandize; and when it was ready to sail, put Assad in a\nchest, which was half full of goods, a few crevices being left\nbetween the boards to give him air.\n\n\nBefore the ship sailed, the grand vizier Amgiad, who had been\ntold that the adorers of fire used to sacrifice a Mussulmaun\nevery year on the fiery mountain, suspecting that Assad might\nhave fallen into their hands, and be designed for a victim,\nresolved to search the ship in person. He ordered all the\npassengers and seamen to be brought upon deck, and commanded his\nmen to search all over the ship, which they did, but Assad could\nnot be found, he was so well concealed.\n\nWhen the grand vizier had done searching the vessel, she sailed.\nAs soon as Behram was got out to sea, he ordered prince Assad to\nbe taken out of the chest, and fettered, to secure him, lest he\nshould throw himself into the sea in despair since he knew he was\ngoing to be sacrificed.\n\nThe wind was very favourable for a few days, after which there\narose a furious storm. The vessel was driven out of her course,\nso that neither Behram nor his pilot knew where they were. They\nwere afraid of being wrecked on the rocks, for in the violence of\nthe storm they discovered land, and a dangerous shoal before\nthem. Behram perceived that he was driven into the port and\ncapital of queen Margiana, which occasioned him great\nmortification.\n\nThis queen Margiana was a devout professor of the Mahummedan\nfaith, and a mortal enemy to the adorers of fire. She had\nbanished all of them out of her dominions, and would not suffer\ntheir ships to touch at her ports.\n\nIt was no longer in the power of Behram to avoid putting into the\nharbour, for he had no alternative but to be dashed to pieces\nagainst the frightful rocks that lay off the shore. In this\nextremity he held a council with his pilot and seamen. \"My lads,\"\nsaid he, \"you see to what a necessity we are reduced. We must\nchoose one of two things; either to resolve to be swallowed up by\nthe waves, or put into queen Margiana's port, whose hatred to all\npersons of our religion you well know. She will certainly seize\nour vessel and put us all to death, without mercy. I see but one\nway to escape her, which is, to take off the fetters from the\nMussulmaun we have aboard, and dress him like a slave. When queen\nMargiana commands me to come before her, and asks what trade I\nfollow, I will tell her I deal in slaves; that I have sold all I\nhad, but one, whom I keep to be my clerk, because he can read and\nwrite. She will by this means see him, and he being handsome, and\nof her own religion, will have pity on him. No doubt she will\nthen ask to buy him of me, and on this account will let us stay\nin the port till the weather is fair. If any of you have any\nthing else to propose that will be preferable, I am ready to\nattend to it.\" The pilot and seamen applauded his judgment, and\nagreed to follow his advice.\n\nBehram commanded prince Assad's chains to be taken off, and had\nhim neatly habited like a slave, as became one who was to pass\nfor his clerk before the queen of the country. They had scarcely\ntime to do this, before the ship drove into the port, and dropped\nanchor.\n\nQueen Margiana's palace was so near the sea, that her garden\nextended down to the shore. She saw the ship anchor, and sent to\nthe captain to come to her, and the sooner to satisfy her\ncuriosity waited for him in her garden.\n\nBehram landed with prince Assad, whom he required to confirm what\nhe had said of his being a slave, and his clerk. When he was\nintroduced to the queen, he threw himself at her feet, and\ninformed her of the necessity he was under to put into her port:\nthat he dealt in slaves, and had sold all he had but one, who was\nAssad, whom he kept for his clerk.\n\nThe queen was taken with Assad from the moment she first saw him,\nand was extremely glad to hear that he was a slave; resolving to\nbuy him, cost what he would. She asked Assad what was his name.\n\n\"Great queen,\" he replied, 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?\" \"Alas! I have,\" said\nAssad: \"I was once called Assad (most happy); and now my name is\nMotar\" (devoted to be sacrificed).\n\nMargiana not being able to comprehend the meaning of his answer,\ninterpreted it to refer to his condition of a slave. \"Since you\nare clerk to the captain,\" said she, \"no doubt you can write\nwell; let me see your hand.\"\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 wretched circumstances:\n\n\"The 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 Mussulmaun with all his riches is miserable.\nThe infidel triumphs. We cannot hope things will be otherwise.\nThe Almighty has decreed it shall be so.\"\n\nAssad presented the paper to queen Margiana, who admired alike\nthe moral of the sentences, and the goodness of the writing. She\nneeded no more to have her heart inflamed, and to feel a sincere\nconcern for his misfortunes. She had no sooner read the lines,\nthan she addressed herself to Behram, saying, \"Do which you will,\neither sell me this slave, or make me a present of him; perhaps\nit 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 rudeness, would not talk to him\nany more on the subject. She took the prince by the arm, and\nturned him before her to the palace, sending Behram word, that if\nhe stayed the night in her port, she would confiscate his goods,\nand burn his ship. He was therefore forced to return to his\nvessel, and prepare to put to sea again, notwithstanding the\ntempest had not yet subsided.\n\nQueen Margiana, on entering her palace, commanded supper to be\ngot ready; and while it was providing, she ordered Assad to be\nbrought into her apartment, where she bade him sit down. Assad\nwould have excused himself: \"It becomes not a slave,\" said he,\n\"to presume to this honour.\"\n\n\"To a slave! \"replied the queen: \"you were so a moment ago;\nhenceforward you are no more a slave. Sit down near me, and tell\nme the story of your life; for by what you wrote, and the\ninsolence of that slave-merchant, I guess there is something\nextraordinary in your history.\"\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 I\nhave suffered, and the death to which I was devoted, and from\nwhich I am delivered by your royal generosity, will shew the\ngreatness of my obligation to you, never to be forgotten. But\nbefore I enter into particulars of my miseries, which will strike\nhorror into the hearts of all that hear them, I must trace the\norigin of them to its source.\"\n\nThis preamble increased queen Margiana's curiosity. The prince\nthen told her of his royal birth; of his brother Amgiad, and\ntheir mutual friendship; of their mothers' criminal passion, the\ncause of all their sufferings; of the king his father's rage; how\nmiraculously their lives were saved; how he had lost his brother;\nhow he had been long imprisoned and tortured, and was devoted to\nbe sacrificed on the fiery mountain.\n\nWhen Assad had finished his recital' the queen was more than ever\nenraged at the adorers of fire. \"Prince,\" said she, \"though I\nhave always had an aversion to the adorers of fire, yet hitherto\nI have had some humanity for them: but after their barbarous\nusage of you, and their execrable design to sacrifice you, I will\nhenceforth wage perpetual war against them.\"\n\nShe was proceeding, but supper being served in, she made prince\nAssad sit down at table with her, being charmed with his beauty\nand eloquence, and touched with a passion which she hoped soon to\nhave an opportunity of making known to him \"Prince,\" said she,\n\"we must make you amends for so many fasts and wretched meals, to\nwhich the pitiless adorers of fire made you submit; you must want\nnourishment after such sufferings.\" With conversation of this\nkind she helped him at supper; and ordered him to drink a good\ndeal of wine to recover his spirits; by which means he drank more\nthan he could well bear.\n\nThe cloth being taken away, Assad having occasion to go out, took\nan opportunity when the queen did not observe him. He descended\ninto the court, and seeing the garden-door open, went into it.\nBeing tempted by the pleasantness of the place, he walked there\nfor some time. At last he came to a fountain, where he washed his\nface and hands to refresh himself, and lying down on the turf by\nthe fountain, fell asleep.\n\nBehram, to prevent the queen from executing her threats, had\nweighed anchor, vexed at the loss of Assad, by which he was\ndisappointed of a most acceptable sacrifice. He comforted himself\nas well as he could, with the thoughts that the storm was over,\nand that a land breeze favoured his getting off the coast. As\nsoon as he was towed out of the port by the help of his boat,\nbefore it was hoisted up into the ship again, \"Stop, my lads,\"\nsaid he to the seamen, \"do not come on board yet; I will give you\nsome casks to fill with water, and wait for you.\" Behram had\nobserved, while he was talking to the queen in the garden, that\nthere was a fountain at the end of it, near the port. \"Go,\" said\nhe, \"land before the palace-garden; the wall is not above breast\nhigh, you may easily get over; there is a basin in the middle of\nthe garden, where you may fill all your barrels, and hand them\naboard without difficulty.\"\n\nThe sailors went ashore at the place he directed them to, and\nlaying their casks on their shoulders easily got over the wall.\n\nAs they approached the basin, 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 with\nas little noise as possible, others surrounded Assad, and watched\nto seize him if he should awake.\n\nHe slept on undisturbed, giving them time to fill all their\ncasks; which they afterwards handed over the wall to others of\nthe crew who waited to carry them aboard.\n\nThey next seized Assad, and conveyed him away, without giving him\ntime to recollect himself. They got him over the wall into their\nboat with the casks, and rowed to the ship. When they drew near\nher they cried out for joy, \"Captain, sound your trumpets, beat\nyour drums, we have brought you your slave.\"\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 arrival with impatience, to ask what they meant; but\nwhen he saw him, he could not contain himself for joy. He\ncommanded him to be chained, without staying to inquire how they\ncame by him; and having hoisted the boat on board, set sail for\nthe fiery mountain.\n\nIn the meanwhile queen Margiana was in alarm. She was not at\nfirst apprehensive when she found prince Assad was gone out,\nbecause she did not doubt but he would soon return When some time\nhad passed without his appearing, she began to be uneasy, and\ncommanded her women to look for him. They sought for him in every\ndirection, and at night renewed their search by torch-light, but\nall to no purpose.\n\nQueen Margiana was so impatient and alarmed, that she went\nherself with lights, and finding the garden-door open, entered,\nand walked all over it with her women to seek for him. Passing by\nthe fountain and basin, she espied a slipper, which she took up,\nand knew it to be prince Assad's, her women also recognized it to\nbe his. This circumstance, together with the water being spilt\nabout the edge of the basin, induced her to believe that Behram\nhad carried him off. She sent immediately to see if he was still\nin the port; and hearing he had sailed a little before it was\ndark, that he lay-to some time off the shore, while he sent his\nboat for water from the fountain, she sent word to the commander\nof ten ships of war, which lay always ready in the harbour, to\nsail on the shortest notice, that she would embark herself next\nmorning as soon as it was day. The commander lost no time,\nordered the captains, seamen and soldiers aboard, and was ready\nto sail at the time appointed. She embarked, and when the\nsquadron was at sea, told the commander her intention. \"Make all\nthe sail you can,\" said she, \"and chase the merchantman that\nsailed last night out of this port. If you capture it, I assign\nit to you as your property; but if you fail, your life shall\nanswer.\"\n\nThe ten ships chased Behram's vessel two whole days without\nseeing her. The third day in the morning they discovered her, and\nat noon had so surrounded her, that she could not escape.\n\nAs soon as Behram espied the ten ships of war, he made sure it\nwas queen Margiana's squadron in pursuit of him; and upon that he\nordered Assad to be bastinadoed, which he had done every day. He\nwas much perplexed what to do, when he found he was surrounded.\nTo keep Assad, was to declare himself guilty; to kill him was as\ndangerous, for he feared some marks of the murder might be seen.\nHe therefore commanded him to be unfettered and brought from the\nbottom of the hold where he lay. When he came before him, \"It is\nthou,\" said he, \"that art the cause of my being pursued;\" and so\nsaying, he flung him into the sea.\n\nPrince Assad being an expert swimmer, made such good use of his\nfeet and hands, that he reached the shore in safety. The first\nthing he did after he had landed, was to thank God 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, spread them\non a rock, where, by the heat of the sun, and of the rock, they\nsoon dried. After this he lay down to rest himself, deploring his\nmiserable condition, not knowing in what country he was nor which\nway to direct his course. He dressed himself again and walked on,\nkeeping as near the sea-side as he could. At last he entered a\nkind of path, which he followed, and travelled on ten days\nthrough an uninhabited country, living on herbs, plants, and wild\nfruits. At last he approached a city, which he recognized to be\nthat of the magicians, where he had been so ill used and where\nhis brother Amgiad was grand vizier.\n\nHe rejoiced to discover where he was, but resolved not to\napproach any of the adorers of fire, and to converse only with\nMoosulmauns, for he remembered he had seen some the first time he\nentered the town. It being late, and knowing the shops were\nalready shut, and few people in the streets, he resolved to\nremain in a burying ground near the city, where there were\nseveral tombs built in the form of mausoleums. He found the door\nof one of them open, which he entered, designing to pass the\nnight there.\n\nWe must now return to Behram's ship, which, after he had thrown\nprince Assad overboard, was soon surrounded on all sides by queen\nMargiana's squadron. The ship in which queen Margiana was in\nperson first came up with him, and Behram, being in no condition\nof defence against so many, furled his sails as a mark of his\nsubmission.\n\nThe queen herself boarded his ship, and demanded where the clerk\nwas, whom he had the boldness to take or cause to be taken out of\nher palace. Behram replied, \"O queen! I swear by your majesty, he\nis not in my ship; you will, by searching, be convinced of my\ninnocence.\"\n\nMargiana ordered the ship to be searched as narrowly as possible,\nbut she could not find the man, whom she so much wished to\nrecover, as well on account of her love for him, as of the\ngenerosity for which she was distinguished. She once resolved to\nkill Behram with her own hand, but refrained, and contented\nherself with seizing his ship and cargo, and turning him and his\nmen on shore in their boat.\n\nBehram and his seamen arrived at the city of the magicians the\nsame night as Assad, and stopped at the same burying-ground, the\ncity gates being shut, intending to stay in some tomb till the\nnext day, when they should be opened again.\n\nTo Assad's misfortune, Behram came to that in which the prince\nwas sleeping with his head wrapped up in his habit, and entered\nit. Assad awoke at the noise of his footsteps, and demanded who\nwas there.\n\nBehram immediately recognized him. \"Hah, hah,\" said he, \"thou art\nthe man who has ruined me for ever; thou hast escaped being\nsacrificed this year, but depend on it thou shalt not be so\nfortunate the next.\" Saying this, he flew upon him, clapped his\nhandkerchief into his mouth to prevent his making a noise, and\nwith the assistance of his seamen bound him.\n\nThe next morning as soon as the city gates were open, Behram and\nhis men easily carried Assad through streets, where no one was\nyet stirring, to the old man's house, where he had been so\ninhumanly treated. As soon as he was brought in, he was again\nthrown into the same dungeon. Behram acquainted the old man with\nthe unfortunate circumstances of his return, and the ill success\nof his voyage. The old savage, upon this, commanded his two\ndaughters Bostama and Cavama to treat him, if possible, more\ncruelly than before.\n\nAssad was overwhelmed with terror at seeing himself again in the\nhands of persecutors from whom he had suffered so much, and\nexpected the repetition of the torments from which he hoped that\nhe had been delivered. He was lamenting the severity of his fate,\nwhen Bostama entered with a stick in her hand, a loaf and a\npitcher of water. He trembled at the sight of this unmerciful\nwretch, and at the very thoughts of the sufferings he was to\nendure for another year, at the conclusion of which he was to die\nthe most horrible death.\n\nBostama treated prince Assad as inhumanly as she had done during\nhis first confinement. But his cries, lamentations, and earnest\nentreaties to her to spare him, joined with his tears, were so\naffecting, that she could not help shedding tears. \"My lord,\"\nsaid she, covering his shoulders again, \"I ask a thousand pardons\nfor my inhuman treatment of you formerly, and for making you once\nmore feel its effect. Till now I was afraid of disobeying a\nfather, who is unjustly enraged against you, and resolved on your\ndestruction, but at last I abhor this barbarity. Be comforted,\nyour evil days are over. I will endeavour by better treatment to\nmake amends for all my crimes, of the enormity of which you will\nfind I am duly sensible. You have hitherto regarded me as an\ninfidel; henceforth believe me one of your own religion; having\nbeen taught it by a slave, I hope your lessons will complete my\nconversion. To convince you of my sincerity, I first beg pardon\nof the true God for all my sins, in dealing so cruelly by you,\nand I trust he will put it in my power to set you entirely at\nliberty.\"\n\nThis address afforded the prince much comfort. He thanked the\nAlmighty for the change wrought in her heart, He also thanked her\nfor her favourable disposition towards him, and omitted no\narguments which he thought would have any effect in confirming\nher conversion to the Moosulmaun religion. He afterwards related\nto her the whole story of his life to that time. When he was\nfully assured of her good intentions respecting him, he asked her\nhow she could continue to keep her sister Cavama in ignorance of\nthem; and prevent her treating him as barbarously as she used to\ndo? \"Let not that trouble you,\" replied Bostama; \"I know how to\norder matters so that she shall never come near you.\"\n\nShe accordingly every day prevented her sister's coming down into\nthe dungeon, where she often visited the prince. Instead of\ncarrying him bread and water, she now brought him the best wine\nand the choicest victuals she could procure, which were prepared\nby her twelve Mahommedan slaves. She ate with him herself from\ntime to time, and did all in her power to alleviate his\nmisfortunes.\n\nA few days afterwards, Bostama, as she stood at her father's\ndoor, observed the public crier making proclamation, but she\ncould not hear what it was about, being too far off. As he was\nproceeding in the direction of her father's house, she went in,\nand holding the door half open, perceived that he went before the\ngrand vizier Amgiad, brother to Assad; who was accompanied by\nseveral officers, and other attendants.\n\nThe crier, a few steps from the house, repeated the proclamation\nwith a loud voice, as follows: \"The most excellent and\nillustrious grand vizier is come in person to seek for his dear\nbrother, from whom he was separated about a year ago. He is a\nyoung man of such an appearance; if any one has him in keeping,\nor knows where he is, his excellency commands that they bring him\nforth, or give him notice where to find him, promising a great\nreward to the person that shall give the information. If any one\nconceal him, and he be hereafter found, his excellency declares'\nhe shall be punished with death, together with his wife,\nchildren, and all his family, and his house to be razed to the\nground.\n\nBostama, as soon as she had heard this, shut the door as fast as\nshe could, and ran to Assad in the dungeon. \"Prince,\" said she,\nwith joy, \"your troubles are at an end; follow me immediately.\nShe had taken off his fetters the day he was brought in, and the\nprince followed her into the street, where she cried, \"There he\nis, there he is!\"\n\nThe grand vizier, who was not far from the house, returned. Assad\nknew him to be his brother, ran to him, and embraced him. Amgiad,\nwho immediately recollected him, returned his embrace with all\npossible tenderness; made him mount one of his officers' horses,\nwho alighted for that purpose; and conducted him in triumph to\nthe palace, where he presented him to the king, by whom he was\nadvanced to the post of a vizier.\n\nBostama not wishing to return to her father's house, which was\nthe next day razed to the ground, was sent to the queen's\napartments.\n\nThe old man her father, Behram, and all their families were\nbrought before the king, who condemned them to be beheaded. They\nthrew themselves at his feet, and implored his mercy. \"There is\nno mercy for you to expect,\" said the king, \"unless you renounce\nthe adoration of fire, and profess the Mahummedan religion.\"\n\n\nThey accepted the condition, and were pardoned at the\nintercession of Assad, in consideration of Bostama's friendship;\nfor whose sake Cavama's life, and the lives of the rest of their\nfamilies were saved.\n\nAmgiad, in consideration of Behram turning Mussulmaun, and to\ncompensate for the loss which he had suffered before he deserved\nhis favour, made him one of his principal officers, and lodged\nhim in his house. Behram, being informed of Amgiad and his\nbrother Assad's story, proposed to his benefactor, to fit out a\nvessel to convey them to their father's court: \"For,\" said he,\n\"the king must certainly have heard of your innocence, and\nimpatiently desire to see you: otherwise we can easily inform him\nof the truth before we land, and if he is still in the same mind,\nyou can but return.\"\n\nThe two brothers accepted the proposal, communicated it to the\nking of the city of the magicians, who approved of it; and\ncommanded a ship to be equipped. Behram undertook the employment\ncheerfully, and soon got in readiness to sail. The two princes,\nwhen they understood the ship was ready, waited upon the king to\ntake leave. While they were making their compliments, and\nthanking the king for his favours, they were interrupted by a\ngreat tumult in the city: and presently an officer came to give\nthem notice that a numerous army was advancing against the city,\nnobody knowing who they were, or whence they had come.\n\nThe king being alarmed at the intelligence, Amgiad addressed him\nthus: \"Sir, though I have just resigned into your majesty's hands\nthe dignity of your first minister, with which you were pleased\nto honour me, I am ready to do you all the service in my power. I\ndesire therefore that you would be pleased to let me go and see\nwho this enemy is, that comes to attack you in your capital,\nwithout having first declared war.\"\n\nThe king desired him to do so. Amgiad departed immediately, with\na very small retinue, to see what enemy approached, and what was\nthe reason of their coming.\n\nIt was not long before prince Amgiad descried the army, which\nappeared very formidable, and which approached nearer and nearer.\nThe advanced guards received him favourably, and conducted him to\na princess, who stopped, and commanded her army to halt, while\nshe talked with the prince; who, bowing profoundly to her,\ndemanded if she came as a friend or an enemy: if as an enemy,\nwhat cause of complaint she had against the king his master?\n\n\"I come as a friend,\" replied the princess, \"and have no cause of\ncomplaint against the king of the city of the magicians. His\nterritories and mine are so situated, that it is almost\nimpossible for us to have any dispute. I only come to require a\nslave named Assad, to be delivered up to me. He was carried away\nby one Behram, a captain of a ship belonging to this city, the\nmost insolent man in the world. I hope your king will do me\njustice, when he knows I am Margiana.\"\n\nThe prince answered, \"Mighty queen, the slave whom you take so\nmuch pains to seek is my brother: I lost him, and have found him\nagain. Come, and I will deliver him up to you myself; and will do\nmyself the honour to tell you the rest of the story: the king my\nmaster will rejoice to see you.\"\n\nThe queen ordered her army to pitch their tents, and encamp where\nthey were; and accompanied prince Amgiad to the city and palace,\nwhere he presented her to the king; who received her in a manner\nbecoming her dignity. Assad, who was present, and knew her as\nsoon as he saw her, also paid his respects to her. She appeared\ngreatly rejoiced to see him. While they were thus engaged,\ntidings came, that an army more powerful than the former\napproached on the other side of the city.\n\nThe king of the magicians was more terrified than before,\nunderstanding the second army was more numerous than the first,\nfor he saw this by the clouds of dust they raised, which hid the\nface of the heavens. \"Amgiad,\" cried he, \"what shall we do now? a\nnew army comes to destroy us.\" Amgiad guessed what the king\nmeant; he mounted on horseback again, and galloped towards the\nsecond army. He demanded of the advanced guards to speak with\ntheir general, and they conducted him to their king. When he drew\nnear him, he alighted, prostrated himself to the ground, and\nasked what he required of the king his master.\n\nThe monarch replied, \"I am Gaiour, king of China; my desire to\nlearn tidings of a daughter, whose name is Badoura, whom I\nmarried to Kummir al Zummaun, son of Shaw Zummaun, king of the\nisles of the children of Khaledan, obliged me to leave my\ndominions. I suffered that prince to go to see his father, on\ncondition that he came back in a year with my daughter; from that\ntime I have heard nothing of them. Your king will lay an infinite\nobligation on an afflicted father, by telling him if he knows\nwhat is become of them.\"\n\nPrince Amgiad, 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 only pay my duty to my grandfather. I am the son of Kummir\nal Zummaun, king of the isle of Ebene, and of queen Badoura, for\nwhom you are thus troubled; and I doubt not but they are both in\ngood health in their kingdom.\"\n\nThe king of China, overjoyed to see his grandson, tenderly\nembraced him. Such a meeting, so happy and unexpected, drew tears\nfrom both. The king inquiring on what occasion he had come into a\nstrange country, the prince told him all that had happened to him\nand his brother Assad. When he had finished his relation, \"My\nson,\" replied the king of China, \"it is not just that such\ninnocent princes as you are should be longer ill used. Comfort\nyourself, I will carry you and your brother home, and make your\npeace. Return, and acquaint your brother with my arrival.\"\n\nWhile the king of China encamped in the place where prince Amgiad\nmet him, the prince returned to inform the king of the magicians,\nwho waited for him impatiently, how he had succeeded.\n\nThe king was astonished that so mighty a king as that of China\nshould undertake such a long and troublesome journey, out of a\ndesire to see his daughter. He gave orders to make preparations\nfor his reception, and went forth to meet him.\n\nWhile these things were transacting, a great dust was seen on\nanother side of the town; and suddenly news was brought of the\narrival of a third army, which obliged the king to stop, and to\ndesire prince Amgiad once more to see who they were, and on what\naccount they came.\n\nAmgiad went accordingly, and prince Assad accompanied him. They\nfound it was Kummir al Zummaun their father's army, with whom he\nwas coming to seek for them. He was so grieved for the loss of\nhis sons, that at last emir Jehaun-dar declared that he had saved\ntheir lives, which made him resolve to seek for them wherever he\nwas likely to find them.\n\nThe afflicted father embraced the two princes with tears of joy,\nwhich put an end to those he had a long time shed for grief. The\nprinces had no sooner told him the king of China, his father-in-\nlaw, was arrived, than, accompanied by them and a small party, he\nrode to wait upon him in his camp. They had not gone far, before\nthey saw a fourth army advancing in good order, which seemed to\ncome from Persia.\n\nKummir al Zummaun desired the two princes to go and see what army\nit was, and he would in the meanwhile wait for them. They\ndeparted immediately, and coming up to it, were presented to the\nking to whom the army belonged; and, after having saluted him\nwith due reverence, they demanded on what design he approached so\nnear the king of the magicians' capital. The grand vizier, who\nwas present, answered in the name of the king his master, \"The\nmonarch to whom you speak is Shaw Zummaun, king of the isles of\nthe children of Khaledan, who has a longtime travelled, thus\nattended, to seek his son, who left his dominions many years ago:\nif you know any thing of him, you cannot oblige him more than by\ncommunicating to him all the information in your power.\"\n\nThe princes only replied, that they would shortly bring him an\nanswer, and galloping back as fast as they could, told Kummir al\nZummaun that the king his father was approaching with his army.\n\nWonder, surprise, joy, and grief, had such an effect on Kummir al\nZummaun, that he fainted as soon as he heard he was so near.\nPrince Amgiad and prince Assad, by their assiduities, at length\nbrought him to himself; and when he had recovered his strength,\nhe went to his father's tent, and threw himself at his feet.\n\nNever was there a more affecting interview. Shaw Zummaun gently\nupbraided his son with unkindness in so cruelly leaving him; and\nKummir al Zummaun discovered a hearty sorrow for the fault which\nlove had urged him to commit.\n\nThe three kings, and queen Margiana, stayed three days at the\ncourt of the king of the magicians, who treated them\nmagnificently. These three days were rendered more remarkable by\nprince Assad's marriage with queen Margiana, and prince Amgiad\nwith Bostama, for the service she had done his brother Assad.\n\nAt length the three kings, and queen Margiana, with her husband\nAssad, returned to their respective kingdoms. As for Amgiad, the\nking of the magicians had such an affection for him, he could not\npart with him; and being very old, he resigned his crown to him.\nAmgiad, when he had the supreme authority, did his utmost to\nexterminate the worship of fire, and establish the Mahummedan\nreligion throughout his dominions.\n\n\n\n\n\n             THE STORY OF NOOR AD DEEN AND THE FAIR\n                            PERSIAN.\n\n\n\nThe city of Bussorah was for many years the capital of a kingdom\ntributary to the caliphs of Arabia. The king who governed it in\nthe days of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed was named Zinebi, who\nnot thinking it proper to commit the administration of his\naffairs to a single vizier, made choice of two, Khacan and Saouy.\n\nKhacan was of a sweet, generous, and affable temper, and took\npleasure in obliging, to the utmost of his power, those with whom\nhe had any business to transact, without violating the justice\nwhich it became him to dispense to all. He was therefore\nuniversally respected, at court, in the city, and throughout the\nwhole kingdom; and the praises he so highly deserved were the\ngeneral theme.\n\nSaouy was of a very different character: he was always sullen and\nmorose, and disgusted every body, without regard to their rank or\nquality. Instead of commanding respect by the liberal\ndistribution of his immense wealth, he was so perfect a miser as\nto deny himself the necessaries of life. In short, nobody could\nendure him; and nothing good was said of him. But what rendered\nhim most hateful to the people, was his implacable aversion to\nKhacan. He was always putting the worst construction on the\nactions of that worthy minister, and endeavouring as much as\npossible to prejudice him with the king.\n\nOne day after council, the king of Bussorah amused himself with\nhis two viziers and some other members. The conversation turned\nupon the female slaves that are daily bought and sold, and who\nhold nearly the same rank as the lawful wives. Some were of\nopinion, that personal beauty in slaves so purchased was of\nitself sufficient to render them proper substitutes for wives,\nwhich, often on account of alliance or interest in families, men\nare obliged to marry, though they are not always possessed of any\nperfection, either of mind or body.\n\nOthers maintained, and amongst the rest Khacan, that personal\ncharms were by no means the only qualifications to be desired in\na slave; but that they ought to be accompanied with a great share\nof wit, a cultivated understanding, modesty, and, if possible,\nevery agreeable accomplishment. The reason they gave was, that\nnothing could be more gratifying to persons on whom the\nmanagement of important affairs devolved, than, after having\nspent the day in fatiguing employment, to have a companion in\ntheir retirement, whose conversation would be not only pleasing,\nbut useful and instructive: for, in short, continued they, there\nis but little difference between brutes and those men who keep a\nslave only to look at, and to gratify a passion that we have in\ncommon with them.\n\n\nThe king entirely concurred in this opinion, and accordingly\nordered Khacan to buy him a slave, of perfect beauty, mistress of\nall the qualifications they had enumerated, and possessed, above\nall things, of an enlightened understanding.\n\nSaouy, jealous of the honour the king had done Khacan, and\ndiffering widely with him in opinion, said, \"Sire, it will be\nvery difficult to find a slave so accomplished as your majesty\nrequires; and should such a one be discovered, which I scarcely\nbelieve possible, she will be cheap at ten thousand pieces of\ngold.\" \"Saouy,\" replied the king, \"I perceive plainly you think\nthe sum too great; it may be so for you, though not for me.\" Then\nturning to his high treasurer, he ordered him to send the ten\nthousand pieces of gold to the vizier's house.\n\nKhacan, as soon as he had returned home, sent for all the brokers\nwho used to deal in women-slaves, and strictly charged them,\nthat, if ever they met with one who answered the description he\ngave them, they should immediately apprise him. The brokers,\npartly to oblige the vizier, and partly for their own interest,\npromised to use their utmost endeavours to procure for him one\nthat would accord with his wishes. Scarcely a day passed but they\nbrought him a slave for his inspection, but he always discovered\nin each something defective.\n\nOne day, early in the morning, as Khacan was mounting his horse\nto go to court, a broker came to him, and, taking hold of the\nstirrup with great eagerness, told him a Persian merchant had\narrived very late the day before, who had a slave to sell, so\nsurprisingly beautiful that she excelled all the women his eyes\nhad ever beheld; \"And for wit and knowledge,\" added he, \"the\nmerchant engages she shall match the most acute and learned\npersons of the age.\"\n\nKhacan, overjoyed at this intelligence, which promised him a\nfavourable opportunity for making his court, ordered him to bring\nthe slave to his palace against his return, and departed.\n\nThe broker failed not 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 himself much wit and learning, he soon perceived by her\nconversation, that it was in vain to search further for a slave\nthat surpassed her in any of the qualifications required by the\nking; and therefore he asked the broker at what sum the Persian\nmerchant valued her.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the broker, \"he is a man of few words in\nbargaining, and he tells me, that the very lowest price he will\ntake for her is ten thousand pieces of gold: he has also sworn to\nme, that, without reckoning his care and pains from the time of\nhis first taking her under his charge, he has laid out nearly\nthat sum on her education in masters to improve her form and\ncultivate her mind, besides what she has cost him in clothes and\nmaintenance. As he always thought her fit for a king, he has from\nher infancy, when he first bought her, been sparing of nothing\nthat might contribute towards advancing her to that high\ndistinction. She plays upon all kinds of instruments to\nperfection; she sings, dances, writes better than the most\ncelebrated authors, makes verses, and there is scarcely any book\nbut she has read; so that there never was a slave so accomplished\nheard of before.\"\n\nThe vizier Khacan, who could estimate the merits of the fair\nPersian better than the broker, who only reported what he had\nheard from the merchant, was unwilling to defer the bargain to a\nfuture opportunity, and therefore sent one of his servants to\nlook for the merchant, where the broker told him he was to be\nfound.\n\nAs soon as the Persian merchant arrived, \"It is not for myself,\nbut for the king,\" said the vizier Khacan, \"that I buy your\nslave; but, nevertheless, you must let him have her at a more\nreasonable price than you have set upon her.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the merchant, \"I should do myself unspeakable\nhonour in offering her as a present to his majesty, if it became\na person in my situation to make him one of such inestimable\nvalue. I ask no more than her education and accomplishments have\ncost me; and all I have to say is, that I believe his majesty\nwill be extremely pleased with the purchase.\"\n\nThe vizier Khacan would stand no longer bargaining with the\nmerchant, but paid him the money immediately. \"Sir,\" said he to\nthe vizier, upon taking his leave of him, \"since the slave is\ndesigned for the king's use, give me leave to tell you, that\nbeing extremely fatigued with our long journey, you see her at\npresent under great disadvantage. Though she has not her equal in\nthe world for beauty, yet if you please to keep her at your own\nhouse for a fortnight, she will appear quite another creature.\nYou may then present her to the king with honour and credit; for\nwhich I hope you will think yourself much obliged to me. The sun,\nyou perceive, has a little injured her complexion; but after two\nor three times bathing, and when you have dressed her as you\nthink proper, she will be so changed, that she will appear\ninfinitely more charming.\"\n\nKhacan was pleased with the instructions the merchant gave him,\nand resolved to abide by them. He assigned the fair Persian a\nparticular apartment near his lady's, whom he desired to invite\nher to an entertainment, and thenceforth to treat her as a person\ndesigned for the king: he also provided for her several suits of\nthe richest clothes that could be had, and would become her best.\nBefore he took his leave of the fair Persian, he said \"Your\nhappiness, madam, cannot be greater than what I am about to\nprocure for you; you shall judge for yourself; it is for the king\nI have purchased you; and I hope he will be even more pleased\nwith possessing you than I am in having discharged the commission\nwith which his majesty has honoured me. I think it, however, my\nduty to warn you that I have a son, who, though he does not want\nwit, is yet young, insinuating, and forward; and to caution you\nhow you suffer him to come near you.\" The fair Persian thanked\nhim for his advice; and after she had given him assurance of her\nintention to follow it, he withdrew.\n\nNoor ad Deen, for so the vizier's son was named, had free access\nto the apartment of his mother, with whom he usually ate his\nmeals. He was young, handsome in person, agreeable in manners,\nand firm in his temper; and having great readiness of wit, and\nfluency of language, was perfect master of the art of persuasion.\nHe saw the fair Persian; and from their first interview, though\nhe knew his father had bought her purposely for the king, and had\nso informed him, yet he never used the least endeavour to check\nthe violence of his passion. In short, he resigned himself wholly\nto the power of her charms, by which his heart was at first\ncaptivated; and, from his first conversation with her, resolved\nto use his utmost endeavours to keep her from the king.\n\nThe fair Persian, on her part, had no dislike to Noor ad Deen.\n\"The vizier,\" said she to herself, \"has done me honour in\npurchasing me for the king; but I should have thought myself very\nhappy if he had designed me only for his own son.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen was not remiss in improving the advantage he enjoyed\nof seeing and conversing with a beauty of whom he was so\npassionately enamoured; for he would never leave her till obliged\nby his mother. \"My son,\" she would say, \"it is not proper for a\nyoung man like you to be always in the women's apartments; go,\nmind your studies, and endeavour to qualify yourself to succeed\nto the honours of your father.\"\n\nThe fair Persian not having bathed for a considerable time on\naccount of the length of her journey, the vizier's lady, five or\nsix days after she was purchased, ordered the bath in her own\nhouse to be got ready purposely for her. She sent her to it\naccompanied by many other women-slaves, who were charged by the\nvizier's lady to be as attentive to her as to herself, and, after\nbathing, to put her on a very rich suit of clothes that she had\nprovided for her. She was the more careful in order to ingratiate\nherself with her husband, by letting him see how much she\ninterested herself in every thing that contributed to his\npleasure.\n\nAs soon as she came out of the bath, the fair Persian, a thousand\ntimes more beautiful than she had appeared to Khacan when he\nbought her, went to visit his lady, who at first hardly knew her.\nThe fair Persian gracefully kissed her hand, and said, \"Madam, I\nknow not how you like me in this dress you have been pleased to\norder for me; but your women, who tell me it becomes me so\nextremely well they should scarcely know me, certainly flatter\nme. From you alone I expect to hear the truth; but, if what they\nsay be really so, I am indebted to you, madam, for the advantage\nit has given me.\"\n\n\"Oh! my daughter,\" cried the vizier's lady, transported with joy,\n\"you have no reason to believe my women have flattered you; I am\nbetter skilled in beauty than they; and, setting aside your\ndress, which becomes you admirably well, your beauty is so much\nimproved by the bath, that I hardly knew you myself. If I thought\nthe bath was warm enough, I would take my turn; for I am now of\nan age to require its frequent use.\" \"Madam,\" replied the fair\nPersian, \"I have nothing to say to the undeserved civilities you\nhave been pleased to shew me. As for the bath, it is in fine\norder; and if you design to go in, you have no time to lose, as\nyour women can inform you.\"\n\nThe vizier's lady, considering that she had not bathed for some\ndays, was desirous to avail herself of that opportunity; and\naccordingly acquainted her women with her intention, who\nimmediately prepared all things necessary for the occasion. The\nfair Persian withdrew to her apartment; and the vizier's lady,\nbefore she went to bathe, ordered two little female slaves to\nstay with her, with a strict charge that if Noor ad Deen came,\nthey should not give him admittance.\n\nWhile the vizier's lady was bathing, and the fair slave was alone\nin her apartment, Noor ad Deen came in, and not finding his\nmother in her chamber, went directly towards the fair Persian's,\nand found the two little slaves in the antechamber. He asked them\nwhere his mother was? They told him in the bath. \"Where is the\nfair Persian, then?\" demanded Noor ad Deen. \"In her chamber,\"\nanswered the slaves; \"but we have positive orders from your\nmother not to admit you.\"\n\n\nThe entrance into the fair Persian's chamber being only covered\nwith a piece of tapestry, Noor ad Deen went to lift it up, in\norder to enter, but was opposed by the two slaves, who placed\nthemselves before it, to stop his passage. He presently caught\nthem both by the arms, and, thrusting them out of the\nantechamber, locked the door upon them. They immediately ran with\nloud lamentations to the bath, and with tears in their eyes, told\ntheir lady, that Noor ad Deen, having driven them away by force,\nhad gone into the fair Persian's chamber.\n\nThe vizier's lady received the account of her son's presumption\nwith the greatest concern. She immediately left the bath, and\ndressing herself with all possible speed, came directly to the\nfair Persian's chamber; but before she could get thither, Noor ad\nDeen had gone away.\n\nThe fair Persian was extremely surprised to see the vizier's lady\nenter her chamber in tears, and in the utmost confusion. \"Madam,\"\nsaid she, \"may I presume to ask you the occasion of your concern;\nand what accident has happened in the bath, to make you leave it\nso soon?\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the vizier's lady, \"can you so calmly ask that.\nquestion, after my son has been with you alone in your chamber?\nCan there happen a greater misfortune to him or me?\"\n\n\"I beseech you, madam,\" replied the fair slave, \"what prejudice\ncan this action of Noor ad Deen's do to you or him?\"\n\n\"How,\" returned the vizier's lady, \"did not my husband tell you\nthat you were designed for the king, and sufficiently caution you\nto beware of our son?\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten that, madam,\" replied the fair Persian;\n\"but your son came to tell me the vizier his father had changed\nhis purpose, and instead of reserving me for the king, as he\nfirst designed, had made him a present of my person. I easily\nbelieved him; for, oh! think how a slave as I am, accustomed from\nmy infant years to the laws of servitude, could or ought to\nresist him! I must own I did it with the less reluctance, on\naccount of the affection for him, which the freedom of our\nconversation and daily intercourse has excited in my heart. I\ncould without regret resign the hope of ever being the king's,\nand think myself perfectly happy in spending my whole life with\nNoor ad Deen.\"\n\nAt this discourse of the fair Persian's, the vizier's lady\nexclaimed, \"Would to God that what you say were true! I should\nhear it with joy; but, believe me, Noor ad Deen has deceived you;\nfor it is impossible his father should ever make him such a\npresent. Ah! wretched youth, how miserable has he made me! and\nmore especially his father, by the dismal consequences we must\nall expect to share with him! Neither my prayers nor tears will\nbe able to prevail, or obtain a pardon for him; for as soon as\nhis father hears of his violence to you, he will inevitably\nsacrifice him to his resentment.\" At these words she wept\nbitterly; and the slaves, who were as much alarmed for Noor ad\nDeen as herself, joined in her tears.\n\nShortly after the vizier Khacan entered; and being surprised to\nfind his lady and her slaves all in tears, and the fair Persian\nvery melancholy asked the reason; but instead of answering him\nhis wife and the slaves continued weeping and lamenting. This\nastonished him still more; at last, addressing himself to his\nwife, \"I command you,\" said he, \"to let me know the reason of\nyour tears, and to tell me the whole truth.\"\n\nThe disconsolate lady could no longer refuse to satisfy her\nhusband. \"Sir,\" said she, \"first promise not to use me unkindly\non account of what I shall inform you, since I assure you, that\nwhat has happened has not been occasioned by any fault of mine.\"\nWithout waiting for his answer, she then proceeded, \"whilst I was\nbathing with my women, your son seizing that fatal opportunity to\nruin us both, came hither, and made the fair Persian believe,\nthat instead of reserving her for the king, you had given her to\nhim as a present. I will not say what he did after such a wicked\nfalsehood, but shall leave you to judge. This is the cause of my\naffliction, on your account, and his, for whom I want confidence\nto implore your pardon.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express the vizier Khacan's distraction at\nthis account of the insolence of his son. \"Ah!\" cried he, beating\nhis breast, and tearing his beard, \"miserable son! unworthy of\nlife! hast thou at last thrown thy father from the highest\npinnacle of happiness into a misfortune that must inevitably\ninvolve thee also in his ruin? neither will the king be satisfied\nwith thy blood or mine, to avenge the affront offered to his\nroyal person.\"\n\nHis lady endeavoured to comfort him. \"Afflict yourself no more,\"\nsaid she; \"I shall easily raise, with part of my jewels, ten\nthousand pieces of gold, and you may buy another slave, more\nbeautiful and more worthy of the king.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied the vizier, \"could you think me capable of being so\nextremely afflicted at losing ten thousand pieces of gold? It is\nnot that loss, nor the loss of all I am worth, for that I should\nnot feel; but the forfeiting my honour, more precious than all\nthe riches in the world, that distresses me.\" \"However,\" replied\nthe lady, \"a loss that can be repaired by money cannot be so very\ngreat.\"\n\n\"How!\" exclaimed the vizier; \"do you not know that Saouy is my\nmortal enemy; and as soon as this affair comes to his knowledge,\ndo you think he will not exult over me before the king? \u0091Your\nmajesty,' will he not say to him, \u0091is always talking of Khacan's\nzeal and affection for your service; but see what a proof he has\nlately given of his claim to the regard you have hitherto shewn\nhim. He has received ten thousand pieces of gold to buy a slave;\nand, to do him justice, he has most honourably acquitted himself\nof that commission, by purchasing the most beautiful that ever\neyes beheld; but, instead of bringing her to your majesty, he has\nthought it better to make a present of her to his son. \"Here, my\nson,\" said he, \"take this slave, since thou art more worthy of\nher than the king.\"' Then, with his usual malice, will he not go\non, \u0091His son has her now entirely in his possession, and every\nday revels in her arms, without the least disturbance. This, sir,\nis the exact truth, that I have done myself the honour of\nacquainting you with; and if your majesty questions my veracity,\nyou may easily satisfy yourself.' Do you not plainly see,\"\ncontinued the vizier, \"how, upon such a malicious insinuation as\nthis, I am every moment liable to have my house forced by the\nking's guards, and the fair Persian taken from me, besides a\nthousand other misfortunes that will unavoidably follow?\" \"Sir,\"\nreplied the vizier's lady to her husband, \"I am sensible the\nmalice of Saouy is very great, and that, if he have but the least\nintimation of this affair, he will certainly give it a turn very\ndisadvantageous to your interest; but how is it possible that he\nor any one else should know what has been privately transacted in\nyour family? Suppose it comes to the king's ears, and he should\nask you about it; cannot you say, that upon a strict examination\nyou did not deem the slave so fit for his majesty's use as you\nhad at first thought her; that the merchant has cheated you;\nthat, indeed, she has considerable beauty, but is by no means so\naccomplished as she had been represented. The king will certainly\nbelieve what you say, and Saouy be vexed to the soul, to see all\nhis malicious design of ruining you disappointed. Take courage\nthen, and, if you will follow my advice, send for all the\nbrokers, tell them you do not like the fair Persian, and order\nthem to be as expeditious as possible in procuring for you\nanother slave.\"\n\nAs this advice appeared rational to the vizier Khacan, and as his\npassion began to cool, he resolved to abide by it, but his\nindignation against his son remained as violent as ever.\n\nNoor ad Deen did not make his appearance during the whole of that\nday, and not daring to hide himself among his young companions,\nlest his father should search for him in their houses, he went a\nlittle way out of town, and took sanctuary in a garden, where he\nhad never been before, and where he was totally unknown. He did\nnot return home till it was very late, when he knew his father\nwas in bed; and then his mother's women, opening the door very\nsoftly; admitted him without any noise. He quitted the house\nagain next morning before his father was stirring; and this plan\nhe pursued for a whole month, to his great mortification. Indeed,\nthe women never flattered him, but told him plainly, his father's\nanger was not at all diminished, and that he protested if he came\ninto his sight he would certainly kill him.\n\nThe vizier's lady learnt from her women that Noor ad Deen slept\nevery night in the house, but she could not summon resolution to\nsupplicate her husband for his pardon. At last, however, she\nventured. One day she said to him, \"I have hitherto been silent,\nsir, not daring to take the liberty of talking to you about your\nson; but now give me leave to ask what you design to do with him?\nIt is impossible for a son to have acted more criminally towards\na father than he has done, in depriving you of the honour and\ngratification of presenting to the king a slave so accomplished\nas the fair Persian. This I acknowledge; but, after all, are you\nresolved to destroy him, and, instead of a light evil no more to\nbe thought of, to draw upon yourself a far greater than perhaps\nyou at present apprehend? Are you not afraid that the malicious\nworld, which inquires after the reason of your son's absconding,\nmay find out the true cause, which you are so desirous of\nconcealing? Should that happen, you would justly fall into a\nmisfortune, which it is so much your interest to avoid.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" returned the vizier, \"there is much reason in what you\nhave urged; but I cannot think of pardoning our son, till I have\nmortified him as he deserves.\" \"He will be sufficiently\nmortified,\" replied the lady, \"if you will only do what has just\nsuggested itself to my mind. Your son comes home every night\nafter you have retired; he sleeps here, and steals out every\nmorning before you are stirring. Wait for his coming in to-night,\nmake as if you designed to kill him, upon which I will run to his\nassistance, and when he finds he owes his life entirely to my\nprayers and entreaties, you may oblige him to take the fair\nPersian on what condition you please. He loves her, and I am well\nsatisfied the fair slave has no aversion for him.\"\n\nKhacan readily consented to this stratagem. Accordingly, when\nNoor ad Deen came at the usual hour, before the door was opened,\nhe placed himself behind it: as soon as he entered, he rushed\nsuddenly upon him, and got him down under his feet. Noor ad Deen,\nlifting up his head, saw his father with a dagger in his hand,\nready to stab him.\n\nAt that instant his mother arrived, and catching hold of the\nvizier's arm, cried, \"Sir, what are you doing?\" \"Let me alone,\"\nreplied the vizier, \"that I may kill this base, unworthy son.\"\n\"You shall kill me first,\" returned the mother; \"never will I\nsuffer you to imbue your hands in your own blood.\" Noor ad Deen\nimproved this moment. \"My father,\" cried he with tears in his\neyes, \"I implore your clemency and compassion; nor must you deny\nme pardon, since I ask it in his name before whom we must all\nappear at the last day.\"\n\nKhacan suffered the dagger to be taken out of his hand; and as\nsoon as Noor ad Deen was released, he threw himself at his\nfather's feet and kissed them, to shew how sincerely he repented\nof having offended him. \"Son,\" said the vizier, \"return thanks to\nyour mother, since it is for her sake I pardon you. I propose\nalso to give you the fair Persian, on condition that you will\nbind yourself by an oath not to regard her any longer as a slave,\nbut as your wife; that you will not sell her, nor ever be\ndivorced from her. As she possesses an excellent understanding,\nand abundantly more wit and prudence than yourself, I doubt not\nbut that she will be able to moderate those rash sallies of\nyouth, which are otherwise so likely to effect your ruin.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who little expected such indulgent treatment,\nreturned his father a thousand thanks, and the fair Persian and\nhe were well pleased with being united to each other.\n\nThe vizier Khacan, without waiting for the king's inquiries about\nthe success of the commission he had given him, took particular\ncare to mention the subject often, representing to his majesty\nthe many difficulties he met, and how fearful he was of not\nacquitting himself to his majesty's satisfaction. In short, he\nmanaged the business with so much address, that the king\ninsensibly forgot it. Though Saouy had gained some intimation of\nthe transaction, yet Khacan was so much in the king's favour,\nthat he was afraid to divulge what he had heard.\n\nThis delicate affair had now been kept rather more than a year\nwith greater secrecy than the vizier at first expected, when\nbeing one day in the bath, and some important business obliging\nhim to leave it, warm as he was, the air, which was then cold,\nstruck to his breast, caused a defluxion to fall upon his lungs,\nwhich threw him into a violent fever, and confined him to his\nbed. His illness increasing every day, and perceiving he had not\nlong to live, he thus addressed himself to his son, who never\nquitted him during the whole of his illness: \"My son,\" said he,\n\"I know not whether I have well employed the riches heaven has\nblessed me with, but you see they are not able to save me from\nthe hands of death. The last thing I desire of you with my dying\nbreath is, that you would be mindful of the promise you made me\nconcerning the fair Persian, and in this assurance I shall die\ncontent.\"\n\nThese were the vizier Khacan's last words. He expired a few\nmoments after, and left his family, the court, and the whole\ncity, in great affliction, The king lamented him as a wise,\nzealous, and faithful minister; and the people bewailed him as\ntheir protector and benefactor.. Never was there a funeral in\nBussorah solemnized with greater pomp and magnificence. The\nviziers, emirs, and in general all the grandees of the court,\nstrove for the honour of bearing his coffin, one after another,\nupon their shoulders, to the place of burial; and both rich and\npoor accompanied him, dissolved in tears.\n\nNoor ad Deen exhibited all the demonstrations of a sorrow\nproportioned to the loss he had sustained, and long refrained\nfrom seeing any company. At last he admitted of a visit from an\nintimate acquaintance. His friend endeavoured to comfort him; and\nfinding him inclined to hear reason, told him, that having paid\nwhat was due to the memory of his father, and fully satisfied all\nthat decency required of him, it was now high time to appear\nagain in the world, to converse with his friends, and maintain a\ncharacter suitable to his birth and talents. \"For,\" continued he,\n\"though we should sin against the laws both of nature and\nsociety, and be thought insensible, if on the death of our\nfathers we neglected to pay them the duties which filial love\nimposes upon us; yet having performed these, and put it out of\nthe power of any to reproach us for our conduct, it behoves us to\nreturn to the world, and our customary occupations. Dry up your\ntears then, and reassume that wonted air of gaiety which has\nalways inspired with joy those who have had the honour of your\nfriendship.\"\n\nThis advice seemed too reasonable to be rejected, and had Noor ad\nDeen strictly abided by it, he would certainly have avoided all\nthe misfortunes that afterwards befell him. He entertained his\nfriend honourably; and when he took his leave, desired him to\ncome again the next day, and bring with him three or four friends\nof their acquaintance. By this means he insensibly fell into the\nsociety of about ten young men nearly of his own age, with whom\nhe spent his time in continual feasting and entertainments; and\nscarcely a day passed but he made every one of them some\nconsiderable present.\n\nThe fair Persian, who never approved of his extravagant way of\nliving, often spoke her mind freely. \"I question not,\" said she,\n\"but the vizier your father has left you an ample fortune: but\ngreat as it may be, be not displeased with your slave for telling\nyou, that at this rate of living you will quickly see an end of\nit. We may sometimes indeed treat our friends, and be merry with\nthem; but to make a daily practice of it, is certainly the high\nroad to ruin and destruction: for your own honour and reputation,\nyou would do better to follow the footsteps of your deceased\nfather, that in time you may rise to that dignity by which he\nacquired so much glory and renown.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen hearkened to the fair Persian with a smile: and when\nshe had done, \"My charmer,\" said he, with the same air of gaiety,\n\"say no more of that; let us talk of nothing but mirth and\npleasure. In my father's lifetime I was always under restraint;\nand I am now resolved to enjoy the liberty I so much sighed for\nbefore his death. It will be time enough for me hereafter to\nthink of leading the sober, regular life you talk of; and a man\nof my age ought to taste the pleasures of youth.\"\n\nWhat contributed still more to the ruin of Noor ad Deen's\nfortune, was his unwillingness to reckon with his steward; for\nwhenever he brought in his accounts, he still sent him away\nwithout examining them: \"Go, go,\" said he, \"I trust wholly to\nyour honesty; only take care to provide good entertainments for\nmy friends.\"\n\n\"You are the master, sir,\" replied he, \"and I but the steward;\nhowever, you would do well to think upon the proverb, \u0091He that\nspends much, and has but little, must at last insensibly be\nreduced to poverty.' You are not contented with keeping an\nextravagant table, but you must lavish away your estate with both\nhands: and were your coffers as large as mountains, they would\nnot be sufficient to maintain you.\" \"Begone,\" replied Noor ad\nDeen, \"I want not your grave lessons; only take care to provide\ngood eating and drinking, and trouble your head no farther about\nthe rest.\"\n\nIn the meantime, Noor ad Deen's friends were constant guests at\nhis table, and never failed to take advantage of the easiness of\nhis temper. They praised and flattered him, extolling his most\nindifferent actions; but, above all, they took particular care to\ncommend whatever belonged to him; and in this they found their\naccount. \"Sir,\" said one of them, \"I came the other day by your\nestate that lies in such a place; nothing can be so magnificent\nor so handsomely furnished as your house; and the garden\nbelonging to it is a paradise upon earth.\" \"I am very glad it\npleases you,\" replied Noor ad Deen: \"bring me pen, ink, and\npaper; without more words, it is at your service; I make you a\npresent of it.\" No sooner had others commended one of his houses,\nbaths, or public buildings erected for the use of strangers, the\nyearly revenue of which was very considerable, than he\nimmediately gave them away. The fair Persian could not forbear\nstating to him how much injury he did himself; but, instead of\npaying any regard to her remonstrances, he continued his\nextravagances, and the first opportunity that offered, squandered\naway the little he had left.\n\nIn short, Noor ad Deen did nothing for a whole year but feast and\nmake merry, wasting and consuming, with the utmost prodigality,\nthe great wealth that his predecessors, and the good vizier his\nfather, had with so much pains and care acquired and preserved.\n\nThe year was but just expired, when a person one day knocked at\nthe door of the hall, where he and his friends were at dinner\ntogether by themselves, having sent away the slaves, that they\nmight enjoy the greater liberty.\n\nOne of his friends offered to rise; but Noor ad Deen stepping\nbefore him, opened the door himself. It was the steward; and Noor\nad Deen, going a little out of the hall to know his business,\nleft the door half open.\n\nThe friend that offered to rise from his seat, seeing it was the\nsteward, and being curious to know what he had to say, placed\nhimself between the hangings and the door, where he plainly\noverheard the steward's discourse to his master. \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"I ask a thousand pardons for coming to disturb you in the height\nof your pleasure; but what I have to say is of such importance,\nthat I thought myself bound in duty to acquaint you with it. I am\ncome, sir, to make up my last accounts, and to tell you, that\nwhat I all along foresaw, and have often warned you of, is at\nlast come to pass. I have not the smallest piece left of all the\nsums I have received from you for your expenses; the other funds\nyou assigned me are all exhausted. The farmers, and those that\nowe you rent, have made it so plainly appear to me, that you have\nassigned over to others what they held of you, that it is\nimpossible for me to get any more from them on your account. Here\nare my books; if you please, examine them; and if you wish I\nshould continue useful to you, assign me other funds, or else\ngive me leave to quit your service.\" Noor ad Deen was so\nastonished at his statement, that he gave him no answer.\n\n\nThe friend who had been listening all this while, and had heard\nevery syllable of what the steward said, immediately came in, and\ntold the company what he had overheard. \"It is your business,\ngentlemen,\" said he, \"to make your use of this caution; for my\npart, I declare to you, this is the last visit I design ever to\nmake Noor ad Deen.\" \"Nay,\" replied they, \"if matters go thus, we\nhave as little business here as you; and for the future shall\ntake care not to trouble him with our company.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen returned presently after; notwithstanding all his\nefforts to appear gay to his guests, he could not so dissemble\nhis concern, but they plainly perceived the truth of what they\nhad heard. He was scarcely sat down in his place, when one of his\nfriends arose: \"Sir,\" said he, \"I am sorry I cannot have the\nhonour of keeping you company any longer; and therefore I hope\nyou will excuse my rudeness in leaving you so soon.\" \"What urgent\naffair,\" demanded Noor ad Deen, \"obliges you to be going so\nsoon?\" \"My wife, sir,\" he replied, \"is brought to bed to-day; and\nupon such an occasion, you know a husband's company is always\nnecessary.\" So making a very low bow, he went away. A minute\nafterwards a second took his leave, with another excuse. The rest\ndid the same, one after another, till at last not one of the ten\nfriends that had hitherto kept Noor ad Deen company remained.\n\nAs soon as they were gone, Noor ad Deen, little suspecting the\nresolution they had formed never to see him again, went directly\nto the fair Persian's apartment; to whom he related all the\nsteward had told him, and seemed extremely concerned at the ill\nstate of his affairs. \"Sir,\" said the fair Persian, \"allow me to\nsay, you would never take my advice, but always managed your\nconcerns after your own way, and now you see the fatal\nconsequences. I find I was not mistaken, when I presaged to what\na miserable condition you would bring yourself at last: but what\nafflicts me the more is, that at present you do not see the worst\nof your misfortunes. Whenever I presumed freely to remonstrate\nwith you, \u0091Let us be merry,' you replied, \u0091and improve the time\nthat Fortune offers us; perhaps she will not always be so\nprodigal of her favours:' but was I to blame in telling you, that\nwe are ourselves the makers of our own fortunes by a prudent\nmanagement of them? You would not hearken to me; and I was\nforced, however reluctantly, to let you go on.\"\n\n\"I must own,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"I was extremely in the wrong\nin not following the advice which with such admirable prudence\nyou gave me. It is true, I have spent my estate; but do you not\nconsider, it is among a chosen set of friends, whom I have long\nknown, and who, I am persuaded, have more generosity and\ngratitude than to abandon me in distress?\" \"Sir,\" replied the\nfair Persian, \"if you have nothing but the gratitude of your\nfriends to depend on, your case is desperate; for, believe me,\nthat hope is ill-grounded, and you will tell me so yourself in\ntime.\"\n\nTo this Noor ad Deen replied, \"Charming Persian, I have a better\nopinion of my friends' generosity: to-morrow I design to visit\nthem all, before the usual time of their coming hither; and you\nshall see me return with a round sum that they will assist me\nwith. I am resolved to alter my way of living, and, with the\nmoney they lend me, to set up in some business.\"\n\nNext morning, Noor ad Deen visited his ten friends, who lived in\nthe same street. He knocked at the first door, where one of the\nrichest of them resided. A slave came to the door: but before he\nwould open it, asked who was there. \"Tell your master,\" said he\nto the slave, \"it is Noor ad Deen, the late vizier Khacan's son.\"\nThe slave opened the door, and shewed him into a hall, where he\nleft him, in order to inform his master, who was in an inner\nroom, that Noor ad Deen was come to wait on him, \"Noor ad Deen!\"\ncried he, in a disdainful tone, loud enough for him to hear: \"go\ntell him I am not at home; and whenever he may come again, be\nsure you give him the same answer.\" The slave returned, and told\nNoor ad Deen he thought his master was within, but was mistaken.\n\nNoor ad Deen came away in the greatest confusion. \"Ah! base,\nungrateful wretch!\" cried he, \"to treat me so to-day after the\nvows and protestations of friendship that he made me yesterday.\"\nHe went to another door, but that friend ordered his slave also\nto say he was gone out. He had the same answer at the third; and,\nin short, all the rest denied themselves, though every one was at\nhome.\n\nNoor ad Deen now began in earnest to reflect with himself, and\nsee the folly of relying upon the protestations of attachment\nthat his false friends had solemnly made him in the time of his\nprosperity, when he could treat them sumptuously, and load them\nwith favours. \"It is true,\" said he to himself, \"that a fortunate\nman, as I was, may be compared to a tree laden with fruit, which,\nas long as there is any on its boughs, people will be crowding\nround, and gathering; but as soon as it is stripped of all, they\nimmediately leave it, and go to another.\" He smothered his\npassion as much as possible while he was abroad; but no sooner\nwas he got home than he gave a loose to his affliction, and\ndiscovered it to the fair Persian.\n\nThe fair Persian seeing him so extremely concerned, guessed he\nhad not found his friends so ready to assist him as he expected.\n\"Well, sir,\" said she, \"are you now convinced of the truth of\nwhat I told you?\" \"Ah!\" cried he, \"thou hast been too true a\nprophetess; for not one of them would know me, see me, or speak\nto me. Who could ever have believed, that persons so highly\nobliged to me, and on whom I have spent my estate, could have\nused me so ungratefully? I am distracted; and I fear shall commit\nsome action unworthy myself, in the deplorable and desperate\ncondition I am reduced to, unless you assist me with your prudent\nadvice.\" \"Sir,\" replied the fair Persian, \"I see no other way of\nsupporting yourself in your misfortunes, but selling off your\nslaves and furniture, and living on the money they produce, till\nheaven points out some other means to deliver you from your\npresent misery.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen was loth to resort to this expedient; but what could\nhe do in the necessitous circumstances to which he was reduced?\nHe first sold off his slaves, those unprofitable mouths, which\nwould have been a greater expense to him than in his present\ncondition he could bear. He lived on the money for some time; and\nwhen it was spent, ordered his goods to be carried into the\nmarket-place, where they were sold for half their value, though\nthere were among them several articles that had cost immense\nsums. Upon the produce of these he lived a considerable time; but\nthis supply failing at last, he had nothing left by which he\ncould raise any more money, of which he informed the fair Persian\nin the most sorrowful expressions.\n\nNoor ad Deen little expected the answer this prudent woman made\nhim. \"Sir,\" said she, \"I am your slave; and the late vizier your\nfather gave ten thousand pieces of gold for me. I know I am a\nlittle sunk in value since that time; but I believe I shall sell\nfor pretty near that sum. Let me entreat you then instantly to\ncarry me to the market, and expose me to sale; and with the money\nthat you get for me, which will be very considerable, you may\nturn merchant in some city where you are not known, and by that\nmeans find a way of living, if not in splendour, yet with\nhappiness and content.\"\n\n\"Lovely and adorable Persian!\" cried Noor ad Deen, \"is it\npossible you can entertain such a thought? Have I given you such\nslender proofs of my love, that you should think me capable of so\nbase an action? But suppose me so vile a wretch, could I do it\nwithout being guilty of perjury, after the oath I have taken to\nmy late father never to sell you? I would sooner die than break\nit, and part with you, whom I love infinitely beyond myself;\nthough, by the unreasonable proposal you have made me, you shew\nme that your love is by no means reciprocal.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the fair Persian, \"I am convinced that your\npassion for me is as sincere as you express; and heaven, who\nknows with what reluctance I have made this proposal which\ninduces you to think so hardly of me, is my witness, that mine is\nas great as yours; but to silence your reasons, I need only bid\nyou remember, that necessity has no law. I love you to that\ndegree that it is impossible for you to love me more; and be\nassured, that to what master soever I shall belong, my love for\nyou will continue undiminished; and if you are ever able to\nredeem me, as I hope you may, it will be the greatest pleasure in\nthe world to be restored to you again. I confess it is a fatal\nand cruel necessity to which we are driven; but I see no other\nway of freeing ourselves from the misery that involves us both.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, convinced of the truth of what the fair Persian had\nsaid, and that there was no other way of avoiding a shameful\npoverty, was forced to yield to her proposal. Accordingly he led\nher to the market where the women-slaves are exposed to sale,\nwith a regret that cannot easily be expressed. He applied himself\nto a broker, named Hagi Hassan. \"Hagi Hassan,\" said he, \"here is\na slave whom I mean to sell; what will they give for her?\"\n\nHagi Hassan desired Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian to walk\ninto a room; and when she had pulled off the veil that covered\nher face, \"Sir,\" said Hagi Hassan, in surprise, \"if I am not\nmistaken, this is the slave your father, the late vizier, gave\nten thousand pieces of gold for?\" Noor ad Deen assured him she\nwas the same and Hagi Hassan gave him some hopes of selling her\nat a high price, and promised to use all his art to raise her\nvalue as high as he could.\n\nHagi Hassan and Noor ad Deen went out of the room; and Hagi\nHassan locked the fair Persian in. He went immediately to the\nmerchants; but they being busy in buying slaves from different\ncountries, Greeks, Franks, Africans, Tartars, and others, he was\nforced to wait till the market was over. When the sale was ended,\nand the greatest part of them were got together again, \"My\nmasters,\" said he to them, with an air of gaiety in his looks and\nactions, \"every thing that is round is not a nut, every thing\nthat is long is not a fig, all that is red is not flesh, and all\neggs are not fresh; it is true you have seen and bought a great\nmany slaves in your lives, but you never yet saw one comparable\nto her I am going to tell you of. She is the very pearl of\nslaves. Come, follow me, you shall see her yourselves, and judge\nat what rate I shall cry her.\"\n\nThe merchants followed Hagi Hassan into the apartment where he\nhad left the fair Persian, and as soon as they beheld her were so\nsurprised at her beauty, that they unanimously agreed, four\nthousand pieces of gold was the very lowest price they could set\nupon her. The merchants left the room; and Hagi Hassan, who came\nout with them, without going any farther, proclaimed with a loud\nvoice, \"Four thousand pieces of gold for a Persian slave.\"\n\nNone of the merchants had yet offered anything, and were\nconsulting together about what they might afford to give for her,\nwhen the vizier Saouy appeared. Perceiving Noor ad Deen in the\nmarket, he said to himself, \"Noor ad Deen is certainly still\nmaking money of his goods\" (for he knew he had exposed them to\nsale), \"and is come hither to buy a slave with the product.\" He\nadvanced forward just as Hagi Hassan began to proclaim a second\ntime, \"Four thousand pieces of gold for a Persian slave.\"\n\nThe vizier Saouy, who concluded by the high price, that the slave\nmust be extraordinarily beautiful, was very desirous to see her;\nso spurring his horse forward, he rode up to Hagi Hassan, who was\nsurrounded by the merchants. \"Open the door,\" said he, \"and let\nme see the slave.\" It was not the custom to shew a slave to a\nparticular person after the merchants had seen her, and were\ntreating for her; but none of them durst dispute their right with\nthe vizier; and Hagi Hassan was obliged to open the door, and he\nmade a sign to the fair Persian to come forward, that Saouy might\nsee her, without alighting from his horse.\n\nThe vizier was astonished at the sight of so beautiful a slave;\nand knowing the broker's name (having formerly dealt with him),\n\"Hagi Hassan,\" said he, \"is it not at four thousand pieces of\ngold that you cry her?\" \"Yes, sir,\" answered he; \"the merchants\njust now agreed that I should put her up at that price: I wait\ntheir advance; and I question not but they will give a great deal\nmore.\"\n\n\"If no one offers more, I will give that sum,\" replied Saouy,\nlooking at the merchants at the same time with a countenance that\nforbad them to advance the price. He was so universally dreaded,\nthat no one durst speak a word, even to complain of his\nencroaching upon their privilege.\n\nThe vizier having stayed some time, and finding none of the\nmerchants outbid him, \"What do you stay for?\" said he to Hagi\nHassan. \"Inquire after the seller, and strike a bargain with him\nat four thousand pieces of gold, or ask if he demands more.\"\n\nHagi Hassan having locked the chamber-door, went to confer with\nNoor ad Deen. \"Sir,\" said he to him, \"I am very sorry to bring\nyou the ill news of your slave's going to be sold for nothing.\"\n\"How so?\" replied Noor ad Deen. \"Why sir,\" continued Hagi Hassan,\n\"you must know that the business at first went on well; for as\nsoon as the merchants had seen your slave, they ordered me,\nwithout hesitation, to cry her at four thousand pieces of gold;\naccordingly I cried her at that price, but presently the vizier\nSaouy came, and his presence has stopped the mouths of all the\nmerchants, who seemed disposed to raise her, at least to the same\nprice your deceased father gave for her. Saouy will give no more\nthan four thousand pieces; and it is much against my inclination\nthat I am come to tell you his despicable offer. The slave indeed\nis your own; but I will never advise you to part with her upon\nthose terms, since you and every one else are sensible of her\nbeing worth infinitely more; besides, he is base enough to\ncontrive a way to trick you out of the money.\"\n\n\n\"Hagi Hassan,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"I am highly obliged to thee\nfor thy advice: do not think I will ever sell my slave to any\nenemy of our family; my necessities, indeed, are at present very\ngreat; but I would sooner die in the utmost poverty than consent\nto delivering her up to him. I have only one thing to beg of\nthee, who art skilful in all the turns and shifts of sale, that\nthou wouldst put me in a way to prevent the completion of the\nbargain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Hagi Hassan, \"nothing is more easy: you must pretend\nthat, being in a violent passion with your slave, you swore to\nexpose her in the market, and for the sake of your oath have now\nbrought her hither, without any intention of selling her. This\nwill satisfy every one; and Saouy will have nothing to say\nagainst it. Come along with me then; and just as I am presenting\nher to Saouy as if it were by your own consent, pull her to you,\ngive her two or three blows, and send her home.\" \"I thank thee\nfor thy counsel,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and will make use of it.\"\n\nHagi Hassan went back to the chamber; and having privately\nacquainted the fair Persian with their design, that she might not\nbe surprised, took her by the hand, and led her to the vizier\nSaouy, who was still on horseback at the door \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"here is the slave, she is yours; take her.\"\n\nThe words were scarcely out of Hagi Hassan's mouth, when Noor ad\nDeen, catching hold of the fair Persian, pulled her to him, and\ngiving her a box on the ear, \"Come hither, impertinence,\" said\nhe, \"and get you home again; for though your ill-humour obliged\nme to swear I should bring you hither, yet I never intended to\nsell you: I have business for you to do yet; and it will be time\nenough to part with you when I have nothing else left.\"\n\nThis conduct of Noor ad Deen put the vizier Saouy into a violent\npassion. \"Miserable debauchee,\" cried he, \"wouldst thou have me\nbelieve thou hast any thing else left to make money of but thy\nslave?\" and at the same instant, spurring his horse directly\nagainst him, endeavoured to carry off the fair Persian. Noor ad\nDeen. nettled to the quick at the affront the vizier had put upon\nhim, quitted the fair Persian, and laying hold of his horse's\nbridle, made him run two or three paces backwards. \"Vile dotard,\"\nsaid he to the vizier, \"I would tear thy soul out of thy body\nthis moment, were it not out of respect for the crowd of people\nhere present.\"\n\nThe vizier Saouy being hated by all, there was not one among them\nbut was pleased to see Noor ad Deen mortify him; and by signs\nthey gave him to understand, that he might revenge himself upon\nhim as much as he pleased, for nobody would interfere in their\nquarrel.\n\nSaouy endeavoured to force Noor ad Deen to quit the bridle; but\nhe being a lusty, vigorous man, and encouraged by those that\nstood by, pulled him off his horse, gave him several blows, and\ndashed his head against the stones, till it was all over blood.\nThe slaves who waited upon the vizier would have drawn their\ncimeters, and fallen upon Noor ad Deen; but the merchants\ninterposing prevented them. \"What do you mean?\" said they to\nthem; \"do you not see that one is a vizier, the other a vizier's\nson? Let them fight it out; perhaps they will be reconciled one\ntime or another; whereas, if you had killed Noor ad Deen, your\nmaster, with all his greatness, could not have been able to\nprotest you against the law?\"\n\nNoor ad Deen having given over beating the vizier Saouy, left him\nin the mire, and taking the fair Persian, marched home with her,\nattended by the people, with shouts and acclamations for the\naction he had performed.\n\nThe vizier, cruelly bruised with the blows he had received, made\nshift to get up, with the assistance of his slaves, and had the\nmortification to see himself besmeared with blood and dirt. He\nleaned on the shoulders of two slaves, and in that condition went\nstraight to the palace in the sight of all the people, with the\ngreater confusion, because no one pitied him. As soon as he\nreached the king's apartment, he began to cry out, and call for\njustice in a lamentable tone. The king ordered him to be\nadmitted; and asked who it was that had abused and put him into\nthat miserable plight. \"Sire,\" cried Saouy, \"it is the favour of\nyour majesty, and being admitted into your sacred councils, that\nhas occasioned me to be so barbarously treated.\" \"Say no more of\nthat,\" replied the king, \"only let me hear the whole story\nsimply, and who the offender is; and if he is in the wrong, you\nmay depend upon it he shall be severely punished.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Saouy, telling the whole matter to his own\nadvantage, \"having occasion for a cook, I went to the market of\nwomen-slaves to buy one: when I came thither, there was a slave\njust cried at four thousand pieces of gold; I ordered them to\nbring her before me, and I think my eyes never did nor will\nbehold a more beautiful creature: I had no sooner examined her\nbeauty with the highest satisfaction, than I immediately asked to\nwhom she belonged; and upon inquiry found that Noor ad Deen, son\nto the late vizier Khacan, had the disposing of her.\n\n\"Your majesty may remember, that about two or three years ago,\nyou gave that vizier ten thousand pieces of gold, strictly\ncharging him to buy you a slave with that sum. The money, indeed,\nwas laid out upon this very slave; but instead of bringing her to\nyour majesty, thinking his son deserved her better, he made him a\npresent of her. Noor ad Deen, since his father's death, having\nwasted his whole fortune in riot and feasting, has nothing left\nbut this slave, whom he at last resolved to part with; and she\nwas to be sold in his name, I sent for him; and, without\nmentioning any thing of his father's prevarication, or rather\ntreachery to your majesty, I in the civilest manner said to him,\n\u0091Noor ad Deen, the merchants, I perceive, have put your slave up\nat four thousand pieces of gold; and I question not, but, in\nemulation of each other, they will raise the price considerably:\nlet me have her for the four thousand pieces; I am going to buy\nher for the king our lord and master; this will be a handsome\nopportunity of making your court to him: and his favour will be\nworth far more than the merchants can propose to give you.'\n\n\"Instead of returning me a civil answer, the insolent wretch,\nbeholding me with a fierce air, \"Impotent villain,' said he, \u0091I\nwould rather give my slave to a Jew for nothing than to thee for\nmoney.' \u0091Noor ad Deen,' I replied, without passion, though I had\nsome reason to be a little warm,'you do not consider, that by\ntalking in this manner you affront the king, who raised both your\nfather and me to the honours we have enjoyed.'\n\n\"This admonition, instead of softening him, only provoked him to\na higher degree; so that, falling upon me like a madman, without\nregard to my age or rank, he pulled me off my horse, and put me\ninto this miserable plight. I beseech your majesty to consider,\nthat it is on your account I have been so publicly affronted.\"\n\n\nThe abused king, highly incensed against Noor ad Deen by this\nrelation, so full of malice and artifice, discovered by his\ncountenance the violence of his anger; and turning to the captain\nof his guards, who stood near him, \"Take forty of your soldiers,\"\nsaid he, \"immediately plunder Noor ad Deen's house, and having\nordered it to be razed to the ground, bring him and his slave to\nthe presence.\"\n\nBefore the captain of the guards was gone out of the king's\npresence, an officer belonging to the court, who overheard the\norder given, hastened out. His name was Sangiar; and he had been\nformerly a slave of the vizier Khacan who had introduced him at\ncourt, where by degrees he had raised himself.\n\nSangiar, full of gratitude to his old master and affection for\nNoor ad Deen, whom he remembered a child, being no stranger to\nSaouy's hatred of Khacan's family, could not hear the order\nwithout concern. \"This action,\" said he to himself, \"may not be\naltogether so black as Saouy has represented it. He has\nprejudiced the king against him, who will certainly put him to\ndeath, without allowing him time to justify himself.\" He made so\nmuch haste to Noor ad Deen's house, as to get thither soon enough\nto acquaint him with what had passed at court, and give him time\nto provide for his own and the fair Persian's safety. He knocked\nso violently at the door, that Noor ad Deen, who had been a great\nwhile without any servant, ran immediately to open it. \"My dear\nlord,\" said Sangiar, \"there is no safety for you in Bussorah; you\nmust lose no time, but depart hence this moment.\"\n\n\"How so?\" demanded Noor ad Deen. \"What is the reason I must be\ngone so soon?\" \"Make haste away, sir,\" replied Sangiar, \"and take\nyour slave with you. In short, Saouy has been just now\nacquainting the king, after his own way of telling it, all that\npassed between you and him; and the captain of the guards will be\nhere in an instant, with forty soldiers, to seize you and the\nfair Persian. Take these forty pieces of gold to assist you in\nrepairing to some place of safety. I would give you more if I had\nit about me. Excuse my not staying any longer; I leave you with\nreluctance.\" Sangiar gave Noor ad Deen but just time to thank\nhim, and departed.\n\nNoor ad Deen acquainted the fair Persian with the absolute\nnecessity of their going that moment. She only put on her veil;\nthey both stole out of the house, and were fortunate enough not\nonly to get clear of the city, but also safely to arrive at the\nEuphrates, which was not far off, where they embarked in a vessel\nthat lay ready to weigh anchor.\n\nAs soon as they were on board, the captain came on deck amongst\nhis passengers. \"Children,\" said he to them, \"are you all here?\nhave any of you any more business to do in the city? or have you\nleft any thing behind you?\" They were all there, they answered\nhim, and ready; so that he might sail as soon as he pleased. When\nNoor ad Deen came aboard, the first question he asked was,\nwhither the vessel was bound? and being told for Bagdad, he\nrejoiced at it. The captain, having weighed anchor, set sail; and\nthe vessel, with a very favourable wind, lost sight of Bussorah.\n\nThe captain of the guards came to Noor ad Deen's house, and\nknocked at the door; but no one answering, he ordered his\nsoldiers to break it open, who immediately obeyed him, and rushed\nin. They searched the house; but neither he nor the fair Persian\nwere to be found. The captain of the guards made them inquire of\nthe neighbours; and he himself asked if they had seen them\nlately. It was all in vain; for if they had seen him go out of\nhis house, so universally beloved was Noor ad Deen by the people,\nthat not one of them would have said the least word to his\nprejudice. While they were rifling the house, and levelling it to\nthe ground, he went to acquaint the king with the news. \"Look for\nthem,\" said he, \"every where; for I am resolved to have them.\"\n\nThe captain of the guards made a second search, and the king\ndismissed the vizier Saouy with honour. \"Go home,\" said he,\n\"trouble yourself no farther to punish Noor ad Deen; I will\nrevenge your injuries.\"\n\nWithout delay the king ordered to be proclaimed throughout the\nwhole city a reward of a thousand pieces of gold for any person\nthat should apprehend Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian, also a\nsevere punishment upon those who should conceal them. No tidings\nhowever could be heard of them; and the vizier Saouy had only the\ncomfort of seeing the king espouse his quarrel.\n\nIn the mean time, Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian, after a\nprosperous voyage, landed safe at Bagdad. As soon as the captain\ncame within sight of that city, pleased that his voyage was at an\nend, \"Rejoice, my children,\" cried he to the passengers; \"yonder\nis that great and wonderful city, where there is a perpetual\nconcourse of people from all parts of the world: there you shall\nmeet with innumerable crowds, and never feel the extremity of\ncold in winter, nor the excess of heat in summer, but enjoy an\neternal spring with all its flowers, and the delicious fruits of\nautumn.\"\n\nWhen the vessel came to anchor, a little below the city, the\npassengers went ashore, each to their respective place of abode.\nNoor ad Deen gave the captain five pieces of gold for his\npassage, and went ashore also with the fair Persian; but being a\nperfect stranger in Bagdad, was at a loss for a lodging. They\nrambled a considerable time along the gardens that bordered on\nthe Tigris, and keeping close to one of them that was enclosed\nwith a very long wall, at the end of it they turned into a street\nwell paved, where they perceived a magnificent gateway and a\nfountain near it.\n\nThe inner door happened to be shut, but the portal was open, in\nwhich there was an estrade on each side. \"This is a very\nconvenient place for us,\" said Noor ad Deen to the fair Persian;\n\"night comes on apace; and though we have eaten nothing since our\nlanding, I am for passing the night here, and to-morrou we shall\nhave time enough to look for a lodging.\" \"Sir,\" replied the fair\nPersian, \"you know your wishes are mine; les us go no farther,\nsince you are willing to stay here.\" Each of them having drunk a\ndraught of water at the fountain, they laid themselves down upon\none of the estrades; and after a little chat, being soothed by\nthe agreeable murmur of the water, fell asleep.\n\nThe garden belonged to the caliph: and in the middle of it there\nwas a pavilion, called the pavilion of pictures, because its\nchief ornaments were pictures after the Persian manner, drawn by\nthe most celebrated painters in Persia, whom the caliph had sent\nfor on purpose. The stately hall within this pavilion was lighted\nby fourscore arches and a lustre in each; but these were lighted\nonly when the caliph came thither to spend the evening. On such\noccasions they made a glorious illumination, and could be seen at\na great distance in the country on that side, and by great part\nof the city.\n\nThe office of keeper of this pleasure house was at this time held\nby a very aged officer, named Scheich Ibrahim, whom the caliph,\nfor some important service, had put into that employment, with\nstrict charge not to let all sorts of people in, but especially\nto suffer no one either to sit or lie down on the estrades at the\noutward door, that they might always be clean; and whenever he\nfound any body there, to punish them severely.\n\nSome business had obliged this officer to go abroad, and he was\nnot yet returned. When he came back, there was just day-light\nenough for him to discern two persons asleep upon one of the\nestrades, with their heads under a piece of linen, to defend them\nfrom the gnats. \"Very well,\" said Scheich Ibrahim to himself;\n\"these people disobey the caliph's orders: but I will take care\nto teach them better manners.\" Upon this he opened the door very\nsoftly, and a moment after returned with a cane in his hand, and\nhis sleeve tucked up to the elbow: he was just going to lay on\nthem both with all his might, but withholding his arm, began to\nreason with himself after this manner: \"Thou wast going, without\nreflection, to strike these people, who perhaps are strangers,\ndestitute of a lodging, and utterly ignorant of the caliph's\norder; so that it would be advisable to know first who they are.\"\nUpon this he gently lifted up the linen that covered their heads,\nand was astonished to see a young man so well shaped, and a young\nwoman so beautiful; he then waked Noor ad Deen, by pulling him\nsoftly by the feet.\n\nNoor ad Deen, lifting up his head, and seeing an old man with a\nlong white beard standing at his feet, got up, and throwing\nhimself upon his knees, and taking his hand, kissed it. \"Good\nfather,\" said he, \"Heaven preserve you!\" \"What do you want, my\nson?\" replied Scheich Ibrahim; \"who are you, and whence came\nyou?\" \"We are strangers newly arrived,\" answered Noor ad Deen,\n\"and would fain tarry here till to-morrow.\" \"This is not a proper\nplace for you,\" said Scheich Ibrahim; \"come in with me, and I\nwill find one fitter for you to sleep in than this; and the sight\nof the garden, which is very fine, will please you, when you see\nit to-morrow by day light.\" \"Is this garden your own?\" asked Noor\nad Deen. \"Yes,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim, smiling; \"it is an\ninheritance left me by my father: pray walk in, for I am sure you\nwill not repent seeing it.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen rose to thank Scheich Ibrahim for the civility he\nhad strewn, as did afterwards the fair Persian; and they entered\nthe garden. Scheich Ibrahim locked the door, and going before,\nled them to a spot from whence, at one view, they might see the\ndisposition, grandeur, and beauty of the whole.\n\nNoor ad Deen had seen very fine gardens, but never any comparable\nto this. Having satisfied his curiosity, as he was walking in one\nof the walks, he turned about to the officer, and asked his name.\nAs soon as he had told him it was Scheich Ibrahim; \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said he to him, \"I must confess this is a charming\ngarden indeed. Heaven send you long to enjoy the pleasures of it;\nwe cannot sufficiently thank you for the favour you have done by\nshewing us a place so well worth seeing; however, it is but just\nthat we should make you some amends for your kindness; here are\ntwo pieces of gold; take them and get us something to eat, that\nwe may be merry together.\"\n\nAt the sight of the two pieces of gold, Scheich Ibrahim, who was\na great admirer of that metal, laughed in his sleeve: he took\nthem, and leaving Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian by\nthemselves, went to provide what was necessary; for he was alone.\nSaid he to himself with great joy, \"these are generous people; I\nshould have done very wrong, if, through imprudence, I had ill-\ntreated and driven them away. A tenth part of the money will\nsuffice to treat them; and the rest I will keep for my pains.\"\n\nWhile Scheich Ibrahim was gone to fetch something for his own\nsupper, as well as for his guests Noor ad Deen and the fair\nPersian walked up and down the garden, till at last they came to\nthe pavilion of pictures. They stood awhile to admire its\nwonderful structure, size, and loftiness; and after taking a full\nview of it on every side, went up many steps of fine white marble\nto the hall-door, which they found locked.\n\nThey were but just returned to the bottom of the steps, when\nScheich Ibrahim arrived, loaded with provisions. \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said Noor ad Deen, in great surprise, \"did you not tell\nus that this was your garden?\" \"I did,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim,\n\"and do so still.\" \"And does this magnificent pavilion also\nbelong to you?\" Scheich Ibrahim was staggered at this unexpected\nquestion. \"If,\" said he to himself, \"I should say it is none of\nmine, they will ask me how I can be master of the garden and not\nof the pavilion.' As he had made them believe the garden was his,\nhe said the same of the pavilion. \"My son,\" said he, \"the\npavilion is not distinct from the garden; but they both belong to\nme.\" \"If so,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"since you invite us to be your\nguests to-night, do us the favour to shew us the inside of it;\nfor if we may judge by the outward appearance, it must certainly\nbe extraordinarily magnificent.\"\n\nIt would have been a great piece of incivility in Scheich Ibrahim\nto refuse this favour, after what he had already done: moreover,\nhe considered that the caliph not having given him notice,\naccording to his usual custom, it was likely he would not be\nthere that night, and therefore resolved to treat his guests, and\nsup with them in the pavilion. He laid the provisions on the\nfirst step, while he went to his apartment for the key: he soon\nreturned with a light, and opened the door.\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian entered the hall, and were\nnever tired with admiring the beauty and richness of the place.\nIndeed, without saying anything of the pictures. which were\nadmirably well drawn, the sofas were very noble and costly; and\nbesides lustres suspended from every arch, there was between each\na silver branch supporting a wax candle. Noor ad Deen could not\nbehold these glorious objects without recollecting his former\nsplendour, and sighing.\n\nIn the mean time Scheich Ibrahim was getting supper ready; and\nthe cloth being laid upon a sofa, and every thing in order, Noor\nad Deen, the fair Persian, and he sat down and ate together. When\nsupper was finished, and they had washed their hands, Noor ad\nDeen opened a lattice, and calling the fair Persian to him, \"Come\nhither,\" said he, \"and with me admire the charming prospect and\nbeauty of the garden by moon-light; nothing can be more\nagreeable.\" She came to him; and they both enjoyed the view,\nwhile Scheich Ibrahim was busy in taking away the cloth.\n\nWhen Scheich Ibrahim came to his guests again, Noor ad Deen asked\nhim whether he had any liquor to treat them with. \"What liquor\nwould you have?\" replied Scheich Ibrahim--\"Sherbet? I have the\nbest in the world; but sherbet, you know, my son, is never drunk\nafter supper.\"\n\n\"I know that very well,\" said Noor ad Deen; \"it is not sherbet,\nbut another sort of liquor that we ask you for, and I am\nsurprised at your not understanding me.\" \"It is wine then you\nmean?\" said Scheich Ibrahim. \"You guess right,\" replied Noor ad\nDeen, \"and if you have any, oblige us with a bottle: you know a\nbottle after supper is a very proper companion to spend the hours\nwith till bed-time.\"\n\n\"Heaven defend me from keeping wine in my house,\" cried Scheich\nIbrahim, \"and from ever coming to a place where any is found! A\nman who, like me, has been a pilgrimage four times to Mecca, has\nrenounced wine for ever.\"\n\n\"You would do us a singular kindness,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"in\ngetting a little for our own drinking; and if it be not too much\ntrouble, I will put you in a way how you may do it, without going\ninto a vintner's shop, or so much as laying your hand upon the\nvessel that contains it.\" \"Upon that condition I will do it,\"\nreplied Scheich Ibrahim, \"only let me know what I am to do.\"\n\n\"Why then,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"we just now saw an ass tied at\nthe entrance of your garden, which certainly must be yours, and\nwhich you may make use of in this extremity: here are two pieces\nof gold more; take them, and lead your ass with the panniers to\nthe next vintner's; you may stand at as great a distance as you\nplease, do but give something to the first person that comes by,\nand desire him to go with your ass, and procure two pitchers of\nwine; put one in one pannier, in another, another, which he must\npay for out of the money you give him, and so let him bring the\nass back to you: you will have nothing to do, but to drive the\nbeast hither before you; we will take the wine out of the\npanniers: by this means you will do nothing that will give you\nany scruple.\"\n\nThe two last pieces of gold that Scheich Ibrahim was going to\nreceive wrought wonderfully upon his mind. \"Ah! my son,\" cried\nhe, \"you have an excellent contrivance; and had it not been for\nyour invention, I should never have thought of this way of\ngetting you some wine without any scruple of conscience.\" Away he\nwent to execute the orders, which he did in a little time; and,\nupon his return, Noor ad Deen taking the pitchers out of the\npanniers, carried them into the hall.\n\nScheich Ibrahim having led the ass to the place from whence he\ntook him, came back again, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said Noor ad Deen,\n\"we cannot enough thank you for the trouble we have already given\nyou; but we want something yet.\" \"What is that? \"replied Scheich:\n\"what more service can I do you?\" \"We have no cups to drink out\nof,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and a little fruit, if you had any,\nwould be very acceptable.\" \"Do but say what you have a mind to,\"\nreplied Scheich Ibrahim, \"and you shall have every thing to your\nheart's content.\"\n\nDown went Scheich Ibrahim, and in a short time spread a carpet\nfor them with beautiful porcelain dishes, full of all sorts of\ndelicious fruits, besides gold and silver cups to drink out of;\nand having asked them if they wanted any thing else, he withdrew,\nthough they pressed him earnestly to stay.\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian sat down again, and drank each\na cup. They were pleased with the wine, which was excellent.\n\"Well, my dear,\" said Noor ad Deen to the fair Persian, \"are we\nnot the most fortunate persons in the world, after so many\ndangers, to meet with so charming and agreeable a place? Let us\nbe merry, and think no more on the hardships of our voyage. Can\nmy happiness be greater in this world, than to have you on one\nside of me, and my glass on the other?\" They drank freely, and\ndiverted themselves with agreeable conversation, each singing a\nsong.\n\nBoth having very fine voices, but especially the fair Persian,\ntheir singing attracted Scheich Ibrahim, who had stood hearkening\na great while on the steps, without discovering himself. He could\ncontain himself no longer; but thrusting his head in at the door,\n\"Courage, sir,\" said he to Noor ad Deen, whom he took to be quite\ndrunk, \"I am glad to see you so pleased.\"\n\n\"Ah! Scheich Ibrahim,\" cried Noor ad Deen, turning to him, \"you\nare a glorious man, and we are extremely obliged to you. We dare\nnot ask you to drink a cup; but walk in; come, sit down, and let\nus have the honour at least of your company.\" \"Go on, go on,\"\nsaid Scheich Ibrahim; \"the pleasure of hearing your songs is\nsufficient for me.\" Upon this he immediately retired.\n\nThe fair Persian perceiving Scheich Ibrahim, through one of the\nwindows, standing upon the steps, told Noor ad Deen of it. \"Sir,\"\nsaid she, \"you see what an aversion he has for wine; yet I\nquestion not in the least to make him drink, if you will do as I\nwould have you.\" Noor ad Deen asked her what it was. \"Do but say\nthe word,\" replied he, \"and I am ready to do what you please.\"\n\"Prevail with him then only to come in, and bear us company; some\ntime after fill up a bumper, and give it him; if he refuses,\ndrink it yourself, pretend to be asleep, and leave the rest to\nme.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen understood the fair Persian's design, and called to\nScheich Ibrahim, who came again to the door. \"Scheich Ibrahim,\"\nsaid he, \"we are your guests; you have entertained us in the most\nobliging manner, and will you now refuse our solicitations to\nhonour us with your company? We do not ask you to drink, but only\nthe favour of seeing you.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim being at last prevailed upon, came into the hall,\nand sat down on the edge of a sofa nearest to the door. \"You do\nnot sit well there,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and we cannot have the\nhonour of seeing you; pray come nearer, and sit you down by the\nlady; she will like it much.\" \"I will obey you,\" replied Scheich\nIbrahim, so coming forward, simpering, to think he should be\nseated near so beautiful a creature, he placed himself at some\ndistance from the fair Persian. Noor ad Deen desired a song of\nher, in return for the honour Scheich Ibrahim had done them; and\nshe sung one that charmed him.\n\nWhen the fair Persian had ended her song, Noor ad Deen poured out\na cup of wine, and presented it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said he, \"I entreat you, drink this to our healths.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied he, starting back, as if he abhorred the very\nsight of the wine, \"I beseech you to excuse me; I have already\ntold you that I have forsworn the use of wine these many years.\"\n\"Then since you will not drink our healths,\" said Noor ad Deen,\n\"give me leave to drink yours.\"\n\nWhile Noor ad Deen was drinking, the fair Persian cut half an\napple, and presented it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Though you refused\ndrinking,\" said she, \"yet I believe you will not refuse tasting\nthis apple; it is very excellent.\" Scheich Ibrahim had no power\nto refuse it from so fair a hand; but taking it with a very low\nbow, put it in his mouth. She said a great many pleasant things\non the occasion; and Noor ad Deen, falling back upon a sofa,\npretended to fall fast asleep. The fair Persian presently\nadvanced towards Scheich Ibrahim, and speaking in a low voice,\n\"Look at him,\" said she, \"thus in all our merry parties he\nconstantly serves me; and no sooner has he drunk a cup or two,\nbut he falls asleep, and leaves me alone; but I hope you will\nhave the goodness to keep me company till he awakes.\"\n\nAt this the fair Persian took a cup, and filling it with wine,\noffered it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Here,\" said she, \"drink off this\nto my health; I am going to pledge you.\" Scheich Ibrahim made a\ngreat many difficulties, and begged her to excuse him from\ndrinking; but she pressed him so, that overcome by her charms and\nentreaties he took the cup, and drank off every drop of the wine.\n\nThe good old man loved a chirruping cup to his heart, but was\nashamed to drink among strangers. He often went to the tavern in\nprivate, as many other people do; and he did not take the\nprecaution recommended, but went directly where he was well known\n(night serving him instead of a cloak), and saved the money that\nNoor ad Deen had ordered him to give the messenger who was to\nhave gone for the wine.\n\nWhile Scheich Ibrahim was eating fruit after his draught, the\nfair Persian filled him out another, which he received with less\ndifficulty than the former, but made none at all at the third. In\nshort, a fourth was quaffing, when Noor ad Deen started up from\nhis pretended sleep; and bursting out into a violent fit of\nlaughter, and looking at him, \"Ha! ha!\" said he, \"Scheich\nIbrahim, have I caught you at last? did you not tell me you had\nforsworn wine? and now you have drunk it all up from me.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, not expecting to be surprised, blushed a little;\nhowever, that did not spoil his draught; but when he had done,\n\"Sir,\" said he laughing, \"if there is any crime in what I have\ndone, it lies at this fair lady's door, not mine: for who could\npossibly resist so many charms?\"\n\nThe fair Persian, who perfectly understood Noor ad Deen, took\nScheich Ibrahim's part. \"Let him talk,\" said she, \"Scheich\nIbrahim, take no notice of him, but let us drink on and be\nmerry.\" Awhile after Noor ad Deen filled out a cup for himself\nand the fair Persian; but when Scheich Ibrahim saw that Noor ad\nDeen had forgotten him in his turn, he took his cup, and\npresenting it to the fair Persian, \"Madam,\" said he, \"do you\nsuppose I cannot drink as well as you?\"\n\nAt these words Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian laughed very\nheartily. They poured him out some wine; and sat laughing,\nchatting, and drinking, till near midnight. About that hour the\nfair Persian began to notice that there was but one candle on the\ncarpet. \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said she to the good old officer, \"you\nhave afforded us but one candle, when there are so many wax-\nlights yonder; pray do us the favour to light some of them, that\nwe may see a little better what we are doing.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim making use of the liberty that wine inspires when\nit gets into the head, and not caring to be interrupted in his\ndiscourse, bade the fair Persian light them herself. \"It is\nfitter for a young person like you to do it,\" said he, \"than for\nme; but be sure not to light above five or six\" Up rose the fair\nPersian immediately, and taking a wax candle in her hand, lighted\nit with that which stood upon the carpet, and without any regard\nto Scheich Ibrahim's order, lighted up the whole fourscore.\n\nBy and by, while Scheich Ibrahim was entertaining the fair\nPersian with some discourse, Noor ad Deen took his turn to desire\nhim to light up some of the candles in the lustres, not taking\nnotice that all the wax-lights were already in a blaze.\n\"Certainly,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim, \"you must be very lazy, or\nless vigorous than I am, that you are not able to light them\nyourself; get you gone, and light them; but be sure you light no\nmore than three.\" To work he went; but instead of that number, he\nlighted them all, and opened the shutters of the fourscore\nwindows, before Scheich Ibrahim, who was deeply engaged with the\nfair Persian, knew any thing of the matter.\n\nThe caliph Haroon al Rusheed being not yet gone to rest, was in a\nroom of his palace on the river Tigris, from whence he could\ncommand a view both of the garden and pavilion. He accidentally\nopened the casement, and was extremely surprised at seeing the\npavilion illuminated; and at first, by the greatness of the\nlight, thought the city was on fire. The grand vizier Jaaffier\nwas still with him, waiting for his going to rest. The caliph, in\na great rage, called the vizier to him. \"Careless vizier,\" said\nhe, \"come hither, come hither; look at the pavilion of pictures,\nand tell me the reason of its being illuminated at this hour, now\nI am not there.\"\n\nThe grand vizier at this account fell into a violent trembling;\nbut when he came nearer, and with his own eyes saw the truth of\nwhat the caliph had told him, he was more alarmed than before.\nSome excuse must be made to appease the caliph's anger.\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said he, \"all that I can say\nto your majesty about this matter is, that some five or six days\nago Scheich Ibrahim came to acquaint me, that he had a design to\nassemble the ministers of his mosque, to assist at a ceremony he\nwas ambitious of performing in honour of your majesty's\nauspicious reign. I asked him if I could be any way serviceable\nto him in this affair; upon which he entreated me to get leave of\nyour majesty to perform the ceremony in the pavilion. I sent him\naway with leave to hold the assembly, telling him I would take\ncare to acquaint your majesty with it; and I ask pardon for\nhaving quite forgotten it.\" \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" continued he, \"has\ncertainly made choice of this day for the ceremony; and after\ntreating the ministers of his mosque, was willing to indulge them\nwith the sight of this illumination.\"\n\n\"Jaaffier,\" said the caliph, with a tone that plainly shewed his\nanger was a little mollified, \"according to your own account, you\nhave committed three faults; the first, in giving Scheich Ibrahim\nleave to perform this ceremony in my pavilion, for a person in\nsuch an office is not worthy of so great an honour; the second,\nin not acquainting me with it; and the third, in not diving into\nthe bottom of the good old man's intention. For my part, I am\npersuaded he only did it to try if he could get any money towards\nbearing the charge of it; but that never came into your head.\"\n\nThe grand vizier, overjoyed to hear the caliph put the matter\nupon that footing, very willingly owned the faults he reproached\nhim with, and freely confessed he was to blame in not giving\nScheich Ibrahim a few pieces of gold. \"Since the case is so,\"\nadded the caliph, \"it is just that thou shouldst be punished for\nthy mistakes, but thy punishment shall be light: thou shalt spend\nthe remainder of the night as I mean to do, with these honest\npeople, whose company I shall be well pleased with; and while I\nam putting on a citizen's habit, go thou and disguise thyself\nwith Mesrour, and come both of you along with me.\"\n\nThe vizier would have persuaded him it was late, and that all the\ncompany would be gone before he could get thither: but the caliph\nsaid he would positively go. The vizier, who knew that not a\nsyllable of what he had said was true, began to be in great\nconsternation; but there was no reply to be made, and go he must.\n\nThe caliph then, disguised like a citizen, with the grand vizier\nJaaffier and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, stole out of the\npalace together. They rambled through the streets of Bagdad till\nthey came to the garden; the door, through the carelessness of\nScheich Ibrahim, was open, he having forgotten to shut it when he\ncame back with the wine. The caliph was very angry at this.\n\"Jaaffier,\" said he to the grand vizier, \"what excuse have you\nfor the door's being open at this unseasonable hour?\" \"Is it\npossible that Scheich Ibrahim makes a custom of leaving it thus\nall night? I rather believe the hurry of the feast has been the\noccasion of this neglect.\"\n\nThe caliph went into the garden; and when he came to the\npavilion, resolving not to go into the hall till he knew what was\ndoing, consulted with the grand vizier whether it was not his\nbest way to climb up into one of the trees that was near, to\nobserve what was going forward. The grand vizier casting his eyes\nupon the door, perceived it stood half open, and told the caliph.\nIt seems Scheich Ibrahim had left it so, when he was prevailed\nupon to come in and bear Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian\ncompany.\n\nThe caliph laying aside his first design, stole softly up to the\nhall-door, which standing half open, he could see all the company\nwithin, without being discovered himself.\n\nBut how was he surprised, when he saw a lady of incomparable\nbeauty and a handsome young man sitting, with Scheich Ibrahim by\nthem. Scheich Ibraham held a cup in his hand. \"My fair lady,\"\nsaid he to the fair Persian, \"a true toper never drinks without\nsinging a song first: if you please to hear, I will give you one\nof my best songs.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim sung, and the caliph was the more surprised,\nbecause till that moment he never knew of his drinking wine, but\nalways took him for a grave, solid man, as he seemed to be to\noutward appearance. The caliph retired from the door with the\nsame caution as he had made his approaches to it; and coming to\nthe grand vizier, who was standing on the steps a little lower,\n\"Come up,\" said he to him, \"and see if those within are the\nministers of the mosque, as you would have made me believe.\"\n\nBy the tone of voice in which the caliph spoke these last words,\nthe vizier understood that things went ill on his side: however,\nhe went up the steps; but when he had peeped in at the door, and\nsaw the three sitting in that condition, he trembled for his\nlife. He returned to the caliph, but in such confusion, that he\nknew not what to say. \"What riotous doings are here?\" said the\ncaliph to him: \"who are these people that have presumed to take\nthe liberty of diverting themselves in my garden and pavilion?\nand how durst Scheich Ibrahim give them admittance, and partake\nof the diversion with them? I must, however, confess, I never saw\ntwo persons more beautiful or better paired in my life; and\ntherefore, before I discover my anger, I will inform myself\nbetter, and know who they are, and the reason of their being\nhere.\" He went to the door again to observe them more narrowly;\nand the vizier, who followed, stood behind him, while he fixed\nhis eyes upon them. They both plainly heard every word that\nScheich Ibrahim said to the fair Persian. \"Is there any thing, my\ncharming lady, wanting to render the pleasure of the evening more\ncomplete?\" \"Nothing but a lute,\" replied the fair Persian, \"and\nmethinks, if you could get me one, all would be well.\" \"Can you\nplay upon it?\" said Scheich Ibrahim. \"Fetch me one,\" replied the\nfair Persian, \"and you shall hear whether I can or not.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, without stirring very far from his place, took a\nlute out of a press, and presented it to the fair Persian, who\nbegun to tune it. The caliph, in the mean time, turning to the\ngrand vizier, \"Jaaffier,\" said he, \"the young lady is going to\nplay upon the lute; and if she performs well, I will forgive her,\nand the young man for her sake; but as for thee, I will have thee\nimpaled.\" \"Commander of the true believers,\" replied the grand\nvizier, \"if that is your intention, I wish to God she may play\nill.\" \"Why so?\" said the caliph. \"Because,\" replied the grand\nvizier, \"the longer we live in this world, the more reason we\nshall have to comfort ourselves with the hopes of dying in good\nsociable company.\" The caliph, who loved a repartee, began to\nlaugh at this; and putting his ear to the opening of the door,\nlistened to hear the fair Persian play.\n\nThe fair Persian began in such a style, that, from the first\nmoment of her touching the lute, the caliph perceived she did it\nwith a masterly hand. Afterwards accompanying the lute with her\nvoice, which was admirably fine, she sung and played with so much\nskill and sweetness, that the caliph was quite ravished to hear\nher.\n\nAs soon as the fair Persian had finished her song, the caliph\nwent down the steps, and the vizier followed him. When he came to\nthe bottom, \"I never,\" said he to the vizier, \"heard a more\ncharming voice, or a lute better touched. Isaac, whom I thought\nthe most skilful player in the world, does not come up to her. I\nam so charmed with her music, that I will go in, and hear her\nplay before me. We must, therefore, consider how I can do it.\"\n\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said the grand vizier, \"if you\nshould go in, and Scheich Ibrahim chance to know you, he would\ninfallibly die with the fright.\" \"It is that which hurts me,\"\nreplied the caliph, \"and I should be loth to be the occasion of\nhis death, after so many years service. A thought is just come\ninto my head, that may succeed; stay here with Mesrour, and wait\nfor me in the next walk.\"\n\nThe neighbourhood of the Tigris had given the caliph an\nopportunity of turning the stream under a stately bridge into his\ngarden, through a piece of water, whither the choicest fish of\nthe river used to retire. The fishermen knew it well; but the\ncaliph had expressly charged Scheich Ibrahim not to suffer any of\nthem to come near it. However, that night, a fisherman passing by\nthe garden-door, which the caliph had left open as he found it,\nmade use of the opportunity, and going in, went directly to the\ncanal.\n\n\nThe fisherman immediately fell to work with his nets, and was\njust ready to draw them, when the caliph, fearing what would be\nthe effect of Scheich Ibrahim's negligence, but willing to make\nuse of it to bring his design about, came to the same place. The\nfisherman, in spite of his disguise, knew him, and throwing\nhimself at his feet, humbly implored his pardon, and excused\nhimself on account of his poverty. \"Rise,\" said the caliph, \"and\nbe not afraid; only draw your nets, that I may see what fish you\nhave got.\"\n\nThe fisherman, recovered of his fright, quickly obeyed the\ncaliph's orders. He drew out five or six very large fishes; and\nthe caliph choosing the two biggest, tied them together by the\nhead, with the twig of a tree. \"After this,\" said he to the\nfisherman, \"give me thy clothes, and take mine.\" The exchange was\nsoon made; and the caliph being dressed like a fisherman, even to\nhis boots and turban, \"Take thy nets,\" said he to the fisherman,\n\"and get thee about thy business.\"\n\nWhen the fisherman, well pleased with his good fortune, was gone,\nthe caliph, taking the two fishes in his hand, went to look after\nthe grand vizier and Mesrour; he first met Jaaffier, who, not\nknowing him, asked what he wanted, and bade him go about his\nbusiness. The caliph fell a laughing; by which the vizier\nrecognising him, \"Commander of the true believers,\" said he, \"is\nit possible it can be you? I knew you not; and I ask a thousand\npardons for my rudeness. You are so disguised that you may\nventure into the hall without any fear of being discovered by\nScheich Ibrahim.\"  Stay you here with Mesrour,\" said the caliph,\n\"while I go and play my part.\"\n\nThe caliph went up to the hall, and knocked at the door. Noor ad\nDeen hearing him first, told Scheich Ibrahim of it, who asked who\nwas there? The caliph opened the door, and stepping a little way\ninto the hall to shew himself, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said he, \"I am\nthe fisherman Kerim, who being informed of your design to treat\nsome of your friends, have brought you two very fine fishes,\nfresh caught, to ask if you have any occasion for them.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian were pleased to hear him name\nfish. \"Pray,\" said the latter to Scheich Ibrahim, \"let him come\nin, that we may look at them.\" Scheich Ibrahim, by this time, was\nincapable of asking this counterfeit fisherman how or which way\nhe came thither, his whole thought being only to oblige the fair\nPersian. With much ado he turned his head towards the door, being\nquite drunk, and, in a stammering tone, calling to the caliph,\nwhom he took to be a fisherman, \"Come hither, thou nightly\nthief,\" said he, \"and let us see what thou hast got.\"\n\nThe caliph went forwards, and counterfeiting all the actions of a\nfisherman, presented the two fishes. \"These are very fine ones\nindeed,\" said the fair Persian, \"and if they were well dressed\nand seasoned, I should be glad to eat some of them.\" \"The lady is\nin the right,\" answered Scheich Ibrahim; \"but what can you do\nwith your fish, unless it were dressed? Go, dress it thyself, and\nbring it to us; thou wilt find every thing necessary in my\nkitchen.\"\n\nThe caliph went back to the grand vizier. \"Jaaffier,\" said he, \"I\nhave been very well received; but they want the fish to be\ndressed.\" \"I will take care to dress it myself,\" said the grand\nvizier, \"and they shall have it in a moment.\" \"Nay,\" replied the\ncaliph, \"so eager am I to accomplish my design, that I will take\nthat trouble myself; for since I have personated the fisherman so\nwell, surely I can play the cook for once; in my younger days, I\ndealt a little in cookery, and always came off with credit.\" So\nsaying, he went directly towards Scheich Ibrahim's lodgings, and\nthe grand vizier and Mesrour followed him.\n\nThey all fell to work; and though Scheich Ibrahim's kitchen was\nnot very large, yet there was every thing in it that they wanted.\nThe fish was quickly cooked; and the caliph served it up, putting\nto every one's place a lemon to squeeze into the sauce, if they\nthought proper. They all ate very heartily, but especially Noor\nad Deen and the fair Persian; and the caliph stood before them.\n\nAs soon as the repast was over, Noor ad Deen looking at the\ncaliph, \"Fisherman,\" said he, \"there never was better fish eaten;\nand you have done us the greatest favour.\" At the same time,\nputting his hand into his bosom, and pulling out a purse of\nthirty pieces of gold, the remainder of forty that Sangiar, the\nofficer of the king of Bussorah, had given him just upon his\ndeparture, \"Take it,\" said he to him; \"if I had any more, thou\nshouldst have it; had I known thee in my prosperity, I would have\ntaken care to secure thee from want: do not refuse the small\npresent I make thee, but accept of it as kindly as if it were\nmuch greater.\"\n\nThe caliph took the purse, thanked Noor ad Deen, and perceiving\nby the weight that it contained gold, \"Sir,\" said he to him, \"I\ncannot enough thank you for your liberality, and I think myself\nvery fortunate in having to do with a person of your generosity;\nbut before I take my leave I have a favour to ask, which I beg\nyou not to deny me. Yonder is a lute, which makes me believe that\nthe lady understands playing upon it; and if you can prevail with\nher to play but one tune, I shall go away perfectly satisfied;\nfor a lute, sir, is an instrument I am particularly fond of.\"\n\n\"Fair Persian,\" said Noor ad Deen, immediately addressing himself\nto her, \"I ask that favour of you, and I hope you will not refuse\nme.\" She took up the lute without more entreaties, and putting it\npresently in tune, played and sung with such an air, as charmed\nthe very soul of the caliph. Afterwards she played upon the lute\nwithout singing, but with so much strength and softness, as to\ntransport him into an ecstasy.\n\nWhen the fair Persian had given over playing, the caliph cried\nout, \"What a voice! what a hand! what skill! Was there ever finer\nsinging, or better playing upon the lute? Never was there any\nseen or heard like it.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who was accustomed to give all that belonged to him\nto persons who praised him, said, \"Fisherman, I find thou hast\nsome taste for music; since thou art so delighted with her\nperformance, she is thine, I make thee a present of her.\" At the\nsame time he rose up, and taking his robe which he had laid by,\nwas going away, and leaving the caliph, whom he believed to be no\nother than a fisherman, in possession of the fair Persian.\n\nThe fair Persian was extremely surprised at Noor ad Deen's\nliberality; she took hold of him, and looking tenderly at him,\n\"Whither, sir,\" said she, \"are you going? sit down in your place,\nI entreat you, and hearken to what I am going to sing and play.\"\nHe did as she desired him, and then the fair Persian, touching\nthe lute, and looking upon him with tears in her eyes, sung some\nverses that she had made ex tempore, to reproach him with his\nindifference, and the easiness as well as cruelty with which he\nresigned her to Kerim. She only hinted, without explaining\nherself any farther to a fisherman; for she, as well as Noor ad\nDeen, was ignorant of his being the caliph. When she had done\nplaying, she put the lute down by her, and clapped a handkerchief\nto her face, to hide the tears she could not repress.\n\nNoor ad Deen made no answer to all these reproaches, but by his\nsilence seemed to declare he did not repent of what he had done\nThe caliph, surprised at what he had heard, said, \"Sir, as far as\nI see, this beautiful, rare, and accomplished lady, of whom so\ngenerously you have made me a present, is your slave?\" \"It is\nvery true, Kerim,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"and thou wouldst be\nmore surprised than thou art now, should I tell thee all the\nmisfortunes that have happened to me upon her account.\" \"Ah! I\nbeseech you, sir,\" replied the caliph, still behaving like a\nfisherman, \"oblige me so far as to let me hear part of your\nstory.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who had already obliged him in several things of\nmore consequence, was so complaisant as to relate the whole story\nto him. He began with the vizier his father's buying the fair\nPersian for the king of Bussorah, and omitted nothing of what he\nhad done, or what had happened to him, from that time to their\narrival at Bagdad, and to the very moment he was talking to him.\n\nWhen Noor ad Deen had ended his story, \"And whither are you going\nnow?\" asked the caliph. \"Where Heaven shall direct me,\" answered\nNoor ad Deen. \"If you will believe me,\" replied the caliph, \"you\nshall go no farther, but, on the contrary, you must return to\nBussorah: I will write a short letter, which you shall give the\nking in my name: you shall see upon the reading it, he will give\nyou a very handsome reception, and nobody will dare to speak\nagainst you.\"\n\n\"Kerim,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"what thou hast told me is very\nsingular; I never heard that a poor fisherman, as thou art, had\nany correspondence with a king?\" \"Be not astonished at that,\"\nreplied the caliph: \"you must know, that we both studied together\nunder the same masters, and were always the best friends in the\nworld: it is true, fortune has not been equally favourable to us;\nshe has made him a king, and me a fisherman. But this inequality\nhas not lessened our friendship. He has often expressed a\nreadiness and desire to advance my fortune, but I always refused;\nand am better pleased with the satisfaction of knowing that he\nwill never deny me whatever I ask for the service and advantage\nof my friends: let me do it, and you shall see the success.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen consented to what the caliph had proposed; and there\nbeing every thing necessary for writing in the hall, the caliph\nwrote a letter to the king of Bussorah; at the top of which he\nplaced this form, \"In the name of the most merciful God,\" to shew\nhe would be absolutely obeyed.\n\n\"Haroon al Rusheed, son of Mhadi, sends this letter to Zinebi,\nhis cousin. As soon as Noor ad Deen, son to the late vizier\nKhacan, the bearer, has delivered you this letter, and you have\nread it, pull off the royal vestments, put them on his shoulders,\nand place him in thy seat without fail. Farewell.\"\n\nThe caliph folded up the letter, sealed it, and giving it to Noor\nad Deen, without saying any thing of what was in it, \"Go,\" said\nhe, \"embark immediately in a vessel that is ready to go off (as\nthere did constantly every day at the same hour); you may sleep\nwhen you are aboard.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen took the letter, and departed with the little money\nhe had about him when Sangiar gave him his purse; and the fair\nPersian, distracted with grief at his departure, retired to one\nof the sofas, and wept bitterly.\n\nNoor ad Deen was scarcely gone out of the hall, when Scheich\nlbrahim, who had been silent during the whole transaction,\nlooking steadfastly upon the caliph, whom he still took for the\nfisherman Kerim, \"Hark'e,\" said he, \"Kerim, thou hast brought us\ntwo fishes, that are worth twenty pieces of copper at most, and\nthou hast got a purse and a slave: but dost thou think to have\nall for thyself? I here declare, that I will go halves with thee\nin the slave; and as for the purse, shew me what is in the\ninside: if it is silver, thou shalt have one piece for thyself;\nbut if it is gold, I will have it all, and give thee in exchange\nsome pieces of copper which I have in my purse.\"\n\nThe caliph, before his serving up the fish, had dispatched the\ngrand vizier to his palace, with orders to get four slaves with a\nrich habit, and to wait on the other side of the pavilion till he\ngave a signal with his finger against the window. The grand\nvizier performed his commission; and he, Mesrour, and the four\nslaves, waited at the appointed place, expecting the sign.\n\nThe caliph, still personating the fisherman, answered Scheich\nIbrahim boldly, \"I know not what there is in the purse; gold or\nsilver, you shall freely go my halves: but as to the slave, I\nwill have her all to myself; and if you will not accept these\nconditions, you shall have nothing.\"\n\nScheich lbrahim, enraged to the last degree at this insolence,\nconsidering him only as a fisherman, snatched up one of the china\ndishes which were on the table, and flung it at the caliph's\nhead. The caliph easily avoided the blow, being thrown by a\nperson in liquor; but the dish striking against the wall, was\ndashed into a thousand pieces. Scheich Ibrahim grew more enraged\nat having missed his aim, and catching up the candle that stood\nupon the table, rose from his seat, and went staggering down a\npair of back-stairs to look for a cane.\n\nThe caliph took this opportunity, and striking his hands against\nthe window, the grand vizier, Mesrour, and the four slaves were\nwith him in an instant: the slaves quickly pulled off the\nfisherman's clothes, and put him on the habit they had brought.\nThey had not quite dressed the caliph, who had seated himself on\nthe throne that was in the hall, but were busy about him when\nScheich Ibrahim, spurred on by interest, came back with a cane in\nhis hand, with which he designed to pay the pretended fisherman\nsoundly; but instead of finding him, he saw his clothes in the\nmiddle of the hall, and the caliph on his throne, with the grand\nvizier and Mesrour on each side of him. He stood awhile gazing on\nthis unexpected sight, doubting whether he was awake or asleep.\nThe caliph fell a laughing at his astonishment; and calling to\nhim, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said he, \"What dost thou want? whom dost\nthou look after?\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, no longer doubting that it was the caliph,\nimmediately threw himself at his feet, with his face and long\nbeard to the ground. \"Commander of the true believers,\" cried he,\n\"your vile slave has offended you; but he implores your clemency,\nand asks a thousand pardons for his offence.\" As soon as the\nslaves had finished dressing him, he came down from his throne,\nand advancing towards him, \"Rise,\" said he, \"I forgive thee.\"\n\nThe caliph then addressed himself to the fair Persian, who had\nsuspended her sorrow as soon as she understood that the garden\nand pavilion belonged to that prince, and not to Scheich Ibrahim,\nas he had all along made her believe, and that it was he himself\ndisguised in the fisherman's clothes. \"Fair Persian,\" said he,\n\"rise, and follow me: by what you have lately seen, you ought to\nknow who I am, and to believe that I am above taking any\nadvantage of the present which Noor ad Deen, with a generosity\nnot to be paralleled, has made me of your person. I have sent him\nto Bussorah as king; and when I have given him the dispatches\nnecessary for his establishment, you shall go thither and be\nqueen. In the mean time I am going to order an apartment for you\nin my palace, where you shall be treated according to your\ndesert.\"\n\nThis discourse encouraged the fair Persian, and comforted her\nvery sensibly. The joy for the advancement of Noor ad Deen, whom\nshe passionately loved, to so high an honour, made her sufficient\namends for her affliction. The caliph kept his promise, and\nrecommended her to the care of his empress Zobeide, whom he\nacquainted with the esteem he had entertained for Noor ad Deen.\n\nNoor ad Deen's return to Bussorah was more fortunate, and\nspeedier by some days than he could have expected. Upon his\narrival, without visiting any of his friends or relations he went\ndirectly to the palace, where the king at that time was giving\npublic audience. With the letter held up in his hand, he pressed\nthrough the crowd, who presently made way for him to come forward\nand deliver it. The king took and opened it, and his colour\nchanged in reading it; he kissed it thrice, and was just about to\nobey the caliph's orders, when he bethought himself of strewing\nit to the vizier Saony, Noor ad Deen's irreconcileable enemy.\n\nSaouy, who had discovered Noor ad Deen, and began to conjecture,\nwith great uneasiness, what might be the design of his coming,\nwas no less surprised than the king at the order contained in the\nletter; and being as much concerned in it, he instantly devised a\nmethod to evade it. He pretended not to have read the letter\nquite through, and therefore desiring a second view of it, turned\nhimself a little on one side as if he wanted a better light, and,\nwithout being perceived by any body, dexterously tore off from\nthe top of it the form which shewed the caliph would be\nabsolutely obeyed, and putting it into his mouth, swallowed it.\n\nAfter this egregious piece of villainy, Saouy turned to the king,\nand giving him the letter, \"Sir,\" said he to him in a low voice,\n\"what does your majesty intend to do?\" \"What the caliph has\ncommanded me,\" replied the king. \"Have a care, sir,\" said the\nwicked vizier, \"what you do. It is true this is the caliph's\nhand, but the form is not to it.\" The king had observed it, but\nin his confusion thought his eyes had deceived him when he saw it\nwas gone.\n\n\"Sir,\" continued the vizier, \"we have no reason to doubt but that\nthe caliph, on the complaints he has made against your majesty\nand myself, has granted him this letter to get rid of him, and\nnot with any intention of having the order contained in it\nexecuted. Besides, we must consider he has sent no express with a\npatent; and without that the order is of no force. And since a\nking like your majesty was never deposed without that formality,\nany other man as well as Noor ad Deen might come with a forged\nletter: let who will bring such a letter as this, it ought not to\nbe put in execution. Your majesty may depend upon it, that is\nnever done; and I will take upon myself all the consequence of\ndisobeying this order.\"\n\nKing Zinebi, easily persuaded by this pernicious counsel, left\nNoor ad Deen entirely to the discretion of the vizier Saouy, who\nled him to his house in a very insulting manner; and after\ncausing him to be bastinadoed till he was almost dead, he ordered\nhim to a prison, where he commanded him to be put into the\ndarkest and deepest dungeon, with a strict charge to the gaoler\nto give him nothing but bread and water.\n\nWhen Noor ad Deen, half dead with the strokes, came to himself,\nand found what a dismal dungeon he was in, he bewailed his\nmisfortunes in the most pathetic manner. \"Ah! fisherman,\" cried\nhe, \"how hast thou cheated me; and how easy have I been in\nbelieving thee! Could I, after the civility I shewed thee, expect\nsuch inhuman and barbarous usage? However, may Heaven reward\nthee; for I cannot persuade myself that thy intention was so\nbase; and I will with patience wait the end of my afflictions.\"\n\nThe disconsolate Noor ad Deen remained six whole days in this\nmiserable condition; and Saouy did not forget that he had\nconfined him there; but being resolved to put him to a shameful\ndeath, and not daring to do it by his own authority, to\naccomplish his villainous design, loaded some of his slaves with\nrich presents, which he, at the head of them, went and presented\nto the king. \"Behold, sire,\" said he, with the blackest malice,\n\"what the new king has sent you upon his accession to the crown,\nand begs your majesty to accept.\"\n\nThe king taking the matter just as Saouy intended, \"What!\"\nreplied he, \"is that wretch still living? I thought you had put\nhim to death already.\" \"Sire, I have no power,\" answered the\nvizier, \"to take any person's life; that only belongs to your\nmajesty.\" \"Go,\" said the king, \"behead him instantly; I give you\nfull authority.\" \"Sire,\" replied the vizier Saouy, \"I am\ninfinitely obliged to your majesty for the justice you do me; but\nsince Noor ad Deen has publicly affronted me, I humbly beg the\nfavour, that his execution may be performed before the palace;\nand that the criers may publish it in every quarter of the city,\nso that every body may be satisfied he has made a sufficient\nreparation for the affront.\" The king granted his request; and\nthe criers in performing their office diffused universal sorrow\nthrough the whole city. The memory of his father's virtues being\nyet fresh among them, no one could hear, without horror and\nindignation, that the son was going to suffer an ignominious\ndeath.\n\nSaouy went in person to the prison, accompanied by twenty slaves,\nministers of his cruelty, who took Noor ad Deen out of the\ndungeon, and put him upon a shabby horse without a saddle. When\nNoor ad Deen saw himself in the hands of his enemy, \"Thou\ntriumphest now,\" said he, \"and abusest thy power; but I trust in\nthe truth of what is written in our scripture, \u0091You judge\nunjustly, and in a little time you shall be judged yourself.'\"\nThe vizier Saouy triumphed in his heart. \"What! insolent,\" said\nhe, \"darest thou insult me yet? but I care not what may happen to\nme, so I have the pleasure of seeing thee lose thy head in the\npublic view of all Bussorah. Thou oughtest also to remember what\nanother of our books says, \u0091What signifies if one dies the next\nday after the death of his enemy?'\"\n\nThe vizier, implacable in his hatred and enmity, surrounded by\nhis slaves in arms, conducted Noor ad Deen towards the palace.\nThe people were ready to fall upon him as he passed; and if any\none had set the example, would certainly have stoned him to\ndeath. When he had brought him to the place of suffering, which\nwas to be in sight of the king's apartment, he left him in the\nexecutioner's hands, and went straight to the king, who was in\nhis closet, ready to glut his eyes with the bloody spectacle he\nhad prepared.\n\nThe king's guard and the vizier's slaves, who made a circle round\nNoor ad Deen, had much trouble to withstand the people, who made\nall possible efforts to break through, and carry him off by\nforce. The executioner coming up to him, said, \"I hope you will\nforgive me, I am but a slave, and cannot help doing my duty. If\nyou have no occasion for any thing more, I beseech you to prepare\nyourself; for the king is just going to give me orders to strike\nthe blow.\"\n\nThe unfortunate Noor ad Deen, at that moment, looking round upon\nthe people, \"Will no charitable body,\" cried he, \"bring me a\nlittle water to quench my thirst?\" Which immediately they did,\nand handed it up to him upon the scaffold. The vizier Saouy\nperceiving this delay, called out to the executioner from the\nking's closet window, where he had planted himself, \"Strike, what\ndost thou stay for?\" At these inhuman words the whole place\nechoed with loud imprecations against him; and the king, jealous\nof his authority, made it appear, by enjoining him to stop\nawhile, that he was angry at his presumption. But there was\nanother reason; for the king that very moment casting his eye\ntowards a street that faced him, saw a troop of horsemen\nadvancing full speed towards the palace. \"Vizier,\" said the king\nimmediately, \"look yonder; what is the meaning of those\nhorsemen?\" Saouy, who knew not who they might be, earnestly\npressed the king to give the executioner the sign. \"No,\" replied\nthe king; \"I will first know who those horsemen are.\" It was the\nvizier Jaaffier, with his train, who came in person from Bagdad\nby the caliph's order.\n\nTo understand the occasion of this minister's coming to Bussorah,\nwe must observe, that after Noor ad Deen's departure with the\nletter, the caliph the next day, nor for several days after,\nthought not of sending him the patent which he mentioned to the\nfair Persian. He happened one day to be in the inner palace,\nwhich was that of the women, and passing by her apartment, heard\nthe sound of a fine voice: he listened to it; and he had no\nsooner heard the words of one complaining for the absence of\nsomebody, than he asked the officer of the eunuchs who attended\nhim who the woman was that lived in that apartment? The officer\ntold him it was the young stranger's slave whom he had sent to\nBussorah to be king in the room of Mahummud Zinebi.\n\n\"Ah! poor Noor ad Deen,\" cried the caliph, \"I had forgotten thee;\nbut hasten,\" said he to the officer, \"and bid Jaaffier come to\nme.\" The vizier was with him in an instant. As soon as he came,\n\"Jaaffier,\" said he, \"I have hitherto neglected sending the\npatent which was to confirm Noor ad Deen king of Bussorah; but we\nhave no time now to draw up one; therefore immediately take post-\nhorses, and with some of your servants, make what haste you can\nto that city. If Noor ad Deen is no longer alive, but put to\ndeath by them, order the vizier Saouy to be impaled; but if he is\nliving, bring him to me with the king and the vizier.\"\n\nThe grand vizier stayed no longer than just to get on horseback;\nand being attended by a great train of officers belonging to his\nhousehold departed for Bussorah, where he arrived in the manner\nand at the time already mentioned. As soon as he came to the\npalace-yard, the people cleared the way for him, crying out, \"A\npardon for Noor ad Deen!\" and with his whole train he rode into\nthe palace, even to the very stairs, where he alighted.\n\nThe king of Bussorah, knowing him to be the caliph's chief\nminister, went to meet him, and received him at the entrance of\nhis apartment. The first question the vizier asked was, If Noor\nad Deen was living? and if he was, he desired that he might be\nsent for. The king made answer, he was alive, and gave orders to\nhave him brought in. Accordingly he soon made his appearance as\nhe was, bound with cords. The grand vizier Jaaffier caused him to\nbe unbound, and setting him at liberty, ordered the vizier Saoay\nto be seized, and bound him with the same cords.\n\nThe grand vizier remained but one night at Bussorah; and,\naccording to the order he had received, carried Saouy, the king\nof Bussorah, and Noor ad Deen, along with him. Upon his arrival\nat Bagdad, he presented them to the caliph: and after he had\ngiven him an account of his journey, and particularly the\nmiserable condition in which he found Noor ad Deen, and his ill-\nusage by the advice and malice of Saony, the caliph desired Noor\nad Deen to behead the vizier himself. \"Commander of the true\nbelievers,\" said the generous youth, \"notwithstanding the injury\nthis wicked man has done me, and the mischief he endeavoured to\ndo my deceased father, I should think myself the basest of\nmankind if I stained my hands with his blood.\" The caliph was\npleased with his generosity, and ordered justice to be done by\nthe executioner.\n\nThe caliph would fain have sent Noor ad Deen to Bussorah as king:\nbut he humbly begged to be excused from accepting the offer.\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"the city\nof Bussorah, after the misfortunes that have happened to me\nthere, will be so much my aversion, that I beseech your majesty\nto give me leave to keep the oath which I have made, of never\nreturning thither again; and I shall think it my greatest glory\nto serve near your royal person, if you are pleased to allow me\nthe honour.\" The caliph consented; and placing him among the\nnumber of those courtiers who were his greatest favourites,\nrestored the fair Persian to him again. To all these favours he\nadded a plentiful fortune; and he and the fair Persian lived\ntogether thenceforth, with all the happiness this world could\nafford.\n\nAs for the king of Bussorah, the caliph contented himself with\nhinting how careful he ought to be in the choice of his viziers,\nand sent him back to his kingdom.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume 2.","title":"The Arabian Nights Entertainments \u2014 Volume 02","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":131254}